#hi we’re still here we just had a very sudden shift in life and haven’t been as active in the dae side of things online

[theringers]

friends with benefits - charles leclerc

summary: type A planner best friend lives with no thoughts head empty best friend and they decide to start sleeping together

request: 37 , 70, 78 w charles😃

prompts: 37) “Please? I'll be good, I promise!" 70) “we’re just…friends.” “friends don���t do this type of shit!” 78) “Not to make things weird, but I thought about you when I came last night.”

a/n: charles, head empty no thoughts just his hot roommate and his inability to keep things to himself

warnings: nsfw, 18+, angst kinda, friends to fuck buddies, oral sex

“Could you uhhhhh do me a favor?” You asked Charles. The fuzzy blanket was draped over both of you and he was about to press play on the movie.

His eyes rolled. “What do you need, my love?” He asked in a sarcastic tone.

“Can you maybe make some popcorn?” You tried to slow your words down a bit, for some reason thinking he would be more inclined to say yes if you asked like that.

He exhaled loudly. “Fine.” He tossed the blanket over to you so he could get up off the couch. “But only because now you’ve got that thought in my mind and I want it.”

“If doing things for yourself instead of me makes you feel better, that’s okay with me.” You smiled. This was a typical weeknight for the two of you.

You were a self proclaimed movie critic. Charles just got stuck with a self proclaimed movie critic as a roommate, but it made for some entertaining nights.

The two of you met in high school and immediately formed a bond. Everything between you two was easygoing and laid back, which he loved. He was never a huge people person or party type and neither were you.

You found peace in each other’s silent company and eventually realized you had more in common than you first thought. That following summer, you did practically everything together. Charles had a couple girlfriends here and there and you had a couple boyfriends as well, but it didn’t really matter. Nothing ever stuck.

College rolled around and you weren’t sure what to do. You wanted to stay in Monaco close to your family, but you just couldn’t live at home anymore. Lucky for you, Charles offered to let you move into his spare bedroom until you could make a decision. It had been years and you were still in that spare bedroom. The thought of moving out and doing something different hadn’t crossed your mind since the day you moved in.

“Do you want butter or no butter?” He asked from the kitchen, hands full of popcorn bags.

“Come on is that even a question?”

“Right. Butter. Lots of it.” He threw the bag into the microwave and it started to pop.

He came back with a bowl full of steaming popcorn and handed it to you.

“Be careful it’s,” he looked at you to see your mouth wide open and steam coming out, “hot.”

“Almost hotter than you,” you said once you caught your breath.

He rolled his eyes and fake laughed. “Hilarious, y/n.”

“I’m being serious.”

“C’mon, we’ve talked about this.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I think you’re hot,” you said. Every time this was brought up, he got so flustered. Which was why you continued to joke around with him and flirt with him. He would never act on it.

“Y/n…. I’m gonna go to bed if you keep this up.” He was annoyed.

“I’m sorry. Please stay? I’ll be good, I promise.” You batted your eyelashes at him.

“Fine, but you gotta stop,” he said, pulling your legs onto his lap so you could lounge more comfortably.

A rom-com was playing on the TV and the sound of munching on popcorn was filling the room.

A long distance relationship played out on the screen. Lots of phone calls, lots of phone sex, lots of jerking off to each other’s photos. You shifted in your seat, trying to seem casual and not uncomfortable.

“Not to make things weird, but I thought about you when I came last night.” You stopped shifting and looked at Charles.

“So much for ‘we’ve talked about this’.” You held up air quotes. “Care to elaborate?” He was known for saying out of pocket things. Sometimes you weren’t sure if he fully thought things through before he said them.

“I mean, not really. The movie just reminded me of it.”

You couldn’t think of a response quick enough so he continued to talk. “You always say whatever’s on your mind so I thought I might try it out.”

“You don’t do that enough already?”

“I’m trying to be more honest.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes at him. “I applaud you for that. But you can’t just leave me hanging like this.”

“Don’t hate me, that’s all I’m going to say.” His hand rubbed up and down your shins that were resting on his lap.

“I could never hate you, Charles.”

“Last night when you took a shower, you left the bathroom door wide open. I was just walking back to my room from the kitchen, I didn’t mean to-”

You laughed and interrupted him. “Charles, it’s okay. That’s my fault.”

“I just glanced, I promise. But I couldn’t get the thought out of my mind. And my cock was still really hard after a while.”

“You knew I was awake, you should have come to my room,” you said. It sounded good in theory but if you were being honest with yourself, you wouldn’t know what to do if he showed up at your bedroom door with a boner.

“We’re just friends though. Friends don’t do that type of shit.” He took a deep breath and looked off in the distance. Anything to avoid eye contact.

“Says who?” He looked at you and tilted his head in confusion. “A lot of friends do that type of shit. There’s even a word for it.”

“Have you thought about this before?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t… Charles, we’re two young twenty somethings that live together. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about what it would be like if we were sleeping together.”

“I don’t mean this in a bad way but I honestly didn’t think about it until I saw you.”

“Maybe it’s just the hopeless romantic in me.” You had thought about what a perfect storyline it would make for you two to sleep together but never the reality of actually getting into bed with him. Now that made you nervous.

“More like the horny romantic”

“Very funny…” You tossed a piece of popcorn at him and he swatted it away.

“So, are we doing this thing?” He turned his attention from the TV to you.

“Tell me you didn’t just actually ask me that question.” He was blunt and never beat around the bush.

“I did, and I would like an answer, please.” You wanted to smack that stupid smile off of his face for how he was making you feel.

“What’s this thing?” He needed to spell it out.

“Are you,” he pointed to you, “going to let me,” his finger moved to himself, “inside of you?”

You burst out laughing. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty. We need to set some ground rules for this.”

“Rules?” He didn’t look like he was a fan of rules. And as his roommate, you knew he wasn’t a fan of them. Just ask the groceries you’ve gone shopping for two months in a row.

“Our friendship, our cohabitation, you know. I’m not just going to let you go willy nilly on me without making sure you aren’t going to leave me friendless or homeless after.” Nothing could be done with you unless it was carefully planned. All possible outcomes had to be thought through.

“I would never leave you friendless or homeless.”

“Even if I was the worst person at sex, in the world, ever?”

“I highly doubt you’re the worst, but even if you were.”

“You’d still fuck me, even if everyone in the entire world was better than me. Damn I’m lucky.”

“Here’s a rule for you. You need to tell me how it feels. I’ll fuck you however you want to be fucked so you better tell me when something feels good.” Charles said.

“I can do that. If you like something I do, tell me. If you don’t, tell me.” You talked a big game but telling Charles how he made you feel sexually made your spine tingle, and you weren’t sure if it was anxiety or desire.

“I doubt there’s anything you can do to my body that I won’t like.” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. He was a guy after all.

“You wanna bet?” You asked, lunging at him jokingly.

“Sure, I’d like to see you try.”

“I guess I will, then.” You just needed time to plan it first.

He stood up and held out his hand for you to take. “Now that we’ve talked about it, I can’t get it off my mind.”

“You want to do this, right now?” Panic set in. This was too sudden.

“Right now,” he said, confidently. “If, that’s what you want, of course.”

“Okay.” You followed him into the hallway, bypassing your bedroom and ending up in his.

You took a few shy steps around, like you’d never been in there before. “Do you want to get on top or do you want me to?”

“Y/n…” He needed you to just relax and let go.

“Right, right, let’s just do it.” You took a step forward and he grabbed your face in his hands. Your lips moved with his, feeling soft and warm. There was only so much in your life you could plan. This was never part of it.

He slowly guided you to his bed and gently pushed you backwards. His shirt slid over his head and you admired his body, looking at him in a different light. He never took his shirt off around you with sexual intentions but this was new. And fun.

You smiled at him, both of you acknowledging what you were about to do. It made you explode inside thinking about how much you were enjoying this, letting someone else take control and letting go. You shouldn’t be enjoying this, you thought. Snap out of it.

“Before we start, is there anything you really don’t like?” He asked, reaching for the button of your denim shorts. You nodded side to side, giving him permission to pull the shorts down your legs.

He immediately pulled your thong aside and slipped a finger between your folds. He smiled feeling the wetness. “Thinking about us fucking is turning you on, isn’t it?”

“Don’t embarrass me,” you shot him a look and he understood.

“I’m not embarrassing you. It’s sexy.” He kneeled between your legs on the floor.

“Well, keep it to yourself,” you said.

“Why would I keep it to myself when I have physical proof that thinking about us is turning you on?” One of his fingers easily slid inside of you and your hips shifted as you rolled your eyes at him. “Is this okay?” He asked, concerned by your movements.

“Yes,” you said, unsure of what else to say. You didn’t want to give him any more ammo to make fun of you. You told each other everything but this was one side of you he never saw, and you didn’t think he ever would. Vulnerability at its finest, but you agreed to this.

His finger moved in and out of you and the sounds of your wet pussy made you want to cover your face and hide. He added a second and slowly curled his fingers up to hit your g-spot. A soft moan escaped your lips despite the fact that you were trying hard to keep them to yourself.

“Tell me how it feels.” He said.

“It feels,” you took a moment to breathe in, “so good.” He used his other hand to play with your clit, causing you more pleasure. You were looking at the ceiling, finding it hard to acknowledge that Charles was the one making you feel like this. If you squeezed your eyes shut hard enough, maybe this wouldn’t be something you needed to worry about.

A euphoric feeling began to build in your stomach, your legs slowly going numb in the best way possible. You continued to try and hold in your moans but when you hit your climax, everything was uncontrollable. Your body jerked and moans fell as you rode out your high.

You opened your eyes to see Charles pulling his fingers out and smiling. He made you feel that way and while you lay half naked on his bed post-orgasm, it was starting to feel okay. How much more vulnerable could you get with him than this?

He stood up and pulled his sweatpants off, his hard cock springing out of his cotton boxers. Your jaw dropped and you couldn’t help but stare as he stroked himself, preparing for you. He noticed, but ignored it, granting your request of not embarrassing you. The look he shot you was enough to know that he was aware of your stares.

“I’m only gonna say it one more time,” he said, leaning on top of you with his hands on either side of your head. “You need to tell me how it feels, or I’m going to start talking really dirty with you.”

You laughed, feeling more relaxed than before. “I almost want to keep quiet on purpose just to see that.”

He dipped his head in disappointment. “Not funny.”

“I think I’m pretty funny.”

“You are, but I want to make you feel good. I’d rather know then instead of you telling me I sucked after.”

“Okay, okay,” you obliged. He nodded and positioned himself at your entrance, slowly pushing himself inside of you.

You had to adjust to his size - his dick was nothing like his fingers. He didn’t give you much time before he started moving and you didn’t even care. He felt so good inside of you and seeing his body on top of you was putting you at ease rather than stressing you out, like you had expected it to.

His head rested in the crook of your neck, giving you perfect access to his ear. Almost like he did it on purpose, to make you more comfortable. You didn’t have to look at him in the eyes and admit how good he was making you feel. “Your dick feels so good,” you whispered in his ear and he grunted in response.

“You’re so tight, fuck,” he said into your ear, slightly nibbling on the lobe.

His hips moved rhythmically while you lifted your feet onto his back to change the angle. You couldn’t help but let more moans slip out at the feeling. “I think I’m gonna cum,” you said, quietly.

“Let go,” he said followed by a few expletives. His pelvis ground into you, creating a sensation on your clit you’ve never experienced.

You felt your second orgasm of the night build up as he continued to fuck you, keeping the same pace. You held your hands on his back and let moans fall to his ear making sure he knew how good you felt.

He pulled out of you and your body felt like deadweight. You were glued to the bed and couldn’t find the energy to get up. “How was that?” He asked. Of course he couldn’t give you a second to recover before opening his mouth.

“Great,” you smiled, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Did you finish?” You sure hadn’t felt him cum inside of you and you don’t think he wore a condominium either.

“No, but I just wanted to make sure you felt good.” He picked his sweatpants up off the floor and went to put his boxers back on before you stopped him.

“Unacceptable. I’m not going to let you jerk off thinking about me two nights in a row. Especially not after I was just naked in your bed.” Your post-orgasm confidence was showing when you dropped to your knees in front of him and took his still hard cock in your hand.

Slick juices still covered it, making it easier for you once you took him in your mouth. He was bigger than you expected, so you started swirling your tongue around the tip while your hand worked at the rest of him. “Shit,” you could hear him say.

You slowly took more of him, hollowing out your cheeks in response to his moans. His hand found the back of your head but rested there, not wanting to pressure you for more but he couldn’t resist once you fit almost all of him in your mouth.

The sounds he made caused butterflies in your stomach knowing that you were the sole reason for those sounds. His grip got tighter on you and he started to thrust into you when you felt a warm liquid shoot down your throat.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he grunted while you took every last drop. You stood up and took a step back, swiping your finger over your bottom lip.

He looked at you with the same eyes you looked at him after he finished fucking you. “So, uh,” he said. “Where do we go from here?”

You nervously looked around the room. “Should we finish the movie?”

“Great idea.”

You both put your clothes back on and sat back on the couch. “Let’s talk about that.” He never knew when to shut up, but sometimes it was for the better.

“What about it?”

“Did you like it? Should we do it again? Do you want to move out?” You laughed at his last question.

“It was really good,” you said, your thoughts wandering to just a few moments ago. You wouldn’t mind having him on top of you again. “We might as well.”

“Just one more thing,” he said. “Don’t fall in love with me.” He smiled and let out a giggle. You weren’t sure if he was being serious or not, but you laughed along too.

[bang-tan-bitches]

Title: Need - 3 Word Count: 2.8k+ Rating: M Genre: fluff, smut, abo!universe, hybrid!bts Warnings: smut, multiple partner smut, threesome, two some, some some, creampie(s), knotting, biting, minor blood play, minor dirty talk, alpha/omega dynamic, anal sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (M and F receiving) Pairing: Namjoon x fem!reader, Yoongi x fem!reader, Hoseok x fem!reader Summary: Sometimes you find your mate, and sometimes you find three. Life is funny that way. Written by: Admin A

A/N: Hello and welcome to the final chapter of Need. This one is just pure smut. So much smut.. so please thank B for her brilliant mind. There’s no way this would have happened without her. Thank you all for your patience, we hope you enjoy!

- Part One - Part Two - Part Three(end) -

There’s no time for you to look around what you’re sure is a rather amazing room. Namjoon is walking so fast, he may as well be running. The other two right behind him. 

Namjoon dumps you on the bed, throwing the useless sheet to the far corner of the room. You bounce once before he’s on you, pressing you into the mattress. His hands slide around your waist moving up and bringing the t-shirt with as his lips find yours. Too soon, he pulls away, your lips parted by the shirt he’s trying to remove. You resist, wrapping your arms around his neck and clinging to him. He chuckles and pulls away, taking your shirt with him, tossing it to the corner of the room with the sheet. Once he’s off the bed, you prop yourself up on your elbows, panting a little. 

You blink slowly as you realize Hoseok and Yoongi are already naked and standing at the end of the bed, their hot hungry eyes are roving your body and you feel a delicious shiver run through you. Your eyes wander over their hard, lean bodies and you feel a growl of your own build in the back of your throat at the thought of anyone else having seen them this way. They were yours in a way you didn’t fully understand yet, but were more than willing to figure out. 

“Like what you see baby?” Namjoon asks from beside you and you turn your head enough to find him. You mean to meet his eyes, really, you do. But when you turn to look at him, your gaze gets caught on his large cock - heavy and hard and right in your face. It’s base is nestled in dark curls and you have the sudden urge to bury your nose in them and drown in his scent.  You lick your lips as it bobs in front of you and don’t think twice before sucking the tip into your mouth. Above you, Namjoon groans and the bed dips as two more bodies join you. After a quick flick of your tongue against his slit, licking up the bead of pre-cum there, you release him with a wet pop! 

You turn and smirk at Yoongi and Hoseok as you answer, “Very much.” 

Namjoon wraps a hand in your hair and tilts your head back until you meet his gaze and you gasp. His eyes are melted gold and amber swirling around a wide black pupil and the longer you look, the more it seems like something was trying to emerge through the flames in his eyes. Quickly, you avert your eyes and his hand tightens slightly at the submissive action.  You moan and arch your back at his dominant touch. 

“Oh, you like that, don’t you sweetheart?” Hoseok says softly from near your feet and you look down at him as best you can with Namjoon’s hand still in your hair. His mouth is twisted into a wicked smile that promises all sorts of debauchery and his eyes… his eyes are the same golden shade as Namjoon’s. “You want to be dominated, don’t you? Held down and knotted. You want us to fill you up until you’re dripping, our scent all over you, inside and out, our kits growing in your belly.” 

You lick your lips and swallow thickly, but don’t say anything, it’s too much, knowing what he’s suggesting is exactly what you want, when only that morning the thought of, well, all of it had been the furthest thing from your mind. His lips are warm as he leaves a trail of wet kisses all over your stomach, almost as if he’s imagining you already round with their child. Namjoon’s hand tightens again, then loosens when you look up at him, but he doesn’t let go. The soft head of his cock brushes against your cheek. “Your Alpha asked you a question Omega.” 

The air leaves you in a rush as another wave of lust overcomes you when you realize that these were Alphas, in every sense of the word. 

“Yes Alpha.” You finally answer, your voice thick with desire. 

“Good girl.” Yoongi purrs into your ear and nuzzles just behind it. Namjoon lets go of your hair and uses that hand to cup the back of your neck, stroking lightly with his fingers.  You turn to look at Yoongi and once again, you’re caught in a golden gaze, though his seems to be threaded with black rather than amber and, just as you did with Namjoon, you avert your eyes. 

“Such a good girl.” Yoongi murmurs and nips your earlobe. 

Distracted as you are by Namjoon and Yoongi, you haven’t noticed Hoseok moving closer until his hands are prying apart your thighs.  You part them easily and meet his heated - golden and red - gaze. “We’re going to fuck you now, our little omega. Later, we’ll be gentle, but right now, we want to fuck you into this mattress and make you scream.” He lowers his head and licks a warm, wet trail up your thigh and to your core then looks up at you from between your thighs, “Do you want that?” 

“Yes. Yes Alpha, please.” You plead and thrust your hips closer to his mouth, but he pulls away. 

“Please what, Omega?” 

“Fuck me. Fill me. Mark me. Everything. Just please!” You cry out, needing them to do something, anything. Your emotions were no longer at war within you. They’d all given way to a desire so intense you were surprised you hadn’t burst into flames yet. Namjoon let’s go of you and your head hits the pillow.

Hoseok licks a stripe from the bottom of your slit to your clit before slipping his tongue inside. It's hotter and deeper than you thought a tongue could go, but right now you don’t care because the way he’s moving it and the spots he’s hitting is making you see stars   “You taste so delicious, no wonder Yoongi couldn’t help himself.” He says then sticks two fingers into your sopping wet core, pushing them in and out, occasionally curling them to hit that sweet spot deep inside you. “You’re so wet. Are you ready for me baby?” 

You nod and he moves to position himself at your entrance, with a quick thrust of his hips, he’s hilt deep inside you and you keen from pleasure. 

“That’s it baby girl, take it all.” he purrs as he pulls out. 

“You look so pretty with his cock buried inside your pretty little cunt.” 

You feel something warm and soft press against your parted lips. Opening eyes you didn’t realize you closed, you meet Namjoon’s eyes before opening your mouth wider, letting him fuck your mouth while you wrap a hand around Yoongi, pumping him in time with Hoseok’s trusts. 

Busy as you are with Namjoon and Yoongi, you don’t notice how hot and hard Hoseok’s hands are on your thighs until he’s pushing your legs up and into Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s waiting grips, opening you up for him to thrust deeper. 

“Gotta make sure you don’t spill any. Need to fill you…” Hoseok leans over you, distracting you from Namjoon and Yoongi. 

Namjoon slips out of your mouth and Yoongi out of your hand when Hoseok flips you over without warning, making you gasp as he pulls out and pushes back in without missing a beat.

“Hands and knees baby girl.” 

You comply and Yoongi shifts and shimmies until he's underneath you. You let them move you how they want, slipping off of one hard cock and onto the other, riding Yoongi like there's no tomorrow and taking a kneeling Namjoon back into your mouth. Choking without the use of your hands. 

Namjoon slowly pulls out of your mouth so you can catch your breath and you tense when you feel lubed fingers circling your asshole. A little scared, but excited over what is happening, you try to relax, but you know they can feel your trepidation. Yoongi rubs his hot hands down your back, trying to soothe your nerves.

“Shh… it’s okay baby girl. You can take me here. You were made for this. For us.” Hoseok slides his fingers inside your ass a little deeper, slowly stretching you open.

Yoongi kisses you deeply, his hot tongue licking into your mouth and distracting you enough to allow Hoseok to slip his fingers out of you and slowly push the tip of his cock inside your ass.

You whimper into Yoongi’s mouth as Hoseok stretches your tight ring of muscle. Namjoon slips his fingers through your hair and gently guides your head to the side so he can kiss you. All three men groan once Hoseok is fully sheathed inside of you, as if they are synced together and can all equally feel you. 

Namjoon kisses you deeply, a sloppy, wet, dirty kiss filled with tongues and teeth as Hoseok and Yoongi thrust inside of you simultaneously. You feel overly sensitive as if there are a million hands touching you everywhere at once. Every thrust fills you with pleasure. Large, hot hands grip your breasts, plucking your nipples as other hands grip your hips, holding you tighter, and fingers tangle in your hair. 

The wet sounds of Yoongi and Hoseok pushing inside of you are obscene. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t completely blissed out. Sweat covers all your bodies and every push and pull of their cocks has you shivering and pulsing around them. You are so close, you can feel every ridge of their veiny cocks.

“You’re close, aren’t you baby?” Yoongi growls as he gives a particularly hard thrust, “I can feel your sweet cunt squeezing around me.”

You can barely moan out a yes, your body shivering uncontrollably. Everything feels so tight and tense, and every thrust has your body trembling with pleasure. You feel fuzzy, almost lightheaded, and with Yoongi and Hoseok thrusting in tandem, you can feel yourself so close to coming.

“Such a beautiful little omega.” Namjoon’s voice is thick with lust, “Come for us, Omega. Please your alphas.”

Yoongi swallows your cry as you come, his thick cock swelling inside you. You can feel his knot catch at your entrance and the stretch of him burns so good. His cock pulses as he unloads a thick flood of come inside of you. Hoseok presses his forehead against your shoulder blade, his hips stuttering as he continues fucking your ass. His hands grip your hips tightly, sharp nails prickling your soft skin. He waits until the last possible moment before pulling out, thick globs of his come coating your ass. He presses himself against you, his thick cock resting between the cheeks of your ass, his knot feels hard against your skin. You’re so sweaty and so hot, come leaking out around Yoongi’s cock while Hoseok nuzzles the back of your neck.

You know how this works. In theory. You have heard stories anyways. That their release is their cue to mark you. You brace yourself for the pain of their bites, more than ready to bear their marks, ready to show the world you belong with them… they don’t. 

They don’t bite you and it seems they don’t plan to. Before you can question it or get too worked up over the lack of teeth, Hoseok pulls away and Yoongi slips out of you and you’re jostled around to a new position. You close your eyes at the speed of their movements, feeling the soft bedding against your back and the heat from one of the alphas on top of you.

Your eyes flutter open and meet Namjoon’s slitted eyes and wicked smile. His large, warm hands slip down your sides to slide your legs open. You do not know where Yoongi and Hoseok are, but your gaze is completely consumed with Namjoon. His body radiates power and the feel of his thick, veiny cock pressed between you has you dripping with anticipation.

“We’ve been waiting for you, Omega,” Namjoon’s voice is dark, seductive, “I’ve been waiting for you.” 

You gasp when he slides inside of you. He’s so big, it’s almost painful. You thought that after Yoongi’s knot you would be able to take Namjoon easier, you were wrong. Every part of him is pressed so intimately close to you that you can only breathe him in with every lungful of air. 

“Fuck,” His deep voice sends shivers down your spine, every part of your body yearning for him to speak again, “Such a good little omega.”

“Yes,” You gasp, arching your back. You can feel every rigid inch of his thick cock inside you. "I-I'm your good o-omega."

"You take our cocks so well." Namjoon groans out, his body feels so hot pressed against yours. Your hands grip his shoulders, trying to anchor yourself, his once smooth skin feels hard and almost scaly. You don’t even realize you have sliced open your palms until your hand cups Namjoon’s face, leaving a bloody handprint. His nostrils flare at the scent of your blood and you gasp as he seems to slide in deeper. 

You can barely catch your breath, you feel dizzy with pleasure. Namjoon grips your bloody hand, holding it to his lips, his long-pointed tongue licking your bloody fingers. Every swipe of his tongue has your cunt clenching tighter around him. You know that you are going to come again. Every thrust of his cock has you gushing around him. The scent of sex and blood is thick in the air. 

“Such a sweet, sweet omega. Giving yourself to us.” Namjoon groans - his voice deeper than moments before - with a measured thrust making your toes curl, “Do you want to come?”

 “Yes,” You moan, your voice sounding hoarse to your own ears, “p-please, it feels so good.”

“Be a good girl,” Namjoon’s hot, hot fingers slip between your bodies, his sharp nails pinching your clit hard, “Come for your alpha.”

You shudder as you come hard, your back arching as your hips press up against Namjoon. You cannot hear anything over the blood rushing through your ears. You swear you almost black out at the intensity of your orgasm, you’re so hot and sweaty, hair plastered to your neck. 

Before you can catch your breath, you can feel Namjoon’s heavy cock begin to swell. It’s almost painful how he stretches you open and you can feel the tears gathering behind your closed eyes. He continues thrusting until his knot prevents him from moving, unloading hot sticky ribbons of come inside you. His come is so hot it almost burns, and his low continuous growl has your cunt clenching tighter around him. 

You keep your eyes closed, waiting for the marking bite that never comes. You can feel the combined release of you and your alphas dribbling out around Namjoon’s slowly deflating knot. Once Namjoon completely pulls away, you feel cold, almost empty.

Panting, you lay there, motionless except for the rise and fall of your chest with each breath. You try not to let the disappointment building in your chest spill onto your face. It was hard though. They had called you Omega… you were sure they were your Alphas…. so why didn’t they mark you? 

It hurt to think you had possibly just been used to get them through their heat and it wasn’t meant to be after all… but as their still warm come dripped out of your swollen cunt, you couldn’t help but feel overwhelming disappointment. 

“Not tired yet, are you Omega?” 

You blink away the tears you can feel building, bringing yourself back to the present with a gasp as you take in the sight at the end of the bed. 

“I- wh-what?” You could barely form words as you looked from one pair of leather wings to the other. Yoongi stood to one side, dark velvety looking black wings spread out behind him. Beside him, Hoseok with bright red wings, golden veins seeming to light them up from within. Each of them sporting curling black horns. And standing at the foot of the bed, smoke and fire leaking from his toothy grin, stood Namjoon, his blue wings taking on a silvery tint in the light, his horns were obviously the largest, curling back behind his ears. 

“No, our little Omega can’t be tired yet.” Hoseok says, smiling widely at the look of shock and awe that must be on your face. “We haven’t even marked her yet.” 

Your eyes go wide at his words and you grip the sheet a little tighter as you stare at their sharp teeth. Imugis. Your mind flashes to the legends of the korean dragons your grandfather used to tell you about in your childhood. Water gods known for benevolence and good luck. But your grandfather also told you of the darker fables, the imugis that were cursed, that were dangerous and possessive, that had sharp claws and even sharper teeth.

“Come, our little Omega,” Yoongi curls his long claw tipped fingers, beckoning you, “it’s time for your marks.” 

[slutfor-fictionalmen]

¥ Pretty boy ¥

Rich! Izuku midoriya x F! Plus size! reader

Hi everyone!!! this is part of @bakugohoex‘s Collab, you should check the rest of the collab and her works out!!! enjoy!!

Izuku comes from a rich family, owns lavish cars and houses upon houses but all he really wants is you. You come from a humble background, refusing wealth but dealing when izuku wants to spoil you. Izu can literally fuck you anywhere because he is that rich; Nsfw, Fluff, public sex(kinda), smut(kinda? dom izu), reader is kinda a cheapskate.

Sorry it’s so bad; I may continue/ revise based on how this is taken!

“Oh, come on, Y/n! It’ll be so fun, I promise! it’s just one trip; you won’t feel like you did last time!” Memories of the past trip flash through the shapely woman's mind: paparazzi, lavish hotels(yes hotels, he wanted a different view every night), thousand dollar meals, designer boutiques, everything that you had avoided in your life as a pro hero was ironical, as it was all tackled at once.

You loved your boyfriend, and you admire his willingness to give, but this was the main reason you gave a lot of your earnings to health organizations and hotlines, you didn’t feel you needed the money, you were doing just fine without it, eating at home, carpooling to save on gas, helping out at your apartment to get a bit taken off of your rent. But Izuku was born into a life of wealth. Heir to the Yagi fortune, but despite his wealth, you wouldn’t know he was wealthy by simply meeting him.

“Oh, don’t patronize me izuku, you know I would hate that trip, I always hate overly expensive trips, I could get the same trip through my booking sites for half the price, and you know that!” You huff leaning over to fold your laundry. Izuku walks behind you, placing his large hands on your hips and leaning his head on your shoulder. You could feel his pleading look without even looking at him.

“Indulge me, baby. I promise I won’t make it too expensive,” You felt him kiss at your neck, making you sigh until he let out the final part of his argument, a simple,” Please?” You took his hands off your hips and walked away. Izuku sat defeated until he heard you rustle around, cursing as you made a mess of your once clean closet, and came back into the room with a defeated look and a suitcase. “How long are we going for?” Izuku smiled widely and spun you around, his eyes full of love.

----------------time skip to the day of the plans----------------

You gave yourself one last look in the mirror before sighing, regretting agreeing to this trip as you fix your sundress, admiring how the fabric hugs your soft curves perfectly. You knew this vacation would be perfect, that you would love it, but your stubborn mind wanted to fight the potential enjoyment.

Your mouth turned bitter as you internally fought with yourself, going from a fight of stubbornness to a battle against your self-confidence. Your mind picked on everything that wasn’t on your mind before as a deflect of being questioned. Your unpleasant thoughts were interrupted by a certain green-haired man as he walked into the room, stunned at how beautiful you looked in that dress. Distracted by the unmistakable twinkle in his eyes, your thoughts soon disappeared and were replaced with wonder.

“What’re you looking at?” He shook himself out of his trance to approach you with a smile. “Just looking at my beautiful baby girl in that dress, she so horribly fought me on. You look gorgeous, by the way.” His rough hands were felt through the sheer material of the outfit as his thumbs rubbed gentle circles on your wide hips.

You smiled softly and kissed his cheek, looking into his eyes. “Are you ready to go? Cause one more minute, and I may just back out of this.” His eyes go wide as he pulls away and rushes to get everything in the car. Your chuckles are short-lived as he soon comes back and picks you up. “You’re the last thing I need so we can go” you squeak as you remember this man can lift nearly 300 pounds. Why shouldn’t he lift you? Still, every time he lifts you, it comes as a surprise.

He quickly sets you into the car, alarming you with the fact that the driver isn’t any driver at all, it’s one of his close friends, todoroki, and this isn’t even your car; it’s his. “I figured we didn’t need to use the driver and waste money on parking, todo’s gonna drop us off, and I’ll have the driver pick us up after!” Your eyes watered, you knew that the rest of the trip would be extravagant but it was these little things that made you fall in love with him, over and over again. You sat with your hand in his all the way to the airport. You were excited to see new places but dreading the paparazzi.

You stood out of the car, taking in the cool breeze and walking around the car to get to the bags in the back. You bring both of your bags out, along with your carry-ons, and wait for him to finish his conversation with his friend to come to collect his bags. You hear izuku bid him farewell and thank him for the ride before he slips a 20 for gas in his friend’s car and walks to you. “Now don’t be mad...” His eyes shift when he bows his head, preparing to be lectured,” I got first class, and I know you don’t-” You laughed, only calming to rub his shoulder with a smile. “It’s ok! I’ll let it pass.... for now. Now, let’s get our free drink on!”

You’re the first to board, ignoring the dirty looks from the other passengers; you made a vow to enjoy this time.... for izuku’s sake. Your smile didn’t falter, even when the check-in lady gave you a surprising look when you gave her the ticket. You walked onto the plane with confidence; izuku could only say that you looked as if you were born for this… that you belonged here.  Your Seats were opened to each other, making a two-bedroom cabin area.

You let izuku walk past you to put your bags to the side and look at the menu. One thing you could never understand is his appetite, he eats more than a group of teenage boys, and he still keeps fit, even if he doesn’t work out. You never found that fair. You shook your head out of the thoughts and sat next to him, searching the tv for a decent channel. You shut off the tv when you saw the news about a new villain, suddenly stressing about the city and what’ll happen if you leave. Your mind flooded with thoughts of the places you love on fire, the people you loved killed and showed as a warning to all the other heroes.

Luckily Deku, who had just finished ordering pretty much the whole menu, sensed your sudden situation and reached over you, pulling the leaver to set your seat back. The sudden movement knocked you out of your daze, causing you to look at the man perched above you with a frustrated look on his face. “You have just been a whirlwind of emotions today, haven’t you? You refuse to calm down; the city will be fine, it’s only a week, and we’re not even going that far!” “but-” “No buts! You don’t want to make me sad, do you?” You sigh, realizing that it was highly improbable for that to happen while you were gone, but that didn’t stop you from worrying. Despite that, you sucked it up, deciding that you might as well enjoy these trips before something happens, after all hero business is very dangerous.

“No Izuku, i don’t” He tilts your chin in order for your eyes to reach his. “Izuku? Really? You know that’s not what i want to hear princess.” You suddenly realize the shift of atmosphere, Izuku’s eyes darkened. “No daddy.” “Good girl.”

He lets his hand drag to the bottom of your dress, pushing up the tinted fabric as he moves his hand to rest on your thigh. Your thighs clench unintentionally when he reaches for the top of your underwear, flinching when he snaps the fabric back onto your skin.

You weren’t used to your soft lover taking the lead, you were the one who took control. You usually calmed your own nerves, with him of course. But you couldn’t think, you couldn't take control, you just had to let him help you, clear your mind and calm you.

You couldn’t help but shiver at the look in his eyes when he’s in control. His eyes darkening,a small glimmer in his eyes is still present but he looks….. Animalistic. You slide your underwear off of your plush form, confidently as he watches you with a ever-growing tent in his pants.

Izuku reached out to your body, holding your soft hip as he moves to slide his form between your thighs. “I don’t think i can be patient much longer beautiful, i may just fuck you like this.” He cups your cheek and uses his thumb to play with your lip, testing how far he can go before sticking his finger in your mouth. You obediently suck on it, watching him bite his lip and shift away to get undressed. “Who says i don’t want you to?”

He quickly takes off his shirt, his scars and freckles littering his tan skin. Izuku's pants are soon to follow allowing his cock to tap his stomach. You always loved how easy it was to get him to get hard, he was always ready for you to fuck him, ready to make love at the mere thought of your full, soft form.

You heard izuku whisper a quick ‘fuck it’ before he grabbed your thighs, wrapping them around his hips and grinding softly onto your soft cunt. Your soft moans fueled the burning fire of his. He grabbed his shaft, lining himself up with your weeping hole. He kissed you deeply before pushing into you, his lips muffling your sweet moans.

His cock throbs as he patiently waits for you to adjust to his girth. Your hips ache, already feeling the pressure of your current activities take it’s toll on your body. Your minds begins to flood with need, processing just how close izuku is, how his muscles feel under your finger tips, how he reacts when you experiment with tightening your smooth walls around him. He waits for you to move, slightly wiggling your hips, before he gives into the feeling, whimpering and keeping a steady pace.

You feel his tip brush against your sweet spot with every thrust, unraveling quicker then you would have liked. Izuku’s blush reaches onto his chest as you moan into his ear, teasing him. He speeds up, ramming into your sweet spot, causing that knot in your stomach to tighten before he shifts to rub at your clit sloppily, letting out lewd noises and tipping you over the edge. Your body freezes, a shaking gasp falling from your lips as you arch your back and your walls flutter and tighten around izuku’s dick. He’s soon to follow, spilling his load over your soft stomach before slowly pulling out and flopping onto his bed besides you.

“That’s one great way to start a shitty trip.” You laugh looking over into his forest eyes. Izuku grabs your hand, kissing your palm and giving you a small smile. “Or just a wonderful way to start a potentially amazing trip. You promised you’d let me spoil you this time, so let me use my money to give you comfort. Ok?” You nod, adjusting your seat to be upright again, and lean over to the champagne. The view out the window is something of beauty as the clouds fold into each other and the sky casts a pink, soft hue onto the white canvas.

Izuku grabs himself a glass, leaning his seat all the way back and putting a complementary eye mask on.

“And besides, the more money we pay, the less people will care where we fuck each other.” He was born into this life, born for it. He was used to this and could be for the rest of his full life.

But izuku would do anything just to be by your side. That’s one thing he can’t pay for.

[dreamcatcherrs]

a high school prom au where the reader and Dream are like childhood best friends and the readers date shows up with someone else then when the reader feels all lonely, Dream is like “what if we danced🥺” ??? anyways love you and your fanfics you’re like my favorite writer on tumblr💖💘

+ this is such a cute concept! I’ve never written anything like this, but I hope it was what you wanted<3

++ also this is such an old request, I’m so sorry

prom night - dream

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: high school au! dream x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after being abandoned by your prom date, the person you expected the least to spend the night with asks you for a dance.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1.501

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: angst, fluff, swearing, slight mention of alcohol use.

song recommendation: love on the brain - rihanna

you couldn’t believe your eyes.

there your date stood, arm wrapped around a person that you for sure knew wasn't you. the excitement disappeared from every corner and edge of your body, hands falling to your sides in complete disappointment.

proudly, your so-called date stepped forward in line with a smile on their face, waiting to be the next for the photo shoot the had been set up. your smile was gone. and so was your passion for continuing this prom.

looking down, you turned on your heels, walking away from the great asshole of a date, and finding an empty seat by one of the available tables.

you’d wondered why it took so long for your date to arrive - you should’ve known, really. but no - now you were just left sitting alone by an empty table. what was the point of even being there anymore when all you could feel was loneliness?

everyone else was having fun, partying and smiling about the night ahead of them - just like you should’ve been. but now, you were just left with feeling disappointed in yourself. how could you make yourself believe that someone actually wanted to bring a date like you to the prom? what were you thinking?

you sighed deeply as you rested your head in the palm of your hand, other hand busy with tracing the cutouts on the table.

“just go over there, man!”

“yeah, they’re just sitting there all alone… this is your perfect chance!”

clay scratched the back of his head, staring down at the drink in his hand.

“I don't know… what if they say no?”

george and nick both rolled their eyes. the only one who really believed that was gonna happen would be clay. it was crystal clear to literally everyone else that the two of you had developed feelings for each other over the many years of knowing one another. clay would always brush it off with a “we’re just friends”, but really, he knew they were right.

he’d known you since he was 8 and you 7 - having been best friends since that day and until last year. you'd kinda… broken off since then. as you grew older, more important things had distracted you from keeping the connection, and eventually, you just slipped away.

he knew he liked you as more than a friend. but he was certain you didn't.

after all, you wanted to go with a complete dickhead, who ditched you anyway. and now look where you were.

“hey guys~ why are you wasting the night just standing here? let’s party!” karl slurred as he came crashing into george and nick, swinging both arms around their shoulder from behind.

as george was busy pushing karls’ arm off of him, and nick pulling him closer, clay’s eyes were only focused on you. you looked so… sad. no one should be sad on their prom night, and frankly, maybe his friends were right.

before he knew it, his feet dragged him across the dance floor, towards your place on the chair. george’s eyes widened, a big smile spreading across his face, showing off his braces.

“would you two stop flirting with each other and watch what is happening right now?”

nick and karl giggled.

“why, are you jealous gogy?” nick teased, causing a light shade of pink to brush across george’s cheeks.

“shut up-”

“hey.”

the second you broke away from your melancholy stare at the table, your heart started racing and a wave of sweat danced across your skin. he hadn't talked to you since… you couldn’t even remember the last time.

lifting your head off your hand, you sat up straight, watching as clay scratched the back of his neck nervously.

“hi,” you responded, voice quiet and unsure.

why was he talking to you all of a sudden? after all these months with absolutely no contact with each other, now he wants to talk to you? on the other hand, it’s not like you'd been very communicative with him either…

clay hesitated slightly, shifting on his feet. “why are you sitting here all alone? I thought you had a date?”

you sighed, corner of your lips turning down slightly. “yeah… they ditched me.” you looked away from him, feeling somewhat embarrassed that you'd let yourself get into a situation like that.

clay felt bad. how could someone let go so easily of someone as perfect as you? on the other hand, this meant that no one else could have you - and that made him kind of relieved.

he hesitated a little before speaking up again; “what a dickhead.”

that made you laugh a little. “yeah.”

silence approached after that, and a tension started building up. the both of you could feel the unspoken words you'd been keeping from each other rise up - yet you remained quiet.

after all, there wasn’t really anyone you could blame your fading friendship on - apart from yourselves.

clay cleared his throat, as a new, slower song came on, hand reaching out in front of him, hovering right before you. your eyes trailed along his tux-clad arm and up to his eyes, noticing the withheld love in them.

“do you wanna dance with me?”

you blinked at him, thankful that the fluorescent lights made it hard for him to see the blush on your cheeks. your heart felt as if it was pounding out of your chest.

“I-,” you stuttered, recollecting yourself quickly before placing your hand into his, fitting perfectly right into his palm. you smiled up at him softly. “I’d love to.” he smiled back to you, gripping onto your hand and lead you through the large crowd of people onto the dance floor.

he turned to you, taking in how absolutely breathtaking you looked right then. it was hard for him not to blurt out compliments at you at any given chance.

his hands found their place on your waist, and you let your hand snake around his neck, resting right where his haircut ended. it tickled him in a way that made him realise just how much he had missed your touch - hell, even talking to you reminded him of how lonely he’d felt without you.

slowly, the two of you swayed from side to side along to the song, just staring into each others eyes. clay sneaked a glance down at your lips, quickly averting his eyes again once you parted them.

“I’m really sorry we haven’t talked for so long,” you spoke, twirling a finger around one of his locks. “I miss it a lot. I missed you, clay.”

you stared at him with a look of guilt, biting down on your bottom lips once you'd finished your sentence. you looked down again, feeling sorry that you hadn't reached out to him before.

clay moved a hand to your cheek, tilting your head upwards so you'd look at him again. your eyes widened at the touch of his fingers, and you melted into his hand once his thumb bushed across the soft skin of your cheek.

“I missed you too, y/n. don't be sorry about that - I could’ve reached out too, y’know? we’re both guilty on that note. but, now that I can finally talk to you again, I don't wanna worry about the past, okay? I just want you to have a good night.”

you smiled softly at his words, feeling a wave of forgiveness wash over you. it felt good to know that you had your friend back again.

“I don't think my night can be ruined at this point,” you smiled, moving your hands from his nape to his shoulders instead.

“well, can I still make it a little bit better?” you raised an eyebrow at him, cocking your head to the side slightly.

his eyes fell down to look at your lips again, this time not being able to hold back from the temptation.

your lips attached to his.

and everything around you just stopped.

your eyes fluttered closed, leaning into the kiss once you realised what was happening, only making him pull you closer to him. his lips moved so gently, slowly against yours, a withheld desire finally being released.

who cared about the things that’d gotten in the way of your friendship? all that mattered right now was this very moment - that’s all that ever mattered.

“yes clay!”

“finally he fucking did it.”

the yelling coming from karl and nick from a distance away made the two of you break away from each other, turning your heads to the direction of them. george elbowed nick in the stomach to stop him from jumping into the air, revealing their spying spot.

you chuckled lightly at them, slowly turning your head back to clay with a lick of your lips. clay sent them a nice “fuck off” with his middle fingers, before also returning to the current situation and smiling at you widely.

“better now?”

you smiled wider at that. if only he knew.

______________________________________

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[junghelioseok]

clandestine. | 05

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 7.6k [5/6]

notes: second to last installment of a fic that didn’t need to be as long as it is!!! really this entire thing can be summed up with last chapter’s warning, which was “reader is dumb and jungkook is slutty.” i stand by it, okay!!! 🤷🏻‍♀️

warnings: dumb banter, a couple brief smutty bits, oral (f receiving), listen to slow dancing in the dark by joji during the soft smut scene in the middle if u want 

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 

“No. No. God, no. Has your music taste always been this bad, or is this a recent development?”

“You will excuse yourself,” you retort sharply, wagging a finger at your brother. “Mr. Brightside is a classic and I will not hear this slander. Please feel free to permanently vacate the premises if you disagree.”

Jimin rolls his eyes from where he’s slouched on the couch beside you, one hand submerged in a bag of chips and his bare feet kicked up on the coffee table. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m dramatic? Really? You wanna go there, Chim?” You raise your hand and begin ticking off on your fingers. “I’m not the one who threw a fit over a piece of cilantro in my taco. I’m not the one who refused to bathe when Mom couldn’t find the right bubble bath.”

“Oh my god, I was eight,” Jimin snorts. “Both times. And cilantro tastes like soap.”

You raise a third finger. “What about the time you hid all the Monopoly money because you kept losing? Or when yo—”

A knock on the door cuts you off mid-sentence, and you nudge Jimin’s shin with your big toe. “Go get the door,” you order, and you aren’t sure if he’s just tired of hearing your voice, but he stands up without complaint and wanders into the entryway to receive your unexpected guest.

“Hey,” you hear him say. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” a very familiar voice replies. “I need some help.”

It’s Jungkook. Of course it’s Jungkook. You haven’t seen him since he dropped you off and kissed you senseless in your driveway, but you’d have to be delusional to think that you could avoid him for the next week and a half before you leave to return to Seoul. And yet, you allowed yourself to indulge in your delusions for two full days, before he tears them apart with ten simple, innocent words.

“So, I think I might have done the laundry wrong.”

Jimin laughs out loud, covering his mouth with his hand. “That’s all you, Noona,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at you, and you don’t even have wherewithal to lecture him about the sexism of his remark because Jungkook is smirking like he’s just won the lottery and you’re his grand prize.

“Noona?” he begins, his voice syrupy sweet and thick with intent. “Can you come help me?”

You glance down at your pajamas—gray sweatpants and a pink Pusheen t-shirt that’s a couple sizes too big. It’s beyond obvious that you have no plans for the day, and therefore no excuse not to help. Heaving a resigned sigh, you clamber to your feet and roll your eyes when Jimin immediately flops down across the newly abandoned couch and lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Have fun,” he calls lazily as you walk out, and you do your best to ignore the wicked grin that flashes across Jungkook’s face.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it fun,” he says as he lets you pass by him to exit the house. “See you later, Jimin.”

As soon as the front door slams shut, you round on him with a glare. “Are you serious, Jungkook?” you hiss. “He’s totally going to catch on to… to whatever it is we’re doing.”

“You’re being paranoid,” Jungkook chides, clicking his tongue. He hops over the low bushes that divide your property, and waits patiently as you skirt around them. You follow him into his house—down the hallway and into a little side room that houses the washing machine and dryer—and as soon as the door swings shut, he’s grabbing you by the hips and pulling you close.

“This—this isn’t how you do laundry,” you stammer weakly, winded by his sudden proximity and the dark promise in his eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”

Jungkook chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I may have lied a little bit. Would you have come if I hadn’t?”

You don’t answer, because you know he’s right. If you had your way, you would have avoided him until it was time for you to leave again. But Jungkook just doesn’t seem to be willing to let that happen, as he tightens his grip on your hips and tugs until you’re flush against him.

“See, the truth of the matter is, I’m actually good at laundry.” He smirks and tilts his head, dark bangs flopping across his forehead. “I’m good at other things, too. Why don’t you let me show you?”

Attraction blooms in your belly, hot as molten lava, and it takes the last ounce of your wavering restraint to say what you say next. “We can’t take too long,” you whisper, letting him hoist you up onto the dryer and jab the start button. The machine rumbles to life beneath you, and you nearly lose your train of thought when the vibrations go straight to your clit. “Jimin!” you gasp. “Jimin—he’ll kill you if he finds out. He’ll fillet your dick with a dull knife and serve it over rice.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Why are you talking about your brother? Is this your idea of dirty talk, princess? Because I gotta tell you—it’s not doing it for me.”

“Jungkook!” you chide, and he grins and moves to tug off your shirt.

“That’s much better.”

///

In the days that follow your laundry room tryst with Jungkook, sneaking around becomes routine. Both of your parents work—as do his—so avoiding them is easy. Jimin, however, is a different story. The dance classes he teaches are irregular, and the schedule shifts often enough that you’ve come dangerously close to getting caught on more than one occasion.

And it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook has taken to texting you at all hours of the day, even when you’re eating a sandwich on the couch with Jimin half-sprawled across your lap in his effort to invade your personal space as much as possible.

[12:35pm] Jungkook: hey i just thought of something

[12:35pm] Jungkook: you know how i call you princess?

You nearly throw your phone across the room. Cautiously, you glance at your brother, who is glued to the television and doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss.

[12:36pm] You: yeah…

His response is instantaneous.

[12:36pm] Jungkook: well i’ve got a throne for you to sit on

You almost sigh out loud. Please don’t, you write back, and you practically hear Jungkook’s cackle in your head as the ellipses that indicate he’s typing pop up at the bottom of your screen.

[12:37pm] Jungkook: it’s my dick ;)

[12:37pm] Jungkook: get it?

I fucking hate you, you tell him, thumbs flying across the keyboard.

[12:38pm] Jungkook: and i love fucking you

[12:38pm] Jungkook: princess ;)

///

After nearly a week cooped up at your parents’ house, you’re getting restless. Without a car, you’re confined to the suburban neighborhood you grew up in, and the revelation that you’re bored somehow spills out to Jungkook during one of the many heated makeout sessions you’ve started having in the backseat of his sedan.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” he’d asked, tilting his head curiously, mussed hair falling across his eyes. “I can drive you, if you want.”

And that’s how you find yourself wandering around downtown Busan on a beautiful Tuesday afternoon. Jungkook drops you off at the curb after cumming down your throat, and now that he’s dashed off to work the lunch shift at the restaurant, you’re free to explore all of your old haunts. The shopping center that you and your friends used to frequent is right around the corner, so that’s where you decide to start. After all, you’re still in need of some professional attire, and as much as you love your mom, you’d rather avoid the unflattering dresses and itchy pantyhose she would be sure to seek out.

As soon as you step through the glass revolving doors, you find yourself in a familiar air-conditioned paradise of shops and restaurants. Stopping at your favorite coffee spot, you treat yourself to an iced mocha before heading to the first store.

Two hours and three full bags later, you decide to head to the food court for a quick snack. You’d promised Jungkook that you’d meet him at the restaurant once you were finished, but a glance at your phone tells you that you have more than enough time to stop by Kim’s Kitchen. Mrs. Kim makes the best cookies in the entire city, as far as you’re concerned, and you decide to order a dozen to take home and share with your family.

You’re lowering yourself into a seat at one of the many tables scattered around the tree-lined atrium when you spot a familiar head of strawberry blonde hair. The owner spots you a split second later, and you return her smile as she immediately swerves and heads your way. “{Name}, hey!”

“Hey, Chaeyoung,” you greet, gesturing for her to take the chair on the other side of the table. “What are you doing here?”

“Same thing as you, from the looks of it.” She grins and hefts her shopping bag. “I swear I’ve been to every shoe store and still haven’t found what I’m looking for, but somehow I’ve bought this much crap anyway. What about you? What are you on the hunt for?”

“Professional attire,” you say with a grimace. “Why are pants so hard to find? I swear, they’re all either too long or too short, and never fit properly in the waist and thighs.”

Chaeyoung pulls a face. “Ew, I know. Pantsuits are a nightmare unless you have a tailor. And who has money for that?”

You laugh, nodding in agreement. “So what are you up to now? Mrs. Kim has cookies fresh out of the oven, if you’re interested. Cinnamon rolls too, I think.”

“Ooh, that’s tough,” she says thoughtfully, tapping her chin. “Would it be bad if I got both?”

“Not even a little bit,” you assure, reaching into your box and pulling out a cookie. “But here, I’ll make it easier for you. Hope you like chocolate chip.”

Chaeyoung gratefully accepts the cookie you hand over. “Who doesn’t love chocolate chip?” she asks, taking a bite.

“Criminals and heathens,” you reply, snagging a cookie for yourself. “Among others.”

She tilts her head. “Doesn’t Jimin hate chocolate chip?”

“My point exactly.”

Chaeyoung giggles, hiding it behind a manicured hand, and you laugh right along with her. Together, you decide to grab some smoothies, and when you sit back down, the conversation turns to your trip up to the lake house. “Next time, we’ll have to do a girl’s trip,” Chaeyoung says, propping her chin in her palm. “Feels like it’s been ages since we’ve done one. You must’ve been exhausted with all those boys around.”

Unwillingly, your thoughts turn to Jungkook. “It wasn’t that bad,” you say slowly. “It was actually nice, being able to spend some time with them.”

“Who ended up going, anyway? Your brother, obviously. Taehyung? Yugyeom?”

You nod, raising a hand and ticking them off on your fingers. “Jimin, yeah. Taehyung, Yugyeom, Taemin, Minho. And Jungkook.”

If Chaeyoung notices the way you pause before saying the last name, she doesn’t comment on it. Her expression grows pensive, and you can practically see the gears turning in her head as she considers her next sentence. “You must be seeing a lot of him,” she says at last. “Jungkook, I mean.”

You take a massive sip of your smoothie and wonder if you’re imagining the lingering taste of him on your tongue. “Yeah, a bit,” you manage, your voice surprisingly steady. “He games with Jimin a lot.” After a pause, you decide to tell her the truth. “He dropped me off today, actually. Jimin’s working this summer, and I’ve been stuck at home, so he offered to take me downtown on his way to work.”

Chaeyoung hums thoughtfully. “He’s working at a restaurant or something, right?”

“Just a few streets away, yeah.”

Slowly, she nods. “We went out, you know.” Her voice is distant. “Just for a few weeks. He ended it after… well, after we slept together.”

There’s a pause, as Chaeyoung lets you digest this information, and a part of you wants to spill everything to her right then and there. Jisoo told me, you want to say, as acidic guilt begins to bubble up in your belly, every memory of the moments you’ve since shared with Jungkook rising unpleasantly in your throat. I’m sorry. I’m so,so sorry. You say it over and over again in your head, but the apology gets stuck in your throat when you try to voice it aloud.

Chaeyoung takes a sip of her smoothie and leans back in her chair with a sigh, oblivious to your internal struggle. “Maybe I should have seen it coming,” she says, gnawing on the end of the straw. “Everything changed our senior year, you know? It was like a switch had flipped—he started dating around, relationships that never lasted more than a week… I really should have known better when he asked me out. But I guess I thought I was different. We were already friends, after all. But whenever we were together, just the two of us, he was always… distant. Like he was somewhere else, mentally.”

Her words trail off, leaving only silence that you don’t know how to break. Chaeyoung sips at her smoothie again, before huffing out a laugh and waving a manicured hand in your direction. “God, sorry! I can’t believe I just started monologuing, ew. Jungkook this, Jungkook that—god. I’m not even mad at him anymore, you know? I just want him to figure his shit out.” Her eyes flit up to you briefly, before skittering back down to where a cookie crumb has landed on the tabletop. “It’s funny, though. Seeing him at Taehyung’s graduation party was probably the happiest I’ve seen him in a long time. He almost seemed like himself again.”

You can’t help it—the singular word bubbles up before you can stop it. “Really?”

Chaeyoung nods, her gaze flickering up to meet yours again. “Really. And honestly? I think it was because of you.”

Your heart does a series of backflips in your chest, thudding against the slats of your ribs. You try to respond, try to find the words, but they stick in your dry throat and your smoothie is practically gone at this point. Chaeyoung shrugs, unfazed by your silence, and you watch as she swirls her straw around in the remainder of her own drink. “I don’t know—maybe I’m imagining things. But it always seemed like he had a bit of a thing for you. Didn’t he used to follow you around the playground?”

The memory draws a startled laugh from your lips. “Sure, yeah. But that was in elementary school.”

Chaeyoung shrugs, smiling around her straw. “Still. We never really forget our first crush, do we?”

///

You head over to the restaurant after bidding Chaeyoung goodbye, her words weighing heavy on your mind and your heart. Through the tall glass windows, you can just barely make out Jungkook—looking sharp in a black collared shirt and matching slacks as he greets a table of diners. His smile is warm and his stance is confident, and you’re reminded of just how much he’s grown from that gangly kid you knew back in grade school when you catch the edge of flirtation lingering in his gaze.

The boy who used to follow you around the playground is gone. There’s no doubt in your mind about that. And so, you take a deep breath and walk into the restaurant, doing your best to smile at the host who greets you and asks whether you’d like to sit at a table or the bar.

“Hey, you made it!”

Jungkook strides over with a grin, taking the menu off the host’s hands and leading you over to an empty seat at the bar. “It’s full service, so you can order food here, too,” he explains. “You hungry? Thirsty?”

You glance down at the menu he places on the counter, scanning the lines of text. “Not really, but it smells really good so I might get something to go. And this carbonara sounds really good, actually.”

“It is,” Jungkook confirms. “I’ll go put the order in. You want some water or anything to drink?”

“Water’s good,” you tell him, and he nods before trotting off to do his job. You watch him disappear to the back of the restaurant before reappearing with a tray of glasses, and follow his meandering path through the tables as he disperses drinks and checks on the guests. Somehow, his shoulders manage to look even broader in his black shirt, and you can’t ignore the way they taper into a narrow waist that’s only emphasized by the belt threaded through the loops of his dark slacks.

He’s stopping at the table you first saw him at now, leaning in close when one of the women seated there asks him a question about something on the menu. His smile oozes easy charm, and you can’t help the feeling that flares in your chest when she reaches for the menu and purposely lets her fingertips graze his hand. Frowning, you tear your gaze away and focus on the wood grain of the bar counter. Your eyes zero in on a smattering of water droplets near your left arm, and you’re just about to run a fingertip through them when a voice sounds to your right.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

Surprised, you look up and find yourself face-to-face with a man who appears to be in his early thirties. Dark hair is brushed away from his forehead, a stray lock falling into his eyes, and you find yourself momentarily at a loss for words when your brain registers just how handsome he is.

“I—uh. I think Jungkook is going to grab me some water,” you finally manage, wanting nothing more than to melt into the ground when you hear the stammer in your voice.

“Ah, you know Jungkook?” The man laughs—a sound that is distinctly reminiscent of a squeaky windshield wiper. “He’s been pretty busy today, so why don’t I grab you that water instead?”

You nod, watching as he fills up a glass from the nozzle below the bar, accepting it when he hands it over. “Thanks.”

“Name’s Seokjin,” the man replies with an easy grin. “What’s yours?”

You return his smile and tell him your name. “Seokjin—Jungkook’s mentioned you a few times, I think. This is your place then, isn’t it?”

Seokjin beams. “Yep! Opened just a few months ago, after we finally sorted out the rat infestation and the asbestos problem in the rafters, and—” He pauses at the dumbfounded look on your face, and several beats pass before another peal of squeaky laughter escapes him. “I’m kidding. One-hundred percent. I promise the whole place is up to snuff.”

“So, I see you’ve met Seokjin.” Jungkook materializes at your side with a glass of water, which he takes a sip out of upon realizing that you already have a drink. “Is he making jokes about the health code again?”

“I would never,” Seokjin sniffs, and you laugh, finding yourself completely at ease for the first time since you entered the restaurant.

Jungkook rolls his eyes good-naturedly and turns his attention back to you. “Your carbonara should be out in a few,” he says, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the kitchen. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else?”

“Positive,” you assure him. “I’m full of chocolate chip cookies, anyway. Here, you want one? They’re still a little warm.”

Jungkook eyes the box you pull out of your bag hungrily. “Hell yes. I can smell them from here.” Laughing, you push the box toward him and watch as he pulls a cookie out and takes an enormous bite. “Thanks,” he says in between chews, his cheeks puffy. You can’t help but smile when he takes a sip of water to wash it all down, his eyes growing round.

Turning to Seokjin, you offer him a cookie as well, which he declines with a graceful wave. “I should be feeding you, not the other way around,” he remarks. “You got the carbonara, right? I’ll go see if it’s ready.”

With one last glance at the patrons sitting at the bar, Seokjin departs with a promise to be back in five minutes. Jungkook finishes off his cookie, and you’re considering offering him another when a familiar chirpy voice sounds from your left.

“Wow, it smells amazing in here! What do you think—should we sit at the bar?”

You whirl in the direction of the voice, your eyes immediately landing on a group of three girls standing near the entrance. Two of them you don’t recognize, but the third you’ve seen before. Mina, you’re pretty sure her name was, and you’d recognize her anywhere. The last time you’d seen her was at the restaurant on the night of Jimin’s and Jungkook’s graduation, and your face heats at the memory of everything else that transpired that night.

“Welcome!” Jungkook draws you out of your thoughts, and you turn to see that he’s wearing a bright, welcoming smile. “Were you looking to sit at the bar, or at a table? It looks like there are a few empty spots at the end of the bar, if you ladies would prefer that. Otherwise, I can take you to a table.”

Mina’s face lights up in recognition, and you’re forced to hide your scowl in your water glass. “Hey, we’ve met before, haven’t we?”

“You work at that place a few blocks down, right?” Jungkook jabs a thumb in the general direction of the street. “I’ve seen you around.”

She giggles and tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “That’s right, yeah! I remember you now. Graduation, right? You were my best table of the night.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I bet you tell everyone that.”

“Not a chance,” Mina answers, looking him up and down before a coy smile curves her lips again. “I only say what I mean.”

“Honesty is the best policy,” Jungkook says agreeably. Then he turns to you, distractedly fiddling with his apron as he speaks. “Jin should probably be back with your food soon. Are you okay to sit here by yourself for a bit?”

You can only nod, still staring down into your water glass. “Yeah, sure. Go on, then.”

He smiles and gestures for Mina and the girls to follow after him, and you’re positive you don’t imagine the triumphant look that flashes across Mina’s face before she departs. Frowning, you grab a cookie from your box and break a piece off, grateful for the distraction. Seokjin drops off your carbonara a minute later, and you find yourself suddenly ravenous as you dig into the steaming bowl of spaghetti.

Jungkook returns to your side about five minutes later, raking a hand through his hair as he replaces his notebook back in his apron pocket. “Man, I’m beat,” he remarks. “Thank god Mina and her friends didn’t order anything complicated. My brain would’ve exploded.”

“Thank god for that,” you echo dully. Unwillingly, your gaze drifts over to where Mina is now sitting, chatting happily with her friends. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Seeing Mina here, of all places. I mean, what is she even doing here?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but most people go out and have fun on their days off,” Jungkook responds dryly, a grin breaking across his face when you roll your eyes at him. “Or wait… could it be that you’re jealous?”

You scowl. “Don’t be stupid.”

Jungkook just laughs, tilting your chin up with two fingers so he can look you in the eye. “It’s okay,” he says, his thumb brushing softly along the corner of your lips. “You’re cute when you’re jealous, princess.”

You don’t know how to respond to that, and thankfully you don’t have to. Seokjin returns with a takeout container for you to put your leftovers in, shrugging off your gratitude when you offer it.

“I’m discounting your food, too,” he says, leaving zero room for argument. “Any friend of Jeon’s is a friend of mine.”

Jungkook’s shift ends half an hour later. He turns on his roadtrip playlist on the drive home, and you are more than happy to let the music wash over you, eliminating any need for conversation and drowning out your thoughts.

“See you later, princess,” he says once he’s pulled into your driveway, following your every move as you climb out of the passenger seat.

It sounds like a promise coming from his lips, and you can only nod. “See you.”

///

You’re in the middle of buttering a piece of toast for breakfast the next morning when there’s a knock on the front door. Perturbed, you walk over to answer it, wondering if perhaps Jimin has forgotten his keys again, but when you peer through the peephole it isn’t Jimin who stares back at you.

“Jungkook—” you begin, swinging open the door, but he cuts you off before you can finish, taking your face in his hands and pressing his mouth to yours.

“Hey,” he whispers once he’s had his fill, pulling back just enough to mumble the greeting against your lips. “They’re all gone for the day, right?”

“Yes,” you confirm, still reeling from the suddenness of his appearance and the subsequent kiss. “But how did you—?”

“Jimin told me,” Jungkook answers shortly, before pulling you close and kissing you again. This time, you let yourself get lost in the feeling of his mouth against yours, following his lead as he ushers you back upstairs and breaking the kiss only once in the process. He lays you down onto your bed, the mattress dipping under your combined weight, and you sigh when he moves down to nip at your neck.

“No marks, Jungkook,” you remind him breathily. “You can’t leave marks.”

A low whine escapes him. “Can’t you wear a scarf?”

“It’s the middle of summer!” you huff in amusement, smacking his arm when he whines again and stubbornly sucks at the soft spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

Jungkook’s breath is hot against your skin. His fingers find the elastic waistband of your sweatpants, tugging them off your hips and down your legs, and you kick them off as soon as they’ve reached your ankles. Hungrily, his gaze traverses the newly revealed skin, and you shiver when he gently trails his fingertips up your calves and all the way to the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. “Jungkook,” you sigh. “I haven’t shaved in days.”

“Ask me if I care,” he replies hoarsely, leaning down to press the flat of his tongue against the growing damp spot seeping through the cotton of your underwear. It’s far from your sexiest pair—you’d categorize them as granny panties, in all honesty—but Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit fazed as he hooks them aside and licks a broad stripe all the way up to your clit. “Want you,” he groans, and the vibrations from his voice send a volt of tingling electricity straight up your spine. “Want you in every way I can have you.”

You don’t respond. You don’t have to, because Jungkook is diving in with the enthusiasm of a man starved, tossing your underwear aside carelessly before banding his arms around your legs to hold you open. His face disappears between your thighs until only the top of his hair is visible, the dark strands mussed. Lips parting in a moan, your fingers find their way to his head, tangling at his roots, and Jungkook parts from your cunt briefly to groan his approval. Then he’s eating you out again—alternating between broad licks and teasing flicks to your clit before his tongue delves into your entrance, inhaling deeply as if he just can’t get enough.

The sun rises higher into the sky, beaming through your window and illuminating Jungkook’s head and shoulders in warm, hazy gold. You chant his name as you reach your high, spurred on by his teasing tongue and whispered words of encouragement, and the grin he wears when he straightens back up is near blinding. Slowly, he peels off his shirt and shucks off his jeans until he’s completely bare before you, the sun painting him in warm strokes of color. Deliberately, he crawls up your body, hiking up the hem of your shirt as he does. He plants kisses into your newly bared skin, and when he reaches your lips he settles there as if that’s where he’s meant to be.

Jungkook kisses you slowly. He kisses you deliberately—sensually—and you melt into his gentle touch, relishing in the feel of his bare body pressed so intimately against yours. You don’t miss the way his cock hardens against your thigh, but Jungkook seems to be in no hurry to do anything about it. Instead, he cups your cheeks and licks into your mouth, and you’re all too willing to part beneath him like a flower in bloom.

The rest of the afternoon passes like this—hot kisses and slow fucking, the two of you meshing until you’re no longer sure where you end and he begins. You keep an eye on the time, though, and by the time your parents and Jimin return home, you and Jungkook are showered and dry, sitting on the living room floor embroiled in a Mario Kart tournament.

“No fair! You played without me?” Jimin whines, plopping down between you and trying to wrest the controller away from Jungkook. “C’mon, let me have a turn. You’ve been at it all day!”

Jungkook’s gaze flickers up past Jimin’s shoulder to meet yours, his lips twitching in barely suppressed mirth. “Yeah. We sure were.”

///

“God, I’m going to be sore for the next month.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” your brother snorts, squeezing your cheek between his thumb and index finger like you’re a small child. His three o’clock dance class has just wrapped up, and people are slowly filtering out of the studio. A few of the younger women glance back toward where you’re standing with Jimin, and you have no doubt they’re vying for one last look at your brother in his tight-fitting joggers and loose tank that keeps drooping off one shoulder. Rolling your eyes, you suppress the urge to loudly bring up the time he walked into a sliding glass door and nearly chipped his tooth. Instead, you pinch his cheek back, and laugh when he pouts.

“Ow, hey! What happened to giving me all your love and support?”

“Please, Mom made me come to your class,” you retort, batting his invasive hand away. “I think she just wanted me out of the house.”

Jimin laughs. “Can’t blame her. You’re a goddamn freeloader.”

“Seriously? Because in that case, I’m dying to hear what that makes you.”

Thoroughly nonplussed, Jimin pinches your other cheek before dancing away on light feet. “I’m an angel. Now go away, so I can get ready for my next class!”

Rolling your eyes again, you heft your bag over your shoulder and turn on your heel. “Fine, fine. Good luck, and all that. See you at dinner.”

Jimin doesn’t respond, and when you peer over your shoulder at him, he’s already sprawled on the floor and reaching for his toes in the unmistakable first step of his warm-up routine. He waves when he sees you watching, and you stick your tongue out at him playfully before exiting the studio and heading for the door. You’ve borrowed your dad’s car for the day, and hum cheerily as you climb into the driver’s seat.

You spend the rest of the afternoon running errands—stopping by both the post office and the bank before heading for the grocery store to pick up some ingredients for dinner. By the time you get back home, Jimin has finished teaching at the studio as well, and you fix him with a stare as you plop two full bags of groceries in front of him on the kitchen counter.

“Care to help me carry the rest in?”

“Not really,” he replies, but he stands up and follows you outside to the car nonetheless.

Once all the groceries are inside and unpacked, you begin prepping for dinner. Jimin, to his credit, offers his help without you even having to ask, and with his assistance you finish cooking in record time. Your parents join you in the dining room, and together you enjoy the meal over the evening news.

You retire to your room after dinner, cracking open your laptop to go over the details of your internship for the umpteenth time. You’ve read the emails and the attached documents so many times you practically have them memorized, but the anxiety gnawing at your belly refuses to be quelled. You’re returning to Seoul in less than a week, and your empty suitcase sits in the corner of your childhood bedroom like a taunt. You wonder, briefly, if you should start packing.

“Nah, it can wait,” you decide, muttering the words to your nonexistent audience. Standing up, you stretch lazily before exiting your room and heading down the hall to the bathroom that you and Jimin share, muffling a yawn behind your hand.

You’ve just finished brushing your teeth when your phone vibrates against the bathroom counter, a notification lighting up your screen. Spitting into the sink and rinsing off your toothbrush, you towel off your face before picking up your phone, blinking owlishly at the text.

[11:08pm] Jungkook: can you come over?

By itself, it’s not an unusual request. At this late an hour, though, you can’t help the unease that rises up in your belly. And as if sensing your apprehension, your phone vibrates again.

[11:09pm] Jungkook: my parents are out

[11:09pm] Jungkook: please? i could use some company

There’s an edge of desperation in his last message—something you haven’t seen in him since you returned home. It reminds you a bit of the Jungkook you used to know—the scrawny, gangly one with a nose too big for his face and an all-encompassing fear of the opposite sex. Give me ten minutes, you tell him.

Okay, Jungkook writes back. See you soon.

The next few minutes are a blur. You slather on some moisturizer and consider changing out of your pajamas and putting on a bra, but dismiss the thought immediately. Jungkook has seen you in far less, and you’re staunchly opposed to putting a bra back on after a certain hour of the night. Besides, he’s sure to dispose of your clothes at some point, so there’s little point in changing. With that thought in mind, you tiptoe out into the hall, past your parents’ bedroom and Jimin’s closed door. You carefully edge around the creakiest floorboards and hop over the two steps in the staircase that always groan when subjected to additional weight. Gingerly, you edge open the front door, just enough to slip out into the night.

The trek across the yard doesn’t take long, and Jungkook swings the door open before you even get a chance to knock. “Hey,” he says, and you can’t help but smile at the familiar round glasses perched on his nose. He’s in his pajamas as well—a blue and white checkered set that’s about two sizes too big—and when he ushers you inside, you catch a whiff of his floral laundry detergent.

“Hey,” you say. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Long day,” he sighs, raking a hand through his already tousled hair and mussing it further. “Come on in. You want anything to drink?”

You shake your head, stepping into the entryway and watching as he closes and locks the door again. Jungkook nods and shuffles to the kitchen, where he pours himself a glass of water from the faucet and downs half of it in one swig. His throat bobs as he swallows, his head tilted back to expose the long line of his neck, and you step a little closer as he turns to refill the glass.

“On second thought, maybe I’ll have some water too.”

“Mm. Okay.” Jungkook turns and fetches a second glass, filling it to the brim before handing it over. Then he takes your free hand and leads you upstairs, taking a left turn into his bedroom and nudging the door closed with his foot.

“So…” you begin slowly, putting your water down on the nightstand and reaching for the hem of your shirt. “We need to be quick. My mom’s a light sleeper, and I’m pretty sure I heard Jimin playing games in his room when I walked by.”

Jungkook chuckles and lays his hands over yours, stilling your attempt to take off your shirt. “When did you turn into such a horndog, Noona? Maybe I just want to hang out.”

You blink. “Did you just want to hang out?”

Jungkook plops onto his bed and grabs you by the waist, tugging you down and into his lap. “I mean, yeah—I thought that was obvious. Figured we could watch a movie or something.” Grabbing the tv remote, he switches on the television hanging on the opposite wall. “Any suggestions?”

You hesitate. You’ve been in Jungkook’s bedroom just once since you’ve come back, and the memory of the way he’d bent you over the desk in the corner sends a pulse of heat to your cheeks. Tearing your gaze away from the piece of wooden furniture, you instead focus on the television screen, watching as he navigates over to the Netflix menu.

“We can go old school too, if you want,” he remarks as he scrolls through the list of new arrivals. “I have a DVD player.”

That draws a laugh from your lips. “When was the last time you purchased a DVD? Last I checked, you only had Kung Fu Panda, Iron Man, and two copies of Titanic for some reason that you still won’t tell me.”

Jungkook laughs, his chest rumbling against your back. “Call it human error,” he says, looping his arms comfortably around your waist and propping his chin on your shoulder. “How do you feel about going super old school? I can get the VHS player out of the basement and pop in one of the Pokémon movies.”

“I’m sure we won’t have to resort to that,” you assure him, grinning. “Here, why don’t we just watch Iron Man? Three’s your favorite, right?”

“Three is everyone’s favorite,” he says, scrolling over to the appropriate menu and clicking play. “It’s the best one, hands-down.”

“Won’t argue with you there.”

The movie starts, and you shift off Jungkook’s lap to switch off the lights. Darkness overtakes the room as the screen lights up with the opening credits, and when you return to the bed, Jungkook has sprawled comfortably against the pillows lining the headboard. His eyes remain glued to the screen even as he reaches for you, and you hesitate for only a second before joining him, laying down beside him and letting his arm find its way around your shoulders. The scent of floral laundry detergent fills your nostrils, and you subtly nestle a bit closer, resting your head on his chest.

This isn’t the first time Jungkook has seen this movie. You know this for a fact, yet that doesn’t change how raptly he watches the screen, the action sequences reflected perfectly in his glasses. He’s practically vibrating with excitement by the time of the final showdown, mouthing along to the lines, and you hide your smile in the blue-and-white squares of his pajama shirt as the music swells.

It’s well past midnight by the time the credits roll. Jungkook seems perfectly content to lie on his bed with his arm around you, and when you make to get up, his grip slides down to your waist to hold you in place. “You gotta watch the credits all the way through,” he says, blinking at you with bleary eyes now that the adrenaline from the final showdown has worn off. “There’s a post-credits scene, remember?”

You shake your head, but let him pull you back down onto the mattress regardless. “I’m sure you already know what it is. Why don’t you just tell me?”

“What’s the fun in that?” he asks with a grin.

The end credits continue—an endless stream of names scrolling down the screen. Your eyes begin to droop, the words blurring together, and it’s only when the music stops and the final scene begins that you jolt awake. Jungkook is faring no better than you are, suppressing a yawn behind his hand as he watches the last bit of the film through half-lidded eyes. Then the screen goes dark, and silence descends over the room once more. You glance at the alarm clock on his nightstand and see that it’s nearly two in the morning. A look back at Jungkook reveals that both his eyes have fallen shut, and you slowly begin wriggling free from his embrace in order to head home.

You’ve barely moved an inch when Jungkook’s arm tightens around your waist. “Stay,” he mumbles sleepily, one eye cracking open.

You should say no. You should head home to the safety of your own bed. But there’s something about Jungkook—something soft and fond in his tired gaze and something vulnerable in the way he’s holding you so tightly against his pajama-clad body with his hair in complete disarray and his round glasses askew. Heaving a sigh, you reach up to take them off his face, placing them neatly on his nightstand.

“Okay,” you whisper. “I’ll stay.”

Jungkook smiles sleepily and shuts his eyes. “G’night, then, Noona.”

“Night, Jungkookie.”

Within seconds, his breathing evens out, and you know he’s off in dreamland. Twisting in his grasp, you tug your phone out of your pocket and set a quick alarm for six o’clock. Neither of your parents wake up until seven at the earliest, and Jimin would sleep until three in the afternoon if he could get away with it, so you’re certain that you’ll have plenty of time to sneak back into the house. Besides, Jungkook’s bed is comfortable, and his chest is practically a furnace against your back. You aren’t sure you could work up the energy to leave even if you tried.

So instead, you settle back into his embrace and let sleep whisk you away.

///

There are birds chirping outside the window when you open your eyes the next morning, blinking blearily against the sun shining through the curtains. The blanket is tangled around your legs and there’s an arm looped around your waist, and you sit bolt upright when realization dawns. Jungkook groans and mumbles something unintelligible, but you don’t pay him any mind as you twist out of his grasp, clutching for your phone on the nightstand.

7:03am.

Shit.

Throwing your legs over the side of the bed, you rise to your feet and shove your phone into the pocket of your pajama pants. Jungkook makes a sound that vaguely resembles your name, and you spare him a glance as you fumble for your shoes. He’s flat on his back, blinking hair out of his eyes as he fights to stay awake. “Hey,” he manages, his voice raspy.

“I gotta go,” you whisper urgently, successfully putting your shoes on the right feet and wrenching the door of his bedroom open. And then you turn and dash out, leaving a very sleepy, very disheveled Jungkook blinking after you.

Your house, when you carefully crack open the front door and poke your head inside, is quiet. Much to your relief, you don’t hear any of the telltale signs that your family is awake and downstairs yet—no drip of the coffee maker and no sizzle of bacon or eggs. From upstairs, however, you can distantly hear the sound of the shower, so you dart inside and toe off your shoes, padding into the kitchen to start the coffee maker. You check the alarm you’d set the night prior as you scoop coffee grounds into the filter, and curse under your breath when you realize you’d somehow managed to select six PM instead of AM.

You’re seated in the living room with a mug of fresh coffee when Jimin shuffles in with damp hair and a sleepy frown. “You’re up early,” you remark.

“I have a morning class to teach,” he replies, yawning widely as he grabs a fresh mug. “What’s your excuse?”

You shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Fair enough.”

Suppressing another yawn, your brother turns his attention to the refrigerator, rooting around for the milk. And you return yours to the window, where you can see the side of the Jeon’s house, and Jungkook’s bedroom window on the second floor. There are no signs of life from within, and you wonder if he’d gone back to sleep after your departure. Considering how tired he’d looked last night, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had.

Chaeyoung’s voice echoes in your mind then, soft and wistful. It always seemed like he had a bit of a thing for you. Happiest I’ve seen him in a long time. And honestly? I think it was because of you. We never really forget our first crush, do we?

And then Jisoo’s words rise up in your brain, just a bit louder. He’s a heartbreaker. He never, ever stays until the morning.

So why, then, did you wake up in his arms today?

[vicious-vixxxen]

Tenya Iida X Male Reader: 7 Minutes in Heaven

Been working on this for a minute, thought it was about time I showed this boy some love! Hope you guys enjoy :3  ((Totally SFW, but things do get a wee bit steamy. Enjoy ;3))

“Unbelievable! The level of unprofessionalism from class 1A no less! This is a highly inappropriate way to be spending our free time! It should be spent honing our abilities to their greatest potential, and encouraging each other to bl-“  “Iida...Iida please for the love of god /stop/.” Snatching one of the other boys chopping hands by the wrist, your free hand settled on Iida’s chest to pat gently. “For someone who didn’t put up much of a fight getting tossed in here, you sure won’t shut up about it.” You mused, smirk evident in your tone

Despite the closet being too dark to tell; the only light the thin, dim strips around the doorframe- one of which caught the corner of Tenya’s glasses, and reflected back on the boys flushed cheek. Whether they were like that because of the intensity of his ramblings, or the situation at hand, was still yet to be determined.  “I beg your pardon?” Iida nearly gasped, and you snorted despite yourself. Keeping your hold on the larger boys wrist firm, even as he tried to continue his chopping motion out of it. “I assumed my protests would be considered before they’d have a chance to get us in here, and despite our combined abilities to escape, the rules of the game are very clear and seeing as how we’re here now I don’t see the point in not participating. As class 1A’s representative it’s imperative I encourage the other students to socialize and become a more cohesive unit. Even if it means doing ridiculous things like this, DESPITE protest.”

You’d almost, /almost/ landed on Kaminari. Who had you hurt in a past life to deserve this?

“So you’re unwilling to participate because you’re too busy scolding the other participants for wanting to participate. In a game in which you deem inappropriate, but will still abide by it’s rules. While the same time doing anything but. Did I get that right?” You asked, even unsure yourself.

“Well, I-“ “Is it cuz I’m a dude?” You asked suddenly, genuinely curious. Tenya balked. “O-of course not!” No further elaboration. You smiled. Now you were getting somewhere.

“Then I believe we have about five more minutes for you to get with the program Iida.” Finally letting his wrist go, you brought your hand down towards your face. Checking the watch you didn’t have intently, hoping he could see, for effect if anything, before bringing your hand down to rest on Iida’s hip gently. Snickering at how stiff his stance was, as he tensed impossibly tighter. “It’s just kissing,” You reminded him quietly, squinting in the dark to catch the blush high on his cheeks deepen. Iida was significantly taller than you, but he was acutely conscious of the fact. Shifting his knees, and hunching over slightly to bring himself in closer. More on reflex than anything. Until now he hadn’t quite realized he was primed for the taking, so to speak, and attempted to shift back, but finding the wall just as unyielding to his back as it had been when you’d entered together. A sweat broke out across his forehead, and Tenya began to take the most soft, shallow breaths of his entire life. “You have kissed someone before...haven’t you Iida?” You asked, usual playfulness gone, as you slowly started to piece together the sudden intensity behind Tenya’s protests of the game from the very beginning.  “Kissing...not that it is any of your business, I was under the impression was to be saved for someone you cared a great deal about. Someone special. Not a fellow classmate in a musty closet in our dorms!” Iida hissed, but there was no real heat behind it. Mostly..nerves. “We’re friends, aren’t we?” You asked, curious as to the others mind. Iida may not have cracked your top three since arriving at UA, friend wise, but he was a good guy, with a heart of gold, and a powerful personality. If not always the most easily digested. Point is, he was good. And sweet. And handsome. And you, as were your fellow classmates when the idea of drawing names for 7 minutes in heaven arose, were really in the mood to kiss /someone/. And Tenya made a good partner If he’d just be a little quieter. That’s all. “Well yes, but-“  “And you care about me?” You interrupted, smiling at the grunt of frustration the taller boy let out. A puff of hot breath ghosting across your cheeks from above, sending goosebumps down the back of your neck. Minty. And warm. Perfect, actually.  “Of course! But that’s hardly-“ “So what’s the deal? Loosen your tie a bit and just kiss me, jet boy. Plenty of time in the future to give the most special kisses to the most special people. Right now...how about starting with giving me just one?”

Your voice was quiet as you slid your hand up from Iida’s waist to his chest to join your other, a barely whispered ‘please’ in the dark. Iida stared down at you, his own hands twitching, before they came up to meet yours. He’d had every intention of removing them, setting them back at your own sides, but when you’d gripped his shirt, and leaned up on your toes to brush your nose along his jaw, he’d frozen. Gripping your wrists tightly, just hanging on really. “Mm...you smell nice.” Leave it to Tenya to casually wear the most expensive, mouth watering cologne to a dorm sleepover. Who was he, a Giorgio Armani sponsor! Sheesh.  “...thank you,” Tenya gasped finally, as you nipped at his chin- barking out a laugh, so loose and carefree, Tenya couldn’t help the way his shoulders dropped minutely in response. Maybe...maybe.

“Alright then.” Iida agreed. Stealing himself for the inevitable, though he’d be lying if he said the beads of sweat breaking out across his forehead weren’t because of how soft the plushness of your lips felt trailing up towards his own bitten ones. He’d never quite considered something like this happening to him, at school of all places. Tenya had a firm idea of what he’d come to UA to do, how he’d accomplish it, and how he’d feel after achieving all his goals. Going pro. There really was no time for any straying from that.  Bakugou, for instance, for all the glaring faults Tenya found in his personality, was admirable in that at least he had a similar mindset, albeit a more extremist one...goal oriented to the max. And Tenya did admire it, strived for something similar. He’d never quite struck gold when it came to friends before UA, maybe because they’d never quite understood why he worked so hard to get to the next step, and the next step. But here, his classmates understood the importance of their classes. Their position. ...well, most of them did. And yet here he was now, backed into a literal corner, clammy hands holding tight to y/n’s wrists as the smaller boy continued to whisper random nonsense against Tenya’s chin- his cheek. All because he wanted to appeal more to his peers. Figures. Not that he was complaining. Not anymore, at least. “Ready?” You asked, nerves nearly getting the best of you now too as you focused in on the glint of light in Iida’s glasses again- frowning briefly, and nudging the boys chin with yours to get him to move just enough for the light to reflect in the deep pool of blue that was his eye. Sparkling, and searching. You’d expect nothing less from the class rep. God, he was handsome.. “As I’ll ever be, I suppose,” Tenya whispered, meaning for it to come out more sure, and failing miserably. You were already keyed up enough to be crowned the king of sexual frustration, so you wasted no time in letting out a soft ‘hm’ of confirmation, before leaning in and sealing your lips fully over Iida’s. You’d be lying if you said you’d never imagined just how plush his lips would actually feel. Sure it was something you’d fantasized about with /most/ of the guys in class, but Iida especially. He had great lips. And fuck, they felt nice against yours. Not too soft, not too rough. Plush, like a pillow. Fuck, you wanted to bite them. To tug on his lower lip till he mewled into your mouth. Shit.

Moving your hands tentatively at first, as they were still being held firm by Iida. you slid them up and over his shoulders, hesitating briefly before allowing them to slide further up to cup the boy on either side of his neck. Squeezing there briefly as you pulled away.  “This okay?” You asked, thumbs brushing over Iida’s jaw, words whispered against his lips, you were still they close. “...y-yes, yes that’s alright.” He was too quiet to be sure, but something told you Iida was coming undone at a rapid pace.  “Would another be alright then? We don’t have to, I don’t want you to-mph!-“ and Iida’s lips were back on yours. More insistent, more sure. Firm and soft and you moaned, quietly, still conscious of your classmates on the other side of the door, but just barely.  “Sorry...sorry, I...I’m so sorry, y/n,” Iida huffed, grip just as tight on your wrists as before as he broke away suddenly, guilt wracking his system immediately as he intended to pull away, because what the hell was that?! He’d just-

“No, Iida, please...come on, don’t do me like that, I want it. More...come on,” you pleaded, breathless and giddy at how he’d taken control. On the one hand, of course he would. But on the other, this was /kissing/, and it was /Iida/. What even? Iida’s lips parted in a soft ‘o’, body flushing with heat at how your pleas seemed to effect him. “Okay.” Clearing his throat, his words coming out too husky for his own liking, Iida finally, FINALLY, moved his own hands. Thinking suddenly of movies, and how people kissed there. He could do that. Iida’s hands were on your hips then, gentle, yet sure. Cupping there, finding his footing. Iida finally seemed comfortable leaving one against your hip, the other flat against the small of your back to bring you in close. Whoa. Hadhis hands always felt so big?

Shit.

“Move your lips how I move mine,” you instructed, breath ghosting the shell of Iida’s ear, and you bit your lip gently when Iida nodded. Eager. Fuck.  And you were kissing again. More urgent this time, a few presses of lips, before you began to move. The quiet of the closet being broken by the rustling of your clothes, the slick sound of your lips, and both of your needy breaths. Iida was a skilled learner, and it was almost scary how that transferred over to kissing. Pausing when you move your lips against his in a certain way. Savoring it, before applying it back to you. “It’s concerning how good you are at this,” you laughed softly against his lips, Iida rewarding you with a little breath of a huff in return as his grip on your hip tightened, and he sealed your lips once again. Urgent. Needy.

You could relate. Soon enough you found one arm curled around Iida’s neck, your other hand holding firm to the crop of hair on his head as he kissed you. A shift in stance caused his hand to drop to the outside of your thigh, and on instinct, you’d lifted your leg to Iida’s hip,

Iida hadn’t even hesitated to grip your thigh and hike your leg up higher, bringing your middles closer together, and what? What the fuck? Since when did he know how to do that?! “Shit,” you hissed, overwhelmed by how turned on you were. It was embarrassing, but so good.

“Language,” Iida whispered, not missing a beat, pushing his head up into your hand briefly, encouraging, before kissing you /again/.

Jesus, he was good. It was kind of ridiculous how so. “Ah,” you cried before you could stop yourself, when Iida’s grip on your thigh shifted and tightened, palm held firm over the sensitive underside, and you had to stop. Lips sliding from Iida’s, along his cheek, and down into the crook is his neck. “Are...are you alright?” Iida panted, trying to pull back to look at you- as best he could in the dark- but you held tight to his hair, keeping him in place, as you caught your breath. ‘Look at me’ you thought, nodding your head against Iida’s shoulder, ‘coming apart like a fucking virgin!’ Which, you were...kind of, the specifics of previous encounters were still vaguely juvenile enough for you not to count them

“Just...,” pausing, you took a breath. Blowing it out through your nose, and closing your eyes as you began to litter Iida’s neck with kisses. “-sensitive, down there, is all. But it’s good. Very good.”

Iida was too quiet, tense all of the sudden for an entirely different reason, and you were all too aware of where his brain was probably going. “My /thigh/, Iida, your holding my thigh like you’re about to pitch a softball, and it feels really nice- just caught me off guard, is all.”

Patting him on the head, you evened out your breathing finally, just being for a few long moments, as Iida stood still. “...this is much more-ah...much more than I’d imagine it being.” Iida spoke softly, fingers playing nervously against the back of your thigh. “How incredibly vague,” you teased, giggling quietly, before the both of you were a fit of laughter. Iida’s deep, boisterous sound like music to your ears. Had he ever laughed like that in front of you before?

You vowed to make it happen more often, in any case. “You know what I mean,” he added finally, allowing your leg to slip from his grasp, bringing both hands back to your hips to squeeze gently. Tentatively. Your breath faltered briefly, imagining suddenly getting to feel this again. Whenever you wanted. What an idea. Your face was too hot then, even more so than before, and you hoped Iida couldn’t sense it as you pressed even deeper into his neck. Scratching idly through his hair, fingers skirting across the seam of his undercut.  “If you applied this kind of enthusiasm into your studies, you wouldn’t be scrambling to study with Kaminari last minute, you know.” Iida added simply.  “Excuse you?!” You shouted, no heat behind it as you reeled back, staring at the general area of Iida’s head in faux shock.

“If Midoriya and Uraraka didn’t steal you away all the time, /maybe/ I’d have asked you to study with me at some point. Once you and Yaomomo are busy the pickings are slim, you know. Kiri asked me to join he and Bakugou once...but hard pass, as I don’t particularly like being slammed over the head by our textbooks.” Iida stilled briefly, before sighing and nodding his head dejectedly.  “His methods are almost cruel, yet his results are unquestionable. Kirishima has been doing much better lately. At the cost of his physical and mental health though, which in the long run could have some serious long lasting effects.”

“Oh my mental health is constantly on the verge anyways, so that would be fine.” You joked, snickering as you were pulled back rather harshly, for Iida to get a good look at you no doubt.

Good luck with that in the dark, pal, you thought.  “Kidding, kidding. Kind of. Anyways, point is, if you’d make yourself more available to other students, maybe I’d pick your brain about the homework sometime.”

“I...suppose I have grown comfortable with my own study group- and as class rep it’s imperative I take initiative to make sure each one of us is reaching their full potential, whether it be studying, or during combat.” Iida mumbled. If his hands hadn’t been firm on your hips, you swore they’d be chopping the air around your head. “I don’t need as much oversee as Kaminari. I apply myself when it counts, so if you could spare even an hour or two on the weekend to answer some of my more pressing questions it would be a big help,” you explained, awkwardly untangling yourself from Iida as you cleared your throat. The mood not entirely broken, but you couldn’t very well sit in here and make out with Iida all night.

 Unfortunately. “Of course! Your room is right down the hall from mine after all, it’ll be easy to navigate and configure the perfect time to study. We-“ he paused, hands up in the air somewhere, you could hear the whooshing. “I don’t care much for movies, and the others will be thoroughly entertained enough with this game after us anyhow, if you’d like to go back to my room and set up a study plan?” He offered, and you couldn’t help the way your heart thumped madly once more at the offer. They’d decided on one of your favorite movies tonight, and you’d promised Kami a running commentary.

Oh well, “Let me fix your hair, and you’ve got a deal. Last thing you need is everyone thinking I defiled you in here.”

Pulling your phone from your pocket, and face the screen straight up, you unlocked it- the bright light from the screen illuminating the closet just enough to see. Snorting, you took in Iida’s fluffed up hair, sticking up at odd angles, vaguely reminiscent of Midoriya’s.

“A willing defilement , I suppose, but a defilement nonetheless if we’re being technical,” Iida supplied quietly, as you fussed over his hair. “Willing indeed, you lug. Who would have guessed the class rep would get so /handsy/.” You teased, smiling brightly at the wide eyed expression Iida supplied in return. “And don’t apologize, I...I haven’t kissed many people, but that was definitely the best kiss of my entire life. Something to be proud of. I guess..” You tried to sound nonplussed, but given the new light, it wasn’t hard for Iida to see your blush. “I’ve never kissed anyone, but I can’t imagine it gets better than that,” Iida offered quietly, blush high on his cheeks to match yours.

You both paused, Iida staring down at you, you up at him. Your hands back on either side of his neck, hair as good as it was going to get. ‘Maybe we could do it again sometime’ the little voice in your mind screamed, but the last thing you wanted to do was push Iida. This was just a one time thing. But hey, maybe it meant being closer friends...which was even better, if you were honest with yourself. “We should uh...get going. Out there. The sooner we retreat back to your room, the better. They’ll be hounding as soon as he step out.” Sliding your hands down Iida’s broad chest, you patted twice there just for effect, before snatching up your phone. Steeling yourself for the hoots and hollers, and nagging questions everyone before you had endured. An eye roll all prepped as you stepped out of the closet, missing the way Iida stared after you, if only briefly. Brushing off the wish of you, with your loud personality, and lack of filter, to offer up more of something he couldn’t bring himself to ask for. He couldn’t find the words. He’d hoped you could. Or would. But that was alright. Late at night, after everyone had gone to bed, and the lingering scent of your own cologne faded from Iida’s room, he’d still have the memory of your lips on his. Your voice, soft and needy in his ear. Your thigh heavy, and hot in his palm.  Yeah...that would do. For now, at least.

[haydewan]

So Ewan just mentioned a gay character from a Canadian series saying he wore the skirt better than him. Funny coincidence.😅

https://twitter.com/danlevythinker/status/1549486051122679808?t=bxuogDTOY8LClZxuOQ_1Dg&s=19

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Rose_(Schitt%27s_Creek)

Hi anon! Sorry for the late reply, I’ve been through some work-related life-changing stuff this past week, but it all worked out eventually so I can throw myself back into this relationship research, yay!😆

First of all, thank you for trusting me with your thoughts and theories, I’m truly, deeply honoured. I understand it can be tough and scary to share these things among the fandom cuz you can easily offend someone, so I’m replying to this post only as per your request to minimize the controversy. I’m too, forever torn between the mindsets of “they’re just good friends, it’s disrespectful to assume” and “it’s just thoughts, it can’t hurt anyone”. But hey, as long as we keep it to ourselves and away from their lives, do whatever makes you happy, theories, fanfics, drawings, etc. At the end of the day, it’s really just a multiverse in our head isn’t it?

Okay, back to the theories.

The Schitt's Creek character

A Canadian sitcom, hmmm…not something I imagine he’d watch. And it’s been around for quite a few years, I guess he either got into it early on or binged it during the Covid lockdown?? Anyway, I wonder if they had any discussion about the show since it was filmed mainly in the Toronto area, got any Canadian jokes maybe?? Oh and no one wears a skirt better than Ewan himself, it’s his Scottish birthright🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

The Fallon Tonight interview

Now that you mentioned it, it’s kinda obvious here🤔It seemed he was twisting the ring with his pinky and then adjusting it. I went through my archive and found out he did this in a couple more interviews, basically the solo ones, his hands were mostly out of the frame in others. He’s got restless hands during press, I think he was doing it pretty unconsciously, probably still getting used to the feel of the ring around the finger consider he hadn’t had one for quite a few years. Honestly I’m more than reluctant to talk about his recent marriage, it hurts my brain to even think about it and has me go “ugh” & roll my eyes every time I see a pic of them together🙄Sorry I just have so much empathy with his daughters especially I’m the same age as Clara.

The GQ interview

This one is so interesting on so many levels. I didn’t know it was edited tho, the one I read was already the second version. As for the “homoerotic Obi-Wan/Hayden fan art” - WOW, I mean WoW, Obi-Wan/Hayden huh? Can’t even tell fiction from reality now can you McGregor?😌And for the record, this was not the first time he mixed it up. In this interview at 1:59, when asked about whether the show explores the shift in dynamic of Obi-Wan always viewed Anakin as a brother and Anakin always looked at Obi-Wan like a father, he answered: “He’s my padawan and I’m his master, he’s my student if you like, that is very much the dynamic. But I feel we’re very close, I mean me and Hayden are, so I feel Obi-Wan and Anakin are.” Personally I haven’t quite figured out his logic here yet, what’s the causality of him and Hayden being close leads to Obi/Ani being close, and didn’t the closeness of Obi/Ani come on script way before him and Hayden even met??? If anything, it should be the other way around. I gave up on this after a while, it’s just easier to assume he didn’t think it through, otherwise I’m gonna lose my mind someday lol. I know some people interpret his reaction to the homoerotic fan art as “he thinks it’s gross”, well I call it BS. This is the man who enjoys kissing boys, never shies away from getting naked in front of camera and still willing to play gay characters in his 50s, that was him getting caught off guard by the sudden reveal of something he thought was a photo, shocked, not disgusted. And btw, here’s a little (and maybe the only) Obi-Wan/Hayden fanfic for you much thanks to Ewan McGregor, creator of this ship, cutest piece I’ve read in a while!😏

The LADbible interview

T H I S. I could write a 50k word thesis and have a 3-day seminar on this interview alone. Where to begin, the lighting, the atmosphere, the vibe…This is truly the closest thing we get to see them on a date, the Brits really know how to pull off a good interview (Idk if you noticed, but the best interviews of this press tour were done in UK). Then there is the chemistry. I know Hayden pretty much looks at everyone the same way, but with Ewan it’s just different, he’s like becoming 19 again, I can literally see the electricity and sparkles shooting out of his heart eyes. I mean look at these comments:

THEY COMPLETE EACH OTHER

And most importantly, the memories. I was constantly amazed by how Hayden remembers every single minute details from 22 years ago: their first meeting, the lightsaber guy Thomas, getting drunk and playing a game of pool at the local bar, watching comedy specials at Ewan’s home laughing till the early hours of the morning, his first ride on a bike with Ewan…I don’t mean to quote Taylor Swift but he really remembers it all too fking well (on the other hand it seems Ewan had forgotten a lot😅).

The PR possibility

Oh GOD I hope not! My guess is he wouldn’t have such a crucial part in the Ahsoka series like he did in the Kenobi show so he wouldn’t even do much press. Plus, Rosario has already been paired with Natasha Liu Bordizzo for a lot of interviews at the celebration and SDCC, I think it’ll remain this way during the actual press next year. However, one thing I know for sure is the awkward photos of them hugging and staring intensely into each other’s eyes at the 19th Annual IFP Independent Spirit Awards in 2004 are gonna float around the internet again.😒

Closing thoughts

Deborah was right, they do share a very personal relationship. Like Ewan said in the Vanity Fair interview about their first encounter in 12 years at the signing event: "It was difficult to know how to sum up. So much had happened to us in our lives, and it was difficult to know…I realized this is an important person in front of me, an important person in my life.” That’s what’s so fascinating and intriguing about these two, there was so much history, but so little was documented and so much of it got lost in time. Like what more happened in Sydney and London??? It burns me to think that we’re probably never gonna know, all we can do is piece together whatever info we can find and hope to have a little peek behind the curtains. Still, the fun part of uncovering the truth is the searching, the digging, the cross-referencing, that’s why I enjoy it so much.

[stuckybarton]

Manifestation of A Happy Ending

SUMMARY: "Everyone deserves a happy ending, even you."

CHARACTERS: Stephen Strange x Reader;

WARNINGS: Brief Description of Child Birth.

WORDS: 2,022

MASTERLIST || Join the Taglist

~

Part 5 CANDLELIGHT

One of the few things you had learned since your past and your present had collided was the world was constantly moving. Everyone would try to move on, try to better themselves. A process the might look painful on one end, and easy for some. You had it easy. Having Stephen by your side all throughout was good, being able to find the good in the world in him, in your relationship and eventual marriage as well as the child you were carrying.

Things has been going well and you found yourself visiting the compound more on a regular basis now with Stephen constantly by your side. His sling ring a good tool to use to avoid dealing with New York traffic. Being able to reconnect with your friends had been hard at first having ghosted them for a hefty amount of time, but things had been good, especially with everyone just as excited about the baby coming in a few more months.

"Have you found out about the gender?" Nat had inquired as soon as you had arrived into the common room, your husband and Wong was dealing with a mission briefing with Steve and Tony while you waited.

"Not yet." You smiled at your friend before rubbing your growing bump. Sitting by the window with your friend, it was still weird for you to come back here, knowing everything that had happened. The way you just left and never looked back. "We still haven't decided if we're going to wait until the baby is born."

Nat smiled, asking your permission, had placed her hand against your stomach. The light thump had made the two of you jump, your baby's first kick.

"Still can't convince you to name the baby Natalie?" She teased making your burst out laughing.

"Tell that to Wanda and Thor, they're already bribing me with naming the baby after them too." You giggled remembering the multiple of times you had to deal with the two when you visit. "But I'll think about it." You assured knowing the name you had in mind would sound good with a second name added to it.

"We're not mad at you for what happened, Y/N." Nat had spoke all of a sudden, surprising you with the shift of your conversation. "We're surprised that everything happened the way that it did, but we understand why you did what you had to do."

You were left in silence, it was still something you tried your best to keep to yourself. A resentment they might have towards you because of your choice, how you turned your back on all of them when your relationship with Tony ended.

Before Nat could continue on with her words, FRIDAY had called for her to the briefing as well.

"We'll talk later, I'll find someone to keep you company for a while." Nat has said with a smile leaving you all alone to your own thoughts.

It would take a while to come to terms with your choice, but as long as you had Stephen and the baby, you had nothing more you had to worry about. Rubbing your stomach again, the thump had made you smile as you started to hum against the air, hoping to calm your restless baby.

Your eyes lingered onto the windows, the well manicured lawn and the vast land of the compound. You had remembered the time where you would sit in the middle of the grass, soaking into the sunlight after being in the confinement of your former room for days on end.

"I hope I am not intruding."

Turning your head away from the window, the sight of Loki had surprised you. For the most part, you had known about the team's hesitation towards the reformed God, and the other part of you still wary of him after the last time you've seen him in person--when he and his brother had made their way to Stephen's sanctum hoping to find you. The words that he spoke that became the push you needed to this life you now live.

"No you're not, Loki." You assured the God as he has come to approach you. "How's your stay since I've last seen you?" You inquired the man.

Unlike everyone in the team, you didn't have the same resentment towards the man--knowing from Thor what had happened to him, what he had to do to survive, you try your best not to put it against him if you could. And he is a good company to have while you do your research for your book.

"I'm afraid I've lost my library companion." He responded, a ghost of a smile resting on his face. "And I think an apology is long overdue after what I've said."

One brow rose waiting for him to continue his words.

"What I had called you in Strange's Sanctum is uncalled for and I never got the chance to apologize to you."

So he did know you were in the Sanctum. Blinking you didn't really know what to say.

"Why didn't you tell Thor or Tony?" You found yourself asking after a moment.

"What for? If you truly want to be found, you wouldn't have hidden, in such a poor excuse of curtains of all things. And I do not believe that you would be happy with Stark in the long run."

"So you're favoring Stephen over Tony?" You smiled knowing the vendetta still placed on Stephen's back for what he did to Loki all those years before.

"I have said no such thing." He brushed off finally sitting besides you on the couch. "But you're more tolerable compared to the rest of the people in this compound, so your happiness is something I'd champion for."

The biggest compliment you had received from Loki and somehow you find yourself blushing at it. You held onto the man's hand.

"I think I might just name my baby after you, Loki." You teased. "Is this your plan all along?"

"Is it working?" He smirked right back, mischief twinkling his eyes.

"You have Nat, Wanda, and your brother to fight for that right." You pointed out giggling at the antics that Loki was slowly showcasing you. A rare sight as the man chooses to keep to himself most of the time. "Want to feel the baby?" You offered looking up at the man.

"Are you sure?" The man sounded so uncertain and for a while you understood where he was coming from but knowing him, knowing he wouldn't hurt you, it doesn't sound too bad to have him feel the baby too.

Hand still holding onto his own, you placed his palm on top of your stomach. Smiling as soon as his palm rested, a sudden kick had made the two of your jump for a moment. Giving him a side glance, an amazed look that rested on his face placed you more at ease.

"They like you." You pointed out with a smile.

"A mistake they'd made before they're even born." Loki muttered pulling away.

"Loki--" You warned. "You don't contradict a pregnant woman." You warned with a pointed look now focus on him. A sheepish smile now resting on his face because of it.

Before Loki could further contradict himself, the sound of a few voices approaching had the two of you looking up and the sight of your husband and Wong coming to pick you up. But the sight of Tony and Steve also with them, the smile on your face had fallen. So much for trying to avoid the man.

"Hands off the wife, Laufeyson." Your husband warned, but you rolled your eyes and smiled towards the also much annoyed Loki.

"Loki's been keeping me company." You pointed out finally standing up and approaching your husband in the process.

"Fifty bucks he's also trying to convince you to name the baby after him."

"Keep your money to yourself, Strange." You snorted wrapping an arm around his waist. You smiled beamingly at your husband before winking knowingly at Loki and the conversation they had would only be theirs to keep from now on. "Loki's been nothing but nice to me and I'm staring to like the idea of Baby Loki."

At the grimace your husband had on you couldn't help but burst into as loud fits of laughter.  Resting your head against his chest, try as the man could, it was still hard for him to keep his emotions and his sass in check. You were fine with it, happy for his antics from time to time when he wasn't getting on your nerves.

"We'll talk about our child's life choices if you do that when we get home." He muttered cradling your head as you pull back to look at him. "Say goodbye to your friend before we go."

You smiled hugging Loki, taking the man by surprise before promising to catch up with Steve if Stephen ever stops by the compound again. But for a fraction of a second, you found your attention towards Tony, the longing look on his face as he looked at you and it scared you so much. You know you wouldn't leave Stephen, after everything you had been through, but it was just sad to see the playboy so broken--because of you.

"Bye, Tony." You finally whispered before joining your husband and Wong through the portal to bring you right home to the Sanctum.

~

"Benedict Vincent Strange."

The name had escaped your lips as soon as the baby was born. The past thirteen hours, Stephan had been besides himself. Everything he had learned from Med School was thrown in the trash when it comes to you. The doctors had tried their best to stay as far away from him while making sure you were well accommodated.

And everything was worth it as he now held on to his son. A blend of you and him. 

Even as the past few hours had been you sobbing to the high heavens while you pushed for the baby out while you pray for their safety. Stephen was relieved to know you and the baby were safe and healthy judging from the lungs capable of screaming up a storm from the both of you. The smile had somehow found their way onto his face.

He had watched the doctors begin to clean up his son before turning his attention back to you. Leaning back against the bed, even with the fatigue and pain still painting your face, you still had this big smile watching from the sides as the nurses swaddle your son.

"He's got your eyes." Stephen pointed out with a smirk and you were quick to roll your eyes. It was just a fun little debate the two of you had while you prepared for the baby, how such discussion span and become so meaningless as all the mattered was this very sight.

A life he never thought he would be allowed to have in his life. After everything he had done--the mistake he had made, he was still allowed to have his own happy ending in the form of you who had almost fallen face first in front of him in the cafe.

"Do you ever regret it?" Stephen asked after a moment of silence passed between the two of you. "Leaving Tony behind for someone like me?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Stephen." You smiled holding onto his hands, pulling him closer to where you laid to rest. "I've got everything I could have ever wanted in my life. A decent man that loves me more than the whole multiverse combined. I've got a child that I will give my life and soul to protect and love."

It was the truth, and the smile that lingered on his face made everything alright now. There would come a time that his life would be put on the line for the sake of the world, but it was alright. It was for you and it was for your son. His own little manifestation of a happy ending.

He would want nothing more in his life.

Tagging:

Stephen Strange One-Shot / Series

@secretsthathauntus @delightfulheartdream @d0ct0rstrangewife @gumgum78 @supervengerslock @inas-thing

Everything~

@wandering-spiritash @emmy626 @star017 @silverrmistt @broadwaybabe18

[thelmworkspace]

Feeling Better– Seungcheol x Reader

Hi, all! Thank you for all the love on the Woozi fic I posted a few weeks back. I wanted to introduce myself briefly! My name’s Lily (she/her) and I love to self-indulge with writing sometimes. Here is some Seungcheol comfort and the rest of the boys being cuties for everyone :) Let me know if you have any ideas you’d like to see!

Warnings: being sick, alluding very vaguely to throwing up 

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Ever the confident, sure of himself, optimistic, and resourceful, Seungcheol projected himself as calm and collected to his members, his coworkers, and to you. It was one of the things that had initially drawn you to him. He was a constant steadying force in your life, even when he was feeling anxious and overwhelmed himself. As a leader, he always tried to keep his worries to himself in order to take care of the other guys. They almost never saw him shook up, although there were some exceptions, especially when it came to you.

It was a Monday and the guys had come in early to run some choreography. Seungcheol had noticed you’d been a bit off over the weekend, not your normal self. You had said you felt a little under the weather, but nothing too bad. When Monday morning rolled around, however, Cheol could tell something was wrong. “Babe,” he nudged your knee slightly under your shared covers while you looked over emails on your phone, “are you sure you’re okay? Do you want me to see if I can stay home?” 

“No, no, I’m fine it’s just a stomach ache,” you grimaced a bit, pausing in typing out an email response to a coworker. Seungcheol sighed, placing a hand on your head and smoothing down you hair, unconvinced. “Okay, stay in bed for a bit,” he mumbled, reluctantly leaving your bed to get ready for practice. A few minutes later he walked back into your bedroom, a glass of water for you in hand. You hadn’t moved much from the position he left you in, but your hands were pressed into your brow and your head was bent downward. Hearing him walk in, you looked up and met his gaze. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take you to the hospital? You know I don’t mind being late,” he raised his eyebrows at you, moving to set the water on your bedside table. “I’m fine I just didn’t sleep well,” you said, quickly adding, “I have work to do, shoo” and reaching out to push him towards the door playfully. He holds onto your outstretched hand, though. “Try to eat something and call me if you need anything,” he says, pressing a kiss to your hair before heading out for the day.

A couple hours later, Seungcheol and the other guys were still running choreography, all the details taking a little longer than expected. A secretary popped their head into the room, looking around for Seungcheol. When he meets his eyes Cheol makes his way across the room to him, a little confused at the interruption. “Sorry to interrupt, I have a ‘Y/N’ in the lobby for Seungcheol?” the man asks, keeping his voice low. Despite the effort, all the member’s heads snap to the door– you never make such a formal entrance. Dokyeom almost starts to laugh before seeing all of the color drain out of Cheol’s face and his back stiffen. His mind jumped immediately trying to work through why you didn’t just call, if you were okay, feeling guilty for not insisting he stayed home with you. He knew you wouldn’t just show up unannounced unless something was really wrong. All twelve of the other men felt his shift in mood, but Jeonghan spoke first, reaching out to grab his elbow, “is everything okay?” Cheol’s eyes shifted to Jeonghan’s, noticeably panicked, “she was sick this morning but seemed okay when I left, I don’t know if-” 

“I’m sure she’s okay, hyung,” Wonwoo interrupted him, noticing Cheol’s volume raise as he kept talking. He turned back to the secretary, still waiting in the doorway and looking incredibly unsure of what to do, “Could you bring her up, please?” he asked before walking over to Cheol’s stuff and grabbing his water bottle for him. A hush had fallen over the room– the guys didn’t have much experience comforting a shook-up Seungcheol. “Hyung, she was sick?” Dokyeom asked, “I’m sure she just doesn’t feel good and missed you!” he laughed slightly, trying to raise the mood. The guys nodded, agreeing and throwing “don’t worries” his way as they went to grab their phones or water, gladly accepting the impromptu break. 

A knock on the door signaled your arrival a few moments later, the secretary opening the door for you and quickly retreating as you thanked him quietly. “Y/N-ah” Seungkwan called out quietly in greeting, earning a glare from Jeonghan. Seungcheol took a couple big, rushed steps towards you. You were in the comfiest sweatpants and hoodie you could find, the hood pushed up over your unbrushed hair and makeup-less face, and just your phone and keys in your front pocket. Cheol’s left hand found your shoulder, his right pushing the hood off of you and cradling the back of your head. You give him a futile smile, knowing before you even started shifting your face that it won’t convince him. “Hey, are you okay? What’s wrong?” he whispered, lowering his head slightly to meet your tired eyes. You looked down, avoiding his eyes out of embarrassment for interrupting his and all the other guys’ work . “I’m sorry,” you started, feeling Cheol automatically tighten his grip on you, “I feel awful and I haven’t been keeping anything down and I’m afraid I’m gonna get dehydrated. I wasn’t sure I should go to the hospital so I thought maybe I could see one of the medics here?” Cheol had brought you to one of them once before when you’d twisted your ankle badly in a pair of heels. He could see how uncomfortable you were, heart breaking a bit knowing you felt so crappy. He pulled you into his chest, hand still holding the back of your head protectively. “Why didn’t you call?” he mumbled, “You know you can always call.” 

“I know,” you said into his chest, “but I thought you would be in a meeting by now and I figured having you excuse yourself for a minute would be more professional than having your phone go off.” Despite his nerves still calming down from the panic he felt a few minutes ago, he let out a broken laugh. “You’re so funny, you think too much.”

As he lets you out of his embrace, Jeonghan extends a water bottle to your side, “here you go, Y/N- ah.” You smile up at him, feeling tears well up in your eyes involuntarily. Both men notice, Seungcheol concerned and Jeonghan smiling at your sudden emotion, “are you okay?” 

“I’m sorry, I’m so tired and I really don’t feel good. I cry easily when I’m sick,” you sniffle, trying to push your tears back and letting out a choked giggle. Seungkwan and Dokyeom let out audible “aww’s” at you from across the room, making you laugh a little more. “Okay, you, let’s get you to the medic,” Seungcheol wraps a protective hand around your waist and steers you out of the room. “I’ll be back,” he says, followed by your rushed “I’m so sorry, guys” before you’re ushered into the hallway. 

Fifteen or so minutes later, you try your best to sneak back into the practice room, Seungcheol holding your hand behind your back and following you in. You stand against the edge of the room for a minute before he lead you towards his bag on the other side of the room, letting you sit down next to his stuff and handing you your half empty water bottle. The guys were all focused on going over a particularly intricate hand movement, but stop when Cheol walks over to join them, looking at him expectantly for an update. “They gave her an IV for hydration. She’s gonna hang out until we’re done and then I’m taking her home.” The guys’ eyes shift to you, your back leaned up against the mirrored wall and head tucked far into your hoodie. “I’m sorry!” you say to the room, a whine in your voice to indicate that you feel horrible about your interruption. They shush you, Seungkwan rolling his eyes playfully, “as if we don’t love having you here no matter what, Y/N.” You smile up at them from the floor, eyes meeting Cheol’s and finally feeling a little better.

[lunar-wandering]

hey @winterpower98 guess what-

 here’s part 3

-

"You know, I'm starting to think maybe Monkey King is right about caves." MK said, leaning against Macaque's shoulder for support. "Thus far, we haven't had a really good track record with them."

"If you don't shut up right now I'm going to let you fall, injured leg be damned." Macaque said, shifting his hold to be able to support MK a little better as he wobbled.

Earlier in the day, the group of three had stumbled across a cave. MK had insisted on checking it out, but Wukong had outright refused to go in. After some arguing back and forth, Macaque had eventually given an irritated sigh, and grabbed MK's arm, marching into the cave and ignoring Wukong's yells for them to "be careful!".

...Of course, him ignoring Wukong's warning ended up resulting in karma rearing its head, causing a small cave in. Nothing really big, but enough to seal off the way back, and for a rock to hit MK in the leg, creating a long, bleeding, gash. Macaque had ended up sacrificing his scarf to bandage the injury, just to make sure MK didn't bleed out.

Which lead to where they were now, MK being supported by Macaque as they walked through the cave, with MK trying to make jokes, whether to lighten the mood or distract himself, Macaque wasn't sure. He was sure that there was another exit though, he could both feel and hear the wind blowing through the cavern, so all they had to do was just find it.

Which was... turning out to be a bit harder than it should've been.

Macaque suddenly stopped, MK swaying a little at the sudden lack of movement.

"What are you-"

"Shh. I hear something." Macaque said, tilting his head a little and flicking his ears, before turning, and slowly setting MK down so that he was sitting on the floor of the cave, his back against the wall. "...Stay here, I'll go check it out."

"No." MK said, grabbing hold of Macaque's wrist. "Don't. Don't leave me alone."

Macaque paused, glancing further into the cave, before looking back at MK. He took in the injured leg, the trembling tail, the way MK almost looked like he was about to start crying-

....Fuck, he'd gone soft.

"Okay, okay." Macaque said, kneeling down, "How about this."

He pressed his hand into MK's shadow, and pushed a bit of energy into it. Slowly, MK's shadow changed shape, morphing until it was exactly like Macaque's own shadow. Then, Macaque grasped onto it, and pulled.

A shadow clone popped out, it was only half formed, still a bit see through, but it was there. Macaque sighed as he stood back up, trying to not show just how much doing that had drained him. At least, since it was connected to MK's shadow, it wouldn't drain him of all his energy too quickly...

"There." Macaque said, "Now you're not alone. I'm going to look ahead, the clone will notify me if anything happens, okay?"

MK gave a little nod, and Macaque turned, and walked off into the darkness.

Leaving MK alone. ...With the shadow clone.

For a few minutes, MK was quiet. But....he was alone. In a cave. With an injured leg.

He needed something to distract himself with.

"So, uh, what do you think about Mon-" He started-

"Don't." The shadow clone interrupted, it's voice slightly warbled due to being half-formed. "Don't even think about it. I'm not like Wukong's clones, I'm not going to give away information so easily."

"....Oh. Sorry." MK said, disappointed, looking down at the ground.

"Ah, you didn't let me finish." The clone said, a sneaking grin on it's face. "I might be willing to talk, should you have something of equal interest to share...."

-

As it turned out, the sound Macaque had been hearing had been nothing but a small group of demons. Nothing a little bit of threatening and bluffing couldn't get rid off, so he chased them off, although not before he got one of them to tell him the way out.

Repeating the mental map of where he needed to go in his mind, he walked back to where he'd left MK and the clone.

...Only to hear a conversation he absolutely did not want to have happening.

"So, now that I've told you that...." MK's voice said, ".....What does Macaque think about Monkey King?"

Macaque froze, one foot ready to take the next step around the corner. He knew that he should rush around, dispel the clone, make sure that there was no answer, but for some reason he just. Couldn't seem to move.

"Oh, is that all you want to know?" The clone said, "Well, I think you already know the answer, he's still totally in lo-"

That seemed to be enough to break whatever was keeping Macaque still, as he rushed around the corner, kicking the shadow clone in the face as he dispelled it.

There was a moment of silence as MK and Macaque stared at each other. Then, MK smirked, before bursting into laughter. Macaque sighed, falling backwards and laying on the ground, staring at the roof of the cave, almost wishing the rocks would cave in on him right then and there.

"Wukong was right." He settled on saying, "Stupid clones really don't know how to shut up."

"Oh, so you overheard that conversation?" MK asked, "Well, that makes this a lot easier!"

"No it doesn't." Macaque hissed.

"Why not? You love him, you know he loves you back, you two talk about it, and then you get together, boom, easy!" MK explained, moving his arms around and making sound effects to accompany his point.

"Kid, clearly you have never experienced a real relationship." Macaque said, sitting back up to look at MK with the most disapproving face he could muster.

"But I've watched shows!" MK said, "I write fanfiction- I know how this kind of stuff plays out."

"Fan-what???"

MK paused for a moment.

"....I'll explain that to you later, right now, we're discussing your love life." He said, and Macaque groaned, flopping back onto the ground dramatically.

"I really rather we'd not-"

"Oh, but we will." MK said, smirking. "You, know, in retrospect, I really should've caught on the moment you described you and the Monkey King as being like the 'sun and moon', like, that's the gayest thing I've ever heard-"

"Shut up." Macaque hissed, using his hands to cover his face. "Gods, I thought I was over this-"

"But you're not." MK said, "So, what are you going to do?"

"Repress all of it until it goes away." Was Macaque's immediate response. MK used his good leg to kick Macaque in the side.

"Wrong answer." He said, ignoring how Macaque glared at him. "You're going to talk things out with Monkey King."

"Absolutely not." Macaque said, fur bristling. "That- that has 'terrible, no good idea' written all over it."

"Why are you so resistant to this?" MK asked, "What, are you scared?"

...He didn't get an answer.

"Oh my gods, you are scared."

"I am not." Macaque said, but considering he was very obviously avoiding looking MK in the eyes, he wasn't being very convincing.

"I mean, it's not like I can blame you-" MK said, "I mean, I've heard the stories and man, that's one hell of a breakup, but like, things are different now-"

"I'm not talking to him about this, and that's final." Macaque said, standing up in one fluid motion, clearly signalling that he was done with this conversation. Without even giving a bit of warning, he pulled MK up, throwing an arm around him to keep him steady. "C'mon, let's get out of this stupid cave already. I'm sure Peaches is having a heart attack over how long we're taking."

"Oh my gods you even call him Peaches that's so gay-"

"Shut the fuck up."

[braunbakery]

meet me at our spot (2)

☞ eren jaeger x reader [fem bodied] [chapter word count: 2k]

☞ sfw, fluff, mild angst, modern au, short fic, other characters present

fic plot: before high school, you and eren were best friends. after high school, you and eren are strangers still grasping at those same past threads.

inspired by meet me at our spot by the anxiety

prev. next

2. something’s got ahold of me

a once-off conversation is just that - once-off. so you try to convince yourself there’s no point in dwelling on seeing eren yesterday, or dwelling on how he helped you sit back up, or how he smiled at you before he left. there’s no point. it was just a coincidence, a fluke.

eren has an entire group of friends. armin and mikasa, who you’ve shared a couple classes with and known since they were young. jean kirstein, who’s guts eren swore he hated back in the first couple days of freshman year. connie and sasha, who you know of course because of the commotion that always seems to follow them. he sees them everyday, and he only said he’d see you around as a courtesy.

you repeat this as a mantra over and over in your head, trying to distract yourself from looking up every few seconds the wind causes the leaves outside the treehouse to rustle and the small voice in your head that hopes it’s eren.

you sit cross-legged on the floorboards, pulling out more weird trinkets and drawings from years ago and placing them in a plastic bag to the side. now you know there’s not really any chance of being interrupted by eren again, of being rendered speechless when you’re just trying to get your shit and go (so why does your chest keep sinking whenever you swear that you can hear someone come up the ladder only to be met with an empty doorway?)

at some point you start to get sick of yourself, keeping your head focused on the box in your lap and shoving whatever even seems remotely yours into the plastic bag. so when you hear what distantly sounds like footsteps again, you don’t look up.

“hey,” a voice speaks, and your head lurches up from your hunched over position. it’s eren, hand on the frame of the doorway and peering into the wooden room.

“hi,” you practically squeak out. eren steps in.

“you back again?”

“yeah,” you say, “i still have…some stuff.”

you wonder if knows that’s as soon as he left yesterday you got out of here.

eren leans down and picks up the photo album from yesterday off of the floor, “you want this?”

“oh, you can keep it if you want.”

eren walks closer to you and sits down next to you. he doesn’t seem to notice you watching him carefully, “nah, i remember it was your idea, right?”

“yeah,” you hesitantly confirm, “but theyre our photographs.”

you notice eren freeze and you regret saying that because now he’s looking at you in a way…in a way that makes you feel like he only ever looks at you like that.

“this is one weird custody battle,” eren jokes before putting the photo album back down and grabbing the box in your lap.

“hey!” you exclaim, shoving his arm, “i was literally looking through that.”

“yeah,” eren offers you a shit-eating grin, “and now i am.”

“how are you still so annoying?”

“and how are you still so easy to annoy?” eren moves his face closer to yours.

you feel blood rush to your face and mumble sheepishly, “shut up.”

and with that, eren seems satisfied enough to let you balance the box halfway on his lap and the other half on yours, both of you rummaging through clutter silently as an excuse to sit for a little longer.

you hear an engine rev after eren does and only when you look at him do you realise hes stood up and is practically hanging out of the treehouse in an attempt to peer down at his drive way.

“oh,” he says, and you wonder if it’s more so to himself than to you, “it’s reiner.” it seems dumb, but you only realise he’s speaking to you when he turns back to you like he’s waiting for a response. you’re not really used to all this talking with him. like…talking personally to you and not the you that walks past him every once in a while.

“right.”

“him and a few of the others are coming over to hangout.”

“right,” you start anticipating him bidding you goodbye and climbing back down the ladder, but the goodbye never comes and he still stands over you like he’s deep in thought.

“do you…wanna come?” eren sounds out, like he’s testing out how the syllables feel on his lips.

“…what?” what the hell is he talking about?

“to hang out,” eren says carefully, eyes flicking back and forth between yours, “with us.” he adds.

with eren’s friends? you don’t want to be possessive or weirdly resentful but the first thought you have is that he’s inviting you to sit with the people that he prefers. you have to mentally slap yourself to remember that drifting away is normal, and they’re all probably really nice. and it was four fucking years ago. and you don’t stay friends with the people you knew when you were 8.

“oh…are you sure?” you ask. eren shifts from one foot to the other before taking another step towards you. the box in your lap feels like it’s slipping from your grasp.

“yeah, why not?” he says, and he must notice how he doesn’t sound very convinced of himself either when he watches your eyes droop because he’s quickly interjecting before you can say anything back, “it’ll be fun. come on.”

his hand extends out to you. you want to slap his hand away and tease him, say you don’t need his help, that you’re not an old lady, but your palm is already meeting his and you can already feel calloused fingers over your skin and him pulling you up to stand in front of him.

the short journey between the treehouse to eren’s kitchen is a blur, and saying hi to reiner and who he brought with him (bertolt, you think. as well as connie and jean) is even blurrier, because all of a sudden you find yourself seated on one of the stools in eren’s kitchen and absentmindedly listening to whatever the hell they’re talking about.

you appreciate how eren spares you a glance every once in a while, offering you a close mouthed smile like you haven’t not been in this house since you were 14.

“hey, eren,” reiners voice bellows from the front of the house and you hear him unlock the front door. the look you and eren are sharing is cut short by reiner, “armin, mikasa and sasha are here.”

“‘kay,” eren responds even though the three new visitors are already waltzing into the living room. you’re still frozen in place. you don’t even remember the last thing you said.

“guys, this is my - sasha get out of the fridge - my neigh–” eren tries to start, but sasha is suddenly barreling towards your seat at the kitchen island.

“hi! you’re in my bio class, right?!” sasha excitedly asks you, practically jumping on the spot.

“you mean she was, sasha. we’re not in high school anymore,” connie calls out from behind her. sasha rolls her eyes.

“it’s so nice to see you!”

“thanks…it’s nice to see you too.”

“you’re scaring the girl, sasha,” jean comments before deciding to grab something from the fridge himself. sasha immediately follows after him. you lock eyes with eren again and you realise he had already been watching you.

“hi,” a soft voice greets you, and suddenly mikasa is standing by your seat, “nice to see you again.”

“yeah, it’s been forever,” armin adds from beside her.

“you guys know each other too?” reiner asks from across the room, leaning on one of the kitchen counters next to eren.

“from when we were kids,” you say, flitting your eyes to eren only to find that he’s looking at you again. you want him to stop so you don’t have to focus so hard on speaking anymore, but you want him to keep doing it because it’s nice to know that he’s still knows you’re here. which sounds pathetic but, eren’s got such a big group of friends that sometimes you think it was kind of inevitable that he slowly drifted away from you.

“we all kinda knew each other before high school, reiner,” armin explains, sparing you another smile.

“you and bertolt literally transferred in halfway through freshman year, how do you not know this?” jean calls over to reiner.

“just slipped my mind i guess.”

“he was too busy trying not to be mistaken for a senior,” connie jokes. the room laughs. you try to.

“don’t you mean a security guard?” jean adds. everyone laughs again. you didn’t really spend that much time looking at the two boys when they had transferred, so the joke is kind of lost on you, but you smile along anyways.

“ha-ha, very funny,” reiner sarcastically retorts, “don’t know why you’re laughing, bertolt. think someone mistook you for someone’s dad once.” another eruption of laughter.

you really don’t wanna start feeling out of place (well, more out of place than you did before) but when everyone starts shooting jokes and comments across the room at each other, it gets harder and harder to stretch out a smile over your face at each one. and it gets harder and harder to look up and eren, to watch him laugh along with everyone or have him lock eyes with you again, until you’re all together just staring at your lap.

you think…you think it’s time for you to go.

eren stands at the corner of his kitchen, still leaning against his counter, so you carefully slip out of the stool and make your way towards him, wanting to try your utmost best to make this exchange as short as possible before you go back home.

“i think i’m gonna go,” you say to him quietly, awkwardly staring anywhere other than his face.

“hm?” eren is cut out of the lively conversation with his friends and is looking back at you, lips parted momentarily as his tries to figure out what you said. he takes a step closer towards you and your heart skips a beat, “wait–“

you cut him off, trying to get out of there before you’re reminded even more of how you just faded away from eren’s life, “thanks for inviting me.”

you quickly whisk yourself away to the front door before eren can say anything more, not trying to deal with any more of what always seems like general politeness to you. just as you’re about to step out of the front door, a hand wraps around your wrist when you let go of the door handle and you turn around to be met with eren behind you, looking just as shocked with himself are you are.

“uh…” eren’s gaze shifts between your eyes repeatedly, “is everything okay?”

you look down at his hand around your wrist and back up at him, “yeah. just tired.” you feel his grip loosen but he still doesn’t let go, and a part of you isn’t ready for him to.

“see you around?” he echoes what seems to be his catchphrase. you nod your head in a way that you know isn’t as enthusiastic as what he might like to see. he’s just being polite. today was another coincidence, another fluke, and he isn’t actually going to want to make any effort to see you again. even if you’re just next door. he hasn’t for the past four years.

“yeah,” you quietly respond, slipping your wrist out of his grasp. you can still faintly hear chatter from inside the house. eren watches as you trod down the front steps to his house and make your way back over to your own, the back of your head never turning even just for a second to look back at him.

eren doesn’t like regrets. he doesn’t like wasting time on them, he doesn’t like how they make him feel like he should be in a rush to do something that he’s not even sure of (that he can’t even take back). but as he watches you leave his house, he thinks that if there’s one thing he’d let himself regret, it’d be not realizing he’d fallen away from you before it was too late.

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[spockandawe]

Well, this is interesting! So, in that post yesterday, there was one line that really baffled me, a thing about people brushing off a character as an asshole “because he shows literally zero growth.” I kind of set that aside because it was such a weird non-sequitur, and guessed that it was just someone’s sentences not quite keeping up with their train of thought, which has happened to me many times. Apparently I was wrong! I already spent long enough on that one post, I’m tired of talking about that, but this is new and interesting. 

Okay. I kind of wanted to see if I could talk about this purely in terms of abstracts and not characters, but I don’t think it’ll work. It would be frustrating to write and confusing to read. It’s about Jiang Cheng. Right up front: This isn’t about whether or not he’s an abuser. Frankly, I don’t think it’s relevant. This also isn’t about telling people they should like him. I don't care whether anyone else likes him or not. But I do like him, and I am always fascinated by dissecting the reasons that people disagree with me. And the process of Telling Stories is my oldest hyperfixation I remember, which will become relevant in a minute.

I thought I had a good grasp on this one, you know? Jiang Cheng makes it pretty obvious why people would dislike Jiang Cheng. But then the posts I keep stumbling over were making weird points, culminating in that “literally zero growth” line.

So! What happened is that someone wrote up a post about how Jiang Cheng’s character arc isn’t an arc, it’s stagnation. It’s a pretty interesting read, and I broadly agree with the larger point! The points where I would quibble are like... the idea that it’s absolute stagnation, as opposed to very subtle shifts that still make a material difference. But still, cool! The post was also offered up as a reason why OP was uninterested in writing any more Jiang Cheng meta, which I totally get. I’m not tired of him yet, but I definitely understand why someone who isn’t a fan of his would get tired about writing about a character with a very static arc. Okay!

Now, internet forensics are hard. I desperately wish I had more information about this evolution, because I find this stuff fascinating, but I have no good way to find things said in untagged posts, reblogs, or private/external venues. But as far as I can tell, that “literally zero growth” wasn’t just a slip of the tongue, it’s become fashionable for people to say that Jiang Cheng is an abusive asshole (that it’s fucked up to like) because he doesn’t have a character arc.

Asshole? Yes. Abusive? This post still isn’t about that. This is about it being fucked up to like this character because he did bad things and had a static character arc.

At first, that point of view was still deeply confusing to me. But I think I figured out the idea at the core of it, and now I’m only baffled. I’m not super interested in confirming this directly, because the people making the most noise about this have not inspired confidence in their ability to hold a civil conversation and I’m a socially anxious binch, but I think the idea is: ‘This character did Bad Things, and then did not improve himself.’

Which is alarmingly adjacent to that old favorite standard of ‘This piece of fiction is glorifying Bad Thing.’ I haven’t seen anyone accusing mxtx of something something jiang cheng, only the people who read/watched/heard the story and became invested in the Jiang Cheng character, but things kind of add up, you know?

Like I said, I don’t want to arbitrate anyone’s right to like/dislike Jiang Cheng. That’s such a fucking waste of time. But this is fascinating to me, because it’s like..... so obviously new and sudden, with such a clear originating point. I can’t speak to the Chinese fans, obviously, but exiledrebels started translating in... what, 2017? And only now, in 2021, do people start putting forth Jiang Cheng’s flat character arc as a “reason” that he’s bad? I’m not going to argue if he pings you in the abuse place, I’m not a dick. I’m not going to argue if you just dislike his vibes. I’m just over here on my blog and in the tag enjoying myself, feel free to detour around me. But oh my god, it’s so silly to try to tell other people that they shouldn’t like him because he has a static character arc.

I want to talk about stories. I don’t know how much I’ll be able to say, because it’s impossible to make broad, sweeping statements, because there are stories about change, there are stories about lack of change, there are all kinds of media that can be used to tell stories, and standards for how stories are told and what they emphasize vary across cultures and over time. But I think that what I can say is that telling a story requires... compromise. It requires streamlining. Trying to capture all the detail of life would slow down most stories to an unbearable degree. Consider organically telling someone ‘I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich’ versus the computer science exercise of having students describe, step by step, how to make one (spread peanut butter? but you never said you opened the lid)

Hell, I’ve got an example in mdzs itself. The largely-faceless masses of the common people. If someone asks you to think about it critically like, yes, obviously these are people, living their own lives, with their own desires, sometimes suffering and dying in the wake of the novel plot. But does the story give weight to those deaths? Or does it just gloss by? Yes, it references their suffering occasionally, but it is not the focus, and it would slow the story unbearably to give equal weight to each dead person mentioned. 

Does Wei Wuxian’s massacre get given the same slow, careful consideration as Su She’s, or Jin Guangyao’s? No, because taking the time to weigh our protagonist with ‘well, this one was a mother, and her youngest son had just started walking, but now he’s going to grow up without remembering her face. that one only became an adult a few months ago, he still hasn’t been on many night-hunts yet, but he finds it so rewarding to protect the common people. oh, and this one had just gotten engaged, but don’t worry, his fiancee won’t mourn him, because she died here as well.’ And continuing on that way to some large number under 3000? No! Unless your goal is to make the reader feel bad for cheering for a morally grey hero, that would be a bad authorial decision! The book doesn’t ignore the issue, it comes up, Wei Wuxian gets called out about all the deaths he’s responsible for, but that’s not the same as them being given equal emotional weight to one (1) secondary character, and I don’t love this new thing where people are pretending that’s equivalent.

When Wei Wuxian brutally kills every person at the Wen supervisory office, are you like ‘holy shit... so many grieving families D:’ or are you somewhere between vindicated satisfaction and an ‘ooh, yikes’ wince? Odds are good you’re somewhere in the satisfaction/wince camp, because that’s what the story sets you up to feel, because the story has to emphasize its priorities (priorities vary, but ‘plot’ and ‘protagonist’ are common ones, especially for a casual novel read like this)

Now, characters. If you want to write a story with a sweeping, epic scale, or if you want to tightly constrain the number of people your story is about, I guess it’s possible to give everyone involved a meaningful character arc. Now.... is it always necessary? Is it always possible? Does it always make sense? No, of course not. If you want to do that, you have to devote real estate to it, and depending on the story you want to tell, it could very possibly be a distraction from your main point, like the idea of mxtx tenderly eulogizing every single character who dies even incidentally. Lan Qiren doesn’t get a loving examination of his feelings re: his nephews and wei wuxian and political turnover in the cultivation world because it’s not relevant, and also, because his position is pretty static until right near the end of the story. Lan Xichen is arguably one of the most static characters within the book, he seems like the same nice young between Gusu and the present, right up until... just before the end of the story.

You may see where I’m heading with this.

Like, just imagine trying to demand that every important character needs to go through a major life change before the end of your book or else it didn’t count. This just in, Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg go through multiple novels without experiencing radical shifts in who they are, stop liking them immediately. I do get that the idea is that Jiang Cheng was a ~bad person~ who didn’t change, but asdgfsd I thought we were over the handwringing over people being allowed to like ““bad”” fictional characters. The man isn’t even a canonical serial killer, he’s not my most problematic fave even within this novel.

And here is where it’s a little more relevant that I would quibble with that original post about Jiang Cheng’s arc. He’s consistently a mean girl, but he goes from stressed, sharp-edged teenager, to grief-stricken, almost-destroyed teen, to grim, cold young adult (and then detours into grim, cold, and grief-stricken until grief dulls with time). He does become an attentive uncle tho. He..... doesn’t experience a radical change in his sense of self, which... it’s...... not all that strange for an adult. And bam, then he DOES experience a radical change, but the needs of the plot dictate that it’s right near the end. And he’s not the focus of the story, baby, wangxian is. He has the last few lines of the story, which nicely communicate his changes to me, but also asdfafas we’re out of story. He was never the main character, it’s not surprising we don’t linger! The extras aren’t beholden to the needs of plot, but they’re also about whatever mxtx wanted to write, and I guess she didn’t feel like writing about Jiang Cheng ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But also. Taking a step backward. Stable characters can fill a perfectly logical place in a story. Like, look at Leia Organa. I’m not saying she has no arc, but I am saying that she’s a solid point of reference as Luke is becoming a jedi and Han is adjusting his perspective. I wouldn’t call her stagnant, the vibes are wrong, but she also isn’t miserable in her sadness swamp, the way Jiang Cheng is.

Or, hell, look at tgcf. The stagnant, frozen nature of the big bad is a central feature of the story. The bwx of now is the bwx of 800 years ago is the bwx of 1500+ years ago. This is not the place for a meta on how that was bad for those around him and for him himself, but I have Thoughts about how being defeated at the end is both a thing that hurts him and relieves him. Mei Nianqing is a sympathetic character who’s also pretty darn static. Does Ling Wen have a character arc, or do we just learn more about who she already is and what her priorities always were? I’m going to cut myself off here, but a character’s delta between the beginning of a story and the end of a story is a reasonable way to judge how interesting writing character meta is, and is a very silly metric to judge their worth, and even if I guessed at what the basic logic is, for this character, I am still baffled that it’s being put forth as a real talking point.

(also, has it jumped ship to any other characters yet? have people started applying it in other fandoms as well? please let me know if this is the case, I am wildly curious)

(no, but really, if anyone is arguing that bwx is gross specifically because he had centuries to self-reflect and didn’t fix himself, i am desperate to know)

And finally. The thing I thought was most self-evident. Did I post about this sometime recently? If a non-central character experiences a life-altering paradigm shift right near the end of the story (without it being lingered over, because non-central character), oh my god. As a fic writer? IT’S FREE REAL ESTATE. This is the most fertile possible ground. If I want to write post-canon canon-compliant material, adsgasfasd that’s where I’m going to be looking. Okay, yeah, the main couple is happy, that’s good. Who isn’t happy, and what can I do about that? Happy families are all alike, while every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way, etc.

It’s not everyone’s favorite playground, but come on, these are not uncommon feelings. And frankly, it’s starting to feel a little disingenuous when people act like fan authors pick out the most blameless angel from the cast and lavish good things upon them. I’m not the only one who goes looking for a good dumpster fire and says I Live Here Now. If I write post-canon tgcf fic, it’s very likely to focus on beef and/or leaf. I have written more than one au focusing on tianlang-jun.

And, hilariously. If the problem with Jiang Cheng. Is that he is a toxic man fictional character who failed to grow on his own, and is either unsafe or unhealthy to be around. If the problem is that he did not experience a character arc. If these people would be totally fine with other people liking him, if he improved himself as a person. And then, if authors want to put in the (free! time-consuming!) work of writing that character development themselves. You would think that they would be lauded for putting the character through healthier sorts of personal growth than he experienced in canon. Instead, I am still here writing this because first, I was bothered by these authors being named as “freaks” who are obsessed with their ‘uwu precious tsundere baby’ with a “love language of violence,” and then I was graciously informed that people hate Jiang Cheng because he experiences no character growth.

[just-come-baek]

out to lunch

Pairing: cooking show chef!xiaojun x personal assistant!reader

Themes: smut

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: You come over to the kitchen set of Xiaojun’s cooking show to tell him you managed to get him what he had always dreamed of. However, once you reveal the big news, you discover his priorities have changed, and right now, the only thing he wants to do is you.

Warnings: dirty talk | fingering | kitchen set sex | unprotected sex | creampie | Xiaojun’s inner diva is showing | 

A/N support WayV lol | writing this for neosmutcollective mini wayv event

Xiaojun was utterly immersed in his world. Though it was already late at night, he was still behind the kitchen counter, chopping ingredients with his favorite knife. Right now, Xiaojun was in his element, oozing precision and determination to perfect his new recipe, and it somewhat felt like a sin to interrupt him.

You had big news to deliver, though. Having heard you out, Xiaojun would surely forgive you for your disruption. He had to. After all, you just managed to get him that cooking book contract he had always dreamed of.

Ever since you two had started working together, it was your goal to make Xiaojun a published author. Though he already owned three restaurants and starred in his own cooking show, Xiaojun was insatiable. The more fame and recognition he got, it was never enough.

You cleared your throat to obtain his attention, but it didn’t quite pull him out of his trance, so you decided to give him an extra minute.

Xiaojun looked incredibly attractive in his own habitat. In his white uniform and ridiculously big chef hat, Xiaojun looked like a whole damn Michelin three-star dish. No wonder he kept beating his viewing records with each new episode. People all across the country swooned over his culinary talent, incredible charisma, and breathtaking looks.

Having approached the kitchen counter, you knocked on the marble surface in hopes of obtaining his attention.

“Earth to Xiaojun,” you softly spoke, looking at his face. Apparently, the timing couldn’t have been worse as Xiaojun dropped his knife on the cutting board and swung it onto the floor, making a huge mess.

“What do you want!? Don’t you see I’m busy!?” Xiaojun barked before he turned around to get a clean set of kitchen utensils. “Get lost. I don’t want to talk to you,” he added, waving his hand at you, trying to chase you out of the kitchen space.

“Ugh, for the love of God, Xiaojun! How many times have we had this conversation? That diva tone doesn’t work on me,” you answered firmly, staring into his eyes, challenging him. His gaze was intense, his jaw was tensed, but you just smiled at him, ignoring his shenanigans altogether. It wasn’t the first time he lashed out at you, and you knew how to handle him.

“Okay, fine. What is it?” Xiaojun huffed, giving in. With his arms folded across his chest, he tapped his foot against the floor, impatiently waiting for the news.

“I got you that book offer. You’re gonna be a published author,” you exclaimed, ready to jump up and down in joy. However, Xiaojun didn’t seem to be particularly excited. “What’s the matter? Isn’t it what you’ve always wanted? I don’t get it,” you spoke, creasing your eyebrow in confusion, trying to read his bizarre expression.

Xiaojun seemed indifferent at best.

“Cancel it. Undo it. I won’t write it,” Xiaojun replied before he proceeded back to his previous task. It wasn’t wise to disturb him now, so you waited until all vegetables were neatly cubed and thrown into a bowl.

“Can you tell me what’s going on? I don’t understand. I thought you’ve always wanted it,” you inquired, trying a much calmer approach. Xiaojun didn’t use his knife now, but he was still holding it, and it wouldn’t be the first time someone earned a cut during a heated argument in the kitchen.

“I have,” Xiaojun replied with a deep sigh as he poured the chicken broth over the vegetables. “But it gets tiring, you know…” he added, as he took off his chef hat and threw it on the countertop, running his hand through his hair. “Everything is happening too fast. I thought I wanted it, but now, when I actually live that life, I realized I am not cut out for this.”

It was heart-breaking to listen to it. You two had been working very hard to get Xiaojun where he is right now, only to come to a conclusion it’s all wrong. Fame was a heavy cross to bear, and Xiaojun was slowly stumbling under its weight.

“Don’t tell me you want to quit,” you whispered, anxious to know the answer. Xiaojun’s eyes were trained on you, and you could see how tired he was. “How about you take it easy from now on instead of quitting it all together? It would be a shame to quit right at the finishing line,” you reasoned, hoping Xiaojun would consider it.

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s talk about it, okay?” you interjected before Xiaojun would impulsively ruin his career. “We’ve got only three more episodes to shoot. I could put you on hiatus until you decide you want to continue with another season. In the meantime, you could work on the cooking book at your own pace. Probably, I will make you record some cooking content on social media to keep you circulating on the web, so people won’t forget you. Except for that, your schedule would be clear to focus on whatever you need to focus on.”

Silence.

Xiaojun was staring at his chef hat, pondering your damn good points. When you put it like that, it was hard to say no. Besides, he had a feeling you would talk back instantly if he found faults in your argumentation.

Seconds passed without Xiaojun’s response. You were his voice of reason; he had to listen to you. Besides, not only was his career on the line. If he actually quitted, your superior would murder you. Xiaojun was the cash cow of the company; they couldn’t afford to lose him. He was at their rising star.

“Why do you always know what to say?” Xiaojun rhetorically asked, and you beamed, ready to grace him with an answer.

“I’m really good at my job,” you pointed out proudly. Thanks to your impeccable management and problem-solving capabilities, you managed to help Xiaojun rise to the top. “And also, I care about you. Sometimes, you’re a pain in the ass, but after all, you’re a good person. You are my friend, and I want you to be happy.”

“Fine, let’s do it your way. But we’re not shooting another season until I say so,” Xiaojun caved, smiling brightly at you. “You know what I really want to do, though?” He challenged as he rested his elbow on the counter, straightening his back, trying to appear taller and overall more confident.

His voice was quiet, and it suspiciously sounded as if he told “you.”

Shaking your head, you asked, “what?”

Xiaojun felt a sudden wave of confidence rush through him before he repeated himself clearly. No, there was no shred of doubt. You heard him loud and clear. Confidently, Xiaojun admitted that he really want to do was you.

“You seriously think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me?” Xiaojun spoke in a somewhat accusing tone, eyeing you from head to toe before he took a cautious step toward you. Intimidated, you took a step backward, and that timid action made Xiaojun smirk.

He knew exactly what type of effect he had on you. All memories of lingering glances you had stolen of him when you had believed he hadn’t been looking came back rushing to you. You weren’t as sly and discreet as you thought you were.

“It really flatters me,” Xiaojun teased with a smug smile. “Don’t deny it, and come here,” he urged, spreading his arms, waiting for you to run into him.

At first, you were sure Xiaojun was just messing with your head. You believed he was teasing you. You imagined him flick your forehead if you walked into his personal space. It was obvious he was mocking you. There was no way in hell that he wanted you the way you wanted him. You must’ve been seeing things.

“Jesus, woman! Hurry the fuck up,” Xiaojun warned you, losing his patience. “If you’re not coming here, I am coming there,” he added, giving you one last chance for a change of heart. “Screw it,” he cursed, surging forward, trapping you in his tight embrace.

His actions spoke louder than words. All your previous thoughts were gone; Xiaojun wouldn’t have bothered this much to pull a prank on you. He was genuine. Xiaojun held you still in his arms, waiting for you to make a move. He would never try anything without your permission, regardless of how delicious your lips looked.

“Kiss me,” he ordered, and you rushed, smashing your lips against his in a passionate kiss. It was everything you imagined it to be, but tenfold better. You had fantasized about his moment plenty of times, and weirdly enough, Xiaojun’s mouth somehow felt both soft and rough at the same time. “Now, we’re talking.”

You two completely lost it. Hands were running on your bodies as you engaged in a heated moment, relieving your much maddening frustration. It felt amazing, and you wished you could carry on until you both lose all your energy.

“Let’s go to my place,” you mumbled once you pulled away. Xiaojun still held you pressed against him as he waited for you to elaborate, being painfully clueless to your ulterior motive. “It’s much closer from here than yours,” you added, and Xiaojun only smiled dumbly, waiting for you to word your request in an even more ridiculous way.

“Why bother going anywhere when I can have you here?” Xiaojun playfully announced, giggling as his gaze shifted from your gorgeous eyes to the countertop. Almost instantly you realized what his crazy proposition was. Did you really want your first time with him to be on the kitchen island inside the cooking show set? It would be a blatant lie if you said you had never considered this.

“Fuck me then,” you urged, giving Xiaojun permission to ruin you right there.

Xiaojun didn’t waste any time. In an instant, he wrapped his arms around your thighs as he picked you up and gently sat down on the countertop. Except for your pencil skirt, your legs were bare, so you let out a slight hiss once you felt the cold marble against your skin.

Biting your lips, you spread your legs, letting Xiaojun stand right between them.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about fucking you here,” Xiaojun confessed before he leaned forward, stealing another desperate kiss. “You remember that time when we fought over the Oreo cake? I was so hard back then. I wanted to bend you over the counter so bad. I almost didn’t hold myself back.”

“You should’ve gone for it,” you whispered as you remembered that quarrel. That night Xiaojun had been the star of your fantasies when you used your vibrating friend to get yourself off. “I was so horny then. Almost as horny as right now,” you added, pulling him by his funny black tie, melting into yet another kiss.

Xiaojun was getting impatient. It was nice, but it wasn’t enough for him. Having untangled the knot of his apron, he yanked it off his hips, throwing it over his shoulder.

“I want to feel you so bad,” he murmured as he slid his fingers under your skirt, pulling your panties down your legs. “Let me prep you up,” Xiaojun uttered when his digits gently fondled your folds, gliding his knuckle inside of you. The moment you felt him, you let out a quiet moan, enjoying his little ministrations.

Xiaojun knew how to please a woman. He curled his fingers inside of you, stretching you out for his length. With your eyes shut closed, you focused on your pleasure, letting Xiaojun spoil you rotten. Though it was just mere petting, it felt nice as hell. He was getting you ready for his cock, and you basked in simple delight.

“Enough of that; I want you to fuck me now,” you kindly spoke, wrapping your palm around his wrist. “Please,” you added when you noticed how hesitant Xiaojun was of letting go. He planned on making you come first before properly fucking you with his cock, but since you asked him nicely, he decided to give you exactly what you wanted. Though he’d love to tease you some more, your pleading tone seemed to do the thing.

Swiftly, he yanked down his pants, revealing his member. It was standing proud, and you looked down at it, admiring it. Without any doubt, Xiaojun was to make your day.

As much as you wanted to return the favor, Xiaojun didn’t let you. Impatiently, he gave himself a few strokes before he aligned his cock with your entrance, rubbing its tip against your folds. Slowly, he pushed his hard length inside of you, making you groan.

Your grip on the edge of the countertop tightened as Xiaojun filled you up with his erection. At first, Xiaojun maintained a slow and steady rhythm. However, as you kept moaning his name and encouraging him to go faster, his thrusts became more rapid. Quickly, Xiaojun snapped his hips, finding your sweet spot in record time.

“Holy shit,” you exclaimed, feeling the knot inside of you tighten. You were moments away from your peak. Xiaojun’s cock stroked all the right places, pushing you off the edge. “Fuck, I am coming,” you shouted, kicking your head backward, welcoming the bliss that ripped through you.

When you were slowly descending back on Earth, Xiaojun kept chasing his release.

You could feel him throb inside of you. Then, an idea crossed your mind. Until now, it was Xiaojun who did all the work, so the least you could do was to encourage him to fill you up, to talk him through his orgasm.

“You fill me up so well. I came on your cock, and you’re still rock-hard. Do you want me to come again?” You complimented him, spilling filth. Though you weren’t sure if Xiaojun would be into dirty talk, you were certain he was eating it all up. Xiaojun was moaning your name as he snapped his hips, falling out of his even rhythm.

Xiaojun was near. His grip on your thighs tightened as he pounded inside of you, being only a few strokes away from his sweet bliss.

“Come inside of me,” you urged him. It was all it took to make him reach his peak. With a choked grunt, Xiaojun came, buckling his hips as he painted your walls with his release.

You remained silent as Xiaojun breathed heavily, trying to come back to his senses.

“If we’re ever doing it, here, again, I want you to spank me with this,” you commented as you reached for the spatula that sat on the other side of the counter. Xiaojun smirked upon seeing the kitchen utensil, tempted to try it out soon.

However, on second thought, tonight was just good as any other day.

“How about we take it with us over to your place,” Xiaojun proposed, and you cocked your eyebrow, excited to hear his suggestion. “Let’s get you cleaned up first,” he added as he bent down to pick up his apron. His release was dripping down your thighs, so he wiped it off with the fabric, looking rather pleased by the fact that you let him come inside of you.

“That sounds like a plan.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen 4

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape, age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats, coercion, manipulation, hand job, loss of virginity

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: Sorry it took so long to get this out. Hopefully I can work on part 5 now that I have this posted.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 4:  With its gallery gods and its garbage-bag trees

💀💀💀

Sam left you in the same daze that fogged the entire day. The night was restless as you tossed and turned, replaying the scene over and over. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw the lens staring back at you, imagined yourself on a screen, your hand moving between your legs, your pathetic mewls as you came for this man and who knew how many others. 

Well, he did say it was up to you how big the audience was.

You woke early and only checked in with your nan to fill a mug with coffee and start your day ahead of time. You needed to keep yourself busy after a night bombarded by your own thoughts and yet, you couldn’t focus enough to do more than stare at the blinking cursor.

You put on a Twitch stream to keep your mind from wandering too far but it did little to help your focus. You fidgeted, still without your phone, and again thought of the previous day and what you’d done. You’d never done that in front of anyone. You only ever joked about it online, that persona was everything you weren’t irl.

All your stupid online jokes and exaggerations got you into this. You fucked up because the line between virtual and reality was too blurred in your head. You got carried away and now you just had to deal. Well, you guessed it was a lesson no one learned the easy way.

You didn’t realise how much time passed until your stomach growled loudly and squeezed. You felt like throwing up but only had the slice of toast you scarfed down that morning to coat your stomach. You rubbed your eyes and headed downstairs to sneak some of your nan’s sugarless jelly cookies. She hated your snacking but she rarely finished a box on her own.

As you entered through the kitchen, you came to a sudden halt. You tilted your head and frowned as you heard your nan’s voice and the one that answered had you knocking your hip against a chair as you rushed into the living room.

“Just over there,” she directed as the leg of the couch scraped on the floor, “slide it against the wall.”

Sam stood straight dusted off his hands on his jeans. He stepped back and looked over the old floral sofa. 

“Definitely looks better over here,” he remarked.

“What the hell?” you blurted out.

“There you are!” your grandmother tutted, “I called up to you but you do what you always do and tune me out.”

“I didn’t-- I was working, I--” you cleared your throat and looked at Sam, “what are you doing here?”

“He’s being very helpful,” your nan praised, “how many times did I ask you to help me with this thing?”

“Sorry, I…” you swallowed and glanced between them.

“And smell that,” your nan inhaled deeply, “he’s making us dinner.”

“And I brought sugar-free dessert,” he added, “anything else I can do?”

“You’re so sweet,” she squeezed his thick arm.

“So are you… once you get past the frying pan,” he chuckled.

“I see a man in leather, I’m swinging,” she scowled, “you’re lucky you came bearing gifts.”

“Hey, look, we’re not all bad,” he smiled as she sat and he handed her the book from the small table that held the lamp and her ashtray, “I’m not like those guys who threatened your granddaughter.”

“And more honest than her,” she shook her head, “you didn’t tell me you were down at that bar. I warned you-- you really are lucky he was there.”

“Uh, sure, yeah,” you squinted at them, “didn’t you just tell me the other day I should grab any biker by--”

“I’m old, I say things,” she laughed but her eyes had a glimmer of ‘be quiet’.

“Would you like some more tea, Millie?” he asked as he took her empty mug and neared you, stopping in the broad archway that opened up into the living room.

“One more, if you don’t mind,” she smiled sweetly. She never smiled.

You hid a scowl and turned to follow Sam into the kitchen. He moved the kettle onto a burner and turned the knob. He stopped and opened the door of the stove and peeked inside as a blaze of savoury hot air blasted out at him. You felt it just before he let it snap shut and turned to lean on the counter, crossing one foot over the other.

“What are you doing?” you uttered.

“I told you I’d be back,” he shrugged.

“I didn’t think you’d--” you lowered your voice and glanced at the doorway, “what have you been telling her?”

“Everything she wants to hear,” he ran his fingertips along the precise line of hair of his goatee, “and nothing she shouldn’t… but that can change.”

“I did what you wanted. End of punishment,” you put your hands on your hips.

“End? Hmmm, I don’t think I said that,” his forehead wrinkled, “we’re far from finished… and come on, we both know you had as much fun as me.”

Your nostrils flared and you sucked in your cheeks. He was entirely too hard to figure out. He was that sort of man you hated and feared all at once. You just couldn’t predict him.

“I don’t… I don’t care what happens to me, just don’t hurt her,” you said quietly.

“Hurt her? Now why would I do that?” he taunted, “I mean, right now I have no reason to do anything like that.”

You squirmed and let out a breath, “please, alright?”

“Settle down, honey, you’ve been good… so far,” he said, “you just gotta keep it up.”

“Yeah,” you grumbled as the kettle began to shake and he turned his back to you, “any chance I can have my phone back?”

He chuckled as he searched the cupboard for the tea and plucked out a bag, “you’re funny… I like that but you gotta stop acting like everything’s a joke. It doesn’t hold up.”

💀

You found it hard not to wear a look of unamused confusion as Sam served dinner at the table and your grandmother sang his praises as he poured her wine she could actually drink. Just one glass but it was enough to loosen her up. You hadn’t eaten in the dining room since you were a kid, more used to eating at the counter, sitting on the wobbly stools or in front of the television.

Sam offered for you to clean up and do the dishes. Your nan was overjoyed at that, almost mocking. When you finished, you found them in the living room, some old Robert DeNiro movie on the television. You sat on the couch, as far from Sam as you as your grandmother yawned into her hand.

“Well,” she stubbed out her cigarette, “I should really be getting to bed. That wine is kicking in.”

“It’s early…” you argued weakly.

“You kids don’t get into too much trouble,” she warned as she stood with a groan and gripped her hip, “these ears still work.”

“Trouble? Me?” Sam kidded, “you don’t have to worry about me. I haven’t been a kid in a very long time.”

She smiled and nodded but for a moment she hesitated. She looked at you and pushed her tongue to her denture.

“Good night, girlie,” she said.

“Night, nan,” you forced out as normally as you could. 

You knew if she sensed your fear, she’d act out. She was always too brave for her own good and while you admired that, you didn’t need to get hurt because you were dumb as a brick.

She left slowly and you heard her television begin to crackle and the voices of the Law and Order actors were muffled behind her door. You hunched your shoulders and rubbed your hands together as you stared at Deniro’s wrinkled forehead and that characteristic squint. 

The lamp went out as Sam pulled the cord and the screen glowed in the dark. You felt the cushion dip as he shifted closer without subtlety. He slung his arm over your shoulder and you smelled his earthy cologne as he turned the TV up a few ticks. He pulled you to him as his hand came up to cradle your cheek.

“Shouldn’t we go… somewhere else?”

“She won’t hear us honey,” he cooed, “you just gotta be good. Be quiet.”

“Let’s go upstairs. Please,” you grabbed his hand as you pleaded.

“You keep arguing and I’ll make sure to wake her up,” he warned, “now,” he twisted so that he had your wrist in his grasp and forced it down to his lap, “put your hand down my pants.”

You gulped loudly and your hand trembled. You read enough fanfic to know what to do but your lack of actual experience had you nervous. Much like many things in your life. All talk, no skill.

You turned awkwardly on the cushion, your body uncomfortably contorted as his legs stayed pressed to yours. You struggled to unhook the button of his fly and the zipper was slow to descend. You felt the bulge as your hands moved against the denim and you hesitated as your fingers pressed to the elastic of his briefs.

“Mmm,” he purred as he hugged you closer, “that’s it, honey.”

Your eyes widened and you were happy the room was dark enough to hide your face. You pulled the elastic back with two fingers and shoved your other hand blindly beneath the fabric. You brushed against his hard dick and angled your hand so that you could grip him, his smooth length felt peculiar against your palm. Was he big? He felt big but didn’t have anyone to compare him to.

“Tighter,” he groaned at the friction as you moved your hand.

You squeezed and his hot breath grazed over your hair and he pushed his head back over the couch. He twitched as you kept a steady motion, trapped in the limbo of mortification and cluelessness. Were you doing it right? What were you even doing?

“Ah, honey, you’re so good,” he said as he rubbed the back of your neck, “goddamn.”

You said nothing as you focused on your hand. He snaked his arm under yours suddenly and pulled you over as he lifted his ass. Your hand was caught in his under as he laid you down beneath him. He reached down and fixed your grip on him as he held hovered atop you, his knees pressed into the cushion between your legs.

His arm crossed under yours as he poked along your jeans and shoved his hand beneath the denim and cotton. His palm was flush to your pelvis as he slid two fingers along your folds, held snug to you by the fabric. He swirled his fingertips over your bud and you gasped as your other hand gripped his arm in surprise.

“Honey, you’re wet already,” he whispered, “you sure you haven’t been waiting for this?”

You moaned as he pushed back along your entrance and dragged his fingers back, spreading your wetness over your clit. You quivered as you struggled to keep your own hand moving. He inhaled and groaned as played with you and pressed his lips to your cheek. He trailed up to your lips and kissed you, forcing his tongue inside as he shuddered.

He drew away with a sloppy noise and withdrew his hand from your pants. He sat up on his knees and pulled your legs to rest against his torso. He gripped the back of your jeans and yanked them down along with your panties. You smothered your cry as you were shocked by the force of it and the air of the room on your bare ass and legs.

He let your jeans dangle from one ankle as he bent over you again. Your leg fell over the edge of the couch as he held himself over you with a hand just above your head, fingers tight on the cushioned arm. He wiggled as he shimmied his jeans and briefs down with his other hand and you pressed on his chest.

“Wait, wait,” you hissed, “you… please, just… slow down… I never--”

“Shh, honey, you’re making too much noise,” he muttered, “it’s okay.”

“No, no, please, can’t we--” your voice caught as he lined his tips up along your cunt and rubbed it along your clit, “I’ll… I’ll use my mouth.”

“Later,” he whispered as his tip slipped down along your entrance, “honey, I need to feel you.”

“Pl--” your voice evaporated as the head of his dick stretched you.

You whimpered as he brought his arm down and nestled it under your head. He pushed further in and you gritted your teeth as you whined at the pressure of his intrusion. With each inch, the strain grew worse as a deep pain flooded your body. He shushed you as he forced past your resistance.

He covered your mouth as you cried out and barely kept your voice under control. He kept your head on his arm as his other hand cupped your lips and smothered out your agony. He forced himself in as deep as he could and your body tensed as your walls squeezed him. Your eyes rolled back as tears welled and spilled over the corners.

“Honey, it’s okay, we’ll go slow,” he coaxed, “just like that.”

He rocked his hips carefully but it still felt terrible. He pulled back and slid back in, each time it felt like he got even deeper than the last. His breath hitched and your own grew laboured as you huffed through your nostrils. 

He growled and sped up, just a little at a time, your cunt slickening his intrusion as his pelvis brushed against your clit and sent tendrils down your thighs. Even so, the pleasure was not enough to mute the pain.

“That’s it,” he uttered, “that’s it.”

He fucked you faster and the couch shook beneath you. His flesh slapped and the noise seemed to be monstrous, so much sure that you were sure your grandmother would come out and catch you. 

You grasped his wrist as you felt your climax rising. You squeezed and arched your foot as you were overcome and crashed down harshly as the pain tore through the ecstasy once more. He turned his hand and framed your chin as he kissed you again, swallowing your murmurs as he thrust into you over and over.

He lifted his head and dipped his thumb into your mouth as he held in his voice. He quaked and his motion stuttered but kept on. You felt his release, hot and wet, inside of you, a strange sensation that made you both sickened and aroused you.

He eased up and stilled at last. He brushed his nose against yours and chuckled under his breath as he wiggled his hips and you swore at the way it made your walls squeeze him. You blinked as your vision cleared of tears and the darkness. His features were blue with the light of the television, sinister and shadowy.

You went limp under him and breathed out slowly. You shook as he ran his thumb along your bottom lip and left a line of spit down your jaw.

“We’ll have to get that on tape next time,” he said, “but I doubt you’ll forget that, honey.”

[tickly-tufts]

Intervention

hello and welcome to this soft AU where everyone is closer and there are tickles

i wanted to inject some fluff into S2 and ended up speedrunning a resolution

---

Oh god. This was it. They were finally making their move. Two against one, his only exit blocked. Martin and Tim approached from either side. This was how he was going to die.

For a brief instant, pure terror flooded through him, and he seriously considered putting up a fight. Resignation, however, was quick to follow, as well as some twisted sense of relief. No, he wasn’t ready to die, but he could recognize when he was cornered. At the very least, he finally knew. The threat that watched him finally had a face.

Bracing for pain, he squeezed his eyes shut, expecting to be struck, or perhaps bludgeoned. Tim and Martin were both taller and stronger. Dispatching him would hardly be a challenge.

He didn’t dare move. He barely dared to breathe. A long moment passed in silence. Then two pairs of arms were wrapping around him-

-and pulling him into a warm embrace.

“U-Um- What?” he spoke up shakily, heart still pounding in his chest. “W-What are you two…?”

“We’re not here to kill you. It’s just a hug, you idiot.”

Tim’s voice rumbled in his chest as he spoke. Jon could feel it against his back. In front of him, Martin let out a sigh, ruffling Jon’s hair with his breath.

“We’ve been really worried about you. The way you’ve been acting… it’s gotten pretty bad.”

“I mean- I suppose I’ve been a bit distant-”

“You were watching my house,” Tim stated bluntly.

Jon opened his mouth, naturally defensive, only to feel a sudden a stab of guilt. It was decidedly difficult to be indignant when one was being held with such care. Honestly, he should’ve been more worried. If this was a trick, they could still hurt him.

But when had either of them ever tried to hurt him? When had they ever made him feel unsafe?

“Yes, I suppose I... did do that,” Jon forced himself to concede. “...and I interrogated Martin rather harshly.” The memory of his tantrum festered when he recalled it.

“O-Oh!” Martin’s surprise was obvious. He clearly hadn’t expected Jon to bring it up himself. “Yeah, that was rough,” he admitted. “Do you really think that we killed Gertrude?”

Jon wanted to point out that he didn’t know, and that was the problem. They could have killed her. But as he mulled over it, still sandwiched between them, his thoughts instead wandered to what he did know.

Martin Blackwood. He’d worked in the library, until Elias transferred him to the Archives. He liked dogs, tea, and poetry, and against all odds, seemed to care about Jon. Jon’s first instinct was to assume that this consideration was merely a ruse... but Jon’s abrasiveness never deterred him, even after it had endangered his life.

Then there was Timothy Stoker. Tim was in the Archives at Jon’s request. The worms had severely scarred both of them, and yet he was still there, charismatic as ever. It was suspicious, how collected he appeared, and his professional background still raised several questions... but then Jon remembered rare occasions he’d look haunted, mirroring emotions Jon repressed in himself.

Maybe it was simpler than Jon was making it. Even if they could, why would they kill Gertrude? And why target him after everything? The pieces just refused to fit.

“Jon? Boss? Earth to Jonathan.” Jon blinked hard, realizing he’d zoned out. Martin was looking at him with concern, while Tim’s chin now rested on top of his hair.

“Jonathan?” he repeated incredulous.

“Got you out of your head, didn’t it? Anyway, you still haven’t answered the question,” Tim noted. “Did it seriously take that much brainpower to process?”

“...No.”

“No? Could’ve fooled me.”

“No, I mean- I don’t think you killed Gertrude.” The abrupt conclusion stunned all three of them. Even Jon hadn’t anticipated his own certainty.

“Wait, really?” Martin had to ask.

“What changed?” Tim was skeptical.

Jon hesitated, sensing a turning point, then took a deep breath and shifted in their arms.

“You’ll want to sit down for this.”

---

He told them about Gertrude and his arrangement with Basira. He told them about his suspicions surrounding the Institute. He rambled at some points and fought to articulate others, but eventually, Tim and Martin were caught up.

They needed time to digest the information. Decide how much this changed things, if at all. They were both rather dazed when they left Jon’s office, though not enough to miss his hushed final words.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” he murmured, then shut the door with an audible click. Tim and Martin were left standing there, relieved to find themselves alone for the moment.

“That was... a lot,” Martin commented.

“We’ve got to discuss it more, but not in the Institute.” There was something stormy in Tim’s gaze, though it cleared when he turned to face Martin. “For now, let’s just... go home.”

---

About two days passed before they approached Jon again, and to his credit, he’d stopped treating them like murderers. He had, however, continued to hide away, and neither Tim nor Martin were satisfied leaving it there.

“Are you sure he’ll be alright with this?” Martin fretted at Tim, still unsure where they stood.

“If he’s really back to trusting us, then it'll be fine,” Tim reasoned calmly.

It was a remarkably similar scene, with the pair of them ambushing Jon in his office. He didn’t look nearly as frightened the second time, though he still froze when their arms wound around him.

“So we’ve decided that we still want some payback,” Tim explained before he could question them. “You were stalking us pretty hard.”

“And this payback... is another hug?”

“Not exactly,” Martin replied, moving his grip to Jon’s forearms. He encountered no resistance as he lifted them forward, allowing Tim to proceed with his part.

Jon startled when he felt a tug at his dress shirt, followed by hands slipping under the hem. “Hold on,” he realized. “Are you really- Ah! Wait! Nohohohoho!”

He burst into giggles when nails grazed his sides, extra ticklish against his bare skin. Such direct physical contact had been noticeably absent from his life lately.

“You know, I don’t think you’ve laughed around us since Prentiss,” Tim mused as Jon squirmed beneath his touch. “Bit of a shame, really. Almost forgot the sound. It feels like we could all use a refresher.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Martin chimed in, smiling when Jon glanced up at him. Jon’s position meant he couldn’t really see Tim, though he assumed the same playfulness was reflected in his eyes.

“Is this… really appropriate right now?” Right after he’d spent months scrutinizing them like criminals.

“Well, we could spend another week pouting about it, but if it’s all the same to you, I miss our old normal.” Martin expressed this gently, his gaze kind yet sad. He didn’t elaborate, but Jon understood. Martin missed when they were a tight-knit team. Jon had missed it, too, even through the paranoia.

However, before Jon could really dwell on it, Tim’s hands migrated to his stomach. He squealed when they settled around the middle, tapping and tickling all over his belly. Even though they hadn’t been this close in awhile, Tim clearly remembered all his weaknesses. A targeted scribble right over his navel was more than enough to assure him of that.

“How’s he looking?” Tim asked cheerily, lacking a clear view of Jon’s face from the back.

“Really smiley,” Martin answered, endeared. “And already blushing a lot.”

The observation only made Jon blush harder, and he rushed to hide the only way he could. Leaning forward, he pressed his face to Martin’s chest, smothering himself against Martin’s jumper.

“Aww, you know that’s not really gonna help,” Tim remarked with no small amount of smugness. “But I guess it’s as good an excuse as any to snuggle up to Martin.”

“T-Tim!”

Jon felt as flustered as Martin sounded, his face burning against soft wool. It was official. He was still dying. Just not at all in the way he’d expected.

A yelp escaped him when Tim’s fingers roamed higher, scritching directly under his arms. His limbs trembled lightly in Martin’s grip, unable to lower and guard the spot.

“Are you okay?” Martin half-whispered after several seconds of Jon quivering quietly. Tim paused as well to wait for an answer.

“You’re both terrible,” came the muffled reply.

“Alright, rude,” Tim scoffed loudly, playing up the offense in his tone. “And to think I tried to go easy on you. If I was terrible, I would’ve started with this.” And then his hands were on Jon’s ribs, squeezing and scratching between each one. Jon immediately jolted backwards, letting out a high-pitched shriek.

“That’s more like it.” Tim beamed as Jon dissolved into helpless cackles. Jon practically fell apart against him, losing all the tension he’d been carrying in his body. Shaking his head from side to side, Jon couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so light. Still, the sensation soon proved overwhelming, and it wasn’t much longer before his legs to gave out. 

As soon as he started slipping, Tim scooped him up into another hug. Martin released his arms just as quickly, essentially handing him over. Tim’s hold was firm but familiar, providing a comfortable amount of pressure. In that moment, Jon wondered again how he ever could’ve suspected them.

“I’m… Thank you,” he said, once he’d been set down in his chair.

“For not dropping you on the floor? Of course,” Tim joked.

“That- That too, but- I mean...”

Jon folded his hands together in his lap, staring down at them, seeking the right words. He didn’t know how to express everything he was feeling, but was spared from doing so when Martin touched his shoulder.

“How about we all get some lunch? There’s a new café just down the street.” There’s no rush, Martin implied with the offer. We can go over it more later, but for now let’s be together.

“...Yes, I think I’d like that,” Jon accepted, standing up. He didn’t even pretend to be annoyed when Tim clapped him on the back.

[zintranslations]

Kaleidoscope of Death, Ch. 115

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Novel Updates

Chapter 115: The Door That Can’t Be Opened

As for how exactly they were going to repurpose this traitor, Ruan Nanzhu didn't say. The scariest things were all unsaid, however; Tian Guxue's entire soul was now overran by terror. She trembled so hard she couldn't even speak.

"What do we do for now?" Sun Yuanzhou asked. "Just leave her here? Isn’t that risky?"

"She can still do something else for us," Ruan Nanzhu hummed.

Sun Yuanzhou was thoughtful.

"Open chests?"

"Yes," Ruan Nanzhu said. He looked at Tian Guxue, and spoke lightly. "You haven't opened any chests today right? Even so, you probably know where the Hako Onna and Hakobito are…right?"

Tian Guxue looked up at Ruan Nanzhu, panicked. "I don't know!!"

"You don't know?" Liang Miye scoffed. "If you don't know where the Hakobito and Hako Onna are, how do you open any of the chests? You're not scared to find one of them?"

"It's like this. Before I open a chest, if there's a Hakobito or the Hako Onna inside, the chest makes a sound…" Tian Guxue stammered. "And then I'll switch to a different chest to open. The Hako Onna warned me though that there can't be anybody beside me when I open the chests, so…"

Ruan Nanzhu lifted an eyebrow.

"You've already opened boxes today?"

"Mh," Tian Guxue nodded carefully.

"Fine, then we'll confirm what you said tomorrow," Ruan Nanzhu said.

If Tian Guxue was telling the truth, then she would be very useful to them. This way, she was a functionally a probe that could identify where the Hako Onna and Hakobito were.

Ruan Nanzhu asked Tian Guxue about a few more details, such as how she made contact with the Hako Onna. When asked about the rulebook, Tian Guxue told them that on the first day they arrived, she'd found the rulebook in the first-floor dining room. It had been in a corner, and the Hako Onna told her to look there.

"But how come I didn't see the rulebook?" a young woman from the crowd asked. She was the person who’ first heard the Hako Onna cry when they came into the mansion, and the cry had come from the kitchen, so she'd gone to look around inside.

"Maybe I got here before you," Tian Guxue answered carefully. "By the time you went…I'd already taken it."

That was certainly a possibility. While Tian Guxue's explanation made some sense, it still made Lin Qiushi's forehead pucker…He'd detected a strange discrepancy in Tian Guxue’s words.

Ruan Nanzhu didn't say anything either, deep in thought. He didn't say what he was thinking in the end though, just began discussing what to do about Tian Guxue with the group.

Tian Guxue was most scared of being killed. When she saw that they didn't want her life, she released a huge breath of relief.

In the end everybody decided to shut Tian Guxue in her room and assign someone to guard her. There was no harm in not opening any chests, after all, and the number of Hako Onna's powers had not yet reached six.

While everybody was discussing these things, Ruan Nanzhu stood aside in silence. Though his eyes were on Tian Guxue, his gaze seemed to go right through her, landing somewhere faraway.

"What is it?" Lin Qiushi sensed that something was off about Ruan Nanzhu.

"Nothing," Ruan Nanzhu answered lightly. "Just thought of something from the past."

So Lin Qiushi didn't press. He only took Ruan Nanzhu's hand with a squeeze, transferring the warmth of his palm to Ruan Nanzhu.

At their interaction, Sun Yuanzhou once again tossed them a queer look. That look really was far too complicated, and Lin Qiushi far too confused…He really did want to ask now exactly what Ruan Nanzhu had said to Sun Yuanzhou.

Once the matter was decided, everyone made a deal to not discuss this anywhere else, in case the Hako Onna caught wind of it.

Sun Yuanzhou took Tian Guxue to her room and had someone stand guard.

The rest of the group split up and ordered the guard shifts. Someone would take over every two hours.

With everything settled, everybody dispersed.

Lin Qiushi took a brief look at the chests that Tian Guxue said she'd already opened, carefully marking them on top. Of course, to prevent the Hako Onna from noticing, they didn't mark the chests with sticky notes.

The entire way down Ruan Nanzhu was quiet. The way he seemed deep in thought made Lin Qiushi feel oddly uneasy.

"What's on your mind?"

"I'm thinking about my last tenth door," Ruan Nanzhu answered.

"Was it scary?" Lin Qiushi had noticed that Ruan Nanzhu never seemed to be in a good mood when he mentioned his tenth door.

"It wasn't," Ruan Nanzhu said. "But I'd rather it’d been scarier."

Lin Qiushi, "what do you mean?"

Ruan Nanzhu was about to answer—but then he seemed to suddenly recall something. Glancing over at Lin Qiushi, he said instead, "it's nothing important. A good friend died in there, so I'm just a bit sentimental."

Lin Qiushi's brows furrowed. He felt that Ruan Nanzhu was intentionally keeping something from him.

If they could get through today, then tomorrow, Tian Guxue could open three more chests for them with an absolute guarantee of dodging the Hakobito and Hako Onna. This was thoroughly beneficial for them.

Ruan Nanzhu was assigned to guard Tian Guxue from nine to eleven PM, which wasn't too late of a time slot. Lin Qiushi tried to stay with him, but Ruan Nanzhu shooed him off.

"Go get some sleep first, you have a shift after me," Ruan Nanzhu said. "Go on."

Lin Qiushi said, "but I'm worried about you."

Ruan Nanzhu just laughed, reaching out and taking the tip of Lin Qiushi's ear in a pinch.

"What are you worried about, that I'd cheat on you?" Immediately after saying this, he ducked in close to Lin Qiushi's ear and exhaled a superheated breath. "Don't worry, I only get hard for you."

Lin Qiushi, "…"

Man, Ruan Nanzhu really could make this old face of his blush. After such a turn, he’d completely forgotten what he wanted to say, and was chased off to his room by force. Ruan Nanzhu, on the other hand, entered the room holding Tian Guxue.

Liang Miye was already sprawled heartily on her bed, all washed and cleaned. Seeing Lin Qiushi come in, she said, "yo, you're not keeping Mengmeng company?"

Lin Qiushi said, "he let me come back first."

"You guys have such a nice relationship." Liang Miye was currently doing a face mask. "Jealous!"

Lin Qiushi watched her: "we're inside a door, and you're doing a face mask?"

"Why not do a face mask?" Liang Miye batted her eyes before really getting into it. "Oh don't you know, they all say face masks are the most effective inside the doors. Outside, the mask just goes on your flesh, but inside, it goes right onto your soul. It's true inner beauty. And cost-effective."

Lin Qiushi, "…" He didn't know what to say, all of a sudden.

Liang Miye too saw how Lin Qiushi had gone dumb, and began to guffaw.

"Beauty is a woman's second life!"

Lin Qiushi held up both hands in surrender.

"I agree."

After washing up in the bathroom, he returned and lied back in his bed. He didn't start playing on his phone though, instead began to contemplate the matter of Tian Guxue from the day. As he was deep in thought, however, there came the sound of the Hako Onna's cry from downstairs. Sharp and despairing, it sent a flood of goosebumps over all its listeners.

Reflexively, both Lin Qiushi and Liang Miye shot up in bed.

“She's using another power?" Liang Miye said.

"Mh." Lin Qiushi recollected every power card they currently had and all the powers that'd been used. The Hako Onna's cry right now was a bit bewildering.

The only power the Hako Onna hadn't used was "Moving Things." Aside from that one, all the powers had already been used once and returned to the card pile. And there was a cool-down time before it could be used again, so the Hako Onna was currently using "Moving Things?"

No…Something was off…They'd missed something. After coming to this conclusion Lin Qiushi grew a bit agitated. Judging by her actions inside this door, the Hako Onna wasn't any more foolish than they were, so why would she use this power for no apparent reason?

"What is it?" Liang Miye watched as Lin Qiushi changed from his pajamas once again into his daywear. "You're going out?"

Lin Qiushi said, "mh. I'm going to see Mengmeng."

He just couldn't stop worrying, pushing open the door and rushing out.

"Oh," was all Liang Miye could say.

Very quickly, Lin Qiushi made it to Tian Guxue's room and gave the door a knock.

"Zhu Meng, Zhu Meng."

He'd thought Ruan Nanzhu would be quick to open the door for him, but for a long moment, there was no movement inside.

"Zhu Meng?"

Lin Qiushi called a couple more times, feeling something was truly wrong. He was about to fetch a hairpin to open the door when Ruan Nanzhu's voice came from inside, sounding a bit sunken.

"Linlin, I'm fine. Go rest, you don't have to come inside."

"What is it?" Lin Qiushi asked. "What happened?"

Ruan Nanzhu said, "nothing. I'm just worried about someone coming in, so I've locked the door."

Lin Qiushi was silent.

Ruan Nanzhu, "really, I'm fine. Go sleep, and come relieve me later."

Lin Qiushi looked down at the locked room door, still not saying anything. He got out his hairpin and began picking it.

Ruan Nanzhu seemed to sense Lin Qiushi's actions, his tone growing agitated.

"I've blockaded the door. You can't come in here, Yu Linlin, can't you just listen to me for once?" He sounded very impatient. "I have to do something important, don't be such a nuisance. Yu Linlin, are you listening to me?"

Lin Qiushi completely ignored him, continuing to pick at the lock.

"Linlin!!" Ruan Nanzhu seemed truly angry now. "I said stop opening it!"

Lin Qiushi stopped. Slowly, he pressed himself to the door, voice gone hoarse like something had gotten caught in his throat. He said:

"Zhu Meng, you lied to me."

Ruan Nanzhu fell silent. He knew Lin Qiushi had discovered the truth.

"It's not that you won't let me in, it's that you can't come out…" Lin Qiushi couldn't describe at all how he was feeling in this instant. It was like he was standing at the edge of a black abyss, watching Ruan Nanzhu fall and utterly incapable of stopping it. "There was never only one mole."

Ruan Nanzhu didn't reply.

"The Hako Onna got a new power," Lin Qiushi said, "didn't she?"

False Answers, Open This, My Doll Mary, I'm Behind You, Moving Things—right now, the Hako Onna had gathered these five powers, but before him, Ruan Nanzhu had been struck with the Hako Onna's sixth power: Locked Door.

"Locked Door"—the Hako Onna could lock any door she designated. Players inside the room couldn't pass through and could only be trapped inside.

And at the same time, the Hako Onna had already gathered six powers. Once tomorrow came, she could make her move again, and use the bottom-most card "I'm Behind You" to kill every single person inside a room.

Without question, her target was Ruan Nanzhu.

There was never just the one mole. Tian Guxue was simply the diversion that the Hako Onna tossed them. There was someone else among them who'd hidden a power card, and told the Hako Onna which room Ruan Nanzhu was in.

The key to escaping was on Ruan Nanzhu's person. Once he was gone, one path to survival for the players would be completely cut off. Additionally, the discovered mole Tian Guxue would also be taken care of. It truly was killing two birds with one stone.

Lin Qiushi said, "don't worry, there's got to be a way. Hang on, I'll go get someone!"

From inside the room came silence, and then Ruan Nanzhu's faint, faint exhale.

Lin Qiushi remembered it was one of Sun Yuanzhou's people who'd opened up the fire extinguisher, so he went to Sun Yuanzhou's room, banging on the door in a state of complete anxiety.

Seconds later, Sun Yuanzhou's door opened. He saw Lin Qiushi panting roughly outside, and exclaimed, "what happened?"

"Where's your fire extinguisher?" Lin Qiushi asked. "Zhu Meng's shut in the room, and the Hako Onna's going to use 'I'm Behind You' tomorrow…Where's your fire extinguisher? The key's on Zhu Meng, she can't die."

Sun Yuanzhou startled.

"What? What?? She's shut in a room???" He seemed to immediately recall the explanation for the Hako Onna's power. "The Hako Onna's already found 'Locked Door'?"

Lin Qiushi, "we can talk about it later, where's the extinguisher—"

The fire extinguisher could stop the Hako Onna from using a power once. It was the only thing that could save Ruan Nanzhu now.

At Lin Qiushi's question, Sun Yuanzhou unconsciously pressed his lips together, expression awkward.

"It's…It's gone. We're also looking, but we haven't been able to find it.

Lin Qiushi, "…"

Sun Yuanzhou's two other teammates had gathered around inside the room as well. One of the women heard what they were saying, and spoke up quietly, "sorry about that. The extinguisher's really too heavy, so I didn't carry it on me. I hid it under my bed but when I got back today, it was already gone."

Lin Qiushi said, "it's really gone?"

He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

"Let's be clear about this. If Zhu Meng dies, the Hako Onna's going to get the key from her. At that point we'll have one less method of escape."

He did his best to persuade them from an objective point of view, not wanting to get too personal.

"I understand. If we had it, we really would help you. You can come in and look if you'd like, search the room all you want." The woman was also helpless. "It really is gone. We were just discussing what to do about this."

She didn't seem disingenuous, and when she even moved aside from the doorway for Lin Qiushi to come in, Lin Qiushi knew they likely weren't lying. Fists clenching, he rasped, "pardon me," and made to leave.

But Sun Yuanzhou stopped him with a call.

"Yu Linlin! You said the Hako Onna got Zhu Meng. Doesn't that mean there's another mole among us?"

"Isn't that obvious?" He shot a cold look at Sun Yuanzhou over his shoulder. "Without another mole, why would your fire extinguisher go missing?"

"It might not have been the mole who'd stolen it," Sun Yuanzhou said. "It might just be a greedy group member…"

Lin Qiushi didn't respond, just took off.

Since they'd lost the extinguisher, then Lin Qiushi had no reason to keep wasting his time dealing with them. He lifted his wrist to look at his watch. There were still two hours until twelve, so he had to find a way to save Ruan Nanzhu within the two hours.

Some people crumbled in the face of danger, while some became even calmer. Lin Qiushi was of the latter. He quickly went over the current situation and all the clues they had in his mind, rushing to think of a way to save Ruan Nanzhu.

When she didn't see Lin Qiushi return, Liang Miye too left their room. First thing she saw was Lin Qiushi squatting before the door at the end of the hallway with a solemn expression.

"What happened?" Liang Miye ran over.

"The Hako Onna got him with a power," Lin Qiushi said. "He's shut inside with no way out."

Liang Miye was stunned.

"Which power…There's another mole among us?!"

She'd never imagined things would develop like this. Finding Tian Guxue was supposed to have been the end, but who'd have thought it was only the beginning—

There were actually two moles. Tian Guxue had only been a minor player tossed out as a smokescreen.

"So what do we do?" Liang Miye was panicking.

“You go find the fire extinguisher,” Lin Qiushi told her.

He gave a simple account of what happened at Sun Yuanzhou's, and sent Liang Miye to look room-by-room for the fire extinguisher. They only had two hours, and the mansion was huge. Whoever hid the fire extinguisher, in order to keep them from finding it, would surely keep it somewhere incredibly well-hidden, so searching for the fire extinguisher wasn't an especially wise method.

But they had no other choice. Lin Qiushi could only send Liang Miye to look while he pondered other methods.

"Zhu Meng." Lin Qiushi spoke to Ruan Nanzhu from outside the door. "You have to think, is there any other way?"

Ruan Nanzhu was so much smarter; he'd definitely be able to think of a method.

But the person inside was still keeping silent. Only after Lin Qiushi's repeated coaxing did Ruan Nanzhu finally say: "Linlin, this is a dead end."

Lin Qiushi froze. He pressed against the door, and asked in utter disbelief: "What did you say?"

"This is a dead end."

"What…"

Ruan Nanzhu, "you went to look for the fire extinguisher just now, right? Did you find it?"

Lin Qiushi didn't reply. They both knew the answer—had he found it, Lin Qiushi wouldn't be speaking to him like this.

"That person is smart. To have done all of this, they must have thorough with every detail," Ruan Nanzhu said. "I underestimated the enemy. Come closer, there's something I want to say to you."

Lin Qiushi pressed his face to the door. It took all his effort to control himself and not start shaking.

Ruan Nanzhu spoke quietly to him: "I don't have the key on me. I've hidden it in the crack behind the headboard in our room. Remember to grab it."

Lin Qiushi didn't speak.

"Linlin, I'm glad to have met you," Ruan Nanzhu said. "I hope you can get out of here alive."

"No," Lin Qiushi said.

Ruan Nanzhu, "what?"

"I said I'm not fucking getting out of here without you. Dammit Zhu Meng, what your heart must be made out of." Lin Qiushi swore as he so rarely did. "How can you say such a thing to me? How can you be so heartless?!"

Ruan Nanzhu couldn't reply.

Lin Qiushi, "I'm going to get you out of there, do you hear me? I'm getting you out!!"

He turned and picked up a decorative statue in the hallway. He began to slam it against the door.

But what had once been a wooden door that couldn't even really be called solid was currently cast-iron. It didn't budge an inch, and he couldn't leave so much as a dent. After smashing at it for a bit, Lin Qiushi knew this wasn't going to work.

"Just hang on."

At this point, many people had left their rooms and came out into the hallway, dumbfounded by the sight of Lin Qiushi breaking down the door. Sun Yuanzhou stood afar and explained the situation to them, and once he did, expressions of shock or fright appeared on everybody's faces. Clearly, they'd all realized there was another mole among them.

Lin Qiushi set down the statue, expression terrifyingly cold. From the crowd, he picked out the person he was looking for.

"Ren Ruyuan, give me the gasoline."

It wasn't up for discussion. Everybody could tell that if Ren Ruyuan refused, Lin Qiushi was very likely to attack him right then and there.

"Okay." But Ren Ruyuan agreed. "The key's with Zhu Meng, right?"

"Yes," Lin Qiushi said. "If she can't be saved, we'll all die here."

His tone was simple and not at all harsh. But everybody who heard him felt an odd chill go down their backs, because while this sounded like exaggeration, it didn't seem like Lin Qiushi was kidding at all.

He brought the can of gasoline to Ruan Nanzhu's door, and said, "Nanzhu, I got the gasoline."

"And how will you give it to me?" There was exasperation in Ruan Nanzhu's voice.

Lin Qiushi said, "the edges of the door. There's space along the edges. I'll go to the dining room and get some plastic bags, seal the gasoline inside, and push it through the edges. You'll catch it on the inside."

"Okay."

So Lin Qiushi went to the dining room and grabbed a few dozen resealable bags. He poured the gasoline bit by bit into them and then pushed them through the cracks around the door to Ruan Nanzhu. He didn't know if the gasoline would be of use like this, but he could only do his best with what was available.

After that Lin Qiushi sent people to keep looking for the fire extinguisher, but just as Ruan Nanzhu predicted, that person had the fire extinguisher hidden well. Nobody was able to find it.

By the time Lin Qiushi got the gasoline inside the room, there was less than twenty minutes until twelve o'clock. He looked down at his gas-stained hands, and for the first time, got a taste of true helplessness and desolation.

He was utterly useless. He couldn't save Ruan Nanzhu.

[Ch. 114] | [Ch. 116]