#especially because on his way home he passes by two different stores

[cherriegyuu]

.

[letsgetbigger]

OnlyFat

Nigel looked at himself in the mirror, as he did every morning, admiring his toned and sculpted body, the result of years of dieting and hard work at the gym. At 28 years old, he felt at the peak of his physical form. Firm muscles, broad shoulders, and a defined abdomen, along with his handsome face and sizable cock, had earned him a considerable number of followers on OnlyFans. While he wasn’t a millionaire, earning an average of about two thousand dollars a month allowed him certain luxuries and a pretty comfortable lifestyle. He enjoyed his routine. He filmed private videos, always eager to please, and responded to the strangest and most specific requests from his fans. No matter what they asked of him, he always found a way to enjoy it; perhaps due to his naturally submissive nature, something he had discovered long ago and now used to his advantage.

That Tuesday, as he checked the messages in his account, he came across a proposal that made him pause. It was from someone named Dom43, who had written to him several times before, though never with such a direct request. The message read:

“I’ll give you a thousand dollars if you gain ten pounds of fat in a month and send me a video of the results. No tricks. I want to see how you change. What do you say?”

Nigel raised an eyebrow and reread the offer over and over. It wasn’t the typical request he was used to. At first, it seemed strange, almost absurd. But the money—a thousand dollars!—was a considerable temptation. Plus, a part of him, the part that had always enjoyed obeying and submitting to others’ desires, felt a twinge of excitement at the idea. After a few minutes of thought, he shrugged and let himself go with his gut.

“I accept,” he wrote back.

He knew doing this would change something, though he wasn’t sure what. What he didn’t expect was just how much this would lead him down an unexpected path.

For Nigel, gaining ten pounds in a month didn’t seem like much of a challenge. And he knew that once he hit the goal and pocketed that thousand dollars, he could go back to his strict diet and regain his physique in a matter of weeks. It was just a simple detour, a small, temporary indulgence. Nothing serious. With that assurance, he decided to change his eating habits.

That same afternoon, he went to the grocery store, filling his cart with everything he normally avoided: frozen pizzas, pastries, salty snacks, and especially lots of tubs of ice cream, which he promised himself to devour every night. Salads were out of the picture for a few weeks. When he got home, the idea of indulging in unrestrained pleasure, of breaking the rules he had imposed on himself for years, turned him on. Even more so when he remembered he was doing it for Dom43, to fulfill his request.

That night, he sat on the couch in front of the TV, a pizza on one side and a tub of ice cream on the other, a smile on his face. At first, he ate because he was hungry, but soon that hunger turned into something darker, more intimate. He kept eating, even though he was no longer hungry. The mere thought of knowing he was stuffing himself, filling up to please someone, gave him a thrill he had never experienced before. When he finished, he lay back on the couch, gently stroking his slightly bloated stomach, feeling strangely satisfied.

***

Two weeks had passed, and Nigel had fully embraced his new routine of excess. He was eating as if it were a competition. The food filled him, but what really satisfied him was the idea of transforming his body at someone else’s request. He knew he was changing, that his body was reacting. And it was confirmed when he weighed himself: eight pounds gained. He was close to reaching his goal.

The next day, while working out, his personal trainer, Mark, noticed something different. Nigel was in the middle of doing crunches when Mark let out a mocking laugh.

“You’ve been slacking a bit, man,” he said, giving Nigel’s stomach a light tap. “You’ve put on some weight. And not just around the belly…” Mark added, motioning toward his backside.

Nigel laughed, trying to hide the heat rushing to his face. “Yeah, well, I’ve been indulging a little—nothing serious.”

Mark shook his head, but the comment stuck with Nigel. That teasing remark hit deep. It didn’t bother him, though. On the contrary, he liked it. For the rest of the workout, he couldn’t stop thinking about how his body was changing, about how much Dom43 would enjoy watching him soften up.

When he got home, he quickly stripped off his clothes and looked in the mirror. He touched his stomach, which was no longer as flat as it once was, and caressed the soft roundness beginning to form on his rear. Mark’s words echoed in his mind, and at that moment, Nigel couldn’t resist any longer. He collapsed onto his bed and jerked off, reaching the most intense climax of his life. What had started as a simple game to make some money had now completely consumed him.

The month had come to an end, and Nigel was ready. He carefully set up the camera, making sure the lighting was perfect, bright enough to highlight every change in his body, to show Dom43 the results of his effort. He stood in front of the mirror, took a deep breath, and began undressing slowly, recording the whole process. First, he removed his shirt, revealing his torso. His chest, once firm and defined, now had a slight sag to it. His belly, swollen and covered by a soft layer of fat, folded into rolls when he bent slightly. Then he pulled down his pants, leaving him in his tight white briefs, which now clung to him like never before. His thighs were noticeably thicker. But the real surprise came when he turned around. His ass, bigger and rounder, seemed to want to burst out of the tight fabric. The briefs could barely contain it. He gently touched his ass, feeling its fullness. Without missing a beat, he moved to the scale he had placed in front of the camera. He stepped on it carefully, watching the numbers climb rapidly. And there it was, the number that left him stunned: 191 pounds. He had gained fifteen pounds instead of the ten Dom43 had asked for. Five extra pounds, the result of his complete submission to food. Seeing the number, Nigel instantly got hard, unable to help himself.

“A hundred and ninety-one...” he muttered to himself.

Without thinking any further, he let the excitement take over. He jerked off in front of the camera, his breath ragged, and his moans filling the room. He did it for Dom43, but also for himself, for everything he had discovered about himself in the process.

Once finished, he sent the private video with a mix of anxiety and satisfaction, eagerly awaiting Dom43’s response. It didn’t take long to arrive: a payment confirmation accompanied by a comment that made Nigel shiver. “You’re a pathetic pig. You gained all this weight just because I told you to. I love it.” Nigel read aloud quietly. “I’ll give you ten thousand dollars more if you gain another twenty pounds in two months. Do you dare to become my fantasy?”

Nigel sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his still-naked, slightly sweaty body after the recording. His phone’s screen glowed with Dom43’s message: ten thousand dollars to gain another twenty pounds. The offer was tempting, too tempting. With that kind of money, he wouldn’t have to make more videos for months. He could take a break from his online life and focus on something else. Just the thought of that financial freedom made him feel relieved. But there was something more—a deep desire to please Dom43, to follow his orders, to submit to whatever he asked. It consumed him inside. He had discovered a new form of pleasure. Every pound he gained, every humiliating comment, ignited something within him that he had never felt before. Pleasing Dom43 had become almost an addiction. Yet, fear lingered in the background. He had already gained fifteen pounds, and although he initially thought he could lose it easily, he was starting to doubt whether the same would be true for thirty-five pounds. What if he couldn’t? What if continuing to gain weight destroyed the success of his OnlyFans account?

***

Nigel never imagined he would lose so much control. What started as a challenge, almost a game, had become a new reality. In just a month and a half of nonstop eating, he had gained the twenty-pounds Dom43 requested, pushing his body to limits he had never thought possible. Now weighing 211 pounds, the man he saw in the mirror was almost unrecognizable. His belly hung over the waistband, his thighs rubbed together with every step, and his once firm chest now bounced lightly with each movement. But the most shocking transformation of all was his ass, now enormous, two soft masses that jiggled with every step. And for some reason, that excited him more than it scared him.

When he arrived at the gym one afternoon, Mark greeted him with his usual mocking grin.

"Well, look who's here: my star client," Mark said sarcastically, his eyes scanning Nigel’s new body.

Throughout the workout, Mark made constant comments about his weight. Every time Nigel did a squat or lifted weights, he could feel Mark’s eyes on him, watching how his belly wobbled or how his ass strained against his shorts, which barely contained it anymore. But the most intense moment came after the workout when Nigel stepped out of the showers. As he was drying off, he noticed Mark watching him from across the locker room.

"Jesus, man..." Mark said, his eyes trailing over Nigel’s naked body. "You're huge. Like, seriously."

Before Nigel could respond, Mark stepped closer and gave him a smack on the ass. The sound echoed in the room, and Nigel’s butt cheeks rippled under Mark’s firm hand like jello. Nigel felt his face heat up, a mix of shame and arousal spreading over his skin.

"Damn," Mark laughed, "that moves like jello. What have you been eating, ice cream by the gallon? You’re getting obese, dude."

Nigel couldn’t answer, his throat dry, his mind stuck on the echo of Mark’s words. Obese. It was the first time anyone had called him that, and instead of being offended, the word hit him like a lightning bolt of pure desire. He tried to laugh, but the sound came out weak, almost choked.

He stood in front of the camera, taking deep breaths as he prepared for his second private session with Dom43. Like before, he undressed slowly, savoring each moment. He pulled off his shirt, revealing a torso that no longer had any trace of the firm muscles he once prided himself on. His chest was soft and round, visibly moving with each breath. His nipples had widened and felt unusually sensitive as he brushed his fingers over them. Then he slid off his pants, left in the same white briefs from the previous video. This time, they felt like a cruel joke. The edges dug into his hips and thighs, squeezing him in a way that was both uncomfortable and intensely arousing. His swollen belly hung slightly over the waistband, which seemed ready to give up the fight. Nigel turned to face the camera, letting it capture the most obvious change of all: his ass. It completely filled the briefs, making them look absurdly small. The fabric was stretched to its limit, with the tops of his cheeks spilling over, exposing the crack as if the briefs couldn’t possibly contain so much mass. He gave a slight shake, and his ass jiggled, continuing to bounce for a few seconds before settling. Seeing himself like that—so exposed, so impossibly large—sent a wave of arousal through him that nearly made him lose control right then and there. Nigel couldn’t help but smile. He knew Dom43 would love seeing what he had accomplished. The high point of the video came when he stepped onto the scale, carefully positioned in front of the camera. He showed the result: 211 pounds. Thirty-five pounds more than he weighed when this all began. He couldn’t help himself; the thrill of having transformed for someone else, of having fully surrendered to it, overwhelmed him. Once again, he masturbated in front of the camera, but this time, the orgasm was more intense, more liberating. His breath grew ragged, and every curve of his body shook with the force of his release.

When it was over, he sent the video to Dom43. The payment came through quickly, but what made Nigel’s heart race wasn’t the large sum of money. It was the words that followed.

“You’ve become my obedient pig. You’re good for nothing but getting fatter. You should be ashamed of how far you’ve fallen, but the worst part is, I know you love it.”

Nigel swallowed hard, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach. It was true. He loved every humiliating word, every cruel comment that made him feel smaller, more submissive, despite his growing size. But it was the last line of the message that left him frozen.

“I’ll give you twenty thousand dollars if you gain another thirty pounds.”

***

Nigel was nervous. It had been over two months since he last filmed a video for his regular OnlyFans subscribers, and now, with his body drastically transformed, he had no idea how they would react. He wanted to see if the weight gain had changed anything, if his fans were still interested in him despite the fact that he no longer had the muscular, chiseled physique that had attracted them in the first place. Deep down, he hoped it wouldn’t matter too much, that they would still desire him, and that he wouldn’t have to rely on Dom43 to stay financially stable. He set up the camera like always, but this time, he took a longer look at himself in the mirror. It was incredible how much his body had changed in just two months. His body felt heavy. Every movement made him more aware of his size.

"It's just a video," he whispered to himself, trying to calm his nerves. "I just want to see how they react."

He stood in front of the camera, shirtless, revealing his round, soft torso, wearing only a pair of black briefs that used to be loose on him. He did the usual gestures he used in his videos, showing his body from different angles, touching his chest and stomach, running his hands over the areas now covered in fat.

He uploaded the video.

The first responses came in quickly. As soon as he read the comments, his fears were confirmed. There was no acceptance, no admiration. Just criticism, mockery, and, above all, shock.

“What happened to you? You used to look incredible, but now you look like a different person,” wrote one of his longtime followers.

“You’re huge! And not in a good way. What kind of joke is this?” added another.

The comments kept coming, each one harsher than the last. They called him fat and disgusting. Some even felt betrayed by the change, as if Nigel had deliberately hidden what he’d been doing over the past few months. Others openly laughed at him, making fun of how his body had lost all definition. Nigel read every word, feeling a mix of humiliation and indescribable excitement. He had expected a negative reaction, but the brutal honesty of their attacks surpassed all his expectations. Far from feeling defeated, something dark and deep inside him awakened. Each insult, each criticism, made him feel more alive, more aware of his body and what he had achieved. The taunts about his physique didn’t discourage him; they aroused him in a way he couldn’t ignore. It was as if those words freed him. He didn’t want to go back. He wanted to push forward. He turned off his computer screen and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Dom43 had offered him twenty thousand dollars to gain another thirty pounds. Thirty pounds that would transform him even more, taking him to a new level of submission. He had thought about rejecting the offer, about going back to his former physique. But after reading his fans’ comments, after feeling the impact of their words on his body, there was no longer any doubt. With a smile on his face, Nigel decided he was going to accept the challenge. He was ready to fully give in, to see just how far he could go.

***

Nigel stopped going to the gym altogether. Every morning, he woke up to the same routine: eat, jerk off, and eat more. His appetite seemed endless, and his libido was out of control, higher than ever. The discipline he once had had crumbled, replaced by an obsession with giving in to food and the thrill of his own transformation. His clothes no longer fit. The jeans, tight shirts, and briefs that had once defined his muscular figure now wouldn't even make it past his thighs or tore when he tried putting them on. Soon, he realized the only piece of clothing that still fit him was an old tracksuit, and even that didn’t fit well—it was so tight that the fabric stretched ridiculously, and his belly stuck out. He only wore it when he went out to buy more food, but at home, he spent his days completely naked.

In three months, Nigel had gained another thirty-five pounds, surpassing even Dom43’s challenge. His body was unrecognizable, and the scale didn’t lie. He weighed 246 pounds, a number he’d never imagined reaching. His thighs were so thick they had changed the way he walked. His belly was soft, round, and hung over. His arms, once firm, were now wrapped in fat. And his chest, completely soft, jiggled with even the slightest movement. He knew it was time to film the video for Dom43. He prepared in the simplest and most provocative way possible: completely naked, with a box of donuts by his side and the scale ready to show the result. The camera started rolling, and Nigel let himself get caught up in the moment. He grabbed one of the donuts and bit into it slowly, letting the sugar slide down his lips as he chewed exaggeratedly. He knew Dom43 would love to see him like this, enjoying the food that had turned him into what he was now.

“I’ve surpassed your challenge,” Nigel said, his voice thick with pleasure as he bit into another donut. “Another thirty-five pounds. I hope you’re happy.”

He stood up with difficulty, his ass visibly bouncing as he walked toward the scale. He stepped onto it with some effort, and it stopped at 246 pounds. Nigel showed the number to the camera with a satisfied grin on his face.

“246 pounds,” he said with pride in his voice. “But that’s not all.”

He grabbed a measuring tape and started measuring his body. First, he wrapped it around his waist.

“Fifty inches,” he announced, staring at his belly.

Then he measured his ass, which had turned into a massive ball of fat, and the number was just as shocking.

“Fifty-three inches. I can’t even fit in my office chair.”

Nigel paused for a moment, looking at the camera with a euphoric expression.

“All of this... is for you, Dom43. I hope you’re enjoying this as much as I am.”

He ended the video with one last bite, chewing slowly as he jiggled his whole body while masturbating. When he finished, he turned off the camera and collapsed onto the couch, panting from exhaustion. He sent the video to Dom43 and waited, knowing the response wouldn’t take long. When it came, it was exactly what he expected.

“You’ve exceeded my expectations, pig. I never imagined you’d reach this point, that you’d become such a mountain of fat for me. Look at yourself, you’re pathetic, completely out of control. And you know what? I love it. You’ve done everything I asked and more. You’re the perfect submissive fat boy. You’re good for nothing but eating, getting fatter, and letting others laugh at you. But I must also say, I’m proud of you. You’ve proven you’re completely mine, willing to transform yourself this way just to please me. You’re incredible, in the worst way possible, of course, but that’s exactly where your greatness lies.”

Nigel stared at the screen, absorbed in the words. He had done everything Dom43 had wanted. And yet, he felt he could go further. The idea of gaining even more weight, of leaving behind any trace of his former self, called to him with unstoppable force. Without thinking too much, he typed the question that had been on his mind for days, a question that made him tremble with anticipation:

“How much will you pay me if I reach 300 pounds?”

The silence that followed for a few seconds was deafening, but Dom43’s response came quickly.

“I’m not paying you anything. This time, you won’t do it for the money. I want you to do it for me, because you can’t stop yourself now. I want you to gain until you reach 300 pounds just to please me, because now you know that’s the only thing that turns you on. You’ll do it because you belong to me.”

Nigel took a deep breath, feeling each word of that message wrap around him, filling him with a mix of submission and absolute pleasure. He knew Dom43 was right. It was no longer about the money. It was about something much bigger. What had started as a simple desire to fulfill a fantasy had become his reality. With trembling fingers, he typed the only thing he knew he could say at that moment, the only thing his mind and cock screamed for with overwhelming clarity:

“I’ll do it.”

[sadhours]

You’re so talented and amazing that smut has me SWEATING!!!!

Plsssss part two with Steve taking readers virginity I beg

stop I love you!

cw: 18+ minors dni, smut, inexperienced reader, oral (f and m receiving), virginity loss, p in v, unprotected (sorry I can’t write any other way)

part one

requests are open!!

shockingly, when you went to Steve’s house that night, you two didn’t sleep together. Which was his idea. He said he felt like maybe you two oughta get to know each other better before you went that far. You were visibly upset by that but Steve insisted it would be better that way.

So that’s how you find yourself a couple weeks later, holding hands with him as you walk through the mall. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear you were dating but Steve didn’t ask you to be his girlfriend. But you two have been spending almost every day together, after work and on your days off. Like today, the pair of you have the day off but you wind up at the mall anyway. He called you this morning and asked if you wanted to hang out. To which you told Steve you needed to get a new pair of shoes for work, since yours were falling apart and he offered to tag along. He even picked you up.

You make eye contact with your coworkers as the pair of you stroll passed the food court. They make crude hand gestures and so you squeeze Steve’s hand and walk faster. He’s none the wiser, eyes scanning around the crowded mall. You catch yourself staring at him. You’ve had this like, really intense feeling in your chest ever since you and Steve started hanging out. It’s tight, almost like your lungs don’t have enough air. And he’s literally all you think about, all you can talk about. Steve, Steve, Steve. On a loop, to a nauseating extent. Not nauseating to you, but most likely to your family and friends. But really, he’s so dreamy.

“Where do you usually get your work shoes?” Steve asks, grazing his thumb against the back of your hand.

“Sears,” you answer honestly. Steve’s parents are in a vastly different tax bracket than your own so you get a little self conscious about these kinds of things. You were incredibly impressed with his house. And it took a good convincing from him to let him come over to yours. Especially because while Steve’s parents weren’t home when you went over there, yours were at yours always. And they were embarrassing, even though you were an adult now, they hovered. And you couldn’t close your door when he came over. Your mom about talked his ears off, too but Steve was charming and when he left, your mom told you he was sweet and she liked him.

“Cool,” he nods, “What do you wanna do after this?”

You shrug, walking into the entrance of Sears, “I don’t know.”

“We can use my pool,” he offers, “It’s really nice out, today.”

You blush, the thought of being in your swimsuit in front of Steve is kind of a lot. Even though you two have messed around, you’ve been almost completely dressed each time. Really, you’ve just been doing the same thing— dry humping but Steve always pulls your tits out. He actually stares at them sometimes, gets this look on his face that makes you feel like a million bucks. His eyes get all glassy and he looks dazed as he watches them bounce with your movements. It makes you feel sexy and you’ve never felt that way in your life. But being so exposed in broad daylight is rather intimidating.

“Yeah, maybe,” you reply shyly, cheeks ruddy at the thought of him seeing your body. “We’d have to go get my swimsuit, though.”

“We’re at a mall,” Steve chuckles, “You can just buy one.”

Well, you didn’t anticipate spending too much today. But again, you’re embarrassed so you won’t say that. You just shrug, “If I can find one.”

“I can help,” he grins, eyebrows raising as he nudges his side against you. Which just makes your face ten times more flushed. “Oh, look!” Steve points to the section of the store lined with swimsuits, “Perfect.”

The pair of you head that way. Steve motions at a red bikini, which is not something you’d usually wear. You’re a one piece kind of girl. But now that you’re thinking about it, the swim suit you have at home isn’t exactly sexy. And really, you want Steve to look at you with that dreamy look in his eyes again.

“That one’s nice,” he says, “And my trunks are red, so we’ll match.”

You pick up the top, looking it over when you realize you have no idea how to tell your size. You’re gonna have to try it on. “I need to try it on,” you tell Steve and grab a few sizes before making your way to the dressing rooms, Steve right behind you.

Much to Steve’s dismay, you don’t show him the bikini but you get the right size and get your pair of shoes. Steve buys you a smoothie on the way out. But what he does on the ride to his house is really what gets you. As he’s driving, he reaches his hand over and rests it on your thigh. His palm against your bare thigh makes them all tingly and you feel like the car is suddenly really hot, so you roll down the window. Looking out because you’re too shy to look at him. Steve squeezes your thigh and you clear your throat, shifting in your seat.

“You alright?” he asks, turning to you briefly.

“I’m fine,” you choke out as you look at him.

“Is this okay?” he squeezes your thigh again.

You swallow the lump rising in your throat and nod your head yes, “Yeah, it feels nice.”

“Good,” he smiles, his eyes crinkling with it and he’s the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen.

❤️❤️❤️❤️

You’re really nervous, fixing your hair as you look in the mirror. You wished Steve gave you a towel to cover up with before you changed because now you have to make an entrance… in this bikini that feels like it barely covers anything. You swear one wrong move and your boobs gonna fly right out. But you think, Steve won’t mind that.

His face confirms it when you finally walk out onto the back patio, seeing Steve laying towels out on the pool loungers. He drops the towel in his hand and his lips part, holding his hand above his brows to shield the sun as he gawks at you. And thankfully, his reaction gives you a breath of confidence and you strut over to him, “Not too bad, huh?”

“Fucking unbelievable,” he breathes through a satisfied smile, “You look amazing.” His hand comes to rest on the back of your waist, dipping his face down to kiss your cheek.

“Steve!” you flush, bringing your hands up to your face. He grabs your wrists and kisses all over face, repeating that you look great over and over. You erupt in giggles, grabbing his hands and pull back.

“What? Too much?” he asks, looking down at you with those gorgeous puppy dog eyes.

“I think… you need to cool off,” you say slyly before shoving him into the pool, jumping in right after him. Steve’s laughing when he comes up from the water, swimming over to you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Good one,” he muses, looking fond, “Very clever.”

“I’m glad you thought so,” you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck. He kisses you then, and immediately you melt. Kissing Steve is like otherworldly. It’s like everything around you disappears and it’s just you two. His lips are soft yet firm, kissing you determinedly. His hands are big, cascading up and down your sides.

But then he pulls away and smiles, “Wanna race? I bet I can swim from this end to the other faster than you.”

“You’re on,” you bet and start swimming to the edge of the pool.

❤️❤️❤️❤️

After you two get out of the pool, your body is all tingly and needy. You dry off and can’t keep your eyes off of Steve’s body as he dries off. Eyes scanning over the constellations of moles scattering over his chest, arms and back. He catches you, biting is lip as he’s drying his hair.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“I think… I want…” you take a deep breath as your face flushes.

“What is it? You okay?” he asks, tilting his head as he gets a look of concern in his eyes.

“I think I’m ready,” you tell him, “ya know.. to do it.”

“Really?” he drops his towel, looking surprised.

“Uh huh,” you nod as you smile, so sure of yourself.

He grabs your hand and practically pulls you up to his bedroom. You fall back on his mattress and he’s crawling up between your legs, palm meeting your cheek gently as he crashes his lips into yours. It’s different than kisses before. Steve seems more urgent, more needy. His hands feel you everywhere, squeezing and pulling wherever he can. It’s intoxicating and makes your stomach twist, full of desire. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer and you can feel his cock strained behind his swim trunks rubbing against your core. It’s familiar, but a bit more charged. There’s more coming and it has your back arching. Steve breaks the kiss, “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” you nod, writhing against him, “I’m sure.”

“Cool,” he breathes, moving his fingers to untie your bikini top and he pulls it off. His lips find your jaw, leaving sloppy open mouthed kisses wherever they can. Down your neck and over the curve of your breasts, then you feel his tongue against your perked nipple and you whine, knitting your fingers in his damp hair.

He flicks his tongue against it, looking up at your face as he broadly licks it before sucking it between his lips. You gasp, tilting your head back as you try to grind against him harder. You’re desperate for more friction there. Steve moans against your supple skin, and then his lips work lower. Down your stomach. And you no longer have his erection to grind against but his fingers dip into the waistband of your bottoms. Your breath catches in your throat, looking down at him in anticipation. He looks so pretty, the sunlight shining through the half closed curtains in his bedroom and casting beautifully on his strong eyebrows and sharp nose.

Steve peels your bottoms down your thighs and you move your legs to help him, hands moving to cover your chest. Otherwise, completely exposed to him. Steve kisses your hipbone, spreading your legs with his hands and then moves his mouth between them. Starts with kissing your thighs, but when he actually gets his mouth on your pussy, you cry out. It’s pleasure in a way you’ve never felt and it’s white hot, feel it everywhere. He licks through your folds, humming softly as he does so. It’s so warm and wet and lovely. Uses his plump lips when he does it, grazing against your folds. And he puts his mouth completely on you, sucks on your folds and his thumb lowers down to your hole, rubbing teasing circles around it and you gasp out. Eyes closing involuntarily as you tilt your head back, focused solely on how incredible this feels.

It’s almost pathetic how quickly he makes you cum, your cry breaks off as it leaves your lips and your thighs squeeze his head while you ride it out. Steve watches you with a look of shock on his face, flattery, really. Impressed with himself at quick he made that happen. Smoothes his palms along the soft skin of your legs as he forces them open, coming up for air. His cheeks are flushed, a pretty pink blooming over them and the tip of his nose.

“Christ,” he exhales, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs as he beams up at you. “You okay, princess?”

Your chest heaves while you come down, eyes blinking open as you let out a sigh. The pet name makes your chest tighten, you want Steve to say it again, over and over. “So okay,” you gasp out as you sit up and look down at him.

He smiles cheekily, nudging his nose against your shaking thighs as he blinks up at you, “You’re sensitive, huh?”

“Nobody’s ever done that to me,” you admit, tucking your hair behind your ear as you flush.

He chuckles softly, keeps nuzzling against your thigh as he smoothes his palms down your calves. “You sure you wanna keep going?”

You nod enthusiastically at him, “W-wanna make you feel good.”

Steve pushes you on your back, gets himself on top of you and places a chaste kiss against your lips, mumbles against them, “That made me feel really good.”

Your hands find his hair, carding in the locks as you kiss his words and roll your hips up to meet him, “I wanna keep going. Maybe I can try.. returning the favor.”

The boy grunts softly into your mouth, the corners of his lips hitching up, “You ever done that before?”

“No,” you pout, feeling a little self conscious but more than that, eager. “I’m a really fast learner, though.”

“I’m.. I,” Steve laughs, breath hot against your mouth, “Might need a break after, but… hell, we’ve got all night.”

“A break?” you ask curiously and Steve nods against you, foreheads bumping together. He cups your cheek, kisses you tenderly.

“Mhm, can’t go again as quick,” he mumbles into your lips, grounds his hips down and you can feel him through his swim trunks. Hard and firm against your sensitive cunt.

You pull him back slightly, looking up at him tenderly as you say, “I really wanna try.”

He laughs again, breathless and it’s not mean, it makes your heart warm. The sound of him. Pretty and sweet. Makes you that much eager to please; to impress.

Steve rolls onto his back, inches up against his pillows and looks at you, eyes dark despite the fond smile spreading on his face. You sit beside him and your fingers find the elastic of his shorts, inching inside and looking up at him for guidance. He nods, short and soft. You pull down his damp trunks and his cock bounces out, long and thick against his abdomen. He helps rid of the shorts completely, kicking them off his ankles and then he rakes his fingers through your hair. Tilts his head as he looks down at you and says, “Just do what feels natural, princess.”

Your cheeks heat at the name, blooming down your neck and chest. Curious fingers graze down his length, Steve breathes out a pretty sound— almost a whine, kind of a sigh. Then you wrap your fingers around him, biting your lip at the warmth and weight. He inhales sharply, nodding at you as you lean forward and press your lips to the tip. Experimentally, you lick against the head of his cock and then drag your tongue across the edge of it. Steve groans, keeps stroking your cheek and forehead as he watches you with pupils blown wide.

“That’s it, baby,” he breathes out, “doing so good already.”

You’ve still got your fingers circled around his shaft, holding his cock up as you lick the tip like an ice cream cone. But you know you’re supposed to suck, that’s what you’ve been told at least. So you wrap your lips around the head and do just that. It punches a pretty sound from Steve’s throat, distinctly a whine. So you do it again and again and Steve keeps making that sound over and over before he says, “Move your hand, princess. Slow, up and down.”

Head feeling all dizzy, you listen and slowly stroke his cock up and down. But it’s kinda awkward— dry. You think it would work smoother if your palm was wet so you pull away and lick your hand before returning it to Steve’s cock, and you were right, the movement is so much easier like this and Steve moans, eyes blinking rapidly as he watches you.

“Such a fast learner, good girl,” he pants out and you’re smiling, cheeks swelling before you take his tip back between your lips.

You like this— a lot. Grinding down against the mattress for some friction, thighs all hot and slick with arousal. It’s the way he reacts, the sounds he makes and the way his face contorts in pleasure. Steve was pretty before but he looks even prettier like this. He bites at his lower lip, makes it even pinker and plumper. You sink a little more of him into your mouth, careful with your teeth as you swirl your tongue around his swollen tip and then suck. Your jaw aches slightly but it’s so worth it. Steve’s fingers slide into the roots of your hair, gripping softly as he moans out little encouragements.

“So pretty, so pretty like this.”

And it’s kind of silly because you think he looks so pretty like this. You squeeze his shaft a little tighter as you stroke him, out of pure excitement and Steve groans, guttural and low as he swears, “Fuuuuck.”

You suck harder on his tip and continue moving your fingers up and down his length, curving your palm on each upstroke because Steve’s eyes roll back slightly and you want more of that.

“Just like that— holy—- fuckfuckfuck,” Steve pants and moans, “I’m gonna cum.”

Out of pure curiosity, you don’t pull off. Because also, when you came, Steve didn’t pull away. He makes a choked, broken sound and releases, hot and thick on your tongue. And you’d heard all your coworkers complain about the taste but Steve is sweet, not bitter like you’ve been told. You don’t hate the taste at all, though the texture is another story. But you swallow it down all the same and Steve’s watching and gasping for air as you pull away. He grabs hold of your face, pulls you close and then wraps his arms around your body, kissing you fiercely, bruisingly.

❤️❤️❤️❤️

It happens later. Steve’s parents away on yet another business trip, a white lie told to yours about staying the night at a friends and there you are. On his couch. Steve laid on his back, you nestled between his thighs with your cheek on his chest and his legs tangled with you. He plays with your hair as the TV plays late night informercials. You’re not paying attention, mind wandering as you subtly take in the smell of Steve. Musk and summer, his honey scented shampoo and the sugary candy you two shared on his breath. Fans your face hotly and lovely. Tickles against the ridge of your brows, cascades down to your nostrils and it’s rather intoxicating. Ushers you to lift your face and inch up his body, wanting to taste as you brush your lips against his. His hand snakes down your spine, onto the soft skin at the small of your back, your shirt pulled up just slightly. Steve kisses you back tenderly, sighing so softly you almost miss it.

A thought tugs at the back of your head and you ask against his lips, “What are we?”

Steve hums, eyebrow raising as he smiles, “What do you mean?”

“Like… we spend every day together, we kiss, we… do other stuff,” you swallow hard, chest tightening with fear as you repeat, “So what are we?”

He nudges his nose against yours, “What do you wanna be, princess?”

“Yours,” you admit, a whisper. Almost silent.

“You are mine,” Steve replies, squeezing your hip in his hand. You flush something mad, trying to surprise the giggle of excitement from bubbling out of your throat. It’s fruitless, the sound erupting from you as your cheeks swell. Steve kisses you again, softly and asks against your lips, “You wanna be my girlfriend, princess?”

You nod as you kiss back, “Mhm.”

“Then you’re my girlfriend,” Steve agrees easily, his breath smells so sweet, makes your head all fuzzy.

“And you’re my boyfriend?” you test, hand moving up to cup his jaw.

“You better believe it,” he mumbles, you can hear the smile but even better you can feel it against your lips. You kiss him again, more intent behind it this time— fingernails softly scratching at his jaw. Steve drags his tongue along your bottom lip, asking to deepen the kiss which you eagerly agree as you part your lips. He tastes like candy, tooth achingly sweet when you welcome his skilled tongue against your own. It heats up quick, your hips dancing together as the pair of you pant into each others mouths. Steve’s hands lower to the fat of your ass, kneading and pulling. Your thighs feel all tingly, core aching with desperation for him.

You’re determined, you’ve been wanting Steve in that way for so long it feels like and he’s been taking his time with you. Testing the waters when you would’ve handed it over to him that first night in Scoops Ahoy!

“Stevie,” you pant against his mouth, “need you.”

“You have me, princess,” he retorts, smiling sweetly as he uses his leverage on your ass to grind you down against him. You can feel his length, hard and firm against your core and you whimper, needy.

“Need you— Steve, want you so bad,” you babble into his mouth as you writhe against him.

He taps your bum, “Up. Bedroom.”

You obey, don’t have to be told twice, holding his hand as he leads you to his bedroom. He kisses you once you’re inside, guides you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the mattress and you fall into it, pulling Steve with you, refusing to pull your lips away from his. Which is a feat when you two start undressing one another. When you do have to pull away to rid of articles, you whine and Steve chuckles, gives you what you want seconds later. Smoothes his hands down your naked body as he licks into your mouth. He pulls back, on his knees between your legs as he licks the tips of his fingers and brings them to your core, exhaling sharply once he’s met with the evidence of just how much you need him.

This is it, you think. As he licks his fingers again and smears the saliva over his aching tip, guiding it towards your entrance and you whine out, just when skin meets skin. Readier than ever, overwhelmingly desperate to feel Steve inside you. Your back arches as he sinks in, just the tip of him stretching you open. It’s pleasure incarnate, radiates through your stomach and eats at all your nerves.

“More,” you plead, grabbing onto his biceps as you roll your hips. Steve sinks in deeper and it’s a little intense, searing and hot and also so, so, so perfect. Pulls a high pitched moan from you. Steve’s rubbing soothing circles against your stomach.

“Tell me if it’s too much, yeah?”

You nod, digging your nails into his skin. Making little crescent indents. He lowers his mouth to yours, grazing your lips together as he sheathes his cock deeper inside. You gasp out, eyes clenching tightly at the burn. Steve kisses you through it, whispers words of encouragement there. Princess this and princess that. Pushes through this barrier and it’s all white hot pleasure. Bright light behind your eyelids as you moan out appreciation, adoration, desperation. His hips still, giving you the opportunity to adjust. Kisses you stupid with sugary sweetness. Tastes just like candy. Your hands are all over him, chest, stomach, shoulders, neck and back. Crying out soft little praising sounds.

He grits his teeth, eyebrows tangled as he pleads, “Please— princess, can I move?”

“Please,” you beg, “Gimme…” the thoughts lost as Steve winds his hips back and pushes them back down into you. A moan interrupting, voice wrecked already and Steve swallows it, kisses it away as he rolls his hips steadily. Keeps this rhythm that has your eyes rolling back and steady, candied uh-uh-uh’s fall from your lips.

Steve’s left hand holds himself up, palm to the mattress while his right grips tightly at your hip. Your legs open, ankles hooking over the backs of his thighs and your hands are still everywhere, taking in whatever you can. The way he’s stretching you out and filling you up at the same time is intoxicating, euphoria dripping all over you. You’re almost mad that you’d waited so long but it’s all too perfect. And maybe Steve’s been right and waiting is what made this moment the best thing you’ve ever experienced.

His lips are brutal against yours, pushing and pulling. Desperate and hungry. These pretty grunts and moans mushing against your lips.

“Steve,” you whine out, “god…”

He moves to grab your jaw, tilting your head back into the pillows as he moves his hips quicker, harder. Makes your head spin, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter. All you can really do is lay back and take it, mind gone all numb. Your hips search his out, rocking back into him with every thrust. The tip of his cock reaching something fierce and overwhelming inside you. Brushes against this spot so wonderfully that tears prick your eyes, threatening to spill over onto your cheeks.

“So perfect for me,” he mumbles into your mouth, “so pretty, so fuck— fucking gorgeous, princess.”

This wave rushes up on you like nothing before, punches the breath out of your lungs as you grip onto his back, nails scratching down the mole specked skin and Steve groans roughly against your mouth. Your eyes are open but you’re blinded by stars, exploding like fireworks as your eyebrows furrow and you emit a sound so loud, bordering on a cry. It’s like the drop of a roller coaster but a million times more intense, you’re not on this earth for the seconds it happens. Legs wrapping around his waist, crying out during the aftershocks of it. Steve’s panting against your lips, little whines and moans. Pretty sounds that just elongate the utter ecstasy ripping through your body.

“Fuckfuck— shit, princess, I’m gonna—“ Steve pulls out of you abruptly, fingers gripping around his cock as he spills over onto your stomach. Makes a choked and broken sound as he does it, your eyes are on his face. Watching the pleasure contort his features in a way that has you obsessed. He pants, chest heaving as he pushes his hair back. Catches his breath, leans down and kisses you softly before exiting the bed. You whine in protest, reaching your hands out for him.

Steve smiles sweetly at you, grabs a dirty towel from his hamper and moves to wipe his cock. You watch in awe, still coming back down to earth. He moves back towards the bed, using the towel to clean off your stomach. He drops it to the floor and curls up next you, pulling your face to his and kisses you stupid.

“Worth the wait?” he asks, teasingly.

You giggle and say against his lips, “When can we do it again?”

He laughs, pulling your body flush to his as he says, “You’re gonna kill me, princess.”

[a11eya]

TITLE: lights will guide you home

CHAPTER: 8

PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

SUMMARY: Soul-lights aren’t as common in this day and age as they were in the past, before quirks, but they’re common enough that people do still find their soulmates.

At thirteen, you meet Bakugou Katsuki, and he lights up for you in orange and gold. You tell him he's your soulmate. He sneers and tells you that you aren't his. He makes your adolescence miserable until you part ways.

You meet again as adults, late at night, in a grocery store, over a pile of bok choy. He apologizes for how he treated you when you were children.

(In which you have a choice—to reject Bakugou's apology, reject him, or to let him show you the man he's become, to learn with him what it means to love and forgive.)

TAGS: soulmate au, trope inversion/subversion, slow burn, getting together, falling in love, fluff, aged up characters, pro-hero characters, eventual smut, mild bullying

NAVIGATION: Series Masterlist

Ikeda tells you that two of the pictures—only two!—you took of Bakugou are viable and that one of the videos is passable. It’s a little harsh, in your opinion, especially considering who your subject was. 

She also asks you for the name of the organization you used to foster the kittens. You tell her the organization name, and, a little sheepishly, that the adoption and foster program’s called Save the Meow Meows. It makes her laugh. 

“Next time, try to get Dynamight to smile, okay?” she says after her laughter dissolves into a grin, audible even over the phone. “He looks like he’s being held hostage in 90% of these.”

“I know. I tried, but you know how he is.” It takes a half-second for the entirety of her words to process. You blink. “Wait, next time?”

“Well, yeah!” she says, sounding amused. “This first post we just put up on Dynamight’s socials is already doing well, and your pictures with him at the pet store are in the rearview mirror. Who knew that people would like them so much? No accounting for taste, I suppose.” 

Well. You knew, the moment you saw Bakugou pick up Mikan. There’s one photo in particular that didn't make it to Dynamight’s social media because Mikan’s mid-motion in it, but something about Bakugou’s expression… You’ll never tell him, but the two of them together make such a pretty picture that you favorited it on your phone. 

You try to pay attention as Ikeda continues, “A couple more posts should suffice, so we need more photos with him in different clothes, maybe in a different spot in your apartment, individual shots with each kitten… and definitely better expressions. Only makes sense, right?”

“Right…”

“You can go ahead and let him know about the additional shoots; you did a great job of coordinating things between you. And good job wrangling him so far! Keep up the good work! ”

“Thanks,” you say, after a pause, to the dial tone. You wonder if Bakugou knows how much Ikeda dislikes him. 

Grimacing, you type out a message and send Bakugou the bad news. 

You: Hey. Just finished talking to Ikeda. She says we need to take more pictures 🙏

Not a minute passes before your phone begins vibrating in your hand. You eye it like it’s a snake and answer hesitantly. 

“…Hello?”

“What’dya mean, more pictures?” Bakugou snaps. 

“Literally, there are no other meanings for that statement.”

“Call her back and tell her to fuck off.”

“Bakugou,” you sigh in exasperation. “I’m not gonna tell her to fuck off. Also, she’s your PR person. If you have complaints, shouldn’t you tell her directly?”

“The fifty pictures you took weren’t enough?” he demands.

“She says we need to take pictures of you wearing different clothes, in different spots in my apartment, so it’s clear they happened on different days. She also says you need solos with each of the kittens. And that you need to smile.” 

Quietly, you mutter away from the receiver, “Like I told you to.”

Bakugou must have the ears of a bat because his tone lowers, dangerous. “What’d you say, brat? Come and say that to my face.”

“Make me,” you say immediately, then close your eyes, feeling embarrassed. He really does bring out an unfortunately childish side of you. 

The line goes silent.

You wait, wondering if you pissed him off. 

“Text me when you’re free this week,” he says abruptly. “I’ll come by for the damn pictures.”

He hangs up before you can reply. 

Bakugou: I’m outside. 

Standing from your couch, you walk over to your front door and pull it open.

“Hey,” you tell him, but you stop in confusion when you notice he has a duffle bag in one hand and a reusable bag, the kind you’d put groceries in, in the other. His expression is pinched when your eyes meet.

“Here,” Bakugou says, and shoves the reusable bag at you. You automatically grab at the handles and make a sound when he lets go; it’s heavy. 

“Gotta reschedule the dumb photos. I was called in for work,” he says. 

Bakugou steps back, clearly moving to leave, and you grab his wrist.  

“Hold on,” you say. You let your hand fall from him and raise the reusable bag. “What is this?”

“Nutrients instead of the garbage you usually have. Be grateful,” he tells you, baring his teeth in a mean smile. You make a face at him, instinctively, and the mean fades from his smile, shifting to an amused twist of his lips. He looks at you as if he’s going to say something more. He doesn’t. 

Bakugou turns and makes his way down the hallway. 

You stare at his back, then duck your head to look at the contents of the bag. 

There are several bentos in there, stacked neatly, easily a week’s worth of lunches. The ones at the top have sticky notes on them, labeled with a number and what looks like a list of ingredients. 

When it finally clicks what you’re holding, your eyes widen. 

You shove your feet into some slides, grabbing another shoe to hold your door open, and chase Bakugou down the hallway, lugging the bag with you.

“Bakugou, wait,” you call, catching up to him where he’s waiting at the elevator, duffle bag on the ground. 

He turns to look at you, eyes narrowed. You come to an abrupt halt in front of him and try to give him the bag back. 

Bakugou crosses his arms, a refusal. “The fuck are you doing?”

“I can’t accept this,” you say. “It’s so much food! And was probably a lot of work to make!”

“S’why you should shut up and keep it,” he growls. “Go back.”

You scrabble about for a more convincing argument. “You should keep it. You’re going to work, right? You need lunch!”

“Already got lunch. This shit’s just because I made extra meal prepping this week,” Bakugou says.

Your mouth opens, and you furrow your brow, looking down at the bag. Uncertain, now.

“If you don’t want it, toss it,” he tells you, rolling his eyes.

“I can’t do that,” you gasp, just as the elevator arrives and opens. 

One of your neighbors, coming back from walking her dog, blinks at the both of you from inside the elevator. 

You quickly step closer to where Bakugou’s standing so she can pass. Bakugou picks up his duffle bag so it isn’t in the way, and you exchange greeting smiles with your neighbor as she slips by. Her big dog stops to sniff at the bag you’re holding, no doubt detecting the food, but your neighbor tugs at the leash and away.

Feeling self-conscious now that you have an audience, even if she is getting further down the hall, you turn back to Bakugou. He’s looking at you already, an exasperated expression on his face.

“Stop being stubborn,” he says, mouth a downward slash. “Gotta go. Eat that shit or don’t. I don’t care.”

He steps into the elevator and jabs the button for the ground floor. He’s gone before you can come up with a response.

You stack the bentos in your fridge, taking care not to jostle them more than you had during your jog down the hallway. As you place the last one inside, you trace the edge of its lid thoughtfully.  

You weren’t sure, at first, why these bentos bothered you, why your first reaction was to try to give them back. But the longer you sit on it, the more clarity you have. 

You feel a little guilty, that Bakugou keeps doing things for you, giving you things. The feeling has been building, especially over the past couple weeks since you’ve been messaging him, talking to him. You talk to him nearly every day. You’ve learned he prefers phone calls to texts—not surprising, considering how brief his messages usually are. He’s become part of your routine, and you find yourself feeling like something’s missing when a day passes without a snarky message from him or a phone call where you update him on the kittens, despite his claims of disinterest. 

You don’t want him to think that you only want him around because he gives you things and does stuff for you. You hope nothing about you gives that impression. 

You’re not sure how to tell him this. It makes your stomach swoop, just thinking about bringing it up. Because you know you’ll have to tell him what you just realized: that you like him for who he is. That you like him in your life. That he doesn’t have to earn your time or attention or—or forgiveness with things or by doing things. 

At work the next day, you sit and eat in the break room for the first time in several weeks, nearly crying over your first bite of a bento. It’s so good.

You figured out the numbers on the sticky notes indicate the order in which you should eat the bentos. Even though the ingredients are listed on the notes, you’d been tempted to crack open each bento to see what you’ll be eating later in the week. But so far, you’ve been able to control yourself. It’s kind of nice. Like a little surprise to look forward to each day. 

You finger today’s sticky note, taking in the words crossing it. For some reason, you’d assumed Bakugou would have messy, wild handwriting. But the kanji are precise, neat. You wonder what he’s doing right now.

The break room door opens, and you look up to see a colleague from a different department.

“Hey!” he greets you, crossing the room to fill his water bottle at the fill station. He turns to face you as he waits, and you panic internally, struggling to remember his name. Sato? Suzuki? 

“Surprised to see you in here,” he remarks. “Usually you eat in your office.”

“Yeah!” you say. You had no idea he took so much notice of where you ate. When were you first introduced? A couple months back? You feel worse about not remembering his name. 

You give him a smile, hoping the guilt isn’t on your face. “Just felt like a change of pace today.”

“That bento looks good! Do you like to cook?” he asks.

“Oh! No, a friend made it for me.” Your smile shifts into something more genuine. “He said I’ve been eating garbage, so. His attempt at trying to make sure I don’t die prematurely, I guess.”

“Oh, gotcha,” Sato or Suzuki or something else entirely says, tone shifting, and he picks up his now-full water bottle and twists the cap back on. 

“Well, enjoy your lunch!” he says, waving goodbye as he leaves the break room. 

You stare at the closing door for a brief moment before shaking your head. You need to find out that guy’s name before you see him again. He totally clocked you for not recognizing him, because what was that weird look on his face as he left? You decide to ask your team—discreetly!—what his name is after your lunch break.

When you’re finished eating, you snap a picture of the empty bento and send it to Bakugou.

You: Thank you for the food! 🙏

You: You know, if you ever change your mind about the hero thing, I think you’d get a job as a chef, easy

After a moment, you decide to send another message. You want to bring up the thoughts you’d had the other day, about how you don’t want him to feel compelled to keep doing things for you, but you feel like it’s a conversation better had in-person. Or on the phone, at least. 

It takes you several minutes of deleting and drafting before you settle on something inadequate. 

You: Sorry I was so weird about it yesterday 

Standing abruptly, too chicken to wait to see if he replies, you clean up your area and get back to work. 

It’s at the end of the work day, on the train, when you check your messages again. A text from Bakugou is waiting for you in your inbox, and you’re definitely not nervous when you tap on it to read it.

Bakugou: Better be sorry. Next time, don’t be a brat about it

You exhale, huffing a laugh, relieved. You type out a response.

You: Yes, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight sir 

He doesn’t reply. One thing about Bakugou is that he leaves his read receipts on—intentionally, you suspect, because it’s just like him to make sure you know he’s ignoring you, even through texts. It makes you grin.

The week passes, and you find yourself staring at a pile of empty bento boxes, hands on your hips.

You: Hey, when can I return the bento boxes? Washed them and everything!!

Bakugou: I’d fuckin’ hope so 

You: 😒

You: Should I drop them off at your agency? 

Bakugou: No, bring ‘em to my place

He sends you an address.

A part of you is a little relieved he’d suggested you not bring them to his agency. Thinking about it, going there to drop off a bag of empty bento boxes feels a little too… revealing. That people might see that you have the kind of relationship where he makes you lunch. You don’t want to cause trouble, especially since the pet store fiasco is just starting to fade from people’s memories. 

You: 👍

“Hi.” You feel a little out of place, standing in the hallway outside Bakugou’s apartment. You hold up the bag of bento boxes. “I brought the goods.”

Mentally, you’re kicking yourself. You’re always saying such dumb shit in front of him. 

Bakugou’s gives you a deadpan look, an I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that look. 

“Well don’t just stand there,” he says, and moves back to give you some room.

You step past the threshold, and he closes the door behind you. He grabs the bag from you and heads deeper into his apartment. Hurriedly, you toe off your shoes and follow him.

He’s gone into his kitchen, you realize, and he has a cabinet open, where he’s placing the bento boxes inside, one by one. He meets your gaze as he’s putting one away, and while maintaining eye contact with you, he opens one of them and makes a show of inspecting it for cleanliness.

“Very funny,” you say dryly. 

Bakugou barks out a laugh and you smile, despite yourself.

As he continues to put away the boxes, you take a moment to glance around his kitchen while he’s busy.

It’s big. It has some fancy-looking appliances you wouldn’t typically find in a home kitchen. The stove looks top-of-the-line, and you see an impressive-looking knife set displayed on the counter. There’s even a stand mixer in one corner. You wonder if Bakugou bakes. 

“Y’want water, tea?” he asks, closing the cabinet and turning to you.

“Oh, water’s fine, thanks,” you say. You’re chagrined; even Bakugou’s a better host than you are.

You lean your side against one of the counters, watching as he grabs a pair of glasses and fills them up. 

He’s the most dressed down you’ve ever seen him, in a faded shirt and worn pants that he easily could’ve slept in. His hair is nearly flat, falling in relaxed strands, softening him. All his edges are blunted, here, in his apartment.

You murmur a thank you as he gives you your water, and you subtly study his face as he drains his glass. He leans a hip against the counter. 

He looks a little tired, slight bags under his eyes. The way he’s holding himself is relaxed, but his shoulders slant, droop in a way you haven’t seen before. When he leans over to place his cup in the sink, his shirt lifts a little, exposing a glimpse of skin and the lip of his boxers rising above the waistband of his pants. His lights are gentle swirls around him, bathing him in a soft glow. 

He’s handsome, it dawns on you. The thought flusters you, and heat begins to rise to your cheeks. 

What the hell? You’ve seen him in casual clothes; you’ve seen him in his hero suit. Objectively, people are more attractive when put together, right? Presentable. There’s nothing about him, now, that you should find attractive. He’s just some guy, standing in his kitchen.

But Bakugou in his off mode, at home, does something to you. It’s like wires rearrange in your head, and you can’t stop looking at him. 

“Hey,” you say—anything to leave this train of thought behind, because nope. “Thanks again for the food. This week was the best I’ve eaten, like ever.”

“You’re damn right it was,” he says, and you roll your eyes, smiling. 

“Alright, alright, Mr. Ego. I did want to talk about something else, too, while I’m here. If you have a minute.” By the time you’re finished talking, a serious note you’re unable to help has crept into your voice. 

An expression you’re unable to decipher flickers across his face. Bakugou crosses his arms. “Spit it out.”

You put your glass down on the counter, fiddling with it. Stalling, you realize. 

“I want you to know… you don’t have to do all this for me, okay?” you say, glancing up at him. 

His eyes narrow. 

You continue, hurriedly, to clarify. “I mean, like buying me the couch protectors, or making me lunches. I appreciate it all, I do.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Bakugou says, a little growl on the end of his sentence. 

“I just don’t want you thinking you need to do these things for me,” you say, voice faltering, quieting. “Even if you don’t cook me another meal, or buy me a single thing, ever, that’s fine with me.” 

Please understand, you will to him, watching him. Your thoughts feel clumsy, your words clumsier, like it’s a monumental effort just to string two sentences together. You can’t find the words to tell him what you mean: that you think he’s funny when he quips at you and that you know he’s observant, thoughtful. That you like talking to him, spending time with him. It’s enough.

Maybe you have found the words, but you can’t say them aloud just yet. Not yet.

“I know I don’t need to do shit. I only do shit I wanna do,” Bakugou says gruffly.

You open your mouth to argue, to try again to make sure he understands you, but he interrupts, puts a hand on your head. He’s a little rough, but his hand is warm. Reassuring. There’s a softness in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. You could fall into them, like this. 

“You think too much,” he tells you, but peering into his face—you think he’s heard you, loud and clear. 

You do think too much, you acknowledge on the train ride home. 

You’d left his apartment soon after your conversation; he’d needed to get ready for work. But your thoughts still buzz with him. 

You think about how the shape of your life has changed with him in it, within just a couple weeks. You think about the fact that he’s your soulmate but you’re not his, how this is something that can’t be changed, no matter how well you get to know Bakugou and how well he gets to know you. It’s been a long time since this—that you can see his lights but he can’t see yours—bothered you. You thought you’d accepted it, moved on from it. 

It really, really bothers you.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi!! How do you think potential meet cutes with Jason would go? Do you think he’d be instantly smitten? He strikes me as the type to get a crush on you since the first meeting but maybe I’m just delusional 🥰

My honest opinion but I don’t think Jason likes smut books. He doesn’t mind a little bit of smut but would much prefer if it was nonexistent or didn’t take up a ridiculous amount of pages/chapters in the book in general.

I’m also a delusional twat anon who believes Jason would feel something upon first meetings, but firstly I have to heavily disclose that most of your run ins with one another would be in a book store/cafe, at least more so then anywhere else. (Book reader Jason supremacy!)

So to say that your interest was peaked upon first spotted a six foot something, beast of a man standing in front of the romance section, holding two different books -which were both written by the Jane Austen- in each hand was an understatement.

Normally you wouldn’t expect a man like Jason in the romance section of a small, quite but quaint bookstore/cafe, withholding an internal conflict over some books in his head as though his life depended on it. However the fact still stands that you deeply appreciate a man with good taste in his personal readings, and wasn’t afraid to indulge in the romance genre.

It probably also didn’t help that he was a conventionally attractive man with short dark hair with a tuft of white embedded in his fringe and wearing a simple read hoodie and jeans, a simple attire that anyone could wear, but on him he made it seem as though it were a main staple of his wardrobe.

Jason, knowing when he’s being watched, as quick to look over his shoulder but what he wasn’t expecting was to see someone as cute and stunning as you standing there. He’s a little tongue tied but that was mainly from surprise, and for all of Jason’s hard attempts of trying to act natural, it only made for a spectacle that you couldn’t help but view as endearing and kinda cute.

‘You alright there?’ You’d ask with a smile.

‘Yeah. I’m good, fine even.’ Jason replied, internally cursing himself for being caught off guard because he was too involved in debating which book to take home to read.

‘So…You like Jane Austen?’ You asked, trying to make room for a conversation to occur between the two of you.

‘Wha-‘ Jason looks down at the books in either of his hands and chuckles. ‘Yeah, she’s one of my favourite alongside the likes of Mary Shelley and Louisa May Alcott.’ He answers and he could tell that he had gotten your approval with the little hum of acknowledgment.

‘Do you come here often?’ You then said before adding with an awkward laugh of your own, ‘I mean I come here quite frequently as it’s the only bookstore in town that has proper books that aren’t smut books, and i have never seen you before until well…today.’ Jason smiles, finding himself growing to like you with every passing moment as he felt himself grow relaxed within your presence, especially now that he had long deducted that you weren’t a real threat.

‘I’m with you on that pretence, it’s seems that nowadays all the bookshelves in most stores are prominently smut books of lacklustre quality and story structure.’ Jason agreed, noting being a fan of those types of books himself, Jason had found it becoming increasingly difficult to find decent books that weren’t smut, badly written girl boss self inserts, or just poorly written in general. So when he stumbled across this little book store on his way home and took a chance by entering the store, only to find himself spending way longer than he had initially thought.

And that was just in the romance section alone. That’s how Jason knew this bookstore was unlike all the rest in Gotham.

‘But as to answer your question, I come here on the off chance when I’m looking for a new book to read, seeing as I have read and re-read the books in my personal possession multiple times over.’ Jason admitted and feeling a little bashful but reading had proven to be a form of escapism for him- especially after everything he has been through recently- he felt as though this escape from reality was severely overdue.

‘You’ve got your own collection of books? Am I allowed to assume that they’re mainly Jane Austen’s body of work or?’ You trailed off, feeling yourself growing more confident with talking to Jason as though it was as easy as breathing. Finally you had someone to indulge in this sort of conversation with without it feeling forced and fall to the wayside, leaving you both to soak in the awkward and stifling aftermath.

Jason smiled genuinely as he bowed his head and raised his hands. ‘You got me down to a science…’ he trailed off once realising that he didn’t know your name and cursed himself for his lack of even the basic of etiquette.

‘Y/n.’ You told him with a smile.

‘Y/n.’ He tested out your name, letting it linger for a little bit and quickly came to the conclusion that he liked it. He liked it a lot. And you liked it also, especially when he was the one saying it the way he did just now.

‘Well it’s nice to meet you y/n. My names Jason.’ Jason then said and he knew that he’d come to like the way you said his name as though it were a mythical word;

‘Jason.’ You uttered, saying every word with care and respect that it left a weird feeling within Jason’s chest that only seems to grow and spread throughout his body the more you talked.

You two would talk for literal hours about your favourite book genres, characters and so on to the point that the owner of the bookstore would have to remove you both from the premises himself. He’d then proceed to go on about how you both were just taking the piss at this point and muttering about having to stay an while longer to properly close up shop, count the cash float, and so on before then making the journey home.

He honestly didn’t care about the books in Jason’s hand, just lets him have them for free on the pretence that both he and you get the fuck out before shutting and locking the door behind you both.

‘Well…’ Jason trailed off, tucking the books under his arm. ‘Will I see you again? Preferably here?’ He asks and you smiled sheepishly.

‘Depends, will you?’ You countered and Jason could feel the smile on his lips grow at it’s own accord. ‘Yeah, I’m definitely coming back if I get free books for every time I stay until closing hours.’ He jokes and you lightly smack his bicep, keeping your hand there for an unreasonably long time but it’s not like either you or Jason cared in that moment.

‘Then I guess I’m obligated to come back here to help you piss off the bookstore owner.’ You replied with a smile of your own as you both kept looking into the other’s eyes. You both knew something had blossomed here today at this run down bookstore, and you both hoped that it could continue like that for a long while, but neither of you were willing to admit your embarrassingly rapidly growing attraction to one another. That could wait for another time.

‘Great.’ Jason said.

‘Great.’ You echoed. ‘See you soon I guess.’

‘Soon can’t come fast enough.’ Jason replied ask you both went your separate ways with eager anticipation of your next interaction.

[moralesluvr]

Y.D.L.R | MILES MORALES

♡ pairings & aus: earth 42!miles morales x barista!black!fem!reader (they are 19 in this for the plot's sake), exes 2 lovers au. ♡ summary: it's been three months since you broke up with miles. it took you those three months to get over him-- and now you finally have, until he unexpectedly ‘bumps’ into you as you wait for your new man at a restaurant. and boy, does he have so much to tell you. ♡ warnings: cursing, arguing, mentions of sex i think? ♡ a/n: whew chile...my first e42 actual FIC FIC im screaming!! this lovely fic was inspired by my bae bae @luvjunie and her WONDERFUL PLAYLIST XOXO!! i love u endlessly <3 ♡ got a request? | masterlist ♡ ♪ - Y.D.L.R by Tory Lanez

There's something enigmatic about going on a date after a break-up.

Maybe it's the way your stomach flutters when plans are set in stone, or the way your lips inevitably curl upwards when you swipe your makeup onto your face to the beat of your getting-ready tunes.

Or maybe, it's just because it's not with Miles.

Your heart twists within itself at the very mention of his name, or at the mere thought of it— that's for sure. Anything that had to do with him in the slightest had your stomachs in knots, the bitter taste of acid playing on your tongue when you dwelled on the past of your former relationship.

It was his fault, that’s what you had settled on. Mostly to deny the fact that your chest locked whenever you saw him in public, or whenever he would come into your job during the morning time, ordering the same chocolate muffin and coffee that he always bought.

And you had to act like it didn’t bother you, although it did, for a while. You always called him “Mr.” when you saw him in person because the hurt restricted your mouth to even fix itself to say his name.

But months passed, and you were sick of coming home from work and falling asleep to the sound of your own tears hitting the pillow, accompanied by constant rewatching of old videos and pictures that you and Miles had accumulated over the past two years.

As long as your relationship was, you knew that it would be hard to get over him if you just sat around and sulked all day for the rest of your life. You caught yourself opening up the App Store and downloading multitudes of dating apps, at first— just for fun and games, until one guy that you matched with came into your work.

Sebastian was extremely different in relation to Miles. He was taller, buffer, and owned the deepest of emerald eyes, which seemed to always sparkle when he was under the opiate of light. He was kind-hearted and tender and often told you how beautiful you were when he had the chance.

He had the thickest of caramel curls and was two years older, as well, which definitely appealed to you because you assumed he would be more mature then your former lover. He introduced himself one day when you were working, sliding a twenty across the old oak counters as a “tip for your excellent service.”

Ever since he had became a regular at the shop, you would often go out with him after your shifts would end, which halted the amount of times you would see Miles at work, which you used to your advantage.

As completely horrible as it sounds, you didn’t really have a strong intention to fall for Sebastian. He was cute and you were pretty and he liked taking you out, especially to lunch, which you viewed as free meals with a close friend. Until he started to hug you and place his hands on the curve of your waist when you walked down the street, thick and veiny hands kneading at the doughy flesh of your sides from time to time.

You didn’t intend to fall for him until he kissed you on the cheek that night that he took you on a picnic and asked you to be his girlfriend. And when he looked at you with his deep, viridescent eyes, you couldn’t say no. You had fell for him, so you nodded your head and whispered a ‘Yes’ as he pressed his lips onto yours softly, so gentle and tender, like he was afraid to hurt you.

Eventually, time stretched to today, where you were celebrating your one-month with Sebastian. You were surprised you held out this long, but day by day, the mere memories of Miles had faded from your knowledge and you liked to keep it that way.

In current time, you tapped your phone with a freshly manicured acrylic, your other hand occupied with brushing away your setting powder that brightened up your under eyes. It was nearly six-thirty, and your date was at seven ‘o clock.

Sebastian claimed that he couldn’t pick you up because it would ruin an alleged surprise, but you just shrugged it off as you finished off your look with a pair of lashes and red lipstick.

You carefully smacked your lips and smiled in the mirror as you grabbed your purse and phone, swiping it open and texting Sebastian that you were on your way.

As you walked out of your house and got into your car, some unknown emotion was crawling through your veins that made you anxious. Something was going to happen— you were sure of it, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on it. So you just set the feeling aside and sped over to the steakhouse that your date was being held at, paying for a valet parking spot and taking a seat at your table.

And that’s when you got the text.

[from] seb <3: Hey sweetheart. I’m running a little late, is that okay with you?

You felt a sigh tumble past your lips. There wasn’t really much you could do other than just deal with it, so you informed him that it was all alright and that you would just order an appetizer to hold you over.

You were doing fine until you saw a figure outside the large glass windows that faced the front of the restaurant. It was someone in an all black suit, with two braids running down their back. And you would’ve suspected it was someone else until you look at the shoes that they were wearing— that being a pair of limited edition Jordan’s.

It was Miles.

Chambering up from your slumped position in your chair, y you watched as he spoke to some waitress about something, expressing his feelings through his hands. You felt a scoff hitch in your throat— he’s never that expressive, so clearly something was up.

Wait.

Why should you care?

You have a boyfriend.

But something was still wrong, you could feel it.

Your eyes fixated on him as he walked towards your table, and your blood immediately ran cold when you saw him smirk at you, pulling out the reserved chair in front of yours, taking a seat on it. He folded his hands on top of the table, cocking his head to the side, “Nice to see you again, mi vida.”

“Don’t.” You warned shakily, shifting in your seat in full discomfort, “Leave. I won’t ask you again.”

“This chair was a lil’ empty before I got here, don’t you think, ma?” He questioned you, picking up a menu as his eye scanned the contents of it. “What you gon’ order? I’ll have whatever you have.”

“Morales.” You spat, venom laced within the mention of his name as your bracelet-clad wrist slammed against the table. It doesn’t phase Miles, though— his stoic expression still remaining, playing on his strong facial features.

Miles scoffs, a sarcastic and playful grin residing on his lips, “¿Que pasa, mami? You ain’ miss me?”

“Why are you doing this?” You questioned, but your inquiry is provided with no answer. Instead, Miles sets the menu down and looks at you with intense eyes, fire reigning in their irises as he speaks.

“I’m not gon’ sit here and front, Y/N, but that new, shitty excuse for a man you call yo’ boyfriend?” He tuts, “He not the one for you.”

You give him a disgusted look, “I can’t believe you would say that.”

“It’s just the truth. I’ve seen all the pictures on Instagram and whatnot, and sure, y’all cute. I’m not even tight about it- but y’all just don’t look right together. And he prolly not who you think he is-“

You immediately stand to your feet, hands grasping either sides of the table as you lean in close to the man in front of you— so close that your noses are practically touching. “You shut the hell up.” You hiss, “You have no right to come here and give me a piece of your mind on somethin’ that don’t even effect you. So you get up, and go home, or I’ll make it happen my own damn self.”

There’s a pause of silence for a moment before Miles chuckles at you, leaning back in your seat. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip so hard that it ought to draw blood, but you’re doing it to prevent the provoking of you screaming across the restaurant at him. He looks up at you with hard eyes, licking his lips, “Aight. I’mma let that slide, because you prolly hurt, and I understand. But I’m tellin’ you that he ain’t no good. I’ve seen it. I know. I ain’t come here to win you back or nun- I came here because I actually care, but you can’t seem to get that through your thick skull.”

Something about the way that his sentences roll of his tongue push you to believe that he isn’t lying. You back off, crossing your arms, “If you claim to know all this, then what is he hiding?”

“Come outside with me.” He says, standing up and heading for the door, just like that. And you follow him, because you know that his statement was much more of an order then a question.

It’s late now, the moon shining over the sidewalk that you and Miles both walk on. He grabs your shoulders and moves you to the inside, switching so that he’s now walking closest to the cars. Your heart pumps with anxiety and your mind is swirling with questions that your mouth can’t seem to form. All you can muster up is, “Why are you here?”

“I’m not tryna hurt you, hermosa,” he starts, exhaling before he continues on, “But I just can’t see you with him. I knew I made you upset and shit and that’s on me, I know, but after you left, everything you do seems to make me so sad. And I can promise you that that lil’ Sebastian dude is not gon’ treat you right.”

“You don’t know that.” You speak, continuing to walk until you realize that Miles has stopped. He’s standing in front of a window to another restaurant, and when you peek inside, your heart shatters at the view that awaits you.

It’s Sebastian, sitting with another woman who looks quite older than you are. There’s some sort of ring on the table and you assume it’s a promise ring, because it’s just in a simple box that’s from Pandora. You immediately tear up, and Miles opens his arms and engulfs you in his embrace, although it’s unwanted from you at first, he still does it anyway. You’re crying in his coat as he soothingly rubs circles on your exposed back, “I told you. I wanted to beat his ass but I knew if I did it without seeing you, you would be pissed off.” He then tucks his index finger underneath your chin, “I’m sorry, mami.”

You know he means it because it’s something that he rarely says. It’s always ‘his bad’ and ‘his fault’, but when he tells you that he’s sorry, there’s not a hint of untruthfulness in his statement.

“Why do you do this to me?” You sniffled, looking up at Miles with soft, reddened eyes, “Why are you the only one that seems to treat me right? I can’t get away from you no matter how hard I try.”

Miles’ hand trails up from your waist to your cheek, where he leans in closer to you, “Because you’re mine forever. Do you not realize that? Do you not realize that I would kill for you? I would burn down this entire planet if it meant that no one else could touch you. But you’re so hellbent on thinking that your somebody is some random on the Internet. And it’s not. It’s me, Y/N. I’m here.” His voice gets quieter as his eyes soften, “Don’t go. Please.”

“Fuck,” you cursed, sniffling with a small chuckle as you looked at him, “I left because you never told me the truth. You were always sneaking around and I thought you were with some other girl.”

“I wasn’t, mi princesa, I promise that to you.” He starts, “We’ll talk about it later, but I was only looking out for you. Drop this piece of shit and come back to me, mama? Please?”

You’re shocked at Miles’ demeanor. Usually he’s so nonchalant and laidback, but now here he is, begging for you to take him back in the middle of the moonlight. There’s not a bone in your body that even pondered about saying no, though, and the smooth kiss that follows his statement is more than enough confirmation that you belong to him, that you were his.

And if you were speaking truthfully, you always were.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 ☻ thank you for reading!

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @enj4i // @chrissytalia // @chaoticevilbakugo // @motheroffae

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓🕷️: @queenesther996 //@sukunas-slutty-bitch // @c3f21 // @wydney // @rinnyisnothere // @brieryann // @moisttowllet // @Dee-m-cee // @liliummz // @starhrtz // @daisydark // @randomhoex // @solanawrld // @whore4hobie // @tanakaslastbraincell // @simp4miguell // @nyrovi3 // @my3tumbles // @aziulsworld // @enchantingfoxsparkles // @mancerseedu // @cafehyunji // @personofyou // @mcdvsr // @kopiivie // @ellatienesuscosas // @venuswash3re // @calliarlerte // @pr0wlerpunk // @tzuyuzzs // @wisepoetrycheesecake // @clearskiiiess // @d3atht3hek1d // @vienreina // @pixqlsin // @caulifloweron // @aizawassimpblog

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✎: @Dee-m-cee // @euphorichappiness10 // @adoree-kaelynn // @mhadnirb // @mmst4rz // @iris-theflower // @fleurrieerecs // @kenlani // @kala2022 // @ilyless // @milesmolasses // @laylasbunbunny // @all444miles // @thecoloredpages // @bl00dsuccker

[bvrrykook]

A Bookstore Date

⤷ Summary: Jungkook takes you out on a date and spoils you with books and kisses.

Pairings: Jungkook! and oc!

Genre: Fluff

Warning: slight smut I guess

Today, your boyfriend randomly decided to take you out on a date. You explored the city together, visited different stores, and enjoyed lunch while frequently expressing your love for each other. Jungkook was a true romantic; all he wanted was to take care of you and spoil you endlessly.

As you were walking, you spotted a bookstore. You grabbed Jungkook's hand and dragged him with you.

“Are you out of your mind, Y/n?”

You heard Jungkook speak, but his words faded into the background as your attention was captured by the beautiful bookstore. The exterior was wooden and adorned with colorful signs and flickering lights. You didn’t even notice the cars passing by.

As you and Jungkook made your way inside. You noticed the beautiful wooden shelves filled with books the place felt cozy and warm.

“Really? Y/n This is why you almost got us run over by a car because of books.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that; I guess I was caught up in the damn bookstore.”

You gave him an apologetic smile. He just looks with a toothy grin.

“It's fine baby no need to worry come on let's go look around.”

You smiled at him, grabbed his hand, and went to search for the romance section. Jungkook knew how much you love reading especially when it came to reading romance books. Jungkook can watch you read for hours without getting bored- that's how much he loves you. You all looked around at the different books and pointed to each one you had read.

“Ahh! I love this book, Jungkook” you said holding the colorful cover for him to see. As you turned towards him, you noticed how his eyes sparkled with curiosity, giving you a warm smile. “What is it about baby?” he asked taking a few steps closer to you to get a better view of the book.

“Why are you looking at me like that.”

You felt your heart race as you looked into his boba-like eyes. You swear you could marry this man right now and just kiss him, all because he asked you what the book was about.

"It's about two friends struggling with addiction, and we follow their journey as they seek the help they need."

Jungkook could see the happiness that talking about books brought you. He wished he could snap a picture of you at this moment.

Timeskip

“Are those all the books you’re planning to get, love?”

“Yeah, trust me, I have plenty at home and don't need you to spend your money on me.”

“Baby, do you really think that's going to stop me?”

You looked at him with a “ Are you seriously.” look. No matter how many times you told Jungkook to stop spending his money on you, you knew he wouldn't listen.

As you guys approach the cashier, Jungkook reaches into his back pocket to get his wallet. He hands his credit card to the cashier. You and Jungkook walk out of the bookstore hand in hand. A cold breeze hits your face as you climb into the car, but you soon settle into the warmth of the seats.

The drive was filled with laughter, with Jungkook kissing your knuckles and a bunch of “I love yous.” Once you got home, you lay on the bed and admired all the books Jungkook had bought you. You felt the bed sink slightly as Jungkook joined you.

“What you got there baby.”

“Just looking through all the books you got me that's all.”

Jungkook looks at you, leans a little closer, and kisses your neck down to your collarbone. He then kiss you on the lips and start having hot messy make session.

“Ba-baby” you say

But he doesn't listen his hands slide under your shirt up until his hands reaches to your breast and gives them a firm squeeze.

“Baby stop.”

“Why?” he whines, giving you a pouty face. That pouty look makes you want to kiss him all over again, and that's exactly what you do; you climb into his lap and kiss him.

“Wow,” he said, breathing heavily. “What was that for?”

“That was a thank you, baby, for the amazing date and the books you bought me.”

“Really? Then I should do that more often.” you smiled at him and kissed his cheek.

“I love you,” you say.

“I love you too, baby.”

I hope you guys like it.

It's my first time writing.

[httpsserene]

ꜱɪɴɢɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴡᴇʀ w/ ʟɴ4

📖ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: lando’s usually well spent sunday off with his girlfriend is different this time around. you put off your everything shower and wash-day causing some edits to the usual routine. how the night ends, however, is 100% lando’s fault. 📖ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: fluff/borderline?crack(if u think im funny). one or two mentions of sex, not explicit at all. not edited to beta-read. 📖ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2k words 📖ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: lando norris x black!fem!reader 📖ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: oneshot 📖ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ: singing in the shower ~ becky g

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴀᴄᴇ: preface: hello! it’s late night or early morning for me, i guess, when i’m posting this. i was going to say this is my first rpf ever, but that’s a bold-faced lie ☠️but! it is my first f1 work! i hope you enjoy it! i’d love to have some f1 mutuals out here, if anyone wants <3. also requests are open, just come talk to me and ramble about anything, or any idea you have the f1 boys, i’d love to have some great anons and asks to fulfill. hope you enjoy it :)

it’s a rare sunday where you and lando are both home together. usually you two would take advantage of this and make the most out of it. you’d lay in bed late into the morning with an excessively cuddly boyfriend, cook a nice and healthy brunch together you cook, lando handles the soundtrack and vibes because he loses all coordination in the kitchen, play a co-op video game that you guys have been working your way through for a month, go out on a nice little dinner date, and have great sex before knocking out.

HOWEVER, this week you have kinda forgotten that you need to do your hair. originally you had an appointment that tuesday to get a silk press done with your usual hairstylist, but she canceled on you. once you got that “hey girly...” text you’d known there was no hope of rescheduling, for that week at least. so, you decided to do your own hair sometime later in the week, but your boyfriend was home for the first time after a triple-header, and was a terrible lovely distraction. you also had to work, unfortunately, you had to clean the flat, you had to eat, and you had to breathe—so understandably, you’ve ended up pushing your wash-day/hair-day and everything-shower to the last minute.

you apologized several times to lando during breakfast for your forgetfulness and wasting valuable “boyfriend-girlfriend time” as lando coined. but lando is lando—a sweetheart at his core—so he refused to accept your apologies with an “don’t apologize for something so minor, love,” and even offered to help you tackle the fight you end up almost losing every time…. vs. your hair. 

you kindly denied his assistance knowing damn well that if he was in the shower with you, your hair wouldn’t be done until late that night due to a different type of lando-distraction. you suggested that lando streamed while you were doing your shower and hair, and that you could still go out for dinner that evening. lando was pretty receptive to the idea, especially after he made sure that you were 100% okay with him not helping you do your hair (he usually does, you’ve got him trained pretty good; all he needs is the license at this point), and the fact that it’s been like 3 months since he last streamed.

lando posts that he’s streaming starting at noon, and after a brief make out against the sink post-dishwashing that leaves your lips swollen and head foggy, he goes to take a shower and start setting up his stream equipment. cursing lando’s smug-ass face as he walks away, you let him know that you're stepping out to the beauty supply store to get a few items before you start your little routine and that you might not see him before his stream starts. he does a 180, and rushes back to you from down the hallway to give you one more mind boggling kiss and with a smile says, “text me when you get there and when you’re back. i’ll have my phone on dnd but your messages are set to pass through it, so if you don’t want to be seen on stream today you don’t have to worry about it.” internally, you’re pretty sure your heart just imploded at the mindfulness this boy has—that your boyfriend has. somehow, it still surprises you how mature lando is for how silly he acts most of the time.

“you’re too sweet to me, lan.” you respond with a shy smile, “i probably won’t interrupt you today—i’ll let your delulu fans have custody, and deal with you!” lando throws his head back and does his usual demonic laugh, “hey! my fans are not that delusional, but i am afraid that you’re losing the custody battle!” he kisses you on the cheek, and with that you separate until later that day.

or so you thought. you knew lando’s super sweet behavior was too sus without him being his usual gremlin-self at least once.

when you get back from the beauty supply store (which should’ve been a fifteen-minute trip at most, turned into a near hour after the usual shenanigans you find yourself involved in buying things you don’t need), lando’s already started his stream. you text him letting him know you’re about to hop into the shower, and start heading to en-suite bathroom.

when you open the door, the mirror is slightly covered with remaining steam from lando’s shower, and you can see his clothes hanging half-inside the hamper. which is an improvement from being left on the floor—choose your battles, ladies. but as you move further into the bathroom, setting down your everything-shower supplies, changing into your silk robe and bonnet—you pick up on a lingering scent that should not be present.

your ninety-four fucking dollar scalp revival shampoo.

you’ve had that shampoo since you were seventeen, using it only when extremely necessary. you didn’t even pay for it, it was something your mom bought you as a pretty thoughtful and useful gift after you complained about your scalp suddenly getting super sensitive. it lasted through your senior year of grade school, all of university, and goddamn-it, two boyfriends!!! you let out a bit of an hysterical giggle (seek mental help, babe) and walk to the shower to grab the jar. the problem is: you know there was only probably one more usage left.

turning the cap off, your worst fears are confirmed...it’s…empty. with an anguished cry, you fall to your knees on the tiled floor—it’s like your childhood pet died. you gently set the jar down on the floor, and stare dazedly at the ceiling. what makes it worse is: you know that lando probably didn’t even use it properly. he most likely didn’t even let it sit for the mandatory 15 minutes that all girls do as an excuse to waste more time in the shower, he prob- he probably rinsed it out right after he massaged it in; that thought right there almost had you crying. oh, and what makes it even worse-r , what was a one-use sized amount for you was like, three for lando, so if he used it sparingly, you would’ve at least gotten to cherish it for the last time.

and with that, you rise from the floor, like some sort of re-animated monster—and with a twitching eye, start stomping to lando’s stream room. before you barge in, you remember what you're wearing: a black silk robe, matching bonnet, glasses, and your cute orange shark slides (lando bought them for you, he has a matching pair). you do the mental math of caring about this being on the internet for the rest of your life, but eventually the opportunity of terrorizing lando wins out over whatever a digital footprint is.

the door swings open, and with your shout of, “lando norris!” the pinging of his chat becomes rapid. lando looks wide-eyed at the camera and whispers, “oh fuck.” he half spins in his chair to look at you in the doorway, and is met with a flying shark slide to the neck. “oW! what did i do??” he cries out.

“you used the last of my ONE-HUNDRED DOLLAR shampoo, YOU THIEVING GREMLIN!!!” the chat notifications start cutting each other off with how fast they’re being sent.

“i didn’t use your shampoo??” he says with a bewildered look, clutching the shark slide to his chest. you seethe, “the fucking WOODEN JAR, that you didn’t even have the AUDACITY throw away, and left in the shower?!”

lando pauses, and makes an ‘a-ha’ sort of face goes, “oh, i thought that was conditioner.” you scream again and this time you don’t miss your mark. the remaining shark slide bonks him right on the forehead. “oW, again?!”

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO HAVE GOOD REACTION TIME??!”

“yEAH?! WELL, i didn’t expect  MY GIRLFRIEND to ASSAULT ME with the shark slides that I bought HER!!”

“yEAH?! WELL, i didn’t expect MY BOYFRIEND to waste MY hair products!!”

lando cackles but surrenders, he reaches for you in the doorway and pulls you in between his legs with his hands gripping your hips. 

he pouts, “i’m sorry. i can buy you another batch, if you’d like. if you need it for your shower right now, i can pause the stream and run and go get for you, or get it delivered?” you sigh, looking at his wide blue eyes. you let him stew for a minute, trying to find it in you to remain mad. his thumbs start petting you gently while you think, and he leans his head forward to rest on your tummy.

you sigh again, hand coming up to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck, and cave, “nah..don’t even worry about it. i don’t even need to use it today, i just wanted to remind you to keep your nosy-ass away from my hair products.” he nods against your abdomen, you start to pull away, and he does the same. you lean down and give him a brief peck on the cheek, and turn to exit the room. 

“oh!” you exclaim now in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob, “i love you, even though you steal all my shit.”

lando giggles, cheeks turning a light pink, “i love you, princess,” the simp dripping out of every pore in his body. you point at him, “this is actually a mutually beneficial situation! now, for date night you can take me to the store to buy hair products,” lando’s smile drops, “don’t worry we can get some for you too, curly boy!” lando doesn’t even try to fight it once he sees the borderline manic grin on your face, just begging him to test you one more time. he accepts his face, “yes, love. i can’t wait for tonight, princess.”

he turns back to his stream when the door closes all the way and shakes his head. he claps his hands once, ready to get back into it, but you burst in again,

“and when i get out of that damn shower in an hour—you’re sure as hell gonna help blow dry and flat iron this shit! it’s silk press season, lando norris, we cannot be caught slacking!” you slam the door shut, and leave.

lando just blinks at the camera, mouth slightly open like that one pikachu meme. he briefly reads the chat, trying to recover, and looks at all of the chatters pick on him like he just got called to the dean’s office. some messages start to roll in about him having to end the stream.

he waits to hear the bedroom door shut, and a few more seconds for the shower to start running before he pseudo-whispers into the mic, “don’t worry, chat! she may have said an hour, but we actually have more like three. it’s her ‘everything-shower’, no-way she’ll finish that quickly. she needs an hour just to sing and dance in there before she starts actually doing anything.”

he starts to open a lobby in cod, sending invites to a few of the boys online and his phone starts vibrating on the desk. the chat starts to go wild again, recognizing its the ringtone he set for your messages. his face drops again when he opens your text thread, “oh my god, chat. she heard me, i forgot she pulls up the stream for background noise. i’m screwed.”

yninstagram • 2hrs ago

liked by landonorris, ybfsinstagram, and 123,978 others

yninstagram hairstylist did his thing for silk press season 👅

tagged landonorris

view comments

landonorris can’t even see our faces but you can’t tell we’re both pretty

➥yninstagram pretty gyal takeover

➥user bro 😭 i can’t even call this sassy

➥user he’s just keeping it real with y’all

landonorris i’ll always take care of you like a princess

➥landonorris and one day very soon, forever treat you like a queen

➥ynistagram lan ☹️🥺

➥user proposal hint?!!!

➥user it’s a 4ever thing y’all wouldn’t understand 🥱

➥user i do 🙄 y/n comes home one day every two years and takes care of our eight children

➥user bitch—LMFAOOO

user not her gatekeeping the stylist 😤 not very girl’s girl of her

➥yninstagram he’s booked out for the foreseeable future sorry babe

➥user oh uh. that’s completely understandable. he doesn’t take walk in’s ? 😃

landonorris • 3hrs ago

liked by yninstagram, maxfewtrell, and 2,321,768 others

landonorris you attract what you fear? word, oh no a pretty gyal who lets me do her hair😱 oohhhhh how scaryyy

tagged yninstagram

view comments

yninstagram damn 🥵 she’s pretty fit

yninstagram heard her boyfriend’s finer

➥landonorris shouldn’t listen to gossip, her bf can’t match her beauty by far

➥user now THATS SOME RIZZ i didn’t know he had it in him

carlossainzjr y/nnita keep brainwashing him i’m getting good teasing material

➥ynistagram sí señor, el gusto es mio

➥carlossainzjr aye,lando her spanish is better than yours🤣

➥landonorris my tractor is better than yours, mmm yeah that’s what i thought

➥user DAMN LANDO CHILL

➥yninstagram he will be issuing a formal apology at the paddock next sunday señor sainz

➥user i just KNOW she got him at shark slide-point

© httpsserene 2023

[twst-drabbles]

Malleus 15

Summary: A way home was finally found a year after you rejected Malleus's advances. Once you got home and were settled in, an invitation made it's way to you, written to you by Malleus Draconia, King of Briar Valley. How many years have passed?

(I've been on an odd writing spree, but for my original writings. It's weird, but I'll take it! Anyways, have a what-if situation of a King Malleus still yearning for the Prefect! Might continue it if people are interested enough in this what-if scenario.)

"Then would it be possible," Malleus reaching out to you as you faced the star-filled sky, "for you and I to share in each others lives?"

…and so the day finally came. When Malleus would gather up his courage and confess in the way all faeries do, in sentences layered over passionate feelings.

Honestly, the thought of being in a relationship with Malleus didn't sound all that bad. He's a sweet man, if a bit air headed with how easily lost in.

You do feel bad, honestly, for the fact that your feelings never ran deeper than general interest. You don't yearn for him, you can't. Especially not when you know that he's a prince. If you want to love him properly, if you want to build upon this general interest, you'd have to accept that specific part of him.

However, when you imagine the future laying before you, you see that it has nothing to do royalty.

Malleus has done nothing wrong. It's just unfortunate that he's a prince. His future was simply not one that will mesh well with your own.

"My life in my own," you said, "I don't intent to share it anymore than I already have. I'm… simply not interested."

You knew him too well. You can't pretend to be ignorant and go through hoops just to convince yourself that surely he didn't mean that, that he meant something different and that it's all platonic. Because, to you, that's just an excuse to not be blunt and say no. To avoid hurting the other party.

But avoiding what needs to be said is worse.

So, you had to reject him and leave it at that. You didn't like hurting him, but you also can't delude yourself and think that everything will somehow work out, especially since your feelings don't match his own.

Malleus didn't push and you didn't make him leave. And so you both stayed, continuing on as you always have, two people with positions too unique to truly be ignored.

The day came that you would leave. You said your goodbyes, you had your parties and feasts, and when all was said and done, you were relieved to be leaving. To finally go back home.

You waved to them all, to all the people you've met along the way, and passed through the mirror without a second glance back.

Time barely passed by when you got home. So little time, in fact, that your phone was still near to full battery. Dust didn't collect on your bed or dining table like you expected, and there wasn't a single voice message or text asking about your whereabouts.

It's as if you didn't vanish at all. Well, to be fair, you weren't the kind of person to keep in constant or close touch with anyone. You liked your alone time a little more than the average person, but it wasn't anything to make you feel guilty over.

In fact, you're relieved, that only a minimal amount of time has escaped you. You didn't have to go home to frantic worries, to people getting angry out of concern for your sudden disappearance. Everything was calm and level. It was easy enough to go back to the routine you had before.

You missed this, you will admit that. You missed the air and scent of your bed, the grocery store and all its busy chatting, the scent of baked or fried snacks surrounding the local flea market, and even the way the wind flows through the trees. Sure sure, the land you were previously in had all these things, but they weren't yours if that made sense.

Honestly, after a while, you were almost convinced that everything that went on back in Night Raven College was just a dream. If only because, like a dream, you can really only enter and exit such places once.

But then an invitation entered your hand.

Addressed to you, handwritten in such a way that can only be taught in professional calligraphy classes. It tells of a tour around the gardens in the abode of the King of Briar Valley.

King, huh? Has that much time really passed? Putting that aside for a moment, you can't say you were shocked that, out of all people to be able to send a letter right to you, you would place your bets on Malleus.

That being said, you couldn't say no. It's been a while but you're familiar with Malleus's language. A simple tour just for the sake of a tour? No, that's not it at all. He probably misses you. And, to an extent, you miss being over there. A visit is probably due right about now.

And, if things go the same way as they did last time, you'll be gone then back in the blink of an eye.

So, you wrote your reply and placed in on the nearest full body mirror.

You probably should've practiced your landing when it comes to mirror traveling. You fell right through, though you were lucky enough to grab the edge of the mirror before you could crack your knees.

Immediately, you were hit with the scent of cold and old magic, that sharp scent, not quite ozone, less metallic than that, less chemical-like than that. It was neutral magic, subdued in smell but overpowering enough to fill your sense anyway.

It's been a hot minute since you've been here. You're not quite to magic anymore, and you couldn't help but start coughing and clearing your throat.

Then, you were practically washed away with the smell of fresh rosemary.

"You…" And, as you expected, his voice stayed the same, and yet you can hear it, that small bit of quivering, as though he can't believe what's before him. "So, the invitation did make its way towards you, dear Child of Man. Are you alright? Are you sick?"

You held out your hand and coughed into your hand, trying to get this weird stickiness out.

"I'm, ugh, I'm fine, Hornton," Ah, should you really be calling him that now that he's king, apparently? Ah, who cares, you're the guest, you can be forgiven. "It's been a bit. Not all that used to magic anymore, is all."

And then, you looked up. Before, you wouldn't say his horns were malleable or soft, but there is a difference to them. Their color has darkened, and there these silver decorations about them that made those horns seem longer than they actually are.

There was a laugh. "Are my horns truly such a marvel? Well, if you so ask, I won't mind you touching them, if only to prove to you that they are no mere illusion."

"No, I'm good on that front," you sighed then finally looked to Malleus's face. "Huh. You look… older."

Older, and that's honestly kind of concerning for you. He isn't aged, not in the same way you've felt around Lilia. Yes yes, Lilia has a youthful face to him, but after a while, you can't help but notice the little things that betray his true age. Much like now, where you can see the slightest dips in his eyes, near his mouth.

Like most fae, they seem forever young, but the signs don't skip anyone no matter long they stay alive.

The fact is, enough time has passed that Malleus visibly aged.

Malleus, in all his kingly regalia, closed his eyes and took a deep breathe in. "It hasn't been that long. How many years…twenty? Perhaps thirty or less? Ah but, that's an age for children of men, isn't it? And yet, time hasn't so much as glanced at you. You look just the same as I remember, perhaps more youthful. But, that aside, I'm glad to know that this invitation made it you, before life has left your body."

…thirty years? Thirty years? So, time really does pass by differently in your home, huh? That's… you don't know what to think, honestly. Awful? Interesting? It certainly doesn't feel good.

"That long? How much did I miss?" Were there reunions? Letters written to you but could never be sent? And how is everyone else doing with their lives? Are they still alive? Did someone die an early death potentially? And what about families? Did they start some?

…ugh, you hate this feeling. You only have theories and questions and already you're feeling left out from it all.

Well, all you can do is take it one step at a time. Get to know what has happened, and move forward from there. You have no choice but to do so.

Malleus placed a gloved hand on his chin. "…it would take too much time to say right now. Perhaps I'll tell you all that I know as I walk you around the garden? You did accept the invitation, did you not?"

Your mind wasn't quite here, so you just nodded with a, "Right, right."

"Then," Malleus turned, his hair much longer now, perfectly groomed without a knot in there, "shall we be off?"

And you followed, feeling a bit awkward in the fact you were just wearing casual wear.

"…is that lipstick you're wearing, Hornton?" Probably not what you should be focusing on, but you couldn't help but notice. You're more used to his pallid lips than that luscious color.

"Hmm? Why, yes. It was shade recommended to me by one of my servants. If I remember right, this was something crafted by Schoenheit."

"Oh, so his stuff's world famous now, I take it?"

"World famous? Hmm, not quite sure what that entails, but the influence has made its place here. So, influential enough. Does it look odd on me?"

"Don't worry, it looks nice."

[libraryofloveletters]

I Spy With My Little Eye

Dominik Szoboszlai x Fem!Reader

Warnings: dom is so cheesy but he also disappeared and you're like ??, a bit plot heavy, so many random tasks, reader thinks dom has lost his mind, major sweetness at the end.

Word Count: 970

Author's Note: dedicated to my fellow dom enthusiast @curiousthyme <3

--

This Christmas was different. Dom made you work for your gift rather than giving it to you; following the clues through the neighbourhood to your final gift.

There was some time before Christmas and Dominik suggested a trip to Germany, the place you two called home for quite a bit of time while he played with Leipzig. You still had your place there as you bounced back and forth between there and Liverpool for work so you two were staying there for a few days.

You felt the mattress dip, your boyfriend's warm hand on your forehead. His lips by your ear, "I've got some errands to run, sweetheart. I'll be back later." he whispers, kissing your head.

A mumble and you feel around, patting his cheek before rolling over and going back to sleep.

It wasn't until an hour later than you got up, finding Dom's side of the bed still empty. There was a note on the pillow, you assumed it was just him reiterating what he had told you before he left, knowing you'd be too sleepy to really listen to him.

You unfolded the page, reading the words he had scribbled down.

check your favourite hiding spot for a gift - xoxo D.

The sun peeked through the curtains, you forced yourself out of bed to go into the living room. The ottoman sat on the rug, you smiled to yourself. Dom never used the ottoman, in fact he hated the thing; it was ugly and clunky but you liked it for some reason so he left it. Plus he knew you used it as a hiding spot because he often forgot it was there.

Pushing the top open, there's a box wrapped up with ribbon and a note tucked under it. The note was opened first.

get ready and head to Julie's for the next note - xoxo D.

You had no idea what he was up to but you folded the page again, taking the lid off of the box to find a dress you had been telling him about for weeks. You haven't been able to find it in stores or online. You're not sure how he did it but you're sure he used his 'connections' as he called it to find it for you.

As the note said, you went through your morning routine and got ready, your coat wrapped around you and boots on as you headed out and into the snow.

The bell rings on the cafe door, the smell of baked goods welcomes you back home. "Y/n!" Julie beamed, you weren't expecting to see her in, especially not on a Saturday morning.

"Hey!" You smiled.

"Here you go," she passed you your usual coffee order and an envelope. You reach for your purse to pay her but she shakes her head, "Dom paid."

You smile, opening the envelope and reading the note.

meet me where we had our first kiss - xoxo D.

It takes you a moment to think back, it feels like a million years ago but then it hits you, the park.

You thank Julie for the coffee and you're off again, making your way through the snow, cursing Dom in your head for choosing a snowy day to do whatever it was that this was. It's a short walk to the park, specifically to the park rangers' office; yes you had your first kiss outside of their office. You were on a walk and it started pouring rain, Dom pulled you there to keep you out of the rain and kissed you for the first time there.

It was more romantic in the morning, but thinking about it now made you giggle.

You looked around for your boyfriend, hoping this would be the last of the walking as your legs were killing you.

Someone pats your shoulder, a park ranger. "Are you y/n?"

"Yeah," you nod, the man hands you yet another envelope. You're a bit annoyed, knowing you'd probably have to walk some more but you open it.

follow the ranger. no more walking, I promise - xo D.

It's as if he read your mind. "Lead the way," you tell the man, he nods and leads you over to one of their little cars.

You knew this path, it led to the gazebo at the edge of the park that overlooked the water. You get out of the car, thanking the man as you walk over to the gazebo. There are candles and flowers everywhere. As you make your way closer, you're expecting to see Dom but you don't.

A bit confused, you look around but then feel someone tap your shoulder; Dominik is on one knee behind you when you turn around.

"Dom.." You look at the man, your jaw hangs open slightly.

"Y/n," he smiles, "the last 5 years have been the best of my life, as cheesy as it sounds. You've been through the good and the bad, stuck to my side no matter what and I can't thank you enough for that. I hope you know how much you mean to me and will always mean to me so," he smiled at you again, opening the small box in his hand.

"Will you do me the honour and marry me?"

You're in shock, nodding but then you remember you actually have to answer him. "Yes!" You lean down, hands on his face as you kiss him. Dom stands, still kissing you for a moment before he pulls away, slipping the ring onto your finger.

Your boyfriend- fiancé, pulls you back into a hug, kissing you as he picks you up, giving you a good squeeze.

"I know you've always wanted a Christmas proposal but not on Christmas." He laughs, forehead pressed to yours.

You smile, tears in your eyes as your hand presses to his face. "It was perfect, perhaps less walking would have been better but still," you giggled, Dom kissed you once more, hugging you.

[spyderlady]

dating hobie brown would include

(gif by fyspiderverse)

note: just some random headcanons i came up with while on my way home from uni. and please i don't want any hobie brown police telling me he wouldn't do these because blah blah. they're called headcanons for a reason. also very rushed but i really wanted to write something for him because im so in love with him ahhhhhh hes so cool <3

ꗃ pairing: hobie brown x gn!reader

ꗃ warnings: slight mention of blood and needles

summary: things the two of you'd do when he's not doing spider-punk things <333

─────────── ୨ ♡ ୧ ────────────

★ hobie and your favorite past time is definitely making custom bagpins out of metal bottle caps. he adores the ones you craft for him and puts them up all over his jacket

★ he made you a "perfect little punk' bagpin once and it's your favorite. you never take it off your bag

★ going to the thrift store and spending hours together browsing through clothes you'd style each other in

★ you however love stealing his clothes. especially his crop tops, however they aren't very cropped on you

★ messily painting each others nails black which later turns into a sloppy makeout session. it ruins your freshly painted nails, every damn time

★ you love watching him tune his guitar. he's so focused and into it

★ sometimes he'd want you to sit on his lap while he does it

★ late night guitar sessions with him as he teaches you how to strum a perfect note. you're not very good at it but he's very proud of you regardless

★ hobie whispering "who's my perfect little punk, eh?" into your ear while you're outside knowing damn well what it does to you

★ getting an immense amount of stares when you're out with him. it's definitely because of that height difference

★ he pierced your tongue at home with a sewing needle while you sat on the bathroom floor, scared for dear life.

★ you had almost passed out that day. not due to the pain but because you forgot to breathe even after he repeatedly asked you to. it did bleed but you're just surprised it didn't get infected

★ "good job, my little rockstar," he whispered, kissing you on your bloody lips

[mrwinterr]

enjoy the ride | ~preview

Pairing: Eddie Munson x PornStar!Female Reader

Summary: Eddie meets his favorite actress. It's you. You’re his favorite adult film star. 

Warnings: None right now, but will be 18+ (smut) so no minors plz.

Disclaimer: None of the spooky events of the Stranger Things (2016) series take place in this piece. Everything is just where it’s at because this is made up. 

Pre A/N: I've had this in my docs for a while, so instead of letting it rot, I'm posting a preview. Enjoy, I guess.

Eddie didn’t have plans for the weekend. No event to deal at, no gig booked, no campaign prepared, just the prospect of hoping to relax, a simple night in. 

So for him, it was a surprise to run into you since you’d graduated. He couldn’t help but notice the slight transformations you’d undergone. You had seldom spoken to Eddie throughout the school years except for in passing or the occasional transactions involving substances, which had been mere business rather than personal. He thought you were cute back then, but with the passing of time, it had brought about significant growth and development, catching Eddie’s full attention once more. 

His mind raced as he contemplated the possibilities that lay before him. The thought of reconnecting with you, a gateway to a possibility of exploring a potential deeper connection. Would he come up and say hi to you? Spit out something witty? Sell you more weed? Ask about what movie you’re looking at or how have you been since leaving him in the educational prison? Not that it was your fault he got held back… Caught in a whirlwind of emotions, his fight or flight mode was activated and he chose to flee. 

He nearly knocks heads with Steve as he crashes into the counter, startling Robin at the register. 

“Jesus, dude, what’s the rush? We still have half an hour before we close,” Steve says, annoyance seeping in.

“Did you guys know you have a fucking movie star in your store?!” Eddie whispers loudly disregarding Steve’s remark and the weird stare from Robin. 

Bewildered by this question, the two exchanged confused looks in response to his words. The store was so dead, and your hushed presence as you browsed through their selections, had caused them to forget they weren’t alone. As far as they were concerned it was just Eddie inside the building with them. They just wanted to close up shop and go home.  

You weren’t looking for any movie in particular actually, but when you noticed Family Video now had added an adult section you were curious to see the collection they offered, even more that some of your films made it on the shelf. 

You didn’t care that your face was on display, especially in a small town of close minded people to see. It was your life after all. You were here for a good time, not a long time, right? Not to mention it was kind of an ego booster to know that the people who didn’t give you the time of day now wanted you or at the very least, good or bad, thoughts of you invaded their minds. It was sadistic and at the same time amusing because oh, had the tables turned. 

A smirk etched its way upon your lips as the realization washed over you - you had made it…in some sense. Perhaps not to the heights of stardom, but in that moment, it felt as though you were on top of the world, a quiet victory.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie was a fan of your work, a fan of your movies. It had all started when he rented a different tape starring his then former favorite actress. You were in the bonus scene included. You instantly stole the spotlight for him that instead of finishing off to a full movie, he managed to with a short three minute preview of you. It didn’t take him long to make a connection as to why you looked familiar.

Going back to her closing duties, Robin turns away from the conversation as Steve holds his slightly irritated gaze at Eddie trying to make sense of what he was talking about. 

“Who are you talking about?” He asks, response laced with confusion seeking clarity. 

Eddie’s disbelief was evident as he blinked once, then a few more times, and shaking his head, unable to comprehend that they were unaware of the other person that was in the same building as them. 

“Y/N!” He finally answers them, “Y/N is here,” he says again, pointing discreetly in the direction of the secluded area of the store, the pair realizing it was from the adult section. 

Met with blank stares, Eddie let out a sigh of defeat escape his lips, shoulders slumped in the process, displaying clear disappointment in his friends. You were a big thing to him and the lack of shared enthusiasm only deflated his mood. The disconnect between their understanding of your presence and his own excitement weighed heavily on Eddie’s spirit as he quickly realized that they didn’t recognize you. 

“Y/N. Y’know…Hawkins High Class of ‘84. Pornstar Y/N,” Eddie hints.

“Pornstar?” Robin questioned, surprise evident in her voice. 

“Y/N? Sweet, quiet, Y/N?” Steve asked, seeking confirmation as if he couldn’t believe what his friend was saying. 

“Yes, that Y/N!” Eddie affirmed. 

The same sense of smug satisfaction stayed with you and only increased with the conversation you overheard when you made your way to checkout. 

As you eavesdropped on Eddie’s hurried conversation with Robin and Steve, you couldn’t help but be intrigued by the intensity and urgency in his voice, especially when he was talking about you. The words spilled from his mouth in a rapid succession that left Steve and Robin struggling to keep up. 

“Hold up. Did you say she’s a pornstar now?” Robin asked, needing further clarification to which Eddie nodded in response. 

“Wait, how do you know that?” Steve asks only to be met with Eddie’s widened eyes conveying a “how else do you think, idiot?” kind of way. 

“Oh! Ew, dude!” Steve yells, expressing his disgust before backing away. 

“You had to ask,” Robin chuckled, finding the situation now amusing. 

“Come on, man. Grow up. It’s totally normal,” Eddie retorted, debunking Steve’s appalled demeanor. Robin nodded in agreement. 

“Still, I don’t want to think about it,” Steve insisted, crossing his arms. 

“Whatever. Did you guys know she was even in here?” Eddie asked. 

“No. I guess we forgot when you got here. She’s probably been here for a while,” said Steve. 

“She got here a little before you did,” Robin suddenly recalls,  "I remember now because Dingus flirted up a storm with her.”

“Don’t start with that,” Steve quickly defends himself, “I wasn’t the only one doing the flirting,” he added as the two revived their unsettled debate from earlier. 

“Shut up!” Eddie shouts, silencing the two, “She’s been in here that long and I’ve been walking around this place like a damn tool wasting my time?” he exclaimed in frustration. 

“Well, what would you have done if you knew I was here?” You piped up, throwing Eddie a curveball, your smooth voice catching all three of their attention. 

Eddie spun around, his mouth opening and closing without uttering a single world. He struggled to grasp his own thoughts, attempting to decide on his next move. Every ounce of self-confidence he just had seemed to evaporate from his being as his eyes traveled up and down your figure. 

Post A/N: I'll finish this someday...but thoughts?

[19calicos]

i know where to look – kuroo tetsurō ˎˊ˗

✶⋆.˚ chapter eleven: a hundred not-dates ( 𖦹 )

currently playing: amtrak by los retros

word count: 722

cw: cigarettes, language, a “did he die” joke, gun mention in a joke

almost every night has looked like this since community day: midnight-to-two skating at the park, a small selection of snacks and drinks from the corner store, a conversation with fingers that always linger when passing the shared cigarette, and now, their head on kuroo’s shoulder when they let themselves slip a bit.

they might just rip their heart out of their chest and run it over with their board at full speed at this point, or something like that – anything to get rid of the blush in their cheeks and the rose-colored butterflies in their stomach.

or maybe they should just get over themselves and their fears and tell kuroo they like him too, and put a decisive end to their inner turmoil. their chest goes taut every time they consider that solution though, so they always end up burying that idea back in whatever hole it came from.

under the lights of the skate park, they can see the circles under kuroo’s eyes clearly. they’d been stealing his sleep lately by convincing him to come out with them for late night skate sessions. and they know they should stop really, because he’s not meant to have dark circles that match theirs, but the look kuroo has when he’s skating during these hours makes them go quiet with fondness, makes them want to give him everything that could ever make him smile.

and it's a nice feeling, how they always end up sitting on the edge on top of one of the pipes close together. kuroo's legs dangling, their legs hugged to their chest, his arm slung around their shoulders, the cigarette between their lips.

tonight, their heart is a rare winner when they mindlessly reach up to kuroo's hand that hung from their shoulder and loosely lace their fingers with his. they hear his breath hitch at it, and that's when they come to from their dreamy daze and realize their hand has a mind of its own.

so they begin to shift around, scared of clearly breaking the boundaries that have already blurred between them and kuroo, raising their head off his shoulder and stretching their legs to stand up. "it's two. let's go home," they whisper, starting to pull their hand away.

but kuroo is feeling different tonight, less restrained with his feelings, and doesn't unlace their fingers just yet, instead dipping his head and resting it in the crook of their neck. "just a few minutes," he sleepily mumbles.

now their breath gets caught in their throat at the rasp in his voice, his newfound clinginess doing a number on them. "just this once," they relent, then breath out the smallest of smiles.

kuroo's hair looks soft, and it's taking everything in them not to run their fingers through it. his expression is full of bliss, and there's something about the way that he just fits in them so well that makes their heart swell. he's warm and smells like fresh laundry, and when they look at him and his lashes and his lips and the curve of his nose and the way his hair falls over his eyes and his fingers and theirs together, they feel their heart tug.

more than tug, really — they think this might be it for them. they just might have a heart attack.

kuroo is so good to them that they can’t wrap their head around it, the way he loves them so sweetly. it scares them, how he has such a big heart and loves them so easily.

it’s just that nothing lasts forever, especially the soft look in kuroo’s eyes as he watches them leave his touch and grab their skateboard.

they tell themselves that their plan of losing feelings for him is for the best, that he's better off with someone else who could love him back that way.

but the feeling of being loved by kuroo lingers like the cigarette smoke in their jacket, and no matter what they do, they can't quite get rid of him from their heart. it's selfish of them, they think, to keep kuroo to them like this instead of let him go.

so just for tonight, when they slip their hand back in his on the skate home, they let themselves believe that a forever with kuroo could be real.

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more:

⟢ messy filler-ish chapter because i lost my mind trying to keep the pacing & also write something decent so i can get to the next two chapters

⟢ yn did not mean to tweet their post-cry clarity tweet on the main but it got them more followers and they're too tired to gaf

�� suna knew yn would come around eventually and talk cry to him about everything. it's happened before when they were still in high school, and he was usually the only person who knew. the rest of the gc is still in the dark

⟢ he also knows its serious when yn calls him rin instead of sunarin

⟢ yn fell asleep after but they were like laying on top of suna so he couldn't move. he gave up and just went to sleep too

⟢ i'll add more fun facts/context later <3 ty for sticking around mwah

taglist (38/50): @eggyrocks @whorefornoodles @sereniteav @bedeater @itsdragonius @spicana @localgaytrainwreck @sunafc @scinclaitnoir @staygoldsquatchling02 @rrosiitas @yuminako @zahrawr-likes-red @walllflowerrrsss @unwindwithme @mfcherry @giocriedpower @ahdbodhr @hyenagoated @loveelylacey @chososcamgirl @iheartpinky @piapiaweee3 @azuremyst99 @csbnova @tired-jaz @samuel1004 @kennedy-brooke @wyrcan @arustydoll @illuzminate @juie13 @01trickster10 @thatonecroc @theycallmenanamisgirl @nobodybutnnoorr @gsyche @walkingcorpse03

reply/send an ask to be added!

[softshuji]

You and Hanma make a note of your heights when you first move into your apartment.

You're like kids, giggling as you reach above his head to mark it on the kitchen doorframe, a whopping 6'4 that you can just about reach and even then - only on your tip toes. Childishly, he bends down to mark with a pencil where your head touches the frame and you playfully jab his abdomen when he laughs and says 'How do you manage to be this short?'

Decorating takes weeks, months in fact, Between your job and his, the little time you have for homeware shopping- and even still, neither of you are rich enough to have the apartment decked out the way you'd like. You're both young, starting out even and you think this might be the best part, being able to watch him grow and change, small tidbits of furniture here and there, some bought at second hand stores, because you're much more frugal than he is and neither of you care as long as it's for your own home. You save a lot, though your priorities are somewhat different.

He likes to spend on you. Cute dates, flowers, clothes and most of what he earns goes just like that, on you and the dresses and jewelry you make comments about while you're out. He never misses it, and even though you chastise him often for needlessly spending on you, you know this is how he does it, shows his love.

You look at it every day. The little mark you've made on the doorframe, even as it greys, even as it weathers over the months as they lean towards winter and then spring. Maybe it is childish, maybe you don't care either. And you watch him cycle through the various styles, various changes. His hair as it grows longer, a little more boyish and framing his face, the baggy shirts he exchanges for suits sometimes when he leaves for work in the morning.

'Be safe okay?' you say at the door, like as if it'll change anything by itself. You lean up to kiss him, his hand titled 'sin' around your neck, and yours cupping his cheeks and then he is gone, and you wave and watch him leave, backing away from the apartment with the briefcase in the passenger seat.

Sometimes you wonder how the time passes like this. One day you're moving in, and the next your apartment has a fully functioning kitchen-painted and decorated, the little lines on the doorframe now withered to a faded grey under the white gloss paint. To say you're proud of the two of you would be an understatement, especially when you remember at what little you started with.

'I'm home Princess,' he says later and passes through the doorway of the kitchen, where you turn from the sink to him, drying your hands before you melt inevitably in his arms. He is cold, his hands are chilly when they slide under your shirt and you shiver when they rest on the grooves in your back as he takes you in, your warmth seeping into his bones. You have a habit of staying like that for the first five minutes. Needy kisses that turn hotter and heavier, you shrugging his jacket off to roam your touch over his chest- as if you hadn't seen him a few hours ago, as if it's been forever. Maybe because it has.

'Miss me Sweetheart?' he says between breaths, between soft sighs and eager kisses, his hands resting on your hips and pulling you flush against him in the doorway.

'Nah, don't know what gave you that idea,' you say, pulling open his tie, and tossing it onto the sofa for later before resting your cheek on his chest, the rhythmic thump of his heart now beating on your skin.

'Mhm, sure, the evidence suggests otherwise Pretty Girl.' And he runs a hand from the crown of your head to the dip in your shoulders, holding you tight and against him, where he believes you belong.

'Well your evidence is full of-' You pause, your eyes narrowing shrewdly, your gaze lifting from the little mark on the door, to where a curl of his hair grazes a few centimetres above it. 'You're joking...'

'What? What is it?'

'You're kidding me. Are you actually getting taller?' you say aghast, your lips parting, your jaw dropping in a shocked pout.

He raises an eyebrow in amusement, the amber hue of his eyes flitting from the grey and weathered pencil line on the doorframe to you, still leagues shorter than him. 'oh? Maybe I am, so what? Is there an issue with that Princess?' And he leans over the doorway until your crowded underneath his arm, the shadow of him swallowing the light till you're backed against the doorframe.

'N-no, I mean yes there is! Stop being so tall, I'm going to need a stepladder to kiss you soon.' You huff and cross your arms, and he relishes in how much you shrink under him like that, the soft tremble of your lips that bleeds excitement and anticipation.

'Don't worry, I'll make sure to crouch for you, I know it's hard being so small.'

'God you're so horrible, maybe Draken was right to beat you up nearly 50 times, he wouldn't treat me like this,' you say and roll your eyes for effect, biting your lip to suppress a smirk at how his grin twitches.

'Oh yeah?' He closes a hand around your throat before pulling you flush to him, a lean that closes the distance between your lips before he's sealing them in a heated kiss, his tongue swiping at yours before pulling away when he hears a soft moan. 'Would Draken do that too Sweetheart?'

You blink, your thoughts scattered, a feverish sweat licking across your skin. 'Mhm, maybe not. Never mind, you're forgiven but you're on thin ice!' you say, a finger pointed in his direction, and cursing yourself at how quickly your body betrays you with him, how it chooses him time and time again.

He laughs, presses a kiss to your cheek before wandering to the fridge and strangely enough, somehow, you wonder at how you'll have to fix the strange little marks on the doorframe tomorrow.

I'm sorry, the idea took over and I had to get it out, I was going a bit insane mayhaps. i love him sm i wanna punch him in the face

[aliceintheworld]

PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: " I shouldn’t be watching a man undressing, especially not from the house next door."

Warning: Fluff, kiss, impure thoughts, conversation about sex, masturbation, doubts and more doubts.

A/N: Here I am. As a thank you for all the wonderful comments, I will post two chapters today. (To be honest, I already have some stories in mind, but I want to finish Pure Attraction first, so I need to do it a little bit faster.) Keep interacting and voting. Don't forget: VOTE! It brings engagement and more motivation for the author!

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 8

I wave to my mother inside the car, as she reverses in front of our house and leaves, driving down the street of our neighborhood. Eunji works at a medium-sized company and travels a lot for a few months of the year, when she needs to present a new project. It's not new to me. I am used to being alone for some days; what makes me think, however, is Jungkook. I look at my neighbors' house out of inertia, seeing him at the living room window, reading some book. He notices me, opens a mischievous little smile, and waves, winking. My cheeks burn with his attention, and before I can embarrassed myself, in any way, I close the door and quickly step inside.

I still can't believe what happened last night. It feels like an unreal dream. If I didn't have marks and hickeys on my neck and breasts, I would have accepted that it was all a figment of my imagination and that Jungkook and I didn't end up together. I feel scared because I don't regret it and want it to happen again. I don't know where I'm getting myself into, and each time we meet, I sink deeper and deeper into this situation. I feel apprehensive because what I feel for him, I've never felt for anyone else. His kiss when he said goodbye, his dark and big eyes on mine... Just remembering it makes me shiver.

I start to organize myself because I need to take a look at the thrift store. It's been a while since I last went there, and I don't know how is doing. My day goes by quickly, and I return a bit earlier than expected because the movement wasn't very good. I attended to three customers, and only two of them bought something. I climb the stairs at home, tired and hungry, my stomach growling because I didn't even have lunch. I throw myself on the bed and close my eyes, not caring about the heavy clothes I'm wearing. I could sleep even in a costume, that nothing would disturb my sleep. I take off my sneakers with my feet and sigh, relieved to be home.

A few minutes pass when I feel fingers on my thigh, lifting my denim skirt towards my intimacy. I jump up, startled, when I see Jungkook on his knees on my mattress, his face close to mine. He laughs, noticing my surprise, doesn't say a word, and simply kisses me, brushing his lips against mine. I savor his taste in my mouth, silently asking him to deepen the caress and use his tongue with mine; however he pulls away, gives me a peck and another, before standing up completely.

"I could call the police." I joke, brushing the short hair from his face. The haircut is not much different from the previous one, but it makes him look more handsome, if that's even possible.

"I do everything with consent." He mocks, lying down beside me.

"I didn't give you any consent to come into my room. How did you get in?"

"The open window was very inviting. I couldn't resist." He shrugs, smiling.

"Why did you come here?" I raise my head, focused on his rosy lip when he pouts.

"I came to get you." Jungkook says, stretching on the bed. He lifts my right leg, caressing my skin. "And that's not a request."

"I don't even know where you want to take me." I comment, swallowing hard. I laugh a little, feeling the tickles from the tips of his fingers. "And I'm tired. I worked at my mother's store and at the library. And today is Tuesday. I'm dead."

"Your mother went traveling, didn't she? Enjoy it while she's not home."

"How do you know she traveled?" I raise an eyebrow, curious.

"She told my mom some time ago." He shrugs, as if it's simple.

"She only told me last night." I growl, irritated. My mother always does this, telling me her plans always at the last minute.

"I thought you knew. That's why I came here. When the king is in the castle, one cannot court the Princess. Everyone knows that."

"In this case, I would be the Princess?" I laugh, finding it funny.

"Yes. You are definitely Rapunzel. Have you noticed that your life is literally living in a tower?"

"I'm touched."

"It's serious. Come with me." Jungkook asks, whispering, squeezing my thigh. I smile knowing that, the way he asks, I'll never be able to say no. I sigh and roll my eyes.

"You convinced me. Tell me where we're going."

"It's not a very surprising place." He speaks carelessly; suddenly, his cheeks turn red, and he pinches the lobe of his ear, embarrassed. That makes me even more curious. I wonder what he plans, and even though I'm tired, I nod and get up from the bed.

"Alright, you made me curious. But I'm hungry and need to eat something before we go." I say, wrapping my arms around his neck. I kiss his lips in a quick peck, tasting him. A voice in my head tells me I shouldn't act so affectionately because I'm not his girlfriend –or anything like that –but the way Jungkook responds quiets that voice and reassures me it's ok to touch him like this.

"I'll order something for you to eat." He smiles simply. Before I can argue, he crouches down, takes my foot, and pulls off my sneaker. I watch everything, worried and fascinated, relaxing my leg so he can finish the task.

I really like Jungkook. I've admitted that, and it's not very hard to notice. I did things with him because he makes me feel confident in my own skin, and that does me good. He is funny, talented, kind and sarcastic, and even though I don't know him well, the things I know about him make me admire him. The problem is he might still love his ex, and I don't know how far I can unleash my own feelings. I'm afraid of having too many expectations and ending up frustrated and disappointed. He treats me very well, but does that mean he reciprocates what I feel, or does it just mean he is a gentleman who knows how to take care of a woman?

"Done." He says, finishing the knot of my shoelace.

I smile at him gratefully and feel his hand holding mine as we walk down the stairs. I lose a bit of my smile, seeing our fingers intertwined, but I say nothing. I promise myself that I will enjoy the moment and keep my paranoia to myself, for now.

"Are you really not going to tell me where we're going?" I ask when we reach the sidewalk. He shakes his head and laughs before stepping away.

"No. You'll have to wait a little." He replies, opening the gate to his parents' garage. I stand still, waiting for his car when I'm surprised to see Jungkook on a motorcycle, with another helmet on his right arm. I open my mouth, totally impressed, looking from end to end at how huge the thing is. Now I understand why Mr. Jeon was worried, when he mentioned his son's mean of transportation, last night at dinner.

"Shall we?"

"I've never been on a motorcycle." I comment weakly, afraid of falling before I even get on the back.

"Everything has a first time." Jungkook bites his lower lip, watching me mischievously. My face heats up when I remember he said the same thing to me, when I sucked his dick in my room.

"Jungkook, how long have you been riding this thing? Did you pass your practical test on the first try?" I ask, sarcastically. He laughs, rolling his eyes.

"I promise you will come out alive from this." He guarantees with cynicism. He stands up, turns around, and goes behind me. "I'll tie your hair up, wait a bit."

I wait patiently while he holds my rebellious strands and ties them with some elastic. Jungkook takes the helmet from his arm and looks back at my face. He seems super focused and serious, furrowing his brows and making sure my head is indeed protected. He gives a little smile and sits on the motorcycle, waiting for my turn. I am a bit awkward, not quite sure where to support myself, but Jungkook doesn't mind and holds my leg so I can settle in securely. I wrap my arms around his waist, and with my heart racing, I wave between his shoulder and neck.

"We can go." I confirm, uncertain. Almost at the same moment, Jungkook revs the engine and takes off down the street at speed. I hold on tighter to him, tense. I hear his laugh and know he did this on purpose to tease me. I hit his arm, pouting, and sigh, feeling the nice end-of-day breeze.

It's scary, fascinating and a fantastic moment. With the motorcycle rolling, I can follow the sunset, which transforms the blue sky into orange and the usually polluted air, into something purer and cleaner. It's a feeling of freedom, enjoyable and terrifying, the same I have every time I'm with Jungkook. I hold on tighter, happy for the new experience I'm living.

It doesn't take long before the motorcycle stops in the city center. Things are quite busy, with people walking from one place to another and the stores bustling with customers. I can't remember the last time I came here, even though it's so close to my house. I get off awkwardly, and Jungkook follows right behind, taking off his helmet.

"It's here." He smiles happily, pointing behind me. When I turn around, there's a large sign saying "GOLDEN TATTOO" with Jungkook's name, on a seemingly new and well-lit wall. "I managed to finish the renovation today, and I wanted to bring you here to see the place. You'll be the first person to come."

"It's perfect!" I sight, impressed. I'm left speechless as he opens the bulletproof glass and enters the place, as if he were familiar with the environment. It's different from what I expected, with gray-painted walls, plants everywhere, and illustrated designs in large frames. It's a place I would feel comfortable in, even if I came alone. "Did you decorate it?"

"Yes. These last few days, I worked with a design team to organize everything the way I envisioned it. It took a lot of work, but I think it's finally all ready."

"It's very beautiful." I smile, touching one of the frames on the wall. It's a tattoo of an eye, apparently feminine and brown. It's so realistic that it feels like it's looking in my direction. I analyze the drawing so much that Jungkook laughs, lowering his head.

"Did you like it?" He points to the frame, smiling. I nod, touching the picture.

"It's spectacular."

"I drew it." He explains, coming up behind me. My heart skips a few beats when his arms wrap around my waist, and he presses his mouth against my ear. My spine freezes, and I get all goosebumps, from the last strand of my hair to the tips of my toes. "Come here, I want to show you something."

He pulls my hand and guides me to a room with white walls, some utensils and machines that, even as a layperson, I know are for tattooing. It's a very clean and sterilized place, with masks, disposable gloves, and colored inks in a glass and wood cabinet. The almost obsessive organization doesn't surprise me. When I saw Jungkook's apartment some time ago, I realized he likes everything very well organized, and his workplace wouldn't be any different. He sits me on the waiting sofa, and I observe some drawings in a black folder on the coffee table.

I don't know many people with tattoos, and I've never taken the time to appreciate this type of art, but I like what Jungkook does. He creates realistic designs, but most of them have fine and delicate touches. It's interesting to get to know another one of his sides that makes me more enchanted by him every day. I glance at my phone, thinking of my mother suddenly. I shake my head, determined to expel my restlessness. All these worries don't matter right now. She's out of town, and I need to stop tormenting myself about her. Jungkook appears at the door, almost as if he knew I was lost in thought, and smiles at me, mysteriously.

"What do you want to show me? I'm almost going crazy with curiosity." I confess, excited. He smiles, holding a roll of plastic wrap in one hand and raising a tablet in the other.

"I'm going to end your curiosity now." He says. "It's nothing special. I'm just going to do a tattoo on myself."

"What? Another one? Didn't you do one the day before yesterday?" I exclaim, opening my mouth in disbelief. He laughs at my surprise, as if he had said the most ordinary thing in the world.

"I've done tattoos on myself a few times; it's not a big deal. And I have to take advantage because the healing time is always restrict with food."

"Don't you feel pain while doing it?"

"I do." He confirms, shrugging. "But it's not unbearable, and I can stay still the whole time."

"Are you some kind of masochist?" I tease, watching him. Jungkook wraps the plastic around the tattoo machine and on the bench beside me without pausing.

"It's a nice pain." He smiles slyly, licking his lower lip. "It's almost like when I spank your butt. Don't you feel pleasure when there's a bit of it?"

"Jungkook!" I reprimand, my face burning with embarrassment at the question. He really has no scruples. And neither do I, because I hate to admit it, but I actually enjoy it when he spanks me.

"Some types of pain are bearable and nice to feel. You should try it." He suggests, sitting beside me.

"No, thanks." I decline. Just the thought of a needle piercing me, makes me anxious.

"Scaredy-cat." He mocks. He raises the tablet and shows me the drawing. It's a pink, reddish flower. It's a beautiful and interesting drawing, but apparently painful if done by oneself. I grimace, pitying him.

"What does it mean?" His face turns red suddenly. He looks at his hands and bites his lips, thoughtful.

"It's the flower of my birth. The tiger flower." He diverts his gaze from mine, leaving me confused.

"What is it?" I ask, laughing. Generally, I'm the shy one in the relationship.

"It's nothing; it's just that... it means 'please, love me.' I think that phrase is so beautiful and, at the same time, so sad."

"Please, love me." I repeat, testing the words on my tongue. It really is sad but touching. I wonder, however, why he chose that tattoo. "Are you sure you can handle it?" I question, worried, somewhat skeptical. Jungkook turns completely to me and narrows his dark eyes, looking at me.

"Of course I can. Don't doubt my abilities."

"I'm not doubting." I explain, putting my hands in front of my body to defend myself. "It's just that it's a drawing with many details. It's normal for you not to be able to do something like that in a short time. It's already seven."

"Let's make a bet?" He suggests, brushing his hair from his face. I get excited about the proposal, nodding my head.

"Sure, why not? But what can we bet on?"

"If I can't finish the tattoo in two hours, you choose something for us to do together." The dark-haired boy explains, running his fingers on my thigh. A shiver runs up my spine as he trails his fingers on my skin, slowly lifting my skirt with ease.

"Do something together? Like what?" I frown, curious. He smiles, this time wickedly. His hand goes from my thighs to my neck, pulling my hair back. He entwines his fingers in my strands and caresses my scalp with his thumb. A breath of arousal escapes my mouth, beyond my control.

"Anything. You decide."

"And if you win the bet, you do whatever you want with me?" I tease, laughing at my own question. Jungkook doesn't deny it, however, looking at me with a serious expression that, if it weren't for the situation, would disturb me.

"I already know what I want." He says in a husky voice. "If I win the bet, you touch yourself in front of me, like I asked you to."

"J-Jungkook! I can't do that." I choke, shaking my head. I would die of embarrassment. I've tried a few times to touch myself, I confess, but I never succeeded. I always felt awkward, as if something was missing. As if I were a complete weirdo for even trying.

"Are you already thinking about losing? That's not how bets work."

"I've never bet on something like this." I laugh ironically, trembling. His hand releases my hair but doesn't stop touching me. He slides his palm further down and caresses my stomach, which bubbles because of him. I'm so entranced by his touch that I can't stop him and let Jungkook slip under my shirt, heading for my breasts, covered by my bra.

"Think of the other side. If I lose, you can do whatever you want with me." He argues quietly, giving a small smile.

I start imagining what I would do with him if I won the bet. I'm not very creative, but something that really excites me would be to bring him to the edge just like he did with me last night. He denied my orgasm, and I want to do the same with Jungkook, over and over again. Of course, I would have to be very confident, and I don't know if I could achieve my goal, but I think it's worth a try.

"Alright. I agree." I nod nervously. He approaches with a sideways smile and tucks my hair behind my ear, before closing his eyes and kissing my mouth.

I wrap my arms around his neck and deepen our kiss, massaging his mouth with mine. I bite his lower lip, only satisfied when I hear a rumble from him deep in his throat. He smirks between caresses, stops, and attacks my neck, licking my skin and leaving a thin trail of saliva. Weeks ago, I couldn't even imagine a man without clothes in front of me, and now all I want is to suck him off and feel him come in my mouth, just like last night. I still remember the result of his pleasure flowing down my throat, and my desire to repeat everything we did makes my brain intoxicated. I'm completely lost in wanting this man.

"A kiss to seal the deal." Jungkook grunts and pulls away, his mouth swollen. I try to continue the kiss with the excitement eating me from the inside out, but he smiles and stops touching me completely. "I have to start this tattoo if I want to win the bet."

Jungkook stands up and sketches the rose on a piece of paper. My head disconnects from reality while he begins the work. I pick up my phone for a few seconds and see the time passing. I would be more worried if my mother weren't out of town. I leave the sofa, needing to pee, and open a door marked for the bathroom. I take care of my business and look at myself in the mirror. My face looks apparently normal, if not for my flushed cheeks and red lips from the kisses. I splash a bit of water on myself, and when I feel calmer, I return to the tattoo studio. The machine works continuously, and Jungkook seems submerged and engrossed in his task, furrowing his brows, totally focused.

I shouldn't have accepted this bet. Jungkook has several tattoos, and it's obvious that his pain tolerance is high. I know he will win. The way he remains silent and effortlessly pierces his own skin tells me that sooner or later, I'll have to fulfill the difficult challenge. I bite my lip, watching the drawing of the flower being completed as the minutes pass. It's a very time-consuming process, but minutes fly. I am so relaxed and still that I could almost fall asleep listening to the buzzing of the needle.

"Y/N, I ordered food for both of us." I hear his voice suddenly. I jump a bit because I didn't notice he was talking to me, lost in my own head. "I hope you like pasta."

"I really like it, thanks." I say, shaking my head. I'm really hungry.

Before long, someone rings the studio's doorbell. Jungkook even tries to get up to answer the delivery person, but there's no way I'd let him go outside when he's so focused on his own work. I go outside and grab the food bag, seeing that he ordered beer, pasta, fries, and a can of Diet Coke for both of us. I'm happy to notice, in such a simple gesture, that he remembered I don't drink alcohol. My mouth instantly fills with saliva.

"I think you're not going to win the bet." I comment, sitting back on the sofa. I separate my food from his, tasting the delicious vegetable sauce that is the most tasty thing in the world. At least that's what my stomach thinks, given how hungry I am.

"I'm almost done." He brags, still tattooing himself. He passes a paper to remove the excess ink from his skin and raises an eyebrow confidently. "I can't wait to see you touching yourself."

"That's not going to happen." I guarantee with a certainty I don't have, blushing and taking a sip of the soda. It's refreshing, going cold down through my throat.

"Let's see if it won't. Do you really think I'm going to miss the chance to watch you masturbating?"

"Jungkook..." I mumble, covering my face. "Don't you have any shame? Stop saying those things."

"Don't worry, Y/N." He smiles, confident in his victory. "You still have a reasonable amount of time to get used to the idea."

"Focus, Kook." I change the subject; my heart races just imagining myself in that situation. He falls silent and bites his lower lip, looking at me from head to toe with such hunger that makes me nervous and excited. I swallow my food as he returns to tattooing, wondering if he will really finish the drawing in time.

And he does. Of course, he does. In the end, after one hour and forty-five minutes, Jungkook has a new complete drawing on his right arm, along with other tattoos that adorn his body. I finished my food just in time to see him ending everything with mastery and calm, as if he wasn't worried about our bet. His hungry eyes find mine, and I know exactly what he wants. I swallow hard, squeezing my thighs together.

"I think I deserve my prize since I won the bet."

"Y-yes." I respond, trembling. My heart beats loudly in my chest, and I have to breathe deeply to finally realize that I don't feel fear, not even a hint of hesitation. All I feel is lust and desire. A longing to have him closer, to touch him in his rawest form. I sigh, watching him stand up and walk calmly towards me, like a predator; a lion eyeing its prey. I shrink back on the couch, small, now that he is standing. His knee sneaks between my legs, and separates my thighs before he squats down, and brings his face closer to mine.

"I don't want you to touch yourself here." He whispers, like a secret. His dilated pupils when he gazes at my mouth. "In my apartment. In my bed. I want you there."

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[storiesbyjes2g]

3.187 Passing the keys

That night, I went back to the rental website to fill the vacancy because it didn't make sense to wait. The house had been sitting all this time, waiting to generate income for us, and it was past time I did something about it. I decided to rent to the older gentlemen, but his application was no longer available. I was kind of bummed because I had already formed a picture in my mind of what he would be like based on the information he shared on the application, and now I'd have to start over. The plus side is that I found a young family like I originally wanted, so I accepted their application right away. In the morning, I got a notification saying they had moved in already, so I went over there after breakfast to introduce myself and get to know them. The application stated they were a married couple with twin infants. The house wasn't exactly setup for two babies, but they can make it work.

As I approached the door, I overheard them arguing, and my whole body tensed up. They reminded me of Mama's friends, who stayed with us and argued literally day and night. I hope to the Watcher these two are not like that. I pressed my ear to the door to see if I could get an idea of what the issue was. It turns out the woman was flustered because she saw a lost dog who needed help but ignored it. She felt guilty about it and wanted to go back and find the dog, but the husband didn't get it. He was very dismissive and said dogs get lost all the time and it was none of her business if someone can't keep track of their animal. Oh boy. This better not be a bad omen. I knocked, hoping to interrupt him berating her, and they let me in. Owen and Jilliana Sage are their names. Owen works at a store and seemed to have a good sense of humor, so maybe he's not so bad. Jilliana is more serious and super smart. She works at the space center, but I don't remember what she said she does there.

She tried to introduce me to the babies, Xavier and Zahava, but they both started screaming because Owen had the TV way too loud. Xavier calmed down enough to let me hold him, though. He was so tiny and made me miss Desiree at that age. I didn't intend to spend the day with them, and they clearly had things to do, so I told them to call me if they needed anything and made my exit.

I had to pass by Chi Chi's house on the way back home, so I stopped by to tell her we were moving to Gibbs Gardens soon. She was bummed about not being around the corner from us anymore, but relieved we weren't leaving the city. Behind her eyes, however, there seemed to be more than just disappointment at losing her favorite neighbor. I asked if something was wrong, and in Chi Chi-like fashion, I got way more than I bargained for.

As she began this tale, my initial reaction was to beat myself up again about not being a good friend because the details of her story started a while ago. But I stopped those thoughts before my brain ran away with them. We all have super busy lives. No one has time to be involved at such a granular level anymore, and no one is expecting us to know everything. I am a good friend, and I don't have to know every detail to prove it. Come to think about it, my friends—minus Dub—know less about me than I know about them. Needless, I'm done with stressing myself about this.

Chi Chi's woes began with her birthday a few weeks back. Like many women her age (especially when they are as fine as she is), she didn't handle the adult birthday well. Of course, she knew her body would change, but like me, seeing it hit differently. Between that and the little lines creeping from the corners of her eyes and across her forehead, she's feeling frumpy. I almost laughed. She is still one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. Frumpy where?? She would turn heads wearing a paper bag. I bet she could gain 300 pounds, shave off her hair, and still have a trail of thirsty men following her everywhere. Still, if the aging stuff was the only thing she had to deal with, she would be fine in time. The problem is all her other worries reinforce the aging issues, and she is struggling. The short version of the story is her life has not turned out how she imagined. She once told me she wanted to remarry and have more kids, but all the dates she's been on led nowhere. Now, as an adult, she's thinking about giving up on that dream, especially when she's about to be a grandmother! Karmine, her daughter, is grown grown now. She moved her boyfriend into the house without even discussing it. Then, she got pregnant and moved out, so Chi Chi is all alone in the house with nothing but these crushing thoughts to keep her company, and she's not doing that great.

I had no idea if it would help, but I decided to share my midlife crisis story. It felt wrong at first because I never told Sophia I was struggling, but if Chi Chi can walk away feeling better, the discomfort will be worth it. Even though her story is different, I identified with everything she said because I realized life rarely turns out exactly how we plan. The reason is because we never factor in trouble or change. Our plans are always perfect and positive. When change and trouble comes, we feel out of control, like our world is falling apart. But the world isn't falling apart. It's the same as it always was. We just haven't taken off our rose-colored glasses yet.

I told Chi Chi everything would be okay, and she should look at it from a positive perspective. Because she's not starting a new family, and is an empty nester, she's got so much extra time to do all those bucket list things she's been looking forward to. And since she won't have any young children to raise, she has time to time to be super grandma and help her daughter through those oh so difficult first two stages. She's still really young and can reinvent herself if she wanted. And when love finally finds her again, and I believe it will, it will be all about them with no one else coming between them. They'll grow old together and be annoyingly in love.

Like I said, I have no clue if my little pep talk helped, but at least I left her smiling. Kinda like grieving, she'll find her way to accepting her new normal, and when she does, she'll appreciate the picture I painted for her.