#got overwhelmed and promptly closed it again

[literateowl]

The ADHD lack of object permanence makes dating apps nearly impossible for me

[femmeslash]

the sinners visit a 24-hour convenience store

rodya was trying to unionize everyone in the pursuit of snacks and got pretty close (outis will NEVER acquiesce to such tomfoolery)

charon just pulls over anyway

she wants a slushie

verg isn't going to say no to charon

they're getting slushies.

fifteen people enter this convenience store all at once with the kind of dazed look you can only get upon seeing rows and rows of bright fluorescent lights and Products after being in a moving vehicle for 48 hours straight

faust just starts talking to the cashier, who is wholly unprepared to deal with [Insufferable, Chronic Lassitude]. she's just telling them information.

don quixote has never heard of an inside voice and she's not going to start now

BEHOLD, MINE COMRADES! I SHALL TAKE UPON THE CHALLENGE OF SAMPLING EACH FLAVOR OF SLUSH, AND REPORT MY FINDINGS!

she immediately gets brain freeze and is loud about that too

yi sang and hong lu are examining packaged snacks together

hong lu is reading off the ingredient labels and saying things like "oh, grandmother never allowed me to eat things that had artificial dyes in them!"

yi sang is just kinda there, concerned about hong lu's statements but too overwhelmed by the lights and colors to say anything of substance

ryoushuu is openly shoplifting

rodya gets her pile of snacks and then decides to bother gregor because she's bored again now

gregor is trying to buy cigarettes

greg babe look they got that delta 8 stuff! you wanna give it a try?

gregor is fully pretending he does not know her

he mouths "i'm sorry" to the cashier

outis is watching dante like a hawk

executive manager we must remain vigilant against threats to your person at all times, especially when the chance of an ambush against us seems low

dante has never been in a convenience store that they can remember...? but they're pretty sure outis is taking this a little too seriously

heathcliff is sizing up the hot food display

dunno what kind of madman would be too keen on eating these sad oily chips but scran's scran

he offers some to hong lu who has since wandered over

hong lu has never had chips/fries before and has no idea that you eat them with your hands

mistake.

it's a mess.

sinclair is waiting anxiously for his turn with the slushie machine as meursault methodically fills a huge cup with every single flavor they have

ishmael quickly got her preferred snacks and now is waiting passive-aggressively for everyone else to be done

the poor cashier has to come face to face with a fucking color fixer while this rodeo is occurring, because it's technically a company expense

vergilius saunters up to the counter to pay for all this crap, looking miserable and homicidal

charon got a cherry slush. red. same as verg. happy.

so it's not all bad.

it isn't until they've gotten back onto the bus and started driving that dante says <wait>

<where's yi sang?>

they find yi sang sitting in the parking lot, placidly eating a slushie of his own

the artificial watermelon flavor, cold and crisp underneath the moonlight... it has a certain charm.

ok grandpa let's get you to bed.

ryoushuu's haul includes three lighters, beef jerky, extra-strength headache medicine, root beer candy, and a large spider that was in the parking lot, which she is planning to release into faust's vicinity next time faust pisses her off

hong lu promptly gets sick from eating the disgusting fries.

[pinkandblueblurbs]

premeditated

Rick Grimes x Daryl Dixon x Fem!reader. Threesome, penetrative sex, oral sex (m receiving), throat fucking, dirty talk, d/s, unsafe sex, spit roasting, cunnilingus, praise, degradation, mentions of reader’s hair.

a/n: please don’t take this as me coming back to writing consistently :’) i just got inspired and figured i might as well act on it. I pictured this set in some empty room in the prison during season 3 but it can be set during any season w the prison.

word count: 1.2k

You don’t notice him at first.

Your eyes are squeezed shut. Your senses are overwhelmed by Daryl— his low grunts in your ear, his strong arm around your middle where he holds you up against him. His cock pounding into you from behind. His palm clamped over your mouth, muffling your lewd moans and the pained squeaks that escape you when he hits a particularly hard thrust.

It’s not until you finally tear your eyes open that you see Rick Grimes leaning against the doorway. You aren’t sure how long he’s been there, but he’s hard in his pants, and when you meet his eye his mouth morphs into a smirk.

Daryl must realize that you noticed him by the way your cunt spasms around his cock. Unsure whether to take that as a sign of alarm or arousal, he leans closer to you, breath tickling your ear.

“You okay?” He whispers, thrusts slowing as he waits for your response. Part of you wonders if this was planned, but the thought is fleeting as Daryl’s hips come to a stuttered halt.

You give a single nod against his palm, desperate for him to continue, and that’s enough for him. He picks back up again, the soft sound of skin on skin filling the room once more.

Rick must take that as his cue because he pushes himself upright from the doorframe and stalks towards you, head tilted slightly as his eyes rake over the scene before him. Somehow, that’s enough to get you moaning again.

“He finally caught you alone, huh? Took ‘im long enough.” Rick’s voice is lower than you’ve ever heard it. Daryl lets out a scoff, and the brief exchange is enough to tell you that this was very much premeditated. You cling to Daryl desperately, hand curled around his bicep, which flexes under your fingers as he supports your weight.

When he gets close enough Rick reaches out to cup the underside of your jaw. You gaze up at him through your lashes, and you can’t miss the arousal that floods his eyes at the sight of you.

“I’ll help keep ‘er quiet.” He murmurs, his other hand moving to the buckle of his belt. He must catch the way your eyes widen and snap down to the large bulge of his dick, because he lets out a low chuckle. “You have her mouth yet?”

“Nah,” Daryl’s gruff voice pipes up behind you, “couldn’t wait to be in this fuckin’ pussy no longer.”

Rick hums, undoing the fly of his pants then freeing his hard cock from his boxers. Your eyes stay the size of saucers.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” He says softly, making you glance up at him. The grin on his face turns the sympathy in his voice to condescension. “You’ll take it just fine.”

Rick’s hand moves from your jaw to the back of your hair, finding a firm grip there and guiding your head downwards. Daryl’s palm releases from your mouth and you take in a big gasp of air— which Rick promptly takes advantage of as he pushes his cock past your lips.

“Fuck, that’s it.” The man grits out as your hot mouth envelopes him. Daryl’s hands move to hold your hips, his grip bruising as he slams into you again and again. The force of his thrusts knock you forward rhythmically, drawing Rick’s cock in and out of your mouth, making you gag whenever it hits the back of your throat.

Your hands shoot up to hold onto Rick’s thighs for support as they fuck into you from both sides. Pleasure mounts in your belly from the combination of Daryl’s cock hitting your g-spot and the erotic thought of being trapped between the two men while they use you.

“He fuckin’ you good, baby?” Rick croons, his own voice strained. All you can offer as a response is a loud, broken moan. “Christ— might be able to hear you from the cellblock even with a cock down your throat.”

“Doubt she’d mind the others listenin’,” Daryl grits out darkly. “Dirty fuckin’ slut.”

That pulls another moan from you, and Rick echoes it with a low groan at the vibrations against his shaft. The hand not in your hair reaches under you to grope your tit through your ratty shirt.

You can feel it when Daryl’s getting close. His hips speed up from slow deep thrusts to erratic, frantic ones, and his groans become more hoarse. Your own orgasm is approaching— and while you aren’t surprised when he pulls out of you to shoot ropes across your back, you can’t help the dissapointed whimper that escapes you.

“Quit whinin’ girl.” He says breathlessly as he pumps the last shot of cum from his cock. You feel his big hands grip the flesh of your ass. “You’re still gonna get yours.”

He kneels down, and you choke on your gasp when you feel his hot breath against your pussy. Then his tongue is on you, lapping up the moisture threatening to drip to the ground. Rick graciously pulls back to allow you some reprieve, and you suckle at the head of his cock, enjoying the pleasure of Daryl’s mouth against you.

He’s a bit sloppy at first, but he learns quickly. He closely observes you, reacting deftly to every moan and repeating any action that makes your pussy clench. It’s not long before you’ve climbed back to the brink of orgasm.

What sends you over the edge is two thick fingers being shoved into your cunt, curling inside you. You let out a long moan as callouses sponge over your g-spot.

“There you go, darlin’. Cum for Daryl. Let ‘im taste ya.” Rick murmurs from above you. His hips snap shallowly, letting you ride out your orgasm without obstruction.

Daryl pulls away once you start to squirm from overstimulation. You lower to your knees, Rick’s grip on your hair never allowing his cock to leave your lips, and he picks his pace back up.

“Gonna swallow for me?” You blink up at him, brain foggy and eyes glassy, and nod obediently. “Good girl.”

With those growled words he’s shoving in deep and emptying down your throat. He holds you there despite your gag, and you do your best to swallow the hot liquid.

He finally releases your head and steps back, cock slipping from your mouth and taking a string of saliva with it. You’re both panting, chests heaving from exertion, skin slick with sweat.

You feel a gentle grounding touch at the back of your head. Daryl pets your hair, coaxing you back to reality.

“Y’alright, hon?” He rumbles. You nod with a content him.

“You kiddin’ me? More than alright.”

“Told you she would be.” Rick says as he reaches out to thumb some drool off your chin. Then he reaches under your arms and helps you up on wobbly feet with a whispered “easy.”

You look back at Daryl, an easy grin on your face.

“Where the hell did you learn to eat pussy like that, Daryl Dixon?” That gets a true laugh from Rick, and Daryl holds your gaze for a moment before glancing away with a scoff, the faintest color painting his cheeks.

“Shut up.”

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

peppermint gum, m | jjk | and burst forth

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

It’s impossible to fall in love when you’re already in love. And Jeon Jungkook was in love. Helplessly. But what could he do? Time passed. The world became tasteless to his eyes. All he could do was hold onto the crisp and intense color of those memories, remember her words, and wonder where she was now. Savor, and burst forth.

click here for part i | this is part ii | total wc: 25k

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; this story contains parental child abuse - child neglect and abandonment; sloooow burn; mild alcohol consumption; hardcore pining JK; angst and fluff and feels; (in part ii) smut (fem reader, slight D/s dynamic, so much kissing, hair pulling, scratching / marking. grinding, choking, m-receiving oral, finger sucking, fingering, nipple play, m-masturbation, thigh riding, edging, penetrative sex, doggy, multiple orgasms); shifts back and forth between Jungkook’s POV and your POV; from lovers-to-strangers-to-lovers again :)

non-idol!AU; pining!Jungkook x noona!reader — ft JK’s helpful? friends Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin; reader’s close friend and talented guitarist, Kang Hyungu (ONEWE’s Kanghyun if you want to see his appearance, hehe, same personality); JK has all his piercings and has hair (lol)

--

Jungkook woke up with crusty eyes and on top of the love of his life.

Sexy.

Not.

He woke up with a start, the last dregs of an icy and panicked nightmare clawing at him. He couldn’t even remember what happened. The only way he could describe the sensation was that it was as if the color blue had become an emotion. Which was crazy talk, but honestly at this point what was new? After all, Jungkook was peeling his eyes open with effort and seeing the most beautiful sleeping face under him, even with the dark circles under her eyes.

He froze.

Oh, shit, what have I done?

A frown flitted over her features.

Her eyes opened a crack.

He squeaked and immediately ducked. Shoved his face into her chest, hurriedly wiping away at his face with the cuffs of his sleeves. I can’t show my face like this, I look so stupid and pathetic, I–

“Jungkook?”

Her voice was low and unused.

“What… What the fuck are you doing?”

He could still feel the residual ache between his eyes from crying so much, but at least he had cleaned up his eyes and felt a little less like a crispy bun left in the oven too long. “I…” Pausing, but the truth came tumbling out anyway. “I didn’t want you to see me ugly…”

He mumbled into his hands.

She snorted and Jungkook jumped as her hands settled in his waist, squeezing him, only now realizing that his sweatshirt paws were on top of the curve of her breasts. Thankfully, she was clearly wearing a padded bra under. How she slept in it was beyond him. Then again, she managed to sleep with a whole ass man on top of her, although his lower body was in between her legs.

She held onto him.

“Believe me, I’ve seen ugly. You’ll never be close to ugly in my eyes.”

She said it sleepily and with her head tilting back to stretch her neck. He couldn’t say anything. How could he? Oh, sure, if he was unserious, and he opened his mouth to joke back but nothing came out. He almost wanted to cry again. Instead, he shut his mouth and trembled, trying not to put too much weight onto her. She either didn’t care or had enough grace to not comment.

“You still snore pretty bad.”

“S… Sorry.”

She cracked her neck and exhaled over his head.

Her hands relaxed and slid over his lower back.

His eyes widened, overwhelmed by the cool, heady rush swirling through his body at her touch.

“I got used to it then, so I guess it’ll just take time,” she murmured.

For a second.

For a fleeting, perfect second, Jungkook was held by his most precious memory.

Then, she patted him in the back and her hands retreated. A soft groan and her palms planted onto his chest, lightly pushing him away, wiggling under him. He promptly backed up, turning his head away and hiding his disappointment, but she didn’t look in his direction, stretching and yawning, pointing towards the bathroom, go ahead and get washed up, I’ll get you a towel for your face, and he latched onto the suggestion to scurry away, trying not to seem too hurried, his large black parka carelessly falling onto the floor with a heavy thump.

It was suddenly cold and far too bright.

But he couldn’t run back to her.

His head snapped towards the mirror the second he burst into the bathroom.

I look like shit.

The pink flush on his cheeks deepened to red as he approached the sink, dropping his head and turning on the water. Splashing his face and gasping at the cold. Fuck, I am such an idiot. It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be cool, calm, and collected and sweep her off her feet with his newfound coolness. Instead, he had broken down and cried like a child in her arms until he passed out from all the emotional energy he expelled. Great. Way to look dumb, Jeon Jungkook. He scrubbed at his face with his palms, hoping to peel off a layer and reveal a better man, as if he was some kind of golden onion and not a fractured, incomplete, whiny little bitch.

“Hey. Hey! Maybe you’ve heard of the term facial peel, but what you are doing is not what the term means.”

Jungkook jumped at the interruption, and was greeted with a plop to the face from a fluffy white towel. His reflexes caught it right away, pressing it to his cheeks, embarrassed again. All he could muster out was a t-thanks, and then he started again as he felt her crouch and open the cabinet under the sink, accompanied by sounds of clunking.

“Here. Pick a toothbrush. Pink or purple?”

He yanked the towel off his face and saw himself in the mirror, his half-wet black hair sticking straight up, and then he looked down, startled and wide-eyed. She raised an eyebrow at him, down on one knee and prosing the choice of a light pink toothbrush in one hand and a lavender-colored one in the other.

She shrugged. “Sorry. Last ones in the multipack are these colors. I save the fun colors for guests so they can distinguish themselves.”

He glanced at the one in the holder and it had a black handle.

“Uh… I guess I’ll take the purple…”

He took it, careful not to made skin-to-skin contact.

She disappeared under the sink again.

“I have a travel toothpaste if–”

He jerked his head, his mouth full of suds.

“Or you can just use mine,” she said slowly, lowering her hand. She shoved the travel toothpaste back under the sink, presumably in its previous hiding place. “Not like we haven’t swapped spit before, I guess.”

He tried to apologize, but she stood up, waving it away.

“What do you want for breakfast?” she asked, taking her toothbrush and starting her own routine.

It felt…

Normal.

Shockingly, unbelievingly, scarily normal. Her and him, in close quarters, standing beside each other and sharing the mirror and the space. Similar to his small apartment back then. Similar to the tiny hotel rooms they sometimes visited when his previous roommate was there. These days Jungkook had a bigger apartment and lived alone. Just like her, it seemed. She had was a clean and modern bathroom, but he saw her touches all around it. The black cherry scented lotion. The large dark gray bath towel with a matching fluffy hair towel wrap hanging on a hook beside it. The black wire basket above the toilet held neatly stacked white rolls. They looked soft and plush.

Her toothbrush holder was matte black glass.

Sleek and elegant.

He leaned down and used his hands to cup some water, the used towel around his shoulders. Rinsed and spit, trying to be efficient. And not disgusting. He continued staring down at the sink bowl.

Unable to lift his head.

“You… You must be tired of me…” he mumbled, exhaling as evenly as he could, the mint flavor cooling his tongue and the inside of his mouth.

She answered slightly muffled.

But dead serious.

“You can stop pretending you are inconveniencing me and simply accept what I’m doing for you.”

Jungkook raised his head.

There was a brief heartbeat exchanged in the mirror. Seeing each other in reflection. Somehow it was more honest than being eye to eye. Well, of course, because he had been having trouble all morning making any real eye contact, but in that brief moment, in that second of time that felt like hours, in that gum bubble right before the jarring pop moment, she saw right through him. He let himself be seen, and it seemed as if she knew and accepted what his true feelings were, despite his fear of his wants being too ugly to admit. Knowing him better then he knew himself, just like how it always was.

Had been.

What?

She kept brushing her teeth absentmindedly, and then moved past him, picking up the other cup to rinse her own mouth and spit. He backed away, but not too far. Wiped his hands on the towel given to him. The unspoken intent lingered, do you still not understand what is happening here, and he did, but he was afraid to be wrong.

He was so very afraid.

And yet.

Her head was right there, soft hair and all.

His hand lifted.

She rose quickly and his hand retreated immediately. She was speaking and opening the mirror, revealing the hidden cabinet and an array of crammed skincare. All higher end brands, along with an onyx gua sha stone with its own stand, and a lip balm she plucked off the edge and applied.

“I have bread, eggs, cheese. Can make eggy toast topped with cheese and have kimchi on the side. Extra butter to make the bread crispier. You’ll like it.”

“I… wuh?”

-

You make the eggy toast and ate breakfast with Jungkook.

A big chunk of butter slapped into the hot pan. Then pan-toasting the bread on both sides until golden brown before pressing down the center of the bread slice with a ladle, creating a shallow bowl to drop an egg in. You had let the egg cook for a bit before sprinkling a little salt and white pepper, then added shredded cheese on top and covered the pan, giving it a few seconds to melt before removing the eggy bread from its warm home and onto a plate. Added some kimchi on the side for some prickled freshness and handed the meal to Jungkook, who had hovered around you the entire time, providing various oohs and aahs with your every action.

Your one-man hype squad.

It wasn’t the most Korean meal, but he had been drinking the night prior. A hangover meal of sorts.

You didn’t talk much.

You had already done enough. It was pretty obvious what was going on here. The real question was whether or not to let it happen. Still, you couldn’t let Jungkook cry himself to sleep in your arms the night before and not send him off with a full belly. Even if he never spoke to you again, it wouldn’t have sat right with you. It felt too heartless to straighten up and tell him to get out right after waking.

And, anyway.

You had missed him.

It made no sense. It wasn’t like you had deeply invested into those few months with him. You had been too caught up in your endless cycle of self-destruction to truly appreciate how much Jungkook liked you. It was obvious, of course. He followed you like a puppy and never wanted to leave your presence, but you had chalked it up to him being young and not knowing better. In fact, you had originally thought he was still chasing a fantasy up until last night, but no amount of your denial could explain away his words or those tears. He had grown up, at least enough to understand that reality and dreams weren’t one and the same. And yet he had clung onto those memories of you, even if he thought that the future he was heading towards was tasteless.

That took a certain kind of stubbornness.

Well, you must be stubborn to stay in love, no?

You paused mid-bite.

Jungkook was stuffing his face. You had made him two pieces. He had seemed very hungry. You spooned more kimchi onto his plate distractedly, your mind wandering. Devotion was stubbornness. Wavering was lack thereof. Stubbornness was often an act of selfishness and that was still true in love. It just depended on how one imposed that selfishness onto another.

You felt a tap on the back of your hand.

You started, blinking out of your thoughts.

He was staring.

“You didn’t finish eating,” Jungkook gulped, tilting his head. “Something wrong? I thought it was really tasty.”

This was coming from someone who would eat basically anything. Still, you took it as a compliment. Not because you needed to be complimented, no, because you saw his black-brown eyes sparkle when you half-smiled at his comment. Just for that. Just to give him the small happiness of knowing you valued his praise. You could be humble about the culinary skills you had acquired over the years simply so you didn’t look arrogant, but, then again, the result would be that Jungkook would feel as if his words weren’t worthwhile and that was not the truth.

Even if your mind wasn’t so sure, you still smiled for him.

No matter the result, you loved me back then, in the only way you know how. You taught me about your love, whether I believed in it or not. Very ox-like of you, Jeon Jungkook.

“Do you think we should go on a date?” you suddenly asked.

His big peepers popped open wide.

“A d-date?!”

-

“What should I wear?!”

“Nothing.”

Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung high-fived each other with a simultaneous maniacal giggle as Jungkook stood next to his open closet door with his eyebrow twitching. So much for having older friends giving their mature opinions.

“Very funny,” Jungkook muttered under his breath.

“Isn’t that how you get ‘em, JK?” Taehyung teased, grinning with all his teeth. Typically, Kim Taehyung gave off a mature, elegant vibe. He was the kind of handsome that could elevate any look with his strong features and cool demeanor. The deep baritone voice only added to his manliness. “Just rip off your shirt and bam!”

With close friends, though, Taehyung was an idiot.

“What if he walked into the restaurant and tore open his shirt?” Park Jimin snorted behind his small hand, trying to be polite but failing miserably with the nonsense coming out of his mouth. “Do you think his date would notice first or do you think he would get arrested first?” The epitome of cute and airy, Jimin was the type that ended up being social because he looked so approachable with his soft features and endearing eye smile. He always drew in a crowd with his genuine emotion behind his carefully considered words.

Which meant that Jimin was also the type to rub in the teasing until he really, really grated those nerves.

Sigh.

“You’re not helping, guys,” Jungkook growled, thumbing through his very monochrome closet. Black, white, gray, classic blue denim. Not much color. Shit, was he really this boring? Honestly, he ended up selecting basics mostly for the reducing decision fatigue when picking out an outfit for every day. It did not, however, help when he needed to impress.

Especially because Jungkook rarely wore or owned any formal wear.

Was a dress shirt too much? Too little? Not a good indication of the kind of man he was now? He didn’t want to portray like a better or false version of himself. But he had to look good. Fuck. This was way easier when his only goal was to get laid and not to have a relationship.

“You still haven’t told us who it is,” Taehyung piped up, still sitting on the end of Jungkook’s bed with Jimin. One would think the fashion model of the two would get up and start pulling things, but he didn’t budge.

“Yeah, we need deets,” Jimin chimed in. “We can’t suggest anything without context.”

Jungkook responded flatly. “It’s a girl.”

He could practically hear the eye roll in Jimin’s response. “Wow, what an underwhelming gender reveal. Next time bring those poppers with pink confetti while you’re at it.”

“Uh, well, do you know her personally or is this blind date status?” Taehyung asked, sounding confused.

“I know her.”

Jungkook knew precisely why Taehyung was confused, but didn’t address it. Jimin, however.

“Why are you being so cagey? By now you would have shown us a pic.”

Yeah, by now, he would have shown a face photo or even the dating profile. To be honest, Jimin was the most useful on pinpointing perfect outfits that screamed “fuck me now” even with only a few pics or a limited text exchange. He was some kind of wizard at that. Personal experience? Who knew. Taehyung ended up being emotional support and occasionally the voice of reason.

“Ugh, is it that stuck-up bitch from a couple months ago?” Taehyung suddenly stood up, coming up behind Jungkook. “I don’t like her.”

“I told you I didn’t even sleep with that one,” Jungkook mumbled, moving away as Taehyung thumbed through his jackets, took out a fitted light denim one, and put it on himself, modeling in the full-length mirror for who-the-hell-knows-what reason. Too casual, right?

“Good, because nobody liked her,” Jimin tutted.

Yet she did look similar to a clean someone.

Not as pretty, though, Jungkook knew.

Sometimes he had to take what he could get. Not that time, because they were both right. That woman’s personality was awful. Had been best to run right away. Jungkook frowned as Jimin stuck his hand out right in front of his face, waving it around.

“Give me your phone.”

“No.”

“We need pics!”

Jungkook offered one detail. “She’s hot.”

“No shit?!” Jimin gasped sarcastically. He staggered back with a fluff of his bleach blond hair. “That’s so out of character for you!”

Jungkook glared and thought about biting him.

Did not.

For now.

“Ah!”

Jungkook froze. That was the type of exclamation Taehyung let out when he realized something important. The kind where Taehyung pointed upward and popped his fist into his open palm, about to say the very important thing and blow everyone’s minds.

“It’s her, isn’t it?”

He could sense Taehyung was facing him now. Jungkook couldn’t raise his head to look. His abrupt muteness was enough of answer. He felt Taehyung’s strong hand on his shoulder, but he continued to stare at his clothes as if they could magically answer in his stead, chewing on the left side of his lower lip nervously.

“Am I right, Jungkookie?” Taehyung asked again softly. “I thought you said she disappeared.”

It’s impossible to fall in love when I have always been in love with you.

There was a pang in his chest, sharp and intense.

“Guess… Guess nobody disappears forever,” he finally muttered.

Jimin jerked back, stunned. “Woah, wait, wait.”

Taehyung knew more than Jimin. Not really for any other reason than gut feeling. Somehow, after he had finished moping and feeling sorry for himself, Jungkook had felt that Taehyung would understand the intensity of it all. Taehyung had a grounded personality, but there was certain je ne sais quoi about the dark-haired man. Call it a hunch from the partial truths of described rendezvous in Paris and his occasionally off-the-cuff viewpoint on things. Taehyung had always been inseparable from Jimin ever since they met, so Jungkook had to tell the other male too, but back then Jimin was kind of a…

Well.

A slut.

Safe and consensual, but dude had been going through his hoe phase. He hadn’t been in a place to understand how profound those memories had been for Jungkook. Therefore, Jungkook had just said he really loved her despite the short timeline. Jimin had told him he was an idiot to believe that. Taehyung had whacked Jimin in the back of the head for that. He did apologize right away, but it wasn’t until years later that Jimin really comprehended the depth and apologized. By then, though.

It was all too late.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jimin worriedly chittered. “She broke your heart last time. Bad.”

Jungkook looked up.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you?” Taehyung persisted. “Come on, don’t act like we haven’t noticed you have a type. You think Jimin and I are cross-eyed and blind? Not to mention you usually drop girls like hot potatoes with your weak-ass excuses.”

“Yeah, for instance, you randomly stopped seeing one girl because she liked sweets,” Jimin pointed out.

“She likes sweets,” Jungkook interrupted. “But only sour candy. She would always give me any chocolate she received.”

Taehyung rubbed his forehead, his tan skin glowing under the overhead lights. “Dude.”

“This is not good for you.” Jimin sighed, expression apprehensive. He resembled the skeptical emoticon with his rounder and more animated face. “Setting aside if she has become a better person or not… why now? And could she really be as great as you think she is or are you trying to make her live up to an impossible fantasy?”

“It just happened,” Jungkook snapped. “We ran into each other the other night.”

Jimin frowned. “A little fast, isn’t it?” He was slipping into his Busan satoori with his frustration. It often came out around at the same time Jungkook’s did since they were born in the same area.

“Did you at least talk to her for a long time?” Taehyung playing devil’s advocate in this case. He loved a swift romance, as unlikely as it could be. Red string of fate, soulmates, the works. “What was it like?”

Jungkook would never call himself a poet.

He simply answered exactly how he felt.

“It was like I was able to finally come home after a long journey,” he breathed out.

Jimin and Taehyung exchanged a look. But Jungkook didn’t care anymore, lost in her smile, her touch, her smell, lost in that night. It didn’t make any sense, of course, because she was vibrant as she was calm, but that was how it was. Coming home. Like bursts of color back into his desaturated world. From the mundane to the extraordinary, even from something as basic as standing beside each other and brushing their teeth.

He had just liked knowing it was her.

“Did you guys sleep together?”

Jungkook gave Taehyung a side-eye. He got a shrug in response.

“No. We… went home.”

What?

Was he supposed to say, no, I ended up at her place and I cried myself to sleep in her arms? Hell no. Some things were meant to be secrets. Even Jungkook had good enough sense to leave well enough alone. Couple white lies here and there weren’t going to condemn him. Sex before marriage might, but, eh, in that case he had been damnned for long before now. Whoops.

“Uh huh,” Jimin mused. “Alright then. Let’s pick an outfit.”

“What about this?”

“Taehyung, you would wear that,” Jimin scolded, pulling out an olive-green bomber jacket.

“Aren’t sweater vests are outdated? I saw that on TikTok.”

“They’re not outdated!” Taehyung scolded Jungkook, putting back the black sweater vest with white trim. “Also, real life is not TikTok, dork. I was thinking without an inner shirt, anyway. Show off the arms.”

Jimin hummed, considering. “Something lighter. Do you have something similar in cream? Or beige? Plus some medium wash blue jeans and a studded belt. She was kinda edgy, I remember.”

“Uh, lemme look…”

“Beanie?”

“Yo, the hat hair?” The Busan dialect was coming out again due to Jimin’s agitation.

“He looks cute in them!”

“We’re not serving egg even if he is over easy.”

It took a moment for Jungkook to register the scalding degree of that burn.

“Hey!”

-

“What should I wear?”

“Clothes?”

You turned around to see Kang Hyungu with his raised hands and a clueless expression. “Normal people wear clothes to a date,” he reasonably stated.

You answered dryly.

“Very funny.”

You were not amused. The cerulean-haired guitarist struggled and turned away from the video call, rummaging around in his kitchen and making a lot of noise. From this angle you could peek the bottom of his dark purple undercut and his cutesy Pingu t-shirt. Hyungu was a very manly looking guy, but he never hesitated to wear graphics that he found adorable. Too secure not to.

“You didn’t order take-out again, did you?”

He made a noise that was neither affirmative or negative, which meant he definitely did. “I’m not in the mood to cook.” The word cook was being used generously here.

“Which means you made melodies all day, huh?” you interjected.

Hyungu stuck his big eyes and handsome (yet generally expressionless) face back onto the screen. “It’s such a burden to be so talented and hardworking, but someone has to do it.”

You ignored his plight. “Should I wear a dress?” you asked, pawing through your hanging articles of clothing.

“Duh.”

You frowned and looked over the dresses one by one. None of them felt right though. The date was a meal and then who knows. There was a variety of shops around the area, so it might be fun to look around and talk, perhaps. Tight dresses out, probably. You weren’t about to freeze your ass off for the vibes.

“Maybe I should wear pants?” you wondered out loud.

“Nah, noona. You look way better in dresses.”

Despite not having much expression around strangers, Hyungu had strong opinions when asked. In fact, he was so quiet that he often faded into the background before chiming in at the most random of times. He was one year younger than Jungkook. Upon first glance, he looked older, but anyone who knew Hyungu personally was subject to his seriously unserious nature.

“Who’s the guy?”

“Somebody I used to know,” you replied absentmindedly, pulling out a high-waisted black skirt with silver hardware and pleather suspenders. Hm.

You heard the frown in his voice. “Someone I know?”

“Nope.”

“I don’t like him.”

“You don’t like anybody I go on dates with,” you shot back, pulling out a white ruffled shirt and a black velvet one. The skirt was designed to sit right under the bust so some type of undershirt was a must. The white seemed too contrasting. You could unbutton a few buttons of the black velvet dress shirt, or maybe go for a fitted red-and-black striped top to make it more casual. Maybe more casual was the move. The sushi restaurant wasn’t upscale. But, also, you didn’t care about being overdressed. A loose t-shirt might be a cool vibe too. Choices.

“They like you for the wrong reasons,” Hyungu scolded, ramming noodles into his mouth.

“Who cares?”

Nah, black velvet shirt it was. More comfortable and the mixing of textures made for a good monotone outfit. Plain black knit thigh-high socks were a no-brainer too. Plus, then you could wear black boots which was better for the colder weather.

“I do! They’re lame and disrespectful.”

You hunted for your sterling silver guitar pick necklace. “I keep telling you that I’m not looking for a relationship with them.”

“Well, you should look for a relationship with someone.”

You upturned your lips and raised an eyebrow at the screen of your phone propped up against your perfumes. Hyungu’s face still hadn’t changed much from his baseline neutral, other than one cheek bouncing up and down with each chew. At least he had the decency to keep his mouth shut. “This again?”

“You deserve to be happy, noona.”

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You paused.

Then you rolled your eyes. “Some guy isn’t gonna make me happy.”

“The guy will make you happy.” And then Hyungu shoveled some rice in his mouth. He was a man of equality. All carbs were his friends.

You let out a silent, heavy exhale. “You’re so sure about that.”

“Yeah, I am,” he continued with a munch. “Even if you’re delusional about it.”

You puffed one cheek. “I’m not delusional about anything. I’m very rational.”

“I might have been drunk but I wasn’t blind, noona.”

You froze.

“I’ve never seen you act that way around a guy, ever.”

You tapped your fingertips against your dresser drawer, out of his field of view. The long seconds ticked by. Fuck it. “What do you think of him?” you questioned.

Hyungu made a scrunched face as he fought with the lid of a container that seemed to contain cucumber salad. His mother must have made it for him. “What was his name again?”

“Jeon Jungkook.”

“Oh. Yeah, he was with the group that was friends of the band, right?”

“Yeah.”

He paused, twisting his lips to one side. “Mmm, can’t really remember that well. It was kind of noisy and you know how it is for me when there’s a bigger group and I’m not super close with anyone there.”

Your shoulders slumped. “I thought you said you were fine.”

He waved a hand, debating for a moment before simply eating out of the container. “Gotta keep trying to get used to it. Anyway, I was more focused on getting along with the band since we have five more shows. But he did help us in getting home. He must not be a bad guy.” He looked up at you. In some ways, Hyungu was the most honest when he was playing guitar. People not close to him found him hard to read.

He was no mystery to you, though.

“Can’t you tell that he really likes you?”

You broke his gaze, almost guiltily.

“No one is supposed to like me. I’m scary on purpose.”

Hyungu laughed.

“You’re never been scary, noona.”

In the silence that followed, you and Hyungu had a silent conversation in words unsaid. You didn’t look towards the screen, preferring instead to turn around and look through your jackets, pretending to search for something. You had been told before that you were unapproachable. That was by choice. You didn’t need nosy loons talking about shit that they didn’t know about. Thankfully, Hyungu had never done that. He simply told you what was what. Again, he was highly observant and, apparently, he had paid attention to Jungkook’s obvious signals.

“I don’t know the history between you two, but you would be crazy not to go for someone who looks at you like that, noona.”

You turned around halfway, cocking your head. “Have you ever known me not to be crazy?”

He shot you one of those looks of his. The fed-up-with-your-shit look. “Then you would be stupid. And I know you’re not stupid,” he warned, as if it was a threat. “Wear your long black fur coat. My mom is calling. Have fun.”

And then you saw him reach over and end the video call.

You stared at the phone screen as it faded to black.

Then you scoffed, shaking your head.

“No need to be so weird about it, sheesh…”

-

“Uh, before I forget, I meant to tell you that you look really nice today, noona.”

She stepped out of the restaurant and gave him an amused smile. “After the meal?”

“S-Sorry!”

Jungkook knew Jimin and Taehyung would call him an idiot. Taehyung had told him repeatedly to remember to compliment her and stuff like that, but they had gotten so caught up with catching up on each other’s lives after their parting that Jungkook had forgotten. He had told her about his video editing job at a music company and how he was working more towards production and directing. She had told him about how she worked to live, but her day-to-day job turned out to be a book editor with occasional other side projects. Somehow, strangely similar types of careers. Jungkook had told her about his friends and their antics. How he realized he was losing opportunities to make memories by staying in so he was trying to go out more to treasure those people. She had told him about how she never grew out of her gaming habit and how, with money, it had gotten worse. And how the rest of her free time and cash was spent on going to festivals and events to support Hyungu and his band, but it turned out she really loved discovering indie music as much as the next pop hit.

It was as if they were…

Friends.

It had been so easy, so simple despite his initial awkwardness. He had thought, for a moment, that she regretted asking him, but as soon as they sat down, she gently prodded him with conversation. The restaurant atmosphere left them alone together out in public. It was surprising because he remembered, back then at the PC bang, she had been prickly and reluctant to engage in human interaction. Now, she was confident and involved in their conversation. He saw flashes of her old, closed-off self when she paused before telling him something about herself.

But then she seemed to brush it aside and spoke calmly.

Is it because of me?

He didn’t know. It was clear, however, that things had changed.

She had become more whole and, in turn, more beautiful.

“Thanks, though,” she said with a laugh, buttoning her long black fur coat. Jungkook was a bit said about that because the all-black skirt and velvet shirt combo with the guitar pick silver necklace was so cool. Still, it was a frigid night, so he understood.

“I really did mean to tell you right away,” he insisted. They had chosen to walk around a bit to walk off the Japanese food they had just enjoyed. He was jam-packed with sushi.

“Your stunned face tipped me off enough. And the literal five seconds of silence and constant staring when I sat down.”

He felt his cheeks heat. “O… Oh.”

“I like how you look today too.”

She smiled at him.

Jungkook nearly stumbled. “T-Thanks! Although… I actually had a little help,” he admitted, sticking his hands in the pockets of his olive-green bomber jacket again. He had almost tripped only because his black combat boots had a platform. That was all. Yeah. Not because he dearly loved her smiling at him or anything.

“Well, they have a good eye, so I appreciate them.”

He tried not to roll his eyes. “They would love to hear that.” But he wasn’t going to tell them. Nope.

“Hey.”

He stopped as she paused on the sidewalk. Turned around and she was looking down the street before back at him. A moment of hesitation.

Then.

She held out her hand.

Jungkook stared at it with wide eyes, his jaw dropping.

Her expression was between sheepish and amused, the corner of her lips ticking upwards. “This is a date, right? Let’s try it. Holding hands.”

He didn’t know how to feel. It wasn’t as if he was foreign to public displays of affection, but back then he had always been the one to initiate. It had seemed that she tolerated it and he had continued to do it, blind to the inequality of affection. She had only initiated sexual activity, about as often as he did. But something like this? It was only now that he realized how much he had wished she had, even if only in private.

To others, it would seem odd that such a small action of affection would hold much significance.

He reached out.

Fingertips hovering over her palm.

He raised his head and Jungkook looked right at her, blinking hard, wondering if he was dreaming.

“Is it… Is it really okay?”

Her small smile shone in her eyes.

“Unless you have sweaty hands?” she lightly joked.

He felt his cheeks flush hotly. The innocent comment suddenly reminded him. “Oh, uh… k-kinda, actually… w-well, they might g-get clammy ‘cause they get that way when I’m nervous, um…”

She let out a chuckle and dropped her hand.

“Okay.”

Before he could blurt out a hasty, w-wait, she stepped forward and hooked her hand in the crook of his elbow, resting her fingers on his right forearm, so close now that he could smell her warm, comforting perfume.

“How about this?”

She tugged him forward with their linked arms. He looked down at her, startled, but now there was mischievous glint in those mysterious orbs shadowed by lashes. His skin prickled from the closeness, even underneath all the layers. Legs moving forward even if his brain hadn’t caught up.

“You thought I didn’t remember that you like skinship?”

“I… I thought…” He swallowed, trying to clear his throat and the fluttering of butterflies that had shot up from his stomach and into his throat. “I thought you hated it.”

She shrugged. “Normally I do. But I want you to be my exception.”

It was a good thing walking was a muscle memory action because Jungkook was pretty sure he was in a different daydream dimension at her response. Er, nightdream? Whatever. He couldn’t fuck this up. Well, the crying on the couch was always a point against him, probably. He winced at the cringey memory.

“Noona, um.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry about the other night to your place.”

“You mean when you sobbed and became a puddle on my sofa.”

Ouch. “Y-Yeah…”

“I can’t say I expected it. It’s all good though. I’ve fallen asleep on that couch countless times.”

It’s impossible to fall in love when I have always been in love with you. At the time, he had been too emotional to gauge her response to everything he said. Maybe this was all a pity ploy to his extreme reaction. He didn’t want to believe that, but his mind was restless at the thought.

He needed to know.

“I meant it though. Everything I said.”

“I never took you for a liar,” she answered, holding onto him as they walked in step, their bodies lit up by the various colored lights each shop used to entice customers to enter.

He had to inhale deeply before asking. “I should have asked you how you felt though, before running my mouth like that.”

There was sound all around them. Noisy cars. Music from inside the stores and blasting dully from vehicles. Chatter from people all around them, on phones or huddled together. The echoes of steps blending together into an endless nighttime march. The occasional laugh or dinging of a bell when someone left a store. People who passed them glanced quickly before looking away.

It was conceited, but Jungkook enjoyed seeing their flashes of envy, even if all strangers could see was their outward appearance.

None of them knew the whirlwind between these bodies.

“I am the kind of person that always believed the past is in the past,” she finally said, holding onto him tighter. He tried not to stiffen when he realized the back of his upper arm was right by the side of her clothed breasts. “It took me a while to accept that I can’t do anything about the past or how it affected me. Likewise, I don’t really believe in reconnecting with people. Drifting apart is natural. Not negative or positive, per se. Just happens. I always believed it happens for a reason.”

Oh.

He bit the left side of his lower lip. She continued.

“You asked me back then, aren’t you afraid that I’ll forget you? I answered a bit cheekily, I remember, but your question stuck with me. Nobody has ever asked me that, you know? In fact, I am used to being forgotten.”

There was something about her voice.

The quality of it had gotten mistier. Introspective. And hurt. It was not directed at him, but it was there despite an obvious attempt on hiding it. He felt her grasp onto him tighter, although maybe it was less about the physical aspect and rather to the things he had said.

“I had become so used to it, in fact, that I thought your question was ridiculous. Forget me? Of course, you will. It would be better if you do. We all need to move on from our past and not cling to a memory holding us back.” She let out a mirthless laugh, but softened, leaning her head against his shoulder. If the current topic wasn’t so serious, Jungkook would have been over the moon. His heart beat fast regardless. “But you didn’t forget me. Even after all this time. I thought it was just because you wanted your dick blown.”

To be fair, that was a reason on the list.

Lower priority, but there.

Jungkook, once again, shut his mouth and left well enough alone.

She let out a breath.

It quivered in the cold, crisp night air and disappeared.

“I use reason and logic in my everyday life to interact with others. To maintain relationships. But love? Love is something that has no reason. I don’t know how I feel towards the idea. I would not say the emotion is afraid, but it is not a positive one either. The idea of love constantly reminds me that it is something I lack. That something so basic was supposed to be mine, but I was denied it throughout my childhood without knowing it.”

She stopped.

Jungkook turned and saw she was gazing up at the moon. There were no stars visible from the city, but everyone knew they were up there.

“Did you notice I don’t talk about my parents?” she asked softly.

He did. “Yeah.”

Her tone seemed apologetic. “Is it selfish to expect some kind of affection from those who birthed you? Or even only a simple co-habitation relationship? Anything other than nothing?”

Well, shit. “I don’t think so.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment.

“I almost wished they had given me away. Or hated me. Something. Anything.”

Jungkook didn’t know what to say.

Firstly, because he was not good at comforting anyone. Not even himself. He was simply sulky until he kinda got over it. Granted, much of it was first-world problems. He could always go running to his parents for advice or solutions if he couldn’t think of any. Or his friends. But deeply personal stuff he kept to himself. It felt almost a burden to say something, so on some level he could understand the importance of what she was saying. Why it was significant that she felt the need to tell him. He could feel it and he was grateful she was willing to express it to him.

“I don’t want you to experience a fraction of what I did. I don’t even know how deeply those moments are embedded in me,” she sighed, loosening her grip on him. “I see those moments reflected in my instincts. The scars of my past stick to the soles of my shoes no matter where I step. I don’t know how much of it is my true feelings or something that is simply fundamentally wrong with me.”

He remembered something.

“But you said you want to learn love,” he said quietly.

They stayed beside each other, warmth whirling with warmth even when surrounded by cold, crisp air.

“I did say that, yeah.”

Then all those littler things. The things she said and the way she said them. The offer.

“I don’t really understand love either,” Jungkook admitted.

She chuckled. “Yeah, I got that from your chaotic reentry back into my life.”

Their arms were still entangled. Although she was the one holding onto him, Jungkook was the one who brought his arm closer to his body, pinning her forearm to him. She accepted it, not moving away. His body sung at the contact but his thoughts trembled.

He whispered to the moon and the darkness above them.

“I’m scared that one day you won’t want me to be in your life anymore. Again.”

He couldn’t look at her. He was not about to bawl in public, for fuck’s sake.

“Don’t let this end.”

I have always been in love with you.

No person could fill that void. He tried, countless times. Jungkook knew it was impossible, stupid, pathetic, crazy, all the conclusions. But it was not crazy to know that he would never be the same. Even so, he could have lived a satisfactory life. A fun one, even. It was not fair to chase those that didn’t want to be found, so he hadn’t. If it was all for the best, then it was for the best.

But she came back to him.

His peppermint gum love.

“I’ll be stuck to you, you know.”

He turned his head and found her looking back at him. His pit-a-pat heartbeat, following the pop of each bubble, sharp and exciting, and he savored it. The seconds, the moments, the memories, all swirling into one. Everything. Everything, bright and intense and reminding him how it was like to live life.

Jungkook grinned.

“Okay.”

She smiled and raised herself.

And kissed him.

It was as if his fractured, desaturated world fell into place all at once and color burst forth.

Her soft scent pressed up against him, persistent, clinging, and he drowned in it, leaning into her lips, the softness and honesty together. Her fingers wrapped around his forearm to steady herself, their bodies now closer together, one of her legs between his. She had stepped forward to turn and make the distance. He held her, his left arm around her waist, and he wondered how it got there. A reflexive reaction, apparently.

She broke apart, her lingering exhale warming his lips.

He frowned slightly, opening his eyes.

“Heh. That’s it for now. We shouldn’t be so forward in public, after all,” she pointed out with a smirk.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. Put on his best, most convincing pout. “Who cares?”

She was laughing, shaking her head at him. “I do. You want to start this off with an arrest for public indecency? That’s a bang for sure.” She pulled on his arm, indicating them towards the sidewalk again.

“Hmph, fine, but one more kiss.”

And he yanked her back, pressing his lips to hers again, and if this was impossible, stupid, pathetic, crazy, if he really was a fool, then he was one forever, smiling into her smile, her hands coming up to cup his cheeks, his arms around her waist, the unfaded memories and the engraved present finally meeting.

This is love.

He didn’t understand it, but he didn’t have to understand for his body to know it was real.

She leaned forward, past his nose and to his ear.

“You like kisses, huh?”

It was then that Jungkook realized his body did, in fact, know something.

“Um… This has never happened before,” he mumbled, his cheeks burning.

She held tightly onto the collar of his jacket, her hair against his chin. Half of it was pulled back with a black claw clip. It gave an elegant yet casual look while also keeping him from hiding his blushing face from bystanders.

Just his luck.

“Maybe you didn’t remember, but you also would get instantly hard whenever I kissed you back then too,” she teased, her warm breath grazing his ear. She was making it worse. Shit. Jungkook tried to bite the inside of his cheek. Her thigh was pressed between his legs so there wasn’t much hiding of anything.

“Noona, please shut up.”

“Although maybe not with such innocent kisses.”

“Noona, please…”

-

You danced your fingers up his chest.

Each point of contact going from fingertip to fingernail. Bated breath. Strangeness and familiarity all at once, sitting on your bed with only the orb-shaped lamp on, cool blue artificial moonlight looking down upon the magic unfolding in this room. His hand raised and closed in around yours.

You looked up as warmth encircled your touch.

Jungkook smiled nervously.

“Does it feel weird?” you asked him.

“A… A little bit,” he whispered. There was no reason to. Pointless, really, because you could hear the neighbor downstairs having some sort of wild party. Your apartment was silent. “Mostly because I used to think about it a lot.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You think you’ll stop thinking about sex after I give it to you? Maybe I shouldn’t, then.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

He puffed his cheeks in exasperation. He grabbed your hand tighter, whining your name without the honorific, and you were suddenly transported to the past. Breathless nights, falling into a melody of bodies, and you pressed your knuckles against his chest, making Jungkook yelp and nearly fall over, catching himself with his hands before freezing up as you hovered over him, crossing your arm over his front and planting your palm on the bed under his armpit. He was raised to his elbows, looking up at you with those wide, dark brown eyes. Pink lips parted, the two silver rings gleaming at the right edge of his lower lip and that familiar mole underneath punctuating every surprise and every smile.

What was that phrase?

Live fast.

It had always been like that, though.

Die young.

Would you ever really age if you were always in the perpetual state of learning to love Jeon Jungkook?

You lowered your head and kissed him.

You were well aware that this was probably too much all at once and yet there was also so much time lost from the journey apart. Maybe necessary. But bad decisions could have good consequences. A kiss for the mole under his lips first, for old time’s sake. Then his waiting mouth. You tilted your head and kissed him deeper this time, shivering at his familiar clean scent. Your other hand rose and ghosted his jaw, sliding your tongue into his mouth as he moaned. Fingers sliding into his soft hair, slowly thrusting your tongue in and out before he caught it with his teeth and gently sucked on it, running one hand over your waist, pressing his fingers into your side.

You backed off a little and flicked your tongue along his lower lip, exhaling into his mouth.

“Remember you used to be a freak?”

His jacket was hanging on your desk chair but he was still in his beige knit vest top.

His brows furrowed.

“I’m not a freak,” he insisted.

You curled your grip into his scalp and tugged. His head tipped back and his eyes slipped closed, shuddering, a mute whine in his throat, his own hold on your waist tightening, blocked by layers of your skirt and tucked-in shirt. You pulled harder and his lashes fluttered, his chin lifting and exposing his throat to your lips. Light kisses, barely there. You were pretty sure the words coming out of his mouth were a lie because his body was telling you the complete opposite.

He hadn’t changed that much in that respect.

Heh.

You ran the tip of your tongue from between his collarbones, up his trembling neck, stopping at his chin to push his head back down and claim his gasping mouth with a fierce kiss.

There was no hesitation now.

You had been worried that somehow maybe your bodies wouldn’t click. Maybe you wouldn’t feel the same level of exhilaration or enjoyment. And it wasn’t the same. Not at all. No, as you leaned in more, trying to force him to yield, and he refused, pulling your hand down from his hair and sliding it under the hem of his top, making you touch him instead, trapping you in the lip-lock, no, this was refined hunger meeting a refined flavor, and you dug your nails into his flexed abs, causing him to break the kiss and throw his head back, moaning to your ceiling.

You lifted your chin as he pushed your hand up higher.

Looked down at him as you sunk your nails into his flesh and dragged down, watching his expression flicker between pain and pleasure, his eyes turning glassy with lust, looking right back at you. Unashamed.

He tugged your hand back up again, between his tense pecs.

Your breathing shallowed.

You scratched him again, so hard that it left irritated pink lines onto his skin.

Jungkook whimpered, his black hair messy and fallen over his forehead.

I wanted everything about you.

You pulled back and seized the bottom of his top, dragging it up and over his head with his help, falling into his arms as he sat up, smacking your palms into his broad back. Taking that part of him too, irritated red lines all over, and kisses over his jaw, his naked chest against your clothed chest, his own hands clutching fistfuls of your velvet shirt, chasing after your lips.

I still do.

Your skirt had a silver zipper straight down the front center. You felt him grip the pull and check if it was working one. Smiled as he gasped, realizing it was. It even detached at the hem so all you had to do was shrug out of the suspenders. It fell to the floor with the heavy clink of metal from the clasps.

You swung a leg over him and straddled his lap.

Him shirtless, his torso covered in your violent marks.

Your hips colliding into the front of his jeans.

He groaned in your face.

“F-Fuuuuck…”

You gripped his studded belt with one hand and grinded against him. The first few buttons of your shirt were open and the slick backside of the velvet fabric caused the collar to slide off one of your shoulders, exposing your collarbone. His hands cupped your ass, sinking into the curve, and you ducked down to kiss him again, again, grabbing onto his bare shoulder for support.

His breathing hitched as your hand came close to his neck.

The impulse.

Hot and hard.

You positioned your hand around his neck and squeezed the arteries, choking him.

The sensation of power, the taste of his whine, his larger frame trembling under you, and Jungkook pressed your clothed heat into his trapped erection and succumbed to the ravenous nature of your kiss. It was the same and it was different. Layers of passion on passion. Intense and sending shivers from you to him. Back then, he was driven by inexperience. There was arousal in his fumbling and frustration, but none now when he reached for the buttons, flicking then apart with ease even as you choked him and gripped his belt. Your body faintly exposed under the folds of the lush fabric, but you didn’t drop it, instead catching his lower lip with your teeth and sucking on it tightly.

Letting him go with a pop.

His eyes rolled back, that underlip mole quivering in anticipation.

Pause.

You pulled him towards you by his neck as his vision reoriented. Hazy and lust-drunk, but unequivocally trained on you, his grip digging into your thighs. Seconds filled with rattling breaths, pushing him to the edge, and the impulse rose again. Something you used to tell him. You hadn’t really meant it back then. It was a display of fantasy then. For show. For the mood.

But things were different now.

“You will always be mine,” you growled millimeters from Jungkook’s thin breath.

His half-lidded eyes shimmered. He couldn’t respond, too lost in the headiness of lost air. But his body knew. The body has its own language and his agreed.

The corners of his open mouth lifted.

You let go of his neck and grasped handfuls of his hair, yanking his head back, his wanton moan pitching and falling, almost going limp in your hold as oxygen flooded back into his brain. You licked up his hot throat, closing your eyes, savoring the vibration of his cries and the desperate way he pinned your lower body to his, begging for release but too incoherent from the burst of overwhelming sensations to make them audible.

“And I will try to be everything you need until I run out of time,” you murmured to his raging pulse under your lips.

Maybe you would always struggle to define the word love.

Maybe you would never know.

But you didn’t need to know to listen to what your body wanted.

I don’t need to know love to be sure of loving you.

Your velvet shirt fell to the floor. You slid down between his legs. Worked together to undo his belt, glancing up at him and seeing your red marks on his chest. The rise and fall of his pants. Higher. Seeing him watching you as you pushed down his jeans. Closing in. Tracing the edge of your teeth with your tongue as you palmed him over his boxer briefs, cocking an eyebrow at his soft cry that he turned into a hiss under your direct attention.

“Embarrassed?” you taunted.

Jungkook bit the side of his lip. “No.”

You hooked your pinky finger over the waistband of those Calvin Klein’s.

“You sure?”

Desperation crawling into his gaze as your thumb rubbed against the hard shaft. Several seconds of stroking and you stretched out the waistband, rubbing a slow circle, molding the fabric to the swollen head of his cock, smiling as his cut v-line underneath was revealed.

“P-Please…” he gasped above you.

Took your time to make eye contact again. You cocked your head to his crotch.

“Go on. Take it off then.”

His erection popped out. Dark red, rock-hard, begging for your mouth.

Unfortunately, Jungkook knew how you operated.

Flashes of the past and present. Heavy nights. Early mornings. Cold rooms with warm bodies. Your hands on his knees, spreading them apart and leaning in. Lips working the inside of his thighs. Kisses. Bites. Sucking. Rushing as much as moving slowly, breathing hotly onto his cock and watching it twitch at the heat. A flicker of your gaze and the needy anticipation written all over his face. The same wide-eyed stare from back then and, now, accented by piercings and tattoos running up his right arms, his muscles tense and rippling from trying to stay still under your unspoken control.

Your lips closed in around his girth and you shoved him down to the depths of your throat.

“A-Ah, fuuuuuuuck…”

It was a familiar stretch of your muscles. He was at his hardest, giving you the freedom to glide up and down with little resistance, positioning your head at the correct angle to receive him as deep as possible. You pressed your lips inward as you rose to the tip, curving your tongue around. Up and over. Coating him with saliva and stimulating that thin skin, increasing the sensitivity with the attracting nature of water to water made more powerful by the rubbing of your tongue, sinking your nails into the insides of his thighs. Piling on sensation after sensation. Crisp with pain. Intense from pleasure. Tighter, licking all over, sliding him against the ridges of the roof of your mouth.

Jungkook panted your name, the syllables slipping into moans, losing himself to the wet bliss.

You almost didn’t catch the fleeting words his gasp.

“Yeah… it’s… s-supposed to feel l-like this…”

His hips tensed under you but you kept him down with the base of your palms, leaving him at the mercy of your pace. The familiar tingling at the back of your head, keeping the angle perfect and the depth steady, and he was right, yes, this was how it was supposed to feel – the blinding rush of adrenaline, desire, and connection all swirling into one indiscernible emotion. The kind of heat that was beyond raw passion, closer, the kind of satisfaction that was pleasure on many different levels, so close, the kind of sex that people could only dream about.

There.

A torn moan and Jungkook’s hips bucked into your face, sliding down your throat and spilling his thick, salty orgasm into the tight pocket. You locked your shoulders and stopped moving, feeling his cock shudder and throb. His cum oozing upward, and you swallowed, chest tight. He cried out above you but you held him down and swallowed again, inhaling much needed air, his strong taste coating your tongue, tactile and delicious.

Truly.

Delicious.

You had almost forgotten how attracted you had been to his pheromones, but clearly your drenched panties hadn’t. You could even smell yourself from here. Also, your knees were killing you. Guess those years had an affect on your body after all, even if your brain had been subconsciously stuck on Jeon Jungkook.

The body always remembers.

To think you had said that just to be a smartass but Jungkook had unintentionally taken it seriously and it had turned out to be true all along.

A happy little accident.

You crawled up his body and he greeted you with kiss after fervent kiss. Somehow, he didn’t seem to mind that you had only just swallowed his cum. Then again, Jungkook would never beat the freak allegations. You were the only one making those allegations but, hey, you did know him best, even if neither you nor him knew that.

He unhooked your bra.

You slipped out of it, letting the black lace cups flop into the pile of his jeans, belt, and underwear on the floor. You were straddling his lap, knees on the bed, and he pulled you in deeper, giving you a moment to adjust. Stared into your eyes fiercely, the captured universes in those dark brown orbs glimmering with determination.

“Don’t look away,” he ordered. Not very sternly, but you smiled all the same, your arm around his shoulders, bare breasts and hard nipples right under his chin. Jungkook couldn’t intimidate you for shit. It was the big peepers, probably.

“Sure.”

He narrowed his eyes.

A stare down. Seconds saturated with anticipation. He raised his right hand, the two center fingers grouped together and the rest splayed out. Your smirk widened. Closer to you. Before he could say the words, open your mouth, your lips parted and you leaned in, swirling your tongue around his fingers, shifting your line of sight to admire the tattoos down his arm.

Jungkook sucked in a breath, stifling his awed moan.

Your eyes flickered back up to his face and you sucked on his fingers, directly looking at him. Even tilting your head and curving his fingertips down your throat, manipulating his movement with your tongue and your inner muscles. He shuddered, speechless at the arousing nature of this obscenity. You held yourself steady by splaying your fingers over his shoulder blades, letting him slowly thrust in and out of your mouth, the glossiness of your spit catching the low light.

“F-Fuck…” Jungkook breathed. “You’re so sexy.”

You let your self-satisfied agreement show in the lowering of your lashes.

He grinned, noticing it right away, his expression pleased and frustrated all at once. Enjoyed the show for a few more moments and then pulled out. You held on until the very last second, releasing him with a wet, lewd pop. Loud in the silence of labored breathing and intense eye contact. His other hand at your waist nudged your ass. You lifted yourself up. His right hand slid between your legs, his two wet fingers grazing the edge of your dampened panties.

“You smell so damn good,” he murmured, looking down to bear witness. “I want it smeared all over me.”

“I told you you’re a freak.”

“Yeah, I am.”

You would have rolled your eyes at his now confession if it wasn’t for him hooking the edge of your panties and bunching them to the side while at the same time closing the distance between your chest and mouth, and suddenly you were clutching his head with both hands, gasping, tangling your fingers in his hair as he sucked on your nipple and sunk his two fingers into your wet pussy.

Jungkook wouldn’t give it to you if he thought you couldn’t take it.

Your back arched reflexively, thrusting your chest into his face, and your hips rolled, thrusting his two wetted fingers into you. He got the hint, following your body rhythm, deep and rough, making the visceral pleasure spiral in your tightened core. Of course, you had sex after Jungkook. Shitty sex, subpar sex, better than average sex, mind-numbing sex. But it had always come at the price of your own expertise. It was never about how well they matched you, because they never did. They never had the time to. But not Jungkook.

His body remembered.

Your breathing deepened and he increased the pace, the fervor, switching sides of your chest and catching your hard nipple between his teeth. Pressing his tongue tip into it, rubbing forcefully and then sucking. Lips and then tongue, back and forth, thrusting up into you, and you gave in, locking your hips to take the wanted abuse, letting the rising orgasm take command. Blood roaring in your veins, heartbeat at your throat, hard, fast, intense, your tense thighs trembling, tipping your head back.

Closing your eyes.

Moaning his name.

You pulled on his hair, hard.

Jungkook whined under you but he didn’t let go. Mouth too busy to speak. The declaration tumbled out of your open mouth.

“Close… fuck, I’m gonna cum…”

The constricted strain in your chest burst, and you threw you head back and sighed, low and wanton, prickling nerves racing up and across your back. Your inner walls pulsating. The heavy, sweet scent of your climax hit you first, soaking Jungkook’s hand, sticking to the insides of your thighs, and then uncontrollable shivers overtook your hips, gasping as his mouth left your chest, the abrupt loss of heat leaving your nipple cold. He moaned with you, his fingers buried into your spasming pussy, enjoying every second of feeling your orgasm, his thumb closing in to press down on your throbbing, slick clit.

You sucked in a sharp inhale.

He held it there, only adding pressure to the hyper sensitive nerves, letting your ride out your orgasm with your hands still gripping his head. You could feel the afterglow flutter in your lungs. Slow and deep shaking breaths.

Damn.

“You’re still the best at fingering me,” you gasped.

You lowered your head and he chuckled faintly. Mischief sparkling in his dark brown eyes under messy black strands. “Good.” Sounded and looked very proud of himself.

Fuck, you waned to kiss him so bad.

So you did.

Again and again.

With Jungkook, it was easy. With Jungkook, there was never a question. You had just questioned it because you had thought it was the right thing to do. He had questioned it because he had been afraid. You hadn’t understood it and neither had he. Nobody did. But that didn’t matter, because as naturally as the wind blew, so did you and Jungkook tumble to the bed, him licking off your juices on his fingers and groaning, savoring your flavor. Hands all over each other, recalling all his erogenous zones and listening to his sounds again, your heartbeat racing at the pitch in his deep tone, the desperation in the call of your name.

You felt him cup your pussy and smear your juices all over his palm.

Glanced down and saw him grip his half-hard cock with his now-wet hand, moaning into your ear, heating your skin with his need.

You tilted your head more.

His lips found the pocket right under your earlobe.

You sat down on his raised thigh and rubbed yourself against his flexed muscle as he jacked himself off, sparks flying throughout your body, from his mouth attached to your skin and the hardness between your legs, watching him pleasure himself below you. The wet and slick quality of your previous orgasm increased the friction, and you tilted your hips forward a little more, angling the pressure to your clit, fuck, grasping the pillow under Jungkook’s head so tight that you felt your knuckles strain. Intense made more intense by his teeth. His tongue. His lips. Dancing around your ear, catching the curve, biting down, his lustful groan muffled in his throat.

Closer.

You knew.

He knew.

Jungkook snapped back and ground his teeth, whining in his chest, gripping his cock covered in your cum and his pre-cum beading at the purple-red tip. You also froze, clenching your jaw as the climb to release was cut off, sending your body into an intense array of emotions. Want. Greed. Voraciousness. The edging radiated throughout your veins, primal need pleading you to keep going, but every second wasted was another layer, threatening to amplify the next orgasm.

Which was exactly what you and Jungkook wanted.

He didn’t have to ask you what your favorite position was. He liked them all, of course, for different reasons. Doggy for the view. One leg against his chest for something to hold onto while having some room to move. Regular missionary to hold your face and kiss you in between thrusts.

But.

The condoms were on your bedside table. It took him no time at all to rip one open and roll in down, groaning at the sight of you lifting your legs up to your chest, spreading your wet pussy and tight ass for him to see. His voice was low and hoarse from exertion, but he didn’t seem to notice or mind, scooting himself forward to pin your thighs down with his chest, positioning himself right in front of your entrance.

“I fucking love that view,” he heatedly breathed out.

You grinned. “I know.”

Slowly.

Jungkook folded you in half, trapping your body between his chest and mattress and sank into you, locking eyes at the same time.

His favorite position was one and the same with yours.

“Ugh, you feel so fucking good,” he swore, stopping when he was buried balls deep, his cock twitching inside you. You appreciated it.

“Take it slow,” you hummed, nonchalantly.

Well.

A muscle in his cheek twitched. His long bangs were all over his face but you couldn’t miss his death stare. Jungkook mouthed, fuck you, and you mouthed back, you are, before lifting himself to grip your calves, pushing your thighs down onto your ribs. He slowly and deliberately thrust into you. Taunting you to balk under his stare, but you did not, rising to the occasion. Literally. Your ass raised off the mattress as he snapped his hips in and he groaned deeply, clenching his jaw as your pussy squeezed him all over.

He didn’t look away, but he was warning you.

He slid out again. Then back in.

You did it again.

He growled and slammed his hard length back into you, dropping down. His palms smacked down onto the mattress and he bent over even more to hit that wicked depth, resulting in instant ecstasy radiating through your weighted lungs. You matched his ferocity. Your arms over your head and pushing back against the headboard, and he pounded you. Hard and intense and each collision knocking the wind out of your lungs, this is it, losing yourself to him, him losing himself to you, letting the carnal instinct take over. The rhythmic slap of hips to hips, wetness, drenched in your sex and his sweat. Every so often in the madness, you caught a glimpse of his gaze, fucked-out and craving more, and you saw your reflection in his eyes.

Mirroring him.

Your breath stilled in your throat.

The compounding sensations built and your body didn’t stop reacting. Time slowed down and seemed fast all at once, this is love, something your tried so hard to understand but screw it, fuck understanding and fuck believing in it, reaching up and curling your hand around Jungkook head, forcing him down lower, his heavy breath washing over you, his eyes closing as you gripped his hair and tugged, breathlessly moaning with him at the sight of his visceral pleasure, the sound, the pace, the taste of his kiss still lingering on your lips.

For as long as he loved you, your heart would love him back, no matter what your thoughts said.

“Not yet,” you gasped. “I’m close.”

“Fuck me, I’m gonna burst,” he whined, digging his palms in, slamming his hips into you and you saw Jungkook bite the side of his lower lip, suddenly silent, focusing hard, his sweaty black hair sticking to his forehead. He always went quiet when he didn’t want to cum too fast.

You wanted to torture him a little but the edging had brought you too close.

“Ah, Jungkook!”

Your head snapped back into the pillows and his fell back, the wanton sound of your joined moans loud and shameless, echoing throughout your bedroom as you came hard, tensing your entire body and feeling your pussy clamp down onto his jerking cock pumping the condom full of cum. The lack of sufficient air, the whirlwind of release, the closeness and a drop his sweat on your tongue, and you shuddered, clinging onto him as wave after wave crashed into you, each throb pulsing between your legs reaching him as well, burning you both in each sharp pang of erotic euphoria.

You heard him exhale your name, erratic and rough.

Thudding heartbeat revibrating against the base of your neck.

“Get…”

You felt his heat retreat, lowering your legs carefully.

“Get on your knees,” Jungkook panted.

You almost pointed out that this was your bed and not a hotel, these cum-covered sheets are going to have to be slept on because I’m not doing laundry in the dead of night, but either your body moved faster than your brain or you didn’t give a flying fuck. Or both. You turned and springboarded off your folded right arm, still on the searing high of adrenaline and the furious pulse between your legs. You heard him rip open another condom and gasp again at seeing your cheek pressed to the pillows, your chest against the bed, arching your back to raise your ass and spread open your holes for him to see.

“You’re so fucking hot, fuck.”

You flexed your pussy. It made an audible, wet sound, startling you slightly. It didn’t deter Jungkook the least. In fact, he grabbed your ass and dragged you down to him, groaning as he thrust into you again, immediately starting up from where he left off. You shoved your hands into the mattress and flicked your head, tossing back your hair and finally getting some air, breathless at his girth and strength.

Not that any of that stopped you from smacking your ass back into him.

“Fuck!”

It was becoming a favorite word.

Probably your fault.

Well, fuck.

You steeled your core and dropped your shoulders, spreading your knees a little more. By the depth of his groan and the increased ferocity of his thrusts, you knew you had reached that perfect angle, sighing out in satisfaction as you felt the repeated pressure hitting you just right, right there, fuck, yes, Jungkook, closing your eyes to burn in the desire, higher and higher, deep and hard and chasing the same height at the same fierce pace, feeling your heartbeat slam strongly in your chest.

The swell.

The echo.

The unison.

The way the sparks raced up and down your spine. Breaths drifting out, rapid and shallow, noticing his strained grunts and muted moans once again, smiling, then focusing, squeezing him tighter, your shivering walls massaging his cock. Admired how perfectly he fit inside you, almost to the brink of discomfort, seamless, your pussy pulling him in hungrily with each snap of his hips. His fingers dug into your ass and you savored that too, all of it, not taking a single second for granted, letting yourself become overstimulated in the multiple sensations.

Jungkook’s gravelly voice choked out your name.

The frantic edge indicating he was almost done for.

Before you could respond, your head jerked back and your eyes rolled up, the high nearly alarming, depraved moan falling from your lips as the power of the orgasm seized your lungs, knocking the wind out of you. It was almost too much. You would have collapsed if it wasn’t for Jungkook’s firm hold on you, gasping as he came. His hips twitched against your ass, pressed as deep into you as possible.

You moaned as his fingernails suddenly clawed down your lower back, heightening the peak of pleasure.

So good you couldn’t speak.

There were no words.

You could barely comprehend it anyway. There was no describing how different this sex was from all the others. You had known it once, but it even better now, afterglow radiating off of you, each nerve brimming with ecstasy, letting out a gratified exhale as his body leaned against your back, his hands sliding up your stomach and to your chest, squeezing your breasts and lightly toying with your nipples.

His lips pressed to your upper back, feathering you with a meteor shower of kisses.

Your torso shook, trying to come down but suspended. You didn’t resist him, clutching the rumpled sheets, sighing softly at the thrumming beat of heart-to-heart, his cock still inside you. Getting soft and probably against his will. He groaned, sounding annoyed.

“You know there’s always tomorrow, right?” you chuckled, inhaling and catching a whiff of his cologne on your bed.

The imprint of him already.

“I think it’s already tomorrow,” Jungkook grumbled, grunting as he held down the base of the condom and pulled out.

Well, he had always been here, at the back of your mind, never forgotten.

“I’ve got more in me,” he vented sternly, although you suspected that wasn’t really directed at you. You hadn’t faced him yet but if you turned around you were be quite sure that you would be greeted by the pleasant and entertaining sight of Jungkook glaring at his limp, overworked dick. And yet. You didn’t. Instead, you looked up. The window was within your line of sight.

The night sky up above, but the moon was right here, in the magic of this room.

“Jungkook.”

“Huh?”

Right?

“You’ll stay the night, won’t you?” you breathed to the sky, wishing the dream to life to the stars you couldn’t see.

Silence.

You turned your head, past the moon-shaped lamp across the room, past walls and everyday things, past the clothes scattered everywhere, and Jungkook was blinking at you, startled for a moment, big brown eyes wide, lips parted. Piercings. Tattoos.

Years on years.

“Anything for you,” he breathed back, staring straight into your eyes.

Still the same.

“Really. I will always stay by your side.”

He climbed back onto the bed. Over you. Skin to skin. Leaning down. Kiss after kiss, meaning more than raw passion, and you felt the wetness on your face. Drop after drop, fallen stars, and Jungkook brushed him away from his thumbs and his smile, you couldn’t get rid of me even if you wanted to, noona, I’m stuck on you, forever after, and you didn’t want to cry, no more, your arms around his torso, pulling him closer, gripping his shoulders, shuddering at the foreignness of expressing emotion.

“Are we…?”

Your voice was so small but he was so close, so close, his hands in your hair, forehead to forehead.

“Are we falling in love?” you whispered, staring into his eyes and finding the stars.

And now you could see that he, too, finally found the stars he had been looking for all this time.

Jungkook smiled.

“Yes.”

Crisp and intense, this peppermint gum love where every day was the rush of falling in love more and more, forever after making memories so this feeling could never fade away.

--

masterpost

[intothedysphoria]

Steve didn’t really like Billy the first time they meet.

Contrary to what Robin believed, it wasn’t because Steve was jealous or bitter or even because he’d let a spike of lust twist itself into a deep seated resentment.

The real answer was that Billy was loud. Steve didn’t do that well with loud.

Billy was loud and spontaneous and didn’t have any respect for the carefully constructed rules Steve had made for himself to stop himself from falling apart. He wasn’t exactly scary but he stood too close to Steve for Steve to process and the things he said were confusing and didn’t make sense.

Steve managed to stand him down for the time that Billy approached him but then promptly excused himself. The party had suddenly become far too overwhelming.

His support worker heard a lot about Billy in their next appointment. Over Steve’s time in highschool, to hide the fact that his brain was broken, they’d moved check ins into essentially a large cupboard masquerading as a small classroom where Hawkins High shoved all the kids with a disability.

Steve added him to the list of people who did not make sense and thus should not be thought about. Billy did not seem like he wanted to respect the fact that he was on that list.

He was inescapable. There was just a barrage of constant conversation in class, sat in the cafeteria, on the basketball court. Billy’s words were angry but his tone didn’t match those words. Instead, it made what could have been threats sound fond.

Carol, who Steve was still friends with but in secret now, told Steve that Billy had a difficult home life. The details weren’t hers to share but it could potentially contextualise why he acted the way he did.

The more Billy seemed to seek out Steve, the more Steve gradually got used to him. Billy was still on the list of people who didn’t make sense but he’d become familiar enough to Steve that he was no longer a stranger.

Conversations were stilted once Steve started talking back. Billy would say something outrageous and all Steve could respond with was a recycled King Steve script or an answer so bluntly honest Billy seemed genuinely shocked.

It was cute. That’s what Billy said. The way Steve talked was cute.

Obviously Steve knew the dictionary definition of the word cute but he had a difficult time translating what Billy meant in context. It could perhaps be flirtatious which was impossible because Billy was straight or an attempt at bullying which stung.

Things continued to be complicated when Billy tried to kiss him at a Christmas get together at Joyce’s. Billy was very obviously drunk and had made a beeline for Steve the moment he saw Steve standing awkwardly next to the mistletoe. Steve, who had been imagining kissing Billy in his mind for a good month but didn’t want it to be when Billy could barely stand up, took a startled step back.

To say Billy took this badly was an understatement.

Even Steve, who struggled with facial expressions and body language could tell he spent the remainder of the party seething until he promptly passed out into Jonathan’s arms.

Steve offered to take him and deposited him onto the nearest sofa. He found himself tucking Billy in, making sure he wasn’t going to puke and generally making sure Billy was ok.

The faint mumble of “fucking love you Harrington” was wishful thinking. It had to be.

It wasn’t awkward after the Christmas break finished. Steve refused to let it be awkward.

Billy coming onto him hadn’t been Billy with a clear mind. It was a mistake and Steve was not going to bring up the matter again.

Billy flirting with him even more had not been a predicted outcome. He was coming out with lines so obvious even Steve couldn’t miss them. And the way Steve was hadn’t seemed to be a turn off either.

The next time Billy came onto him, while they were studying in the library, Steve just told him “I’d like to kiss you now”.

Billy seemed very happy to comply with that statement.

Even if it did get them kicked out for the rest of the semester for “inappropriate behaviour.” It was worth it.

[kkami-writes]

waiting for us — chapter twenty six. howls moving castle wc. 625 + 4SS

The apartment was not as bad as Jisung had made it out to seem. It definitely looked lived in, especially by four boys but it wasn’t quite the fire hazard you thought it was going to be. The apartment next door to the right contained the other four, he told you that they got pretty lucky with two places opening up at the same time.

The two of you had decided on Chinese, eating directly from the little takeout boxes. When Jisung said it would be a casual date he had really meant it.

You were sat next to him, food already been inhaled and promptly discarded to the little side table he had next to his bed. Both of you were too engrossed in Howl’s Moving Castle at the moment, having already watched Spirited Away while you ate. The movie was set up on a projector that displayed directly against the wall. Jisung had explained that movie nights were taken very seriously in their relationship, the boys taking turns picking each week. He would not disclose how many times he had already made his soulmates watch this particular movie.

The silence between the two of you is comfortable and you feel a sense of contentment just sitting next to him. You’re unsure if it’s the soulmate link that makes you feel this way, or if Jisung is simply a calming presence. He’s close enough that you can practically feel his body heat but he leaves enough space for you to close the distance yourself if you choose to. Still, it’s nerve wracking, heart hammering against your ribcage and it’s making it hard to focus on anything but the boy next to you. Not even the glorious Howl Pendragon could captured your attention as effortlessly as Han Jisung is right now.

He’s dressed in a black and white stripped sweater and jeans, a signature beanie covering his hair. Yet he looks so effortlessly handsome and it makes your mouth a little dry. You have to take a sip of water.

When you put your hand back, you’re placing it in between the spaces of your bodies, itching for a little bit of contact. You don’t think he’ll notice but of course Jisung does. Despite his eyes never leaving the movie, he’s so acutely aware of everything you’re doing. Are you ok? Are you having fun? You’re not too overwhelmed are you? These questions practically bounce around in his head. He doesn’t want to read too much into the small movement of your hand but fuck, does he really want to intertwine his fingers with yours.

So he puts his hand almost dangerously close to yours, giving you once again the option to take the plunge if you wish. You’re chewing on the inside of your cheek, fingers twitching to get just a little closer. You let out a quiet shaky exhale before sliding your hand to brush against his own. The touch sends a shiver down your spine and you suddenly feel like a school girl with a crush, butterflies swarming annoyingly in your stomach.

Jisung can’t hide the smile on his face as he connects your pinkies together. You’re not surprised when your hands end up wrapped together later, him holding your hand in his lap.

You already knew that you were well and truly fucked. These boys would 100% be the death of you (in the best way possible). Yet, you can’t find it in yourself to really care. You were tired of being scared, letting people decide how you should feel - the results of the shitty family fate had dealt you.

But you were more than ready to jump into the deep end for these boys. If you drowned, so be it.

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[btsvt-bar]

I think hoshin is a reassuring boyfriend, he will remind you that he is safe when you are with him, but he will also consume you, it can hurt you, but his mouth does a very good job, I feel like there will be a lot of hickey, a possessor

What do you think about it?? ❤️‍🔥

i’m sure he’s the best person to comfort you when you need it! and he would take care of you in every way possible 😵‍💫

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

you had a tough day at work, hoshi can see it in your face the second you walk through the door.

he hugs you immediately and leads you to the couch. you sit down with him basically glued to you.

"what happened, honey?" he asks softly while rubbing your back. his musky scent helps you to calm down a bit.

you sniff, holding back tears that threaten to fall.

"you can tell me, sweetheart." hoshi smiles reassuringly. "let it all out, you’ll feel better."

and he proceeds to listen to you vent out about your annoying coworker and the shitty situation that happened. you cry a little, still feeling overwhelmed, and he hugs you tightly while you wet his shoulder with tears.

"i’m sorry for this." you apologize when you notice the wet patch on his tshirt. "thank you for being here."

"shhh don’t worry. i’m always here for you, you don’t have to apologize. you can count on me." he keeps reassuring you, and you wonder how you got so lucky to find a man like him.

you wipe the last few tears and pull him in for a loving kiss. "thank you, baby. i love you so much."

hoshi sighs happily when your lips meet, feeling his heart burst with joy and warmth. "i love you too, beautiful."

"how about we take a nice bath and you tell me about your day?" you offer, standing up and reaching out for his hand.

"i’d love that!"

so you go to your shared room and you run the bath while hoshi grabs two beers and a bottle of soju. you change into sad excuse for a bikini and wait for hoshi to come in.

for a while, you’re just chatting and laughing about nothing. but then hoshi gets hyper aware of your nakedness and it turns his brain into a puddle of desire.

he reaches out and pulls you onto his lap. you notice the lust in his eyes, so you easily give him permission to proceed. you kiss again, but this time it’s different. it’s hungry and full of energy.

hoshi’s hands go for your bikini straps, pulling them to free you from the small piece of clothing. then, he caresses your back while kissing your neck with passion. you feel him giving you a couple of love bites, but you can’t bring yourself to care. not when your hips are grinding deliciously against his, your nipples rubbing against his chest and his plush lips brushing against all the right spots.

"let’s go to bed, we need more space." you two hurriedly dry off, while sharing more kisses, and get completely naked.

hoshi’s already hard and your mouth waters at the sight of his cock. before reaching the bed, you suck him off.

hoshi leans against the sink cabinet and throws his head back in pleasure. you suck his red tip, enjoying his whimpering and moaning. he gently places his hand of the back of your head, conducting your movements.

one of your hands grabs his thigh for support and the other plays with his balls, which makes his cock twitch in your mouth. when he’s too close to cumming, he pulls away.

"i’m supposed to cheer you up, not the other way around." he pouts a little, managing to look cute even with a hard cock and swollen lips.

"this is cheering me up." you chuckle and spread your legs for him.

hoshi gets on top of you promptly. his fingers rub your wetness skillfully, making you arch into his touch, asking for more.

he slides two fingers in, and rubs your inner walls in perfect pace. you let out soft gasps that spur him on, hoshi loves to hear you coming undone.

putting his mouth to good use, he circles your nipples with his tongue. his palm heel brushes against your clit, and the added pleasure burns your insides. your breath hitches, the stimulation getting too intense. hoshi keeps going until you cum, and helps you get through it all.

he sucks more bruises on your boobs, feeling addicted to marking you as his own.

"my pretty baby." he gives you another hickey. "mine, just mine." another one. "you look so hot right now, letting me mark you up, so everyone knows you’re taken." one more.

hoshi aligns himself and slowly sinks into your heat. you both moan in pleasure.

you scratch down his back with your long nails. if he’s going to give you hickeys, he’s getting scratches.

you feel yourselves getting higher and higher, your bodies catching fire in sync. your toes are just on the edge, ready to fall over.

hoshi picks up the pace, trying to get you both off. his tempo makes your eyes roll back and you unconsciously bite his shoulder. hoshi’s face is buried in your neck, his low grunts reaching your ears deliciously.

it’s when you start to clench your walls around him that hoshi is pushed over the edge and he brings you with him.

your skin prickles and your legs shake. you’re totally spent, the low buzzing sound in your ears giving away the rush of dopamine that’s coursing through your body.

"you ok?" hoshi asks after a few minutes. you agree with your head. He laughs "you don’t look ok."

"i’m feeling perfect." you smile lazily.

hoshi’s eyes scan your body, your new hickeys blooming more each passing second. "i think you still need a few more love bites on your thighs." He fishes for an approval for round 2.

you have no idea how messed up you look, but whatever. a turtle neck or a scarf can do the trick of covering you up.

"i’m not arguing with a guy with pretty brown eyes. like, whatever you say, handsome." you flirt while looking at him.

hoshi flashes you the filthiest smile you’ve ever seen before going down on you.

you’re in for a long, long night.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

© btsvt-bar, 2024

m.list ♡

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The DUFF 7

Warnings: groping, insecurity, food and body issues, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥♥

Image credit (I want to give dues where due but don’t want the creator to keep getting tagged in my posts as I have been approached by some before that they don’t want me in their notifs)

“Threw your clothes in the wash,” Curtis announces as you quickly pull the tee shirt down. 

He wears only a pair of sweats, shamelessly showing off his muscled torso and thick arms. You catch yourself admiring the hair across his chest that trails down his stomach and below the elastic of his pants. He’s so effortlessly hot.

“What?” You face him, over conscious of your lack of coverage past your thighs.

“Yeah, figure I can’t send you home in dirty clothes–”

“How long is that going to take?” You blanch.

His cheek twitches and he quickly forces a smile, well, what could be a smile. You regret your questioning almost immediately. You must sound ungrateful.

“Not too long. You got somewhere you need to be?”

“No,” you sway nervously, “I only… hate to put you out. Thank you. Really.”

“I don’t mind. You can hang out here this afternoon. We can turn on a movie or something,” he offers.

The longer you stay, the more your anxiety builds. It’s not that he’s done anything wrong, it’s just your inner homebody. You like to be in your own space, where it’s all familiar. You find it difficult to relax anywhere else.

“Alright,” you agree as the tension nips up your neck.

He doesn’t move as you approach him. Not until you get close enough to touch. He shifts to the side and lets you through the door. You pass him in the tight breadth of the hallway, brushing against him as you do.

He follows and you tug at the hem of the shirt as you feel your ass peeking out. He purrs as you do. You walk faster as you get to the living room and promptly plop yourself down on the couch. He lets out a rocky chuckle as he patiently grabs the TV remote from the coffee table.

“I can’t help myself. You got a cute ass,” he winks as he nears the couch.

You mutter, not quite a thank you as you pull over a cushion to hide behind. He drops down beside you, legs wide as he flips on the television. He flicks through the options and hums.

“Anything in particular? I don’t watch much so…” he lets his voice trail off and turns the remote, holding it out to you, “here, you choose.”

You hesitantly take it from him. You mostly watch the same stuff over and over. Again, you are a creature of familiarity. The spontaneity of the last twelve hours is jarring to your boring self.

You point the remote at the TV and continue to scroll through the menu. There’s a 90s show you used to turn on after school. That can’t do you wrong, right? He might think it’s a bit lame but maybe he needs to realise that you are exactly that.

He slowly leans over and you flinch as you resist looking over. What is he doing? He slides down to rest his head against the cushion flush against the side of your leg. He wiggles as he gets comfortable, pulling up his legs to bend at the end of the couch. The weight of his head has you rigid and uncertain.

“Oh, I like this,” he wiggles just slightly, “you’re cozy.”

He reaches to tickle your knee and you hold back a squeak. It’s almost endearing, yet you’re not used to the constant proximity. The idea of someone who wants to be so close all the time sure seems romantic but it’s truly overwhelming.

“I could stay like this all day,” he says, “couldn’t you, bunny?”

You try not to fidget as the show starts to play. You place the remote on the armrest and lean your chin in your hand.

“Yeah,” you say softly, “yeah, it’s nice.”

He doesn’t comment on the show. You realise it’s not exactly his demographic. A teenage witch with a talking cat. Not really enthralling entertainment.

You wince as he lifts his arm and blindly searches out your free hand. He pulls it down and guides it to his shoulder. He presses it there and squeezes. You can’t believe how awkward you are. Just the act of cuddling makes you feel like a total idiot. And why? He was inside you half the night.

That thought makes you cringe. You really fucked this stranger. Just like that. And now you’re as good as trapped in his apartment. Hmm, you can’t really say trapped, that’s not fair. He’s been kind and you’re turning his generosity into conspiracy.

You drag your fingertips around his shoulder and he sighs, letting his arm fall down in front him. This isn’t so bad. 

You focus on the screen, trying to calm your rampant heartbeat. You don’t know why suddenly you’re so nervous. The tide ebbs and flows. One minute, you feel okay, like this is all normal, the next you can’t help but fixate on how you are less than normal and you definitely don’t belong here. Or with him.

He chuckles and cracks the ice of your desolate thoughts. He drags his hand down your leg, caressing you lazily.

“I’ve never watched this before,” he remarks, “you like this show?”

“Mhmm,” you hum, “yeah, I don’t mind it.”

“Maybe that’s what it is, bunny,” he runs his finger along your thigh, “you cast your spell on me, didn’t you?”

You stare at him. You can’t see much of his face. Is he joking? You don’t know. It’s a sweet thing to say. He is very sweet. It’s all just a bit much for you.

“I guess,” you force out a laugh, “must be it, huh.”

[aphrogeneias]

𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 — 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞

summary: at his hiding place, eddie "the banished" receives some bad news about the person he cares the most about, and because of that, he reminisces.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: eddie's pov, no use of y/n. just some flirty flirting for now. she's an acoustic guitar girl, he's an electric guitar boy, what more can i say?

author's note: only minor changes have been made in this one, mostly added some lines. original version was posted on june 14, 2022. <3

series masterlist

It was the third time they'd almost scared him to death.

The first was when they found him, hiding at Reefer Rick’s boathouse, clinging to a piece of broken glass to dear life, like a cornered paladin clung to their sword - but with none of the honor, righteousness and lawful good bullshit, only a wanted man trying to make it through the night. The second was when they brought him supplies, and he was still too on edge to not be suspicious of anything that got too close.

This time, Eddie wasn’t expecting anybody, which made him even more worried. They were not supposed to be there that day.

He sat back as he watched Dustin make his way into the living room, followed by a distraught looking Robin Buckley and an equally upset Steve Harrington. They were all quiet, too quiet, and that could only mean bad news. More bad news.

“Please, don’t tell me I’m being charged for another uncanny murder case.” Making light of a bad situation had always been one of his strong points, but none of his jokes seemed to land right now that his life has turned upside down.

Literally, it seemed.

"No, no! There haven't been any other uncanny murders, but, uh…" Dustin started, "we kind of need your help now."

"You're friends with Nancy's neighbor, aren't you?" This time, Robin was the one to speak. She remembered your name and last name, then. "Senior, works at the record store downtown… We talked to your friends and they told us you're kind of close."

Kind of close. He thought. That's one way to put it.

"I'm offended you never mentioned her to us, by the way." intervened Dustin, but Eddie didn't have it in him to sass the boy back.

The mention of your name made his heart beat faster. He had grown used to the uneasiness in his chest, an anxious feeling that never really went away, but when it came to you, a new wave of almost overwhelming restlessness crashed through him.

There hadn't been a minute where Eddie hadn't thought about you. Alone and scared, hiding under a tarp while the silence of the woods and the soft waves of the lake below him lulled him to sleep, he thought about what you were doing, where you were, if you were safe. Whether or not the police had gotten to you, to interrogate you about him, just as they've probably done to his uncle, and if so, did you think he was capable of doing what he was being accused of?

He tried not to think much about that, though. Mostly, Eddie thought about your kind eyes and your warm laughter, smiling at him from behind the counter, the smell of your hair as he sat beside you, sharing a set of headphones as you tried to convince him to listen to something new. He'd give anything to see you again.

Nodding frantically, he stood up, stomach dropping at the same time. "Is she alright? Where is she?"

"She's fine, she's alone but she's home," Harrington intervened, raising one hand forward, "we just need to know… if you know… what her favorite song is?"

Eddie watched Steve wince uncomfortably as he tried to sound casual, and tilted his head at him, squinting. "What does that have to do anything?"

"It's a long story, but basically, um… me and Nancy came up with this theory that music can…"

Robin started fumbling with her words, but was promptly stopped by Dustin. "We just need to know what her favorite song is. She won't talk to anyone and we're worried, we can explain it on the way."

He didn't need to be a genius to understand what was going on there. Suddenly, images of Chrissy Cunningham's floating body flashed behind his eyes, her lifeless form dropping to the floor of his trailer, torn from the inside out — but, then, instead of her, it was you, your body, in her place.

The image alone almost paralyzed him.

"I know what her favorite song is. I know all of her favorite songs."

His voice trembled, just as his hands did slightly as he gathered his jacket from where it lied scattered on the couch, but still, he followed the trio as they rushed through the door.

1.

“No fucking way!”

“Shhh!” You snatched the record from his hands, but Eddie could see you were holding back a smile, “You’re scaring the customers.”

“He’s always scaring the customers.” Claire, the girl who worked the afternoon shifts with you, and who wasn't too fond of his behavior, rolled her eyes from where she stood, checking through a couple of boxes of new releases. 

“He’s always scaring the customers.”  He repeated her words mockingly, his face twisting in a sneer. Eddie knew he sounded childish, but it was worth it to see you biting your lip to hold back on laughing again, asking Claire to take those boxes to the back of the store and sort them out by artist, saying you would organize them later. He, on the other hand, didn’t hide his own grin as he watched the redhead leave through the staff door.

"You," pointing at him, you faked a glare, and Eddie would be lying if he said it wasn’t adorable, "are the most embarrassing human I've ever met."

Part of the fun of driving all the way downtown to buy new records and tapes wasn't just in getting to get his hands on new music, it had also a lot to do with you. The shy girl who mostly kept busy with stacking vinyl in alphabetical order and, for some reason, always seemed to know exactly what he was looking for. Eddie couldn’t seem to remember a time where you weren’t there, though he knew you must have started working at Mullberry's Records only recently, but you fit in there in a way that felt like you belonged. Not in the physical space between the rows and rows of records, and the colorful walls filled with cassette tapes, but in Eddie’s life.

He could spend hours there, and sometimes that happened quite literally, talking to you about music, though your opinions diverged quite a lot. On other days, when he just wanted an escape, he’d keep you silent company - as silent as he could manage - browsing through the sections and wandering behind the counter, controlling the record player only the staff had access to. You were easy to talk to, and that was something that was hard to find for him.

Maybe it was also because he liked the way you looked at him when he pushed your buttons.

"Are you listening to yourself? You're the embarrassing one!" He crossed his arms, leaning back at one of the shelves behind him. "Who doesn't like KISS?”

"They're just a bunch of clowns in high heels trying to make music. Also, who the hell names their band "kiss"? That's, like, the cheesiest shit ever."

“Unbelievable.” He shook his head, placing his hands on his hips. “What do you like, then, Your Highness?”

“I dunno…” You trailed off. As you did, Eddie watched you work, your delicate fingers counting through the new tapes scattered around the counter, silver rings glinting under the sunlight that filtered through the glass storefront, the way your mouth contorted as you seemed deep in thought, “I’ve been listening to a lot of Bob Dylan lately, some Joni Mitchell, she’s true magic, you know…”

“God, you’re so boring!” Your shocked face made him laugh openly, “didn’t anybody tell you this isn’t the Summer of Love anymore?”

“This isn’t the Summer of ten minute guitar solos, either, Munson. No matter how much you try to make it happen.”

“That’s because you haven’t seen me play yet. You’ll ask for ten more minutes when I’m through with it.”

Accidentally, that sounded a little more suggestive than he intended, and he knew that. He was almost apologizing, laughing it off with another joke, but he noticed the way you stopped on your tracks, slowly looking up at him, clearly trying to mask the way your breath hitched as you felt yourself fluster under his gaze. 

Eddie noticed, then, that he liked that a lot more than he liked pissing you off.

“You wish.”

[autumn0689]

EVEN EVEN MORE STEFANO HEADCANONS!!!!

He genuinely believes that he is doing nothing wrong. In the real world, he had some doubts, but since entering STEM and given all the power that he needs, he has no regrets, and if anyone asks if he feels remorse he will say no, that he doesn’t feel remorse, because why should he feel remorse for expressing himself?

He has tasted some of his victims blood, some by accident, but he sometimes tries it to see if it tastes any different. It doesn’t and he usually says he’s never going to do it again, but every time he kills someone he goes ‘what if it actually tastes different’ and repeats the cycle again

He sometimes gets English phrases wrong due to his first language being Italian. He also sometimes struggles to say a word and says the word in Italian. It frustrates him often

He doesn’t use social media. He doesn’t use it because he prefer to see art and show his art up close. The closest he gets to having an online presence is a few photos online and a few interviews he has done as a war photographer.

He has always been emotional, but it got worse after he lost his eye. He repressed his emotions and it kind of exploded when he was in STEM, which is why he already had so much ‘art’ already, because he kind of lost it and caught in his rage, passion, and pure euphoria, he caused a major massacre, which he then promptly turned into his art

He gets an almost childlike excitement whenever he gets a new, better camera. He slightly bounces as he sets the camera up as he laughs loudly before muttering to himself in Italian

Sometimes he loves using the flash when using his camera because he likes to catch people’s expressions afterwards

Serenade For String In C Major is not only his favorite song of all time but it’s also a song with the most meaning for him. It’s such an overwhelming song to him and he would listen to it while doing his art as he gets lost in what he is doing, ignoring any doubts or fears he has and ignoring the harsh words from critics. He listens to it all the time and can listen to it until the end of time

When he’s caught off guard or startled he laughs loudly and brushes it off but internally he stays startled for quite some time but he doesn’t let it show

Honestly Stefano is such a fascinating character with many interpretations of him. I wish get to see more of him! I may make more headcanons! (Or not it depends)

[chaotic-orphan]

Febuwhump: Day Twenty-Four

“I’m doing this because I care about you” @febuwhump prompt

TW: imprisonment, non-consensual restraints, non-con inhibition of powers, stripped of powers, destructive love, toxic relationship, doing wrong for the right reasons, emotional Whump

*~*~*~*~*

Hero woke up in bed with a groan. Their mind was foggy, something niggling in the back of their mind seemed too far away to be urgent so Hero ignored it promptly and opened their eyes.

They frowned at the ceiling.

That wasn’t their ceiling.

This wasn’t their bed, or their pillow.

Oh god, Hero thought. I have no idea how I got here, please say they were hot— how much did I drink last night? Did I go out last night? Maybe to cool off? But no—

Hero couldn’t recall anything from last night which was only slightly concerning.

They rolled their lips into their mouth, ready to face the music, or the morning.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

Hero froze, eyes slamming close on instinct. Was it too late to pretend to be asleep?

“Hero. I know you’re awake.”

Wait… Hero knew that voice. Hero frowned and sat up in the bed to a melody of rattling chains. Hero ignored Villain who sat at the end of the bed in a cosy looking armchair and immediately threw the covers off of them.

They followed the length of chain from their wrist that disappeared over the edge of the bed with fear slamming their heart faster in their chest. When they tried to move to see under the bed to where the chain went, the chain holding their other wrist in a metal cuff pulled taut.

Hero’s wide, panicked eyes went to Villain. “What is this?”

Villain raised their hands, showing Hero their palms a placating gesture. “Hero—”

“Villain. What is this?!” Hero asked, pulling at the chains harder. Hero kicked the duvet off their legs to find their ankles chain in the same heavy duty cuffs their wrists were encased in. “This is a little kinky, even for me.”

“Hero, I’m doing this because I care about you.”

Hero’s nostrils flared. “Let me out, Villain.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?!”

Villain raised their head a little higher in the air. “I won’t. Supervillain is making his move today and I refuse to let you get caught up in it.”

Hero blanched. “What?”

Villain stepped around the bed closer to Hero but Hero shook their head, pushing themselves back as much as they could. Until the cuffs around the ankles protested.

“Don’t come near me Villain! Not unless you’re going to release me this instant!”

“I can’t let you die, Hero,” Villain said, their voice quiet and soft.

Hero swallowed the lump in their throat, then schooled their features into a neutral expression and said very matter of factly: “this is the last time I will ask you nicely, Villain. Release me. Now. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

Villain ran a hand down their face, cupping their cheeks in one hand as they blew out a breath. Then they shook their head, half turning their body away from Hero and shoving their hands into their trouser pockets.

“You can’t,” said Villain with the same soft quietness.

Hero frowned. They didn’t have time for this. “Then I’m sorry, Villain.”

Hero clicked their fingers and nothing happened. Villain tipped their head down to stare at the floor in front of them. Hero clicked their fingers again, picturing the chains snapping and setting them free.

Nothing happened.

Something looked large in their gut like panic, threatening to overwhelm Hero because why couldn’t they summon their magic to them at that time?

They clicked their fingers again. And again. And again.

Then they cast their burning eyes to Villain in question.

Villain held up a small bottle with a cork stopped in its neck. “Villain… what did you do?”

“What I had to,” said Villain. They shook the bottle gently, then looked over at Hero, their face the picture of heartbreak. “I knew you’d try to leave anyway.”

“What did you do, Villain?!” Hero demanded, their emotions threatening to run away with them. “Supervillain commissioned a promising young chemist, a graduate who needed a job if you can believe it, to make a chemical compound that would inhibit your powers for a while.”

It felt as if Villain had just stabbed Hero in the chest. “How long is a while?” Hero demanded, tears prickling the back of their eyes and threatening to fall. “Villain! Look at me!”

Villain’s eyes flicked to Hero’s, their shoulders hunched and resigned. “A little under a week.”

Hero’s heart dropped into their stomach. “What?”

Villain approached quickly, climbing onto the bed and reaching for Hero but Hero backed away until the chains pulled taut and they couldn’t go any further.

Villain’s eyes were glazed over, their chest moving far too quickly to be okay, blubbering excuses at Hero.

“I had to, Hero. Supervillain said that if I didn’t get you out of the picture that he would kill you!”

“I’d rather die trying to stop him than—”

“I know you would!” Villain yelled over Hero, stunning them into silence. Hero was trembling on the bed, seeing the helpless, desperate fury in Villain’s eyes… Villain had never raised their voice at Hero. Not once. “I know you would give your life to save someone else’s but who is looking out to give their life for yours, hmm?! Tell me! Tell me and I’ll let you go!”

The tears fell silently down Hero’s cheeks, not a single name coming to mind that would sacrifice themselves to protect Hero.

Not one except— “you.”

Villain’s shoulders wound tight, setting their jaw as they looked away from Hero.

Hero blinked and a new wave of tears fell. “Villain what did you do?” Hero whispered in a voice that wasn’t their own. It was too frail, too helpless and scared. Too childlike. “Villain.”

“I made a deal with Supervillain,” Villain choked out, tears falling freely down their cheeks and onto the bed as well. “I can’t—” Villain met Hero’s eyes with such conviction, such loyalty that it curled a hand around Hero’s lungs and they let out a soft breath. “I won’t let you die. I won’t. Don’t ask me to. I don’t care if you never forgive me, just as long as you’re still breathing… that’s all that matters to me.”

Hero shook their head, but when Villain placed their hand on Hero’s cheek they didn’t flinch, or wince , or pull away.

“I would let the world burn rather than sacrifice you to save it. They don’t deserve you. You don’t deserve to die for them.”

Hero’s hand reached up to cup Villain’s. “They never asked me to, Villain. I wanted to protect those who can’t protect themselves.”

“I don’t care,” said Villain. “I’ll be the bad guy. I’ll keep you here forever if I have to. That way you won’t hate yourself when Supervillain makes their move. You can hate me instead, I’ll take the burden from you.”

Hero stared at Villain, completely at a loss for words. Isn’t this the love everyone would die for? An all consuming, unwavering loyalty? Unconditional and destructive? Heart wrenching and all too much, overwhelming and sickening?

Hero hated the twisted feeling in their gut that craved that love; the love so hot it threatened to burn both Hero and Villain, but in that moment… there were no words that Hero could say. Nothing they could do because they know if the roles were reversed Hero would have done the same for Villain.

“I hate you,” Hero whispered, their shoulders shaking as they leaned into Villain’s hand.

“I know,” Villain said.

“I hate you so much,” said Hero. Villain crept closer, their other arm wrapping around Hero.

“I know.”

“How dare you take that choice from me,” Hero blubbered, sobs wracking their chest, eyes burning. “How dare you!”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Hero leaned forward into Villain’s arms and sobbed into their shoulder. Villain wrapped their arms tighter around Hero, sniffing back sobs as well. They didn’t deserve to cry, they needed to be strong.

Hero and Villain fell asleep in each other’s arms, salt stained tear trails stuck to their cheeks. It took Supervillain four days to topple the Hero agency and assume control of the city. For now though, the lovers held each other close in their sleep, the guilt would be waiting for them when they awoke.

[lace-coffin]

Hello, if your requests are still open, I would like a Montgomery Gator x autistic reader. Reader is having a hard time and gets overstimulated by the noise going on in the Pizzaplex. Maybe Monty thinks the reader is mad at him because they are “ignoring” him, but they are actually just nonverbal and Monty doesn’t know. Angst with fluff at the end, please?

With love, Anon

Love you to anon! Mwah!

Montgomery Gator x overstimulated autistic!gn!Reader

Montgomery Gator x Autistic!Gn!Reader

Requests are closed! (For now)

Not gonna lie like 90% of this was just me projecting how I feel on bad sensory days lmao

The pizzaplex was one of your favourite places to be, you knew the layout like the back of your hand despite how large and winding it was. Since starting your relationship with Monty you’ve probably spent more time here than home.

This didn’t save you from getting overwhelmed however. Yes you loved the plex like a home but it was so much all the time. Bustling crowds mostly made of up noisy excitable children and their exasperated parents, fluorescent lights on full blast overhead and music/announcements blaring from the radio system.

You knew it was one of those days as soon as you cracked your eyes open, you’d been fighting the blankets all night, pissed off as soon as they touched you, ending up sleeping naked only under a single blanket even if it wasn’t weather appropriate. You’d played some music softly as background noise to help as you got dressed and ready to head to the plex. You shut that down promptly. The noise irritating you to no end.

Today was a safe clothing day, nothing restricting or clingy/warm, you already didn’t want to be in your body right now, let alone feel the clothing on you. The wait for the bus was uncomfortable, sitting in one place and counting down the minuets until you need to leave the house, stuck in waiting mode. The longer you sat the more apparent your clothing came. You rehearsed what you were going to say to the driver in your head until the bus arrived.

The actual bus ride was uneventful, slipping on your headphones and playing music just loud enough to cover the background noise.

Walking into the over glorified mall made you want to puke. It was the complete opposite environment you wanted to be in right now, but you really wanted to see your partner. You switch over from your headphones to ear defenders quickly, in your opinion if you can still hear the music over your defenders then it’s up to loud, fazbear. Adjusting your lanyard you read over the badges again. “Please don’t touch me or get to close” “I struggle to make or maintain eye contact” “I’m autistic, please be patient”

After flittering through the plex as fast as you can you beeline to Monty’s green room, ignoring the burning stares of people wondering why another guest is just waltzing into an off limits zone.

“Hey pipsqueek!” Monty bellows as you enter, raising from his sofa and tugging you into a tight hug. Usually this is welcome but right now it just raises your hackles. You don’t let it show, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “Hey big guy!” You muster up, albeit quietly. As you pull back Monty eyes over your lanyard, specifically the “please don’t touch me” badge. “Oh shit! My bad cher” he rubs a large scaly hand over the back of his neck and apologises. You wave your hand in dismissal.

“You still up for that bowling date?” He asks coolly, trying to hide his excitement. In all honesty you aren’t, you don’t want to do anything but lay in the dark and quiet, but you came all this way and you can’t bare to see the disappointment on his face if you turn him down. You give him a nod and a forced smile, it’s not that you don’t love spending time with your boyfriend, it’s just you don’t have the spoons right now.

Regardless you let him lead you to Bonnie bowl, nodding along to his rambling on the way, you let Monty grab your ugly bowling shoes, knowing your size off by heart by now. You wait in the assigned lane, flexing and unflexing your hands.

You smile and say a quiet thank you as Monty hands you to the shoes alongside your favourite flavour of slushy.

The first round is enough to get you agitated and anxious, the noise of the pins clacking harshly against the lane is obnoxiously loud. This added with the sound of other families chatting and the bright lights it’s a nightmare. Not to mention the mix of smells coming from the food stand making you nauseous.

You guess it had been a while since you stopped talking, bowling on autopilot and sitting back down until it was your turn again. You knew Monty had tried to talk to you but it wasn’t getting through properly, so hard to focus on what the gator was saying over your other senses being clogged. Eventually Monty pulls you to once side, concerned.

A worried look settles on his features, you swear you could see a little frustration under them to. “Are you made at me? Is it something I did? Because you’ve been ignoring me all evening and I’m sorry if I’ve upset you but I need to know what I did to be able to apologise.”

Your eyes widen in realisation and you flap your hand at him, signalling to give you a second. You rifle in your tote bag for a moment and fish out your phone, unlocking it and pulling up the text to speech app. Monty looks at you confused as you type as quick as you can, after a minute an automated voice rings from the phone. “I’m having a bad sensory day, it’s nothing you’ve done and I love spending time with you, I just feel overwhelmed and tired”

Monty’s face softens at this, relieved you’re not angry at him and that he’s not the cause of your discomfort. The larger leans to cup your face but remembers at the last moment. “Oh uh- can I touch you, cher?” You give a small smile, appreciating him asking first and nod.

Large hands cup your face gently. “I wish you had told me earlier cher and I would’ve gotten you outta here, no worries though, I’m proud of you for telling me pipsqueek.” You type for a moment more. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to be a nuisance and ruin our date” you avoid his eyes.

Monty frowns and shakes his head. “Hey, none of that, you’re never a burden for having a bad day, doll. I love you even when you don’t feel good, remember that.” You nod and type again. “Love you too big guy, what now?” Your boyfriend chuckles and jerks his head toward the exit. “Wanna head back to my room? We can set the lights low and just sit in eachothers company, no need to talk”

You could cry from how sweet and understanding he is sometimes. You happily agree and make it back to his green room, spending the evening curled in your weighted blanket on the sofa, lights dimmed and star projector on. Monty is curled in a separate nest of blankets on the floor beside the sofa, letting out soft bellows as you run your fingers through his hair.

[maltmealo]

Chapter 16: Trouble

"Should he be so little?"

"Don't worry, he'll grow up big and strong just like ----"

"Huh... they grow."

“You got all this for me?” The room you had been staying in had been spruced up to look more or less like a small one-room apartment, complete with a kitchen and all that had been stocked with canned goods and none perishables, as well as some bags of fruits on the counters. You’re blankets and pillows had been organized to make a somewhat good nest, complete with a small tv pushed against the wall.

“Yeah, with all the moping you’ve been doing around we thought it would be nice for you to have a room instead of sleeping next to Ratchet all the time.” Cliffjumper says, a proud expression on his face as he pokes his head through the doorway to get a good look, “We did all the hard work, Doctor Sowa got the food.”

“I appreciate the gesture but… won’t I die without being near one of you guys?” you ask, looking towards Cliffjumper with a concerned expression.

“Eh, don’t worry about it, my room is right next to yours, plus, it's my job to take care of you, so I have to make sure our residential human is comfortable.” He grins, pulling his head out of the door. You follow him out and see that he had pulled his head upon command on none other than the quiet doctor, who was now promptly staring at Cliffjumper blankly.

‘Check up.’ he signed, grabbing you by your elbow and all but dragging you into the room, closing the door behind him, and leaving a very confused Cliffjumper outside.

“Doctor Sowa? Are you okay?” You ask as he pulls out a chair and makes you sit on it, he seemed tenser than his usual relaxed and emotionless self, his movements stiffer.

‘Don't trust them.’ he signs as he pulls out a stethoscope from his old-timey doctor bag.

“What? Why?” You ask, a confused look on your face as the doctor lifts your shirt up and presses the cold metal against your back.

He doesn’t respond, unstrapping your sling and taking your arm into both of his hands.

It felt wrong, or looked wrong, something about his hands had dipped into an uncanny valley, maybe it was the fact that they were long and spindly, or maybe that they were a little too smooth, but maybe that was just because he took care of himself-

CRACK

You froze, your breath catching in your chest as you squeezed your eyes shut tight, expecting the loud crack to be one or multiple of your bones breaking but you felt no pain. A hand touches your cheek, pulling you out of your shocked state as you open your eyes.

A faint melody reaches your ear, not one you recognized, not made by man or nature, a calm steady mix of almost autotuned dinging and a humming that sounded nothing like the tense humming of Optimus.

‘I would never hurt you.’ he signs as he lets go of your dumbstruck face, taking out a pair of scissors and carefully snipping away the fabric that held the down broken plaster together. Your arm was healed, it had just been two weeks and your broken arm no longer ached or screamed whenever you even thought of using your muscles. He takes a rag out of his bag and pours some water on it, slowly but gently cleaning up your arm from all the dirt that had congealed under your cast.

You stare at him- or rather listen to him, it was so much more soothing to hear this, it wasn’t forced or overwhelming, it wasn’t something that invaded your brain and gave you a headache, it was calm, communication in the purest form.

“I can hear you,” You whisper, a smile growing on your face as you push what he had said earlier to the back of your mind and what he had just done, “it's beautiful.”

He sets the damp rag down, tilting his head as he looks down at you, his unchanging eyes staring into the depths of your soul.

‘It's nothing,’ he signs finally, putting away the stethoscope, before looking up at you again.

“It’s not nothing, it's you,” You smile, listening intently to the music, “I didn’t realize humans could do that, it sounds so much sweeter than the ‘bots.”

He gives you a strange look before reaching up and setting his hands on either side of your face, gently tilting it around as his fingers press into your pulse.

He was testing to make sure your neck didn’t hurt, of course, any other reason would be unthinkable, he had a job to do, and he couldn’t get feeling for a patient of all people in the universe.

You wince when he digs his cold fingers in just a little too hard like he was trying to dig his fingers into your veins to feel the rush of blood that kept you alive. He pulls away quickly at your reaction, resting his hands above his lap.

‘Apologies,’ he signs when he raises his hands again, taking a step away from you and looking around the room.

“No worries, I’ve been through enough to handle a little pain,” you tease, standing up off the chair as you rub your wrist, flexing each finger individually to test them. You follow his gaze in looking around the room, “nice isn’t it?”

‘It is unique,’ he turns back to you, looking you up and down, ‘are you still in pain?’

“No my arm feels fine,” you roll your wrist in demonstration, twisting your arm in circles and bending it.

‘Not that,’ he grabs your hand and places it against your chest and you wince, it felt like all the air had been forced out of your lungs, it was confusing and dazing, painful and not at the same time. You didn’t even realize it but your legs had given out on you and Doctor Sowa was now supporting you, ‘this.’

You stare up at him, what was this? It was like all the memories you needed to answer his question had been locked away. You open your mouth to respond but nothing comes out, it felt like your body had shut down everything in order to focus on the feeling of his hand pressed against yours. Your ears were ringing, your senses were in overdrive to find something to grab onto.

He takes his hand away and everything feels like it restarted, you take a gasp of air that you didn’t realize you needed, your legs finally support your body and everything comes rushing back.

He gingerly places a hand on your back, taking one of your arms and guiding you to sit down on the bed. He sits down beside you, patiently waiting for you to catch your breath as he rubs your back gently.

The music came back into the forefront of your mind, pulling you out of the sensory overload you had just experienced. It reminded you, that you weren’t alone, he was here with you, a man who sounded so much sweeter than anything you had ever heard before. You were safe here, in the tiny nook made by giants and now owned by you.

“I'm gonna say no,” You finally get out, blinking a couple of times as tears drip down your face. You reach up and touch them, maybe it was from pain, maybe it was because of the overwhelming feelings you just felt, or maybe it was from a host of other reasons that you didn’t want to know. All you knew was that you were crying and the tears weren’t stopping.

It hurt and you couldn’t help the sob that left your mouth, you covered your mouth, the pain just bringing everything to the surface as you tried to stay calm and stop crying.

That was what you were trying to do this whole time, you weren’t going home, you weren’t going to see Meryl or find out if he ever survived or not, you weren’t going to see your family, you were going to die in this universe probably crushed underfoot like everyone else, weren’t you?

They promised though, the aliens who had swooped in and saved you from falling and becoming a stain on the hard ground of a place that wasn’t home. Optimus had promised you that after everything you were going home. You were going home after this.

You take a few more seconds to calm your breath, tears still falling down your cheeks even though you weren’t sobbing. He pulls his hand away from your back, allowing you some space to reset your body manually.

“Yeah, definitely not okay,” you laugh, wiping your tears away with your sleeve as you sniffle. the ache was still there, hollow and hurting.

‘It isn’t getting better,’ he signs, watching you with the same expression he always had, still and sound, like a rock or an anchor.

“But Ratchet said if I-”

He slaps a hand over your mouth, his eyes drilling into yours as he slowly releases your lips.

‘They did this,’ he signs, his hand pressing against your chest gently, it was not nearly enough to hurt you this time, ‘they don’t want to be responsible.’

“Why wouldn’t they want that? They seem like good people stuck in a bad situation,” you reply back, frowning at his answer. They did want was best for you, they wouldn’t have saved you otherwise, they would have thrown you out to the dogs if they didn’t.

‘They killed my children.’

What should have been silence was filled with the somber melody of his soul, you felt it. You felt his pain and anguish, you could almost see it through his eyes, feel the wetness of death on your fingers, but the memories pull away, leaving you on the precipice of sadness and confusion.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, unable to think of anything else to say than to apologize on the Autobots' behalf, what would you say? Would you defend the death of children? Say that it wasn’t the Autobots' fault that his kids were stupid enough to get underfoot or get stuck in the crossfire? Or would you say that the Autobots had changed? That they may have meant to do it but they’re different now.

You swallow down your thoughts and clear your throat, “how old were they?”

‘Too young.’ he responds, staring you down like he knew what you were thinking.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, your voice stuck in your throat as you avert your gaze, “there’s nothing I can say to justify your loss.”

He stays silent, not moving his hands anymore, just staring at you. You look down at your lap biting your tongue as you stay silent. You didn’t know where to go from here, sure you’ve had this conversation with Meryl before, but now it was different, something inside of you was preventing you from saying anything.

Suddenly, he clasps your hand in both of his, guiding it into this lap and pulling you out of your thoughts as he gives it a squeeze. You look back up at him, his gaze no longer intense but now… sad.

“What were they like?” you find the words, it was easy now, he was human like you, he mourned and grieved, if he was angry at you it wasn’t because of anything you did.

‘They were… troublemakers,’ he signs letting go of your hand but letting it rest in his lap as he speaks in hands, ‘fighters to the very end, a… dynamic duo if you will.’

“Early in the hospital, you said there were three, what was that one like?”

‘He was smart, a fighter, he protected his brothers,’ his hand movements getting slower as he stares off into space, ‘he went first.’

“They sound like handfuls,” you laugh softly, smiling at the descriptions, “what were their names?”

He pauses, focusing back on your face. He shakes his head, grabbing your hand again and squeezing it.

He didn’t want to talk about it, seeing his children get shot down and crushed by the Autobots who claimed to be for peace. To be forced to see those who had mercilessly slaughtered them for the sake of someone who could die without them.

You were just like him in a sense, smart but naive, you trusted that the people who were liars to keep you safe and heal you. They didn’t know they were liars and that was going to get you killed in the most agonizing way possible.

“Do you want a hug?”

A question so simple it made him stop. He slowly nodded, releasing your hand to let you hug him.

You lean in, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him, it was awkward at first. so much so that you almost pulled away, but slowly he hugged back, his arms resting around your back and adding a pleasant pressure to your back.

“You remind me of someone,” you mutter, resting your head on his chest, the song is louder now, but it still held the quiet grieving tone, “his name was Meryl, he taught me a lot.”

His hand lays flat on your back, rubbing circles into it, it was comforting to feel a genuine human touch after two months of only being picked up and held by giant robots. Hell, the last time you were held like this was when you left for college, and now after all the stress, it was more than nice.

You stay like that, wrapped in each other's limbs for what seems like hours before he pulls away, lifting up his hands and cupping your cheeks.

“What are you doing?” you asked as he touched your eyes where they were still red and puffy. He stares at the red rings, his fingers stained with the salty liquid that covered your own face.

He stands up quickly, going to the full-sized fridge and rifling through it before returning with a water bottle. He pops off the cap in a single upward movement, handing you the incorrectly opened water bottle.

“Um… thank you,” you say as you take a sip of the water, the cold water washed down your throat as you tilt your head back, staring at the ceiling as you chug about half of the bottle.

‘You were beginning to get dehydrated, that is dangerous,’ he explains, taking the bottle from your hand and setting it down on the table as he sets back down.

It was silent for a few moments as you stared at each other, it wasn’t awkward, more like a mutual understanding of… not knowing what more to say.

Suddenly the silence was broken by a harsh knocking.

“Doctor Sowa! It’s time to go.” Agent Fowler’s voice breaks through the silence as both of you turn your heads to look at the door.

He looks back at you, a silent question being transmitted between the two of you, are you okay?

You nod, giving him a meek smile as you stand up. He suddenly grabs your hand and pulls you back down, bringing you into a tight hug. He had been hesitant when you hugged him, but now he was confident, smooth, and strong. It was confusing for sure, he had been so untouchy from the moment you met him, only touching you when absolutely necessary.

His hand touches the back of your head, pressing you further into his body. He forces your face into his shoulder, almost like he was trying to shield your vision from something terrible.

Citrus.

He smelt like citrus, which one you couldn’t tell but it was distinct, like a freshly pealed orange or a squeezed lemon. It almost smelt like those cleaners your mother kept under the counter to clean with from time to time.

It was silent but so loud at the same time, his very life force grasping at yours to tell you something, the melody didn’t hurt like the bashing singular sound of Ratchet and it didn’t feel like you were getting forced to calm down.

It was simple, the message he was giving you was so incredibly simple and so hard to understand at the same time.

‘Thank you.’

[makemyworldworthliving]

Baby

Larissa Weems x reader

Part 2: Private quarters

Warnings: None really?

Before you knew it Friday morning had rolled around. You woke up early, tiredly looking through your wardrobe for something to wear. What do you even wear to clean someone’s office? You thought to yourself. You sighed and threw on some old grey joggers, and an oversized t shirt. You put your hair up in a tidy ponytail and checked yourself in the mirror. Well, here goes nothing. You took a deep breath and left the house.

Upon arriving at Nevermore, you were taken back by the sheer height of the entrance doors. Before you could enter, a bubbly, cheerful girl swung the doors open. ‘’Hi!! I saw you lingering at the door. I don’t recognise you, are you new?!’’ She asked excitedly. Before you could find the chance to answer she took your hand, shaking it with speed. ‘’I’m Enid! It’s nice to meet you Miss…?’’

‘’Oh, just call me Y/N.’’ You smiled, a little overwhelmed with the excitement beaming from the young girl. She moves out of your way and skips off to what you presume is her class. You find your way to Larissa’s office, and knock on the door. ‘’Come in!’’ A soft, sweet voice was heard from the other side of the door. You step in, and instantly lock eyes with Larissa. Her ocean blue eyes are breathtaking, and you find yourself unable to look away. She promptly walks over to you from her desk, reaching her hand out to shake yours. ‘’Y/N, it’s so good to see you again.’’ She smiles, and you can feel your heart rate starting to increase. What the fuck is wrong with me? You smile back. ‘’It’s good to be here, and thank you again, honestly. I really needed this job.’’ You rub the back of your neck shyly, trying not to sound desperate.

Half an hour into your shift, you’re on your hands and knees scrubbing the bottom of the fire place. Larissa peaks around her laptop, catching a glimpse of your behind. She blushes slightly before shaking her head and closing her laptop. The sound of the lid closing causes you to turn round. As you look up at Larissa, and looks at you and begins to chuckle slightly. Oh no, why is she laughing? Have I done something stupid? Something wrong? Before you have time to panic more, Larissa is on her knees in front of you. She gently licks her thumb and wipes away some fire soot from your chin.

The feeling of her thumb against your skin, no matter how small, causes a fire to burn inside you. Oh no. This woman. I want this woman, no, I need this woman. Your eyes fall to her lips, her eyes, and then back to her lips. She notices your eyes and smiles, tucking your hair behind your ear. You swallow hard, and let out a breathy ‘’thank you…’’ before moving away slightly. Larissa was a woman who got what she wanted, and right now in this moment, she wanted you. She moved forward, and crashed her lips onto yours. Your eyes dart open, but you don’t pull away. Instead you find your hands wandering along the sides of her waist. Her hands find their way to your cheeks, holding you tenderly as her tongue explores your mouth. You can’t help but moan into her mouth as her tongue crashes with yours. She pulls back and smirks, tracing a finger up your neck and stopping at your chin. ‘’How about a break, darling? In my private quarters?’’ You just nod, unable to speak. She takes your hand and leads you inside her room, closing the door swiftly behind the two of you.

[stinkysam]

Peter Parker - Closed door

Warning : nsfw, top!reader, slight degradation, praise

Genre : smut

Synopsis : Andrew's peter getting fucked by his bf when aunt may comes home and tries to have a conversation with peter so peter has to try and talk with may while his bf is slowly and quietly breeding him, with some slight degrading but mostly praising

Reader : male (you/yours)

>Non mlm dni

His aunt wasn't here and everything was going smoothly. As in, you were currently making out with your boyfriend Peter.

She didn't know you two were dating but today she almost found out.

Peter was sitting on your laps, kissing you softly. One on your nose, one on your cheeks, one on your eyes, one on your lips…

Grinding on you slowly.

"Wanna go further ?" You asked.

"Yeah. I want you."

You quickly found yourselves naked, you on top of Peter, kissing him lovingly as your hands traveled down his body. His hands did the same, caressing you gently, pulling you closer.

You began to stroke his cock with yours as you meticulously placed hickeys on his throat, earning quiet whines out of him as his dick hardened under your touch.

"[Name], c'mon, quit playing."

You laughed at his words. "Am I not jerking you ?"

"You know what I mean, I want to feel you… ah…"

"You're being impatient, love." You said that as if you were not impatient yourself as well. "Open your legs then." You said giving his inner thighs a light pat.

He obeyed promptly, flashing you a smile as he grabbed the lube from under his bed.

"Here."

You thanked him with a kiss on the nose and poured some lube on your fingers before placing them by his ass, teasing his rim. Peter repositioned himself, pushing himself on your fingers eagerly.

You finally pushed one in and when you felt like he was accustomed to it you added a second finger, intently watching his face for any sign of discomfort but earning instead a small moan. You added a third one, making him moan louder and curled your fingers, trying to find his sweet spot.

You didn't find it but you weren't defeated. After pouring some lube onto your dick you pushed yourself inside Peter and began to thrust slowly.

Peter moaned under you but quickly placed his hand on his mouth to muffle the sounds. You wondered why until someone knocked at the door.

"Peter, are you in there ?"

You almost stopped when an idea came to you. Instead of stopping you went faster as Peter tried to answer his aunt.

"Yes !"

"I bought some lentils and dried tomatoes." She continued.

"O- okay !"

"Wouldn't want your aunt May to find you like this, no ?" You murmured.

Peter shook his head.

"Then why aren't you stopping me, pervert ?"

Peter shut his eyes, overwhelmed by you and his aunt talking.

"Will you cut some onions to make a salad with it ? And add some Feta ?" She asks from the other side of the door.

"Alr- Yes !"

"You pervert, you like it ?"

"Is someone with you ?"

"No ! I'm watching a- a movie !" He said, nodding his head to you. He liked it very much.

"Use your words."

"Yes, I like it." He whispered quickly, hands hiding his mouth to not moan.

"Good boy, you're doing so good."

Peter mewled at your words forgetting his aunt was still on the other side of the door.

"Are you okay in there ?!" She asked, voice laced with worry.

"S- sad movie ! Don't come in, it's embarrassing."

"So good for me, I love you Peter. You feel so good, you're amazing."

"Ah alright then. You'll tell me how it was."

"Y-yes !"

And with that she left.

You kept pounding into him until he signaled "There, there. Please, don't stop."

At last you had found his prostate and was now angled to hit it full speed over and over again.

"Fuck, you feel so good, Peter."

Peter could only moan, letting you fill him up with your cum as you kept hitting his prostate.

Peter came shortly after, as more praise spilled from your lips.

"Love you."

"We almost… got caught…"

"But we didn't."

[midn1ghtdreamer]

Deku X Reader

Missing Date Night

You had planned this date months ahead to your boyfriend’s busy schedule, but it seems like he forgot yet again.

Contains: slight angst, fluff ending

You were so excited about your date that you took the time to remind Izuku about it every 5 minutes. Purging his phone with various messages of Hope you’re excited for tonight!! And Don’t forget it’s at 6 <3.

You put on your favorite outfit for this date, taking extra time to get ready, and drove to the restaurant. Not only was it difficult to get a reservation there, but this restaurant was also a huge staple for your relationship with Izuku, since you had your first date here.

The waiter lead you to the far back where the private dinning area was hidden. This was the only way you could share private time with your boyfriend out in public. Under normal circumstances he would be bombarded with fans asking for pictures and autographs. The crowd would separate the two of you for who knows how long, but nothing would happen this time. Everything would perfect.

That’s what you thought at least. Sitting there patiently waiting for your green haired partner to arrive.

You held onto hope, ordering drinks and food for the both of you. All the hope you had dwindled away when the restaurant started closing at 10.

The entire time there was spent by yourself and the sympathetic waiter. “I’m sure he’ll show soon,” she said. “Maybe he’s busy. I’m sure being the number one hero is a hard job.” She even brought you a free dessert when closing hours hit as an apology for kicking you out.

You weren’t sure what made you feel worse: knowing that you were walking away from this date by yourself or how small the waiter made you feel with her empty promises.

The urge to reach for you phone and contact Izuku took over you with an overwhelming rage. How could he forget about you? Were you really not that important to him? Are you really that forgettable?

A confrontation was forming in your mind the entire way home, but it wasn’t used. Because he wasn’t home. There was no sign that he had ever been home to get ready for your date.

You couldn’t contain yourself anymore, typing aggressively while tears made your hands slick. Why aren’t you home yet?

He never opened the message.

It was 1 in the morning when Izuku finally made it home, exhaustion pulling at his body. He took his time taking off his shoes when a takeout box caught his eye. He hurriedly grabbed his phone, checking the date, as dread swept over him. How did he forget? Sure he had a ton of work to do, but you had planned this date for the longest. He knew how excited you were to have your own time with him away from his work.

He knocked on the bedroom gently, not expecting to find you asleep. When he saw the dried tears on your face his heart sank. He had to make this up to you somehow.

You felt soft kisses on your face the next morning and promptly turned over not wanting to talk to the man in front of you. He didn’t deserve your attention today, not after what he did to you last night. A sigh could be heard, “I deserve that,” Izuku said. “I’m sorry about what happened yesterday, baby. I really am.”

“Where were you,” you mumbled, your arm hiding your face from him.

“The agency.” You hummed knowing that would be his answer. “I got caught up in work an—“

“And you lost track of time, I know,” you sniffled.

He reached out turning you to face him and wiping the tears from your face. “I’m really sorry, honey. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

You averted your eyes from him, “I’m tired of all the empty promises Izuku. I just…you never following through with what you say.”

“I know darling…I know. I can keep the promise this time though. I have today off and rescheduled our dinner date. See,” he held his phone out. Showing the time of the reservation. “I made breakfast too.”

“Izuku…,” he reached out to hold you whispering apologies in your ear. He knew he could unintentionally ignore you at times when he’s deep in his work, but it was never like this.

“How about this. Next time there’s a date I’ll plan it. It’ll be harder for me to forget if I coordinate it, you know?” You nodded against his chest, attempting to collect yourself.

You would do anything to fix the bumps in your relationship with Izuku and you can tell he would do the same. That’s what made you love him so much.