#i guess that's the best way to tag him...

[thewulf]

When the Laughter Stops || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - I was wondering if you could do one with Jake Seresin where him and the reader are co workers (but they liked each other a lot and are idiots) and she flirts with him a lot, like constantly and he mostly just laughs it off but flirt back sometimes, but she suddenly stops one day and is very quiet and he's worried... Read Rest Here

A/N: Gosh I just love Jake. I really hope they make another TG movie with our boy in it <3 Thank you for the request @stuffingbuttsandshit

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.3k+

T/W : Violation (Not Jake), Talk of Weapons, Talk of break in

Mornings at North Island always started the same way.

Your headset was already on, comms running smooth as you relayed flight data to Mav and the rest of the squadron. You had everything under control because that’s what you did. You were the best at what you did. And you knew it. You didn’t spend years at the Academy and across the country to be mediocre at your job. You were good and you knew it.

Jake Seresin knew it too.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” came the familiar, honey-dipped drawl over your shoulder before he even stepped into the control room. You grinned into your headset. He was right on schedule as always.

You didn’t turn around immediately instead letting the anticipation hang for a second longer before glancing over your shoulder. He was leaning against your desk, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with that insufferably handsome smirk that was as much a part of him as his damn callsign.

“Hangman,” you greeted, flashing him an easy smile. “Looking as sharp as ever. It must really be exhausting carrying around that much charm all the time.”

His smirk deepened as he took you in. “It is, actually darlin’. But I manage.”

You made a show of giving him a once-over. That green flight suit zipped halfway, dog tags resting against the fabric of his undershirt and that confidence oozing from every pore. Annoyingly attractive, you noted. Not that you’d ever admit it out loud. But damn, the man was hot as hell.

“Good thing I’m here to keep you humble,” you teased while tapping your earpiece as the radio crackled.

Jake leaned in slightly, just enough that you caught the faint scent of his aftershave. The scent curled through the air: rich sandalwood, and cedar laced with smoky vetiver and that deep warmth of amber and musk. Dark, refined, and impossible to forget. Just like man who wore it. And who was currently staring a hole in the side of your head.

 “Oh, sweetheart, you don’t wanna do that. What would you flirt with if I wasn’t around?” He gave you a devious smirk as his eyes traced your face.

You arched a brow, lips curling. “Oh, I’d manage.”

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head like you were something impossible. “Damn shame sweetheart.” This was the rhythm. The effortless push and pull. The game neither of you called by name but both played with unmatched skill.

“Seresin, you done harassing my officer?” Maverick’s voice cut in from across the room with nothing but amusement lacing in his tone.

Jake straightened slightly but didn’t look away from you. “Just making sure my sweetheart starts her day right, Mav.”

You shot Mav an eyeroll before turning back to Jake. “Aw, how sweet of you Jake.” You cooed at him.

Jake hummed, tilting his head. “Sweet’s not usually what they call me, darlin’.”

The way he said it, low and teasing, sent a thrill up your spine. But you didn’t let it show. Instead, you reached for the mission brief on your desk, casually brushing your fingers against his arm as you passed it to him.

“Guess I’m just special then,” you said with an easy grin.

His eyes flickered with something. Something unreadable. Something dangerous. But the moment passed as quickly as it had come.

“Guess you are,” he murmured. His voice softer this time.

And just like that, he was gone, heading out to brief with the others, leaving behind the faintest trace of his presence. You exhaled, shaking your head to yourself. Yeah. This was the rhythm. At least, it had been. Until everything changed.

Until last night.

Until you woke up to the sound of your front door creaking open.

Until you reached for the bedside drawer, heart pounding, breath shallow, fingers closing around the cold metal of the weapon you kept there. The weapon you dreaded ever having to use.

Until you saw him. A dark figure standing at the foot of your bed, a knife glinting faintly in the sliver of moonlight filtering through your curtains.

Your body had moved on instinct, years of training kicking in before fear could fully take hold. The moment you pointed your weapon at him, he hesitated just long enough for you to move. You sprang from the bed, voice sharp and unyielding, ordering him to back off. And then just as quickly as he had come he was gone. Like a wraith in the night.

The cops arrived minutes later but it didn’t matter. He was already long gone, leaving behind nothing but an overturned chair, a shattered sense of security, and the lingering imprint of fear in your bones.

You barely slept after that, sitting with your back to the wall, weapon still gripped tightly in your hands until the sun started to rise.

And now you were here, at work, trying to pretend like nothing had changed. But Jake knew you too well. So, when he walked into the control room, expecting your usual teasing grin, expecting the flirtation that had become second nature between you. He immediately noticed the difference. You were at your desk, headset on, posture stiff, eyes trained on the monitors like they held the secrets of the universe. No smirk, no playful roll of your eyes when he approached. No wink. No greeting.

And that was the first sign that something was very, very wrong.

Jake frowned, slowing his stride. He leaned against your desk, arms crossing over his chest in the same lazy way he always did, waiting for you to acknowledge him. Nothing.

He tilted his head. “Morning, sweetheart,” he drawled, watching for a reaction.

Your fingers stilled on the keyboard, just for a second, but then you resumed typing like you hadn’t heard him. His frown deepened. Okay. Maybe you were just busy. Maybe Mav had you swamped with flight schedules or logistics nightmares. Maybe.

But then he really looked at you.

Your usual fire, the effortless confidence that made your job look easy was gone. In its place was something tight, something controlled. He followed the subtle tension in your shoulders. The way your jaw stayed clenched even as you kept working. Something wasoff.

“You sick or somethin’?” Jake asked, lowering his voice, trying to meet your gaze.

You finally looked at him but the second your eyes met his you blinked quickly and dropped them again. “I’m fine,” you said too flatly. Too rehearsed. With no emotion in the usual boisterous voice of yours.

Jake’s stomach twisted. Bullshit. You weren’t fine. He knew fine, and this wasn’t it. But what he didn’t know was why. For the first time since meeting you, Jake felt the shift. The invisible wall you’d put up overnight, cutting him out without warning. And he hatedit. Where there should’ve been fire, there was only silence.

Jake tried to ignore it at first. Maybe you were just having an off day. Maybe you were tired. Maybe whatever had drained the light from your eyes would pass on its own.

But as the day dragged on, he knew that wasn’t the case. You barely spoke, sticking to clipped, professional responses when you had to interact with him or anyone else. You kept your head down, shoulders drawn in. It was so unlike you. It made his skin itch.

Then, when someone brushed past you in the hallway. Just a casual, harmless pass. You flinched. It was small, barely noticeable, but Jake saw it. And that was all it took. His blood ran cold. He knew that reaction. Had seen it before. And it sent every instinct he had into overdrive.

The rest of the day, he didn’t leave you alone. Not in a way that would spook you, but he made sure he was always nearby, always watching. You barely acknowledged him and that was the final crack in his patience. By the time your shift ended, he was donewaiting.

You had just stepped outside the hangar when he caught up to you. He moved fast enough that you had no choice but to stop. "Sweetheart," he said. And this time his voice wasn’t teasing, wasn’t lazy or smug. It was quiet. Steady. Serious.

You hesitated, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. “Jake, I—”

“Something’s wrong,” he cut in. His green eyes searching your face. “And I need you to tell me what it is.”

Your breath faltered. You didn’t answer right away but the way your gaze darted away. The way your lips pressed together like you were afraid to speak made his stomach twist. He softened, stepping closer, his voice dropping even lower. “Hey. It’s me, alright? Just me. You can tell me.”

You swallowed hard. And then finally your walls started to crack. “I—” You exhaled shakily, like forcing the words out might break you. “Someone broke into my house last night.”

Jake went still.

Your voice was barely above a whisper as you continued. “I woke up and he was just there. He had a knife… I think he would have tried to grab me. But I fought back, I scared him off but…” You sucked in a breath. Shaking your head unbelieving that this had even happened to you. “He ran before the cops got there. They haven’t found him. They won’t find him most likely.”

Jake’s fists clenched. His entire body went rigid. His jaw locking so hard it ached. Jesus Christ. The thought of you alone, terrified, fighting off some bastard in the middle of the night made his vision go red. He wanted to break something. No, he wanted to findthe bastard who did this. But right now, none of that mattered. Right now, you mattered.

Carefully he reached for you. His fingers grazing your wrist before he slid his hand fully over yours. His grip was firm, grounding. Warm.

“Jesus, darlin’,” he murmured. His voice tight, lethal with restrained fury but when he looked at you again all he let you see was the concern. The unwavering steadiness. “You’re safe now, okay? I promise you, you’re safe.” And for the first time all day, your body eased just a little. Just enough.

You weren’t sure who moved first. One second, you were standing there, raw and exposed with your confession hanging in the air between you. The next, Jake’s arms were around you, solid and steady, pulling you against his chest. And you let him. The moment his warmth surrounded you, the breath you had been holding all day broke free in a shaky exhale. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his flight suit, gripping tight, grounding yourself in him. Breathing in the woody scent that always seemed to coat him.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just held you. And God, you hadn’t realized how much you needed it until now. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. His voice a low, steady rumble against your ear. “You’re safe. No one’s scaring you again, I swear it.” You knew his words weren’t empty promises, weren’t meaningless reassurances. They were a vow.

Jake pulled back just enough to look at you, one hand lifting to cup the side of your face. His thumb brushing lightly along your cheek. “You’re not staying at your place alone tonight.” He said with such conviction.

You blinked up at him. “Jake—”

“Not a chance, sweetheart.” The smirk was there, but softer, missing its usual cocky edge. He tilted his head. “You really think I’m gonna walk away after what you just told me? Not a chance darlin’.” Your resolve wavered. You should tell him you’ll be fine. That you don’t need him hovering. But the idea of being alone in that house, of walking through those doors and feeling that fear claw at you again…

You swallowed hard and nodded. “I have a guest room,” you murmured. “You can take the guest room.”

Jake’s smirk deepened. “Whatever you say, darlin’. I’ll sleep on the porch if you want.” You smiled softly. Jake had a way of doing that for you. Charming bastard he was.

Jake didn’t waste a second when he got to your home. The second you stepped inside he was already moving. He checked the locks, testing the windows, making sure every single point of entry was secure. You stood off to the side watching as he knelt by your front door, brows furrowed in concentration as he worked to reinforce the deadbolt.

“You know,” you said while crossing your arms, “I could’ve called a locksmith for that.”

He glanced up, flashing you that signature Jake Seresin smirk. “Yeah, but then I wouldn’t get to prove to you that I’m useful outside the cockpit.” You rolled your eyes but for the first time all day there was the tiniest tug of amusement behind it. And Jake saw it. Reveled in it.

After he was satisfied that your place was Fort Knox-level secure, he finally let you settle. The tension still lingered, though thin, stretched tight under your skin. He noticed it in the way your shoulders stayed rigid. In the way your fingers curled slightly like you were bracing yourself for something.

So, he did the only thing he knew how to do.

He made you laugh.

You weren’t sure when the tension finally started to ease but at some point you found yourself curled up on the couch half-listening as Jake recounted some absurd training exercise where Phoenix had absolutely wrecked him in a dogfight.

“—I swear to God, I had her, I had her, and then at the last second, she pulls this insane move out of nowhere. Next thing I know, she’s behind me, cackling like a damn supervillain and I’m dead in the water.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “I bet she lovedthat.”

“Oh, she hasn’t shut up about it since,” Jake admitted, shaking his head in exasperation. “I’ll never live it down. Worst part is, Mav saw the whole thing. Didn’t even bother hiding the smug look.”

You let out a small laugh and Jake stilled. It was quiet, barely there, but it was real. His smirk softened, something shifting behind his eyes. For the first time ever, he really looked at you. Not just as the woman who sparred with him, who kept up with his banter, who never let him get the last word. But as you. The woman who had been terrified last night. The woman who had been shakentoday. The woman he never wanted to see rattled like that again.

You felt the shift too because your smile faded slightly. Your gaze flickering over his face like you were searching for something. Your voice was quiet when you spoke. “Thanks, Jake.”

His throat bobbed. The muscles in his jaw flexing like he was holding something back. He should’ve said something. Should’ve teased. Should’ve smirked and drawn out the moment. Should’ve eased you back into the comfort of your usual game. But he didn’t. Because this wasn’t the game anymore.

His hand lifted before he could stop himself. His fingers brushing along the side of your face. His thumb grazing your cheek so lightly, so gently, like he was afraid you might disappear if he wasn’t careful.

Your breath caught but you didn’t move away. Didn’t say a word. Couldn’t say a word. And then your eyes flicked down to his mouth just for a second, but long enough. Long enough for him to see it. To feelit.

His pulse kicked hard against his ribs, a slow, building pressure coiling in his chest, in his gut. Jesus. You wanted this. You wanted him. Just as much as he wanted you.

Something cracked wide open between you in that moment. Something unspoken but undeniable. Something that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long it was a wonder it hadn’t boiled over sooner.

Jake’s breath was warm against your skin as he leaned in, his nose barely brushing yours. Giving you the chance to back away if you wanted. He could feel the way you inhaled sharply. The way your fingers curled slightly into the fabric of your hoodie like you were holding yourself back.

His thumb traced the edge of your jaw. His voice dropping to something barely above a whisper. “Don’t thank me, darlin’.”

And without thinking, without second-guessing, without giving either of you a chance to step back. He kissed you. It was slow, like he had all the time in the world to memorize the way your lips felt against his. It was lingering, like he wasn’t sure if this was the first or the last time he’d get to do this. It wasn’t playful. Wasn’t teasing. It was real.

When he pulled back, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward, wasn’t tense. It was heavy with something unspoken. With something waiting to be acknowledged. But instead of speaking Jake just gave you one last lingering look before pressing a softer barely-there kiss to your forehead. A silent promise. A quiet reassurance.

“Get some sleep sweetheart,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

The scent of fresh coffee pulled you from sleep. For a moment, you lay there, disoriented, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through your curtains. Your brain slowly caught up. You hadn’t made coffee. And there was only one other person in your house who would.

Jake.

You pushed back the covers and padded toward the kitchen. The wood floor cool against your bare feet. And there he was.

Jake Seresin stood at your stove pouring coffee into two mugs like he’d done it a hundred times before. His flight suit jacket was still draped over a chair, but he’d changed into the sweatpants you’d tossed at him last night. The fabric hanging low on his hips in a way that was far too distracting this early in the morning. His hair was still messy, slightly sleep-ruffled, and for some reason that made your stomach do something ridiculous.

He looked comfortable here. In your space. Like he belonged. And you liked it. Liked the way it looked. Liked the way he looked. God help you.

At the sound of your footsteps he turned, flashing you a grin. “Mornin’, sweetheart.” He held out a mug. “Figured you might need this.”

You crossed your arms but took it anyway, inhaling deeply before your first sip. Perfect. Of course, he makes perfect coffee, too. “Didn’t take you for a domestic type, Seresin,” you muttered, lifting an eyebrow. Trying your best to look annoyed but you were anything but that.

Jake smirked while leaning a hip against the counter. “You saying you expected me to sneak out before sunrise?”

You hummed, taking another sip. “Wouldn’t have been the first time a Navy pilot bailed on me.”

His smirk faltered just slightly. Just enough to make your lips twitch. “Not my style, sweetheart,” he said, shaking his head. Then after a beat he nudged your elbow. “You slept okay?”

The teasing had softened and the warmth in his voice caught you off guard. You hesitated, fingers curling around your mug, but the truth easily came this time.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “I did. I slept more than okay.” Because knowing he was just a room over made it easy to relax. Jake studied you for a second. His green eyes sharp, thoughtful, like he was making sure you meant it.

Satisfied, he clinked his mug against yours, smirk returning full force. “Good. ‘Cause I make a damn good bodyguard. But I make an even better breakfast. What’s it gonna be, sweetheart? Eggs or pancakes?”

You blinked. “You’re making breakfast too?”

Jake gave you a slow, lazy grin. “Oh, darlin’, you think I’m lettin’ you start your day without a full meal andmy charming company? Hate to break it to you, but you’re really bad at getting rid of me.”

You scoffed while shaking your head. “Unbelievable.”

“Charming,” he corrected, winking.

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips was impossible to fight, “Pancakes. I like my breakfasts sweet.”

He gave you that devilish grin, “Noted darlin’.”

And just like that. That something between you and Jake Seresin shifted. For good.

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[goldfades]

joe burrow x popstar

watching edits together and getting so surprised by how freaky ppl are

warnings: nothing but fluff!!!

It starts with Joe’s arm slung lazily over the back of the couch, his thumb absentmindedly brushing the bare skin of your shoulder. The TV flickers in front of you, some forgettable show playing in the background, its dialogue drowned out by the comfortable silence you’ve both perfected over time. It’s the kind of quiet that doesn’t need filling.

Your phone is in your lap, screen dim until curiosity—or maybe boredom—gets the best of you. A harmless scroll through social media, a pit stop at the tagged photos section, and suddenly you’re spiraling.

“Oh my God,” you blurt out, sitting up straighter, your thumb jabbing the screen with newfound urgency. “Joe. Joe, look at this.”

He leans in without hesitation, chin practically resting on your shoulder, his body radiating that signature warmth. His eyes squint a little, adjusting to the smaller screen, before widening in real time as the video plays—a fan edit, dramatic music swelling, quick cuts of the two of you like you’re the lead roles in some forbidden romance movie. Except it’s not just stolen glances and soft smiles. No, these people are bold.

Very bold.

Joe’s brow arches, mouth falling open slightly. “Is that—did they just—”

“They did.”

You don’t even finish the sentence because the next clip is somehow worse—or better, depending on how you look at it. And honestly, you’re not sure if you want to laugh, cry, or throw your phone across the room.

“Why is it in slow motion?” Joe asks, genuinely perplexed, his voice low and warm against your ear.

“Because that makes it dramatic,” you deadpan, thumb hovering over the screen like it might self-destruct. “Obviously.”

Joe snorts, the sound bursting out of him, and that’s what does it—you both dissolve into laughter, the kind that leaves you breathless and aching. He leans back, his head hitting the cushion with a soft thud, one hand clutching his chest like the sheer absurdity physically hurts.

“Play it again,” he gasps between laughs.

You oblige, because how could you not? The video is somehow funnier the second time around, now that you’re prepared for the dramatic zooms and questionable song choice (yes, False God by Taylor Swift). Joe wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, shaking his head.

“Do people really think we look at each other like that?” he asks, trying to catch his breath.

You glance at him, the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the faint flush on his cheeks, the curve of his smile.

“I mean,” you tease, nudging his knee with yours, “they’re not completely wrong.”

His laughter softens into something quieter, something warmer. He shifts, leaning in again, his hand finding yours without thinking, fingers threading together like they always do. The TV is still on, the fan edit paused mid-dramatic frame, but none of that matters now.

“Yeah,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Guess they’re not.”

And just like that, the absurdity of fan edits fades into the background, leaving only the warmth of his gaze, the comfort of his touch, and the quiet realization that maybe the fans see something you’ve both known all along.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[strang3lov3]

Boys Will Be Boys

You hit Roman where it hurts. Meaning you fuck his dad as he watches and cries.

Tags - dubcon, girthy age gap (80/???), smut, unprotected piv, fingering, creampie, masturbation, sexual harassment/assault (Roman’s punished for it, and I kept it short and sweet), unsolicited dick pics, roman roy gets cucked by his father, osteoarthritis, hypertension, logan roy dirty talk, logan roy takes viagra, coercion, tears and mucus as lube, almost?subby?romey??? lowkey...logan roy is kinda a fuckin' stud. uhhhhh…idk. kinda grotesque. you have to embrace it. crack fic adjacent, but this is serious business to me. you’ve been warned.

A/N - you know what you’re fucking here for. maybe it’s morbid curiosity. maybe you wanna see roman roy crying while masturbating. maybe…maybe you wanna fuck that old man. it’s ok if you do. i won’t tell on you, you fucking pervert. enjoy Logan Roy screwing your brains out <3 I tagged my romey readers, and while i implore you to be brave, don't feel pressured to read if it's not your thing. @beefrobeefcal thank you for the beta hot stuff! i love you so much.

It’s been happening for a while now.

It was just small things at first. A little comment here and there. He told you that you had nice legs the first time you wore a skirt, said something else about loving a long-legged woman. Then he asked if you shaved for him, too. What else do you shave, huh? Are you bare everywhere? 

The little tattoo on your wrist, usually hidden by your blouse. What’s that about, huh? Got any other tattoos? Perhaps in a more private place? If I guess where it’s at, can I see it?

Oh, the way you got flustered. Your eyes went wide, mouth dropped open a little. Too easy. Roman took that as a challenge - an invitation, rather, to take it up a notch. 

He turned up the heat in his office to a balmy 75℉ the week after that. After each time you’d turn the thermostat down a few notches, Roman would use a little remote he’d point at it to turn it right back up. Must be busted, Roman told you. How about you call maintenance, huh, assistant? Maybe do your fucking job for once?

Roman watched with a crooked smirk on his lips as you slipped off your cardigan, exposing your body to him. That pretty nude camisole. Roman sidled up behind you, fingers skating over your shoulders until he reached the strap of your bra. Your blood went cold as he wriggled his fingers beneath them, then pulled up, up, and snickered as he let them snap your skin harshly. Nobody else had done that to you since junior high.

In the elevator, he stands too close. While riding up the many floors of the tall building, Roman fucking breathes on you, and follows you when you inch away from him. Your skin prickles when he touches your lower back, fingers drumming against you, walking down your waist. He’d first started by testing you with a little pinch on your ass cheek, just to watch you jump and hear that startled little squeak you’d make. He gropes your ass now, squeezing a handful of it, kneading his fingers. He loves the visible discomfort on your face, and knowing you can’t do a goddamn thing about it. Harrassing you is the best part of Roman’s job. It’s why he wakes up in the morning, getting to exert that power over you. It fills him with a sick sense of satisfaction, of delight. 

Your phone is full of photos of his cock. Lawsuit material, if you were brave enough to go up against Roman and Waystar and all of its bells and whistles. Roman tells you his lawyers would eat you alive before you even step foot into a courtroom. 

It was late last Saturday night when Roman texted you a picture of his crotch, cock visibly hard under his slacks, outlined in sharp detail.

10:07 - Got a job for you. Wanna help out the boss?  

Every notification on your phone with Roman’s name attached makes you want to puke. You wish you could ignore him. Block him.

10:07 - No, Roman. 

You waited with bated breath for Roman’s response, the little dancing ellipsis on the screen mocking you as he formulated a text back. How’s he gonna make your day worse this time?

10:08 - Funny how quickly a job can disappear.

Fuck it. Whatever. You sent him as modest of a nude photo as you could muster - panties and bra on, face cropped out. 

10:12 - Cute. Smile this time. Lose the underwear. 

10:32 - Leaving me on read wont work. Nice try tho

10:33 - Five minutes. Don’t make me wait

You sighed in frustration as you stripped, then snapped a photo from above. Legs crossed to hide your pussy, your forearm covering your chest.

10:35 - *fire emoji*

10:35 - *As in I’ll fire you. 

10:35 - Bare tits. Bare ass. Bare pussy. Do it now

With no choice but to comply, and with an awful feeling in your gut, you took more photos. First of your tits, then your ass. Sent and sent. 

10:38 - Forgetting something?

It made you feel even more sick, but you needed him off your back. You spread your legs, pointed the front-facing camera at your cunt, and took the photo, then sent it to Roman. 

10:45 - I bet you’re so tight. Are you wet right now? 

10:45 - Yeah

Playing along. 

10:47 - I wanna be inside you

10:47 - Gonna cover you in my cum

Roman went quiet for a while then, probably ten minutes before texting you back. 

10:58 - I wanna watch you cum for me. 

10:59 - I’ll know if you fake it

He made you send him videos of you masturbating, all different camera angles, different positions. He kept you up until almost three, making yourself come over and over for him. Until he could hear you crying in the videos, your thighs trembling. It was horrible - humiliating, exhausting, so fucking dehumanizing. He sent you pictures of an old cardigan of yours covered in his come at the end of the whole thing. You thought you lost it.

It’s Monday afternoon now. You have a bad feeling when you walk to Roman’s office, seeing that the blinds are drawn over the large glass panes of his windows. You let yourself into the room at his request, and Roman’s sitting on his little gray couch, legs spread wide. He’s palming his bulge, eyes following you as you close the door. You avoid making eye contact with him, something that only serves to challenge him. He straightens, then wordlessly pats the seat next to him. 

“I have those files you asked for, Roman.” 

“Oh, that’s great. That’s really, yeah - awesome. Set ‘em down.” 

You set them on the coffee table, then anxiously drum your fingers on your lap. You steal the littlest glance at Roman sitting next to you; his thumb mindlessly stroking where the hard head of his cock presses against his slacks. 

A heavy silence falls as you process what’s inevitably coming next. Roman unbuckles his belt, unbuttons his pants, then unzips them. He rests his head against the couch as he pulls out his cock, then looks right at you. A lazy smirk pulls at the corner of his lips and his eyes are lidded, darkened with lust in a way that makes him look like an animal. 

Roman lets out a little giggle at the nervous way you fidget your hands. He takes one in his own, holding tightly onto your wrist when you try and pull it back. “Hang on - wait. I like your nails. Pretty, very pretty, sweetheart. I think they’d look nice wrapped around my cock, don’t you?”

You bunch your fingers in a fist, attempting to pull your wrist out of his grip. “N-no, I don’t, Rom–”

“Oh, come on. That’s why you got ‘em fuckin’ done, right?” Roman uses his other hand to pry your fingers open. “Hey, open your fucking - there we go.” He lowers your hand, pressing your palm against his warm package, and his cock looks smaller in person. Just as upsetting, though. 

Roman lets out a quiet, soft groan of pleasure, then turns frustrated when you pull away again. He snaps his fingers at you, “Hey - assistant girl. Isn’t this your job, right? To assist?”

A knock at Roman’s office door has him jumping, and you take the opportunity to get away from him entirely. You leave Roman on that couch, and he’s cursing you under his breath while quickly tucking his cock back into his trousers, watching you do your quick little half-jog out of his office. Fine, be that way. You’ll fucking get it later. 

You don’t have a plan in mind when you begin walking, you just leave. Looking over your shoulder to see if Roman’s following behind you, if he’ll grab you by the forearm and drag you into a supply closet. Do god only knows what to you. Probably fuck you with the end of some maintenance man’s mop.  

You find yourself knocking at Logan’s door, then exhale a shaky breath. You’re not…you’re not sure what you’re doing here. What you’re gonna tell him, if you’re gonna tell him anything. It’s not like he’d do anything about it, right? Logan eyes you through the window, then calls you inside with just a simple wag of his fingers. He looks annoyed, fuck. But when does he not?

Logan’s room is large, and you’re not entirely sure how to navigate, which feels silly. Sounds even sillier to say. You’re not often alone with Logan, and the proximity makes you unsure of yourself. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’ve always felt…something for him. He’s a brute, yes, and you’ve seen the ugliest sides of him. Something about it makes his softer moments that much more profound, though. The tenderness is there, and it shows in quieter times. He winks at you now and then, offers you a smile with no malice or contempt or derision behind it. 

Logan’s got a soft spot for you, too. You’re a sweet girl. He’s always thought so, really. You do what you’re told, and you don’t ask for much. You’re not a bumbling idiot or a nagging fly buzzing in his ear. Easy on the eyes, too. Never hurts.

Logan gestures to a seat in front of his desk and hums a little. “Need a minute,” he mutters as he reads something on the screen. You look at all of his belongings on his desk - papers, folders, a mug. A framed photo of him somewhere warm and beachy, showing off his pale legs and his swollen ankles. 

Finally, he closes the window and smiles at you. His piercing, steel blue eyes pin you in place, but they’re warm too, almost. Warmer than Roman’s. When Roman makes eye contact with you, it makes you feel like prey. Like he’ll hunt you for sport. Not Logan, though. His gaze is heavy, but not hungry. 

Logan claps his fingers together over his thick belly. “What can I do for you, dear?”

“Uhhh…” You cross and uncross your legs as you shift in your seat, then fidget with your manicure, nervously chipping the paint off. You hate this color now. When you look up, Logan’s got his eyebrows raised at you, waiting for you to continue. You don’t want to wear his patience thin. 

“It - I was gonna talk about Roman, but it’s nothing. It’s nothing. I’m not - I don’t need to tattle.” 

“Fuck that. What’s he doing?” Logan demands flatly, immediately, furrowing his brow. 

“No, I shouldn’t have said any–”

Logan interrupts, speaking your name softly. “Tell me.”

You tell him everything about the harassment. How long it’s been going on for, how it started small and just kept escalating and escalating. How fucking relentless Roman is. You show him the texts, the photos, becoming flustered when Logan stumbles across the photos of yourself Roman made you send to him last weekend. Logan quietly hums in approval. 

You tell him about Roman in his office, the stunt he pulled just before now. It feels good to get it off your chest, at least momentarily. The way Logan simply nods, rubbing a hand on his chin makes you feel uneasy, though. A silence hangs heavily as he takes it all in, thinking. 

“What?” The anxiety makes your question slip out rather impatiently. “Sorry, I just - what are you thinking, Mr. Roy?”

Logan scoffs, smiling just a little. “...Didn’t think the kid had it in him.” 

“O-oh. Okay.” 

That’s…that’s it? You wonder if he’s gonna tell you that you were asking for it. Or to buck up. Maybe the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and Logan will be just as cruel to you as his son is. Fuck, you already regret this.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice softer than you expected it’d be. “Truly. I’m sorry my son put you through this. I promise I raised him better, darling. I did my best.”

“No, it’s–” You interrupt yourself to exhale steadily, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” 

“You know,” Logan begins, absentmindedly wiggling his fingers, “You know what it is. Boys’ll fuckin’ be boys.” 

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, you know. Men don’t grow out of boyhood so quickly, anymore, s’all. World’s turnin’ to fuckin’ shit. Unacceptable behavior, the fuckin’ kid’s pushing forty,” he spits, rolling his eyes. “Roman - he’s…well, you know what this is, don’t you? You see through his act, yes?”

You shake your head. “No,” you reply.

“Boys like him, they’ll pick on ya when they’re sweet on you,” Logan explains. “That’s all it is. Usually harmless. Usually,” he adds.

“But, Mr. Roy, I don’t–”

“I know, dear. He’s not your type, is he?”

“No,” you answer quickly, garnering a hearty chuckle from Logan. You laugh too.

“The boy always was an odd duck,” Logan adds, then pauses, thinking. “What is your type, darling, if you’ll forgive my asking?”

“Oh, gosh,” you giggle, feeling Logan’s heavy gaze on your body, your warm face. He knows. He absolutely knows. 

“Older, for one,” you admit. 

Logan smirks, and you share a smile with him. He seems to pick up on everything, knows exactly what the words left unspoken spell out. It’s always girls like you, vibrating with desire for him. No matter how white his hair becomes, nor how much rounder his belly gets, nor every new wrinkle that graces his face as the years stack up - doesn’t change the fact that Logan Roy’s still fucking got it. He reaches for one of his desk drawers, then pulls it open and reaches inside. Logan grabs an orange bottle and rattles out a tiny, blue, diamond shaped pill. His blue eyes twinkle at you as he swallows the pill, then points to the bar cart by the window. “Be a lamb, darling. Some water.”  

Quickly, you grab Logan a glass of water, watching him wash down the pill as you clench your thighs. 

“I need to hit him where it hurts,” Logan says in between sips. “Make it fuckin’ stick this time.” 

Logan shoots Roman a quick text, and you wait anxiously for his arrival. When he finally enters the office, his face falls upon seeing you at his father’s desk, looking…happier than he’d like to see you. You’re sitting up straight, chin held high, shoulders back. Logan’s scowl darkens as he gestures for Roman to sit down, right in the seat next to you. Roman’s hands shake a little as he pulls the seat back and lowers himself into it. 

“What’re we gonna do about you, son?”

“What?” Roman’s brows furrow, and his bottom lip wobbles ever so slightly. “I don’t kn–”

“You a sicko?”

Roman shifts uncomfortably in his seat, realizing this conversation is absolutely not going to go his way. “No, I–”

Logan cuts Roman off, his tone sharp. “She tells me you’ve been harassing her, Roman. Is this true?”

“What? Dad, no. She’s f-fucking lying,” Roman stammers. Roman looks at you then, and you can see how he tries to glare, to scare you, to regain control. He’s powerless here, with you protected by his father. 

Logan reaches for your phone, which is sitting face down on his desk. He turns it on, “Gimme a hand here, darling. Pull it up again.” 

You have to bite down on your smile as you put in your passcode, feeling so empowered at the moment. It’s the moment you’ve been waiting for. Roman’s humiliated you so many times and finally, he’s gonna take what he dishes. And then some.

Logan shakes his head a little, grumbling as he prods the screen with his fat fingers. “Fuckin’ bastard…here. Here it is. S’that your fuckin’ dick?” he sneers, spit flying from his lips. He turns the phone around, showing Roman one of the many, many photos of his own dick on your phone.

Roman freezes, his face turning pale enough to make his freckles vanish. “N–”

“Certainly small enough to be yours. Look–” Logan scrolls through more texts, “This one too, huh?”

“No,” Roman seethes, and it almost makes you giggle, the way he scrambles to lie. So fucking…pathetic. He’s everything Logan’s not. 

“Oh, see? Look at him, darling. He’s squirming.”

Logan reaches for his eyeglasses sitting on his chest, held by a cord that wraps around his neck. He squints a little as he scrolls through your phone, then clears his throat before reading aloud. “‘I bet you’re so tight’,” he reads loudly, droning in a monotone voice. “‘I need to be inside you. You’d look pretty covered in my cum.’ You think this is a fucking compliment?” Logan asks, looking at Roman through his eyebrows.

Roman’s face twists, and he scratches the back of his neck in discomfort. “Dad–”

Logan turns the phone around again, and this time a picture of Roman’s hand is on the screen. Fingers spread, covered in his own cum. He scrolls again and the next photo is a picture of Roman himself, licking those fingers. 

“You are a fuckin’ sicko,” he growls.

You and Logan watch Roman shrink into his seat, how he looks like he’d willingly crawl out of his own skin and die, if he could. Logan lets him stew in his discomfort and his shame for a beat, then pats his lap, petting his bulge a little.

Roman watches you round the desk at the same time Logan rolls his chair back, making enough space for the both of you. You sit on Logan’s meaty thighs, watching the color drain from Roman’s lips. “Ope - up a second, dear. C’mon, up, up.” Logan swats your hip gently. You stand up then, and feel Logan’s large, paddle shaped hands slide up your thighs, under your skirt. He reaches for the waistband of your panties before tugging them down, letting them pool at your feet. You step out of them, then sit back down, leaning against Logan’s thick, pillowy belly. 

“Spread your legs,” Logan whispers, helping you part your thighs. Your skirt rides up your body, putting your throbbing cunt on display for Roman. Roman swallows thickly, watching as his father reaches for your center, grunting a little as he stretches. You moan when you feel him touch you, sliding just one, thick digit through your slippery folds. “Oh,” he gasps mockingly, holding out his hand for Roman to see. “See how wet she is, Romulus? Tell him, darling, who are you this fuckin’ wet for?”

“You,” you whimper, turning to speak to Logan. Logan groans, and you feel his thick cock twitch against your backside. “I need you, Mr. Roy.”

“Oh, my dear. Be patient. We’ll get there.”

Logan glares at Roman as he pushes a single finger inside of you, and even that’s a stretch that has you whining. Logan coos in your ear, quieting you as he uses his other hand to unbutton your blouse. He wriggles his fat hand underneath your bra, palming and groping your tits, teasing your nipples with his thumb. “Fuckin’ kid wouldn’t know what to do with a pair of tits like these, now would he, sweetheart?”

“N-no,” you agree, looking right at Roman. Your eyes scan down his body, noticing that - oh, god. He’s fucking hard. He’s trying to hide it, hands covering his crotch. But you see it. You see the way he’s rocking his hips, pressing down on himself to alleviate that pressure a little. 

Logan pumps his finger inside you once, then twice, then adds another. He curls the two rhythmically, noting how it makes Roman squirm. Roman’s making desperate, stifled little noises as he watches his father fingerfuck you, so shamefully, disgustingly turned on by the sight. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, resting your head against Logan’s shoulder. Your eyes flutter shut as you bask in the pleasure, bucking your hips into his palm a little. 

“Ah-ah. Eyes open, darling, and look at Roman. Look, he’s fuckin’ hard for ya. See?” You lift your head a little, looking at Roman through half-lidded eyes. His face is so fucking red, eyes still wild but a little broken, too. All wet and sad. He’s sweating, you can see it glittering at his hairline, the protruding veins in his forehead twitching to match. “He’s making a mess of himself,” Logan adds, pointing to the the wet spot bleeding through Roman’s pants. “Fuckin’ disgusting, isn’t he?”

“Dad,” Roman whispers, voice breaking. “Please, d–”

“Shut the fuck up, Roman,” you snap. You’re melting as Logan now rubs your clit in practiced circles. He’s got decades of experience under his belt. Guided some hundreds of women to orgasm. You’re no different, just as easy as the rest of them.

You whine as Logan pulls his hand away, pushing you forward so he can free his cock from his slacks. He sucks in his belly as he unbuttons his pants, then exhales deeply, thick belly bulging against his thin shirt. Even at the ripe age of eighty, Logan’s cock is long and thick, and everything Roman’s simply is not. You don’t get much of a look at the thick, unruly patch of white pubic hair surrounding the base of his shaft before Logan’s pulling you against him, tapping his dress shoe between your ankles to make you spread your legs. “Show Roman how you take care of his old man, huh? See how he likes that.” He fits the blunt head of his cock against your entrance, then slowly pushes you down with a firm push on your hips. “Ohhh, that’s it, darling. You take it so well.”

The stretch of his cock entering you has you sucking in a sharp breath, then exhaling through that delicious pain. Your cunt pulses around Logan’s cock as you watch Roman free his own dick, desperately pawing at his own length as tears fall from his eyes. He wipes them quickly, then uses the same hand to stroke himself.

“Help a man out, sweetheart. The osteoarthritis…my knees, I–”

“Of course, Mr. Roy,” you coo sweetly, lifting yourself up and down on his turgid, wrinkled member. Logan steadies you with his hands on your waist, guiding you along. Roman lets a little sob escape as he watches his father fuck his massive cock into you, squeezing his own cock so desperately. You giggle at that. 

“Quit - don’t fucking laugh–”

“Hey,” Logan barks, pointing a finger at Roman. “You don’t call the shots here, Roman, I do. I fucking run game,” he growls. Logan squeezes your breasts in both hands as he draws in and out of you, letting out wheezy exhales as his heart rate increases, but he won’t let his hypertension stop him from pleasing you. “Yeah, that’s it, honey. Look at him, fucking his hand. Tell me darling, what do you think of that?” 

“I think - I think he’s fucking pathetic,” you answer, looking right at Roman as you say it. Roman’s face breaks even further, more tears falling from his big, wet eyes. He wipes his eyes and his dripping nose, using the mess on his hand as lubricant as he fucks his fist with a depressing sort of fervor.

“Hear that, son? She thinks you’re fucking pathetic,” Logan taunts. 

“I fuck- oh, fuck,” Roman whimpers, throwing his head back as he desperately works himself. 

“Oh, you’re fuckin’ adopted,” Logan grumbles under his breath. He lifts you up then, and spins you around, then lays you across his desk so you’re looking at Roman upside-down. Logan enters you again in one swift motion, then begins fuckings you with an energy you wouldn’t expect, but that pleasantly surprises you. He’s so spry for an eighty year old. 

“You do so good for me,” Logan praises you. “My idiot son could get fucked like this too, if he weren’t such a fucking screwup. Isn’t that right, Romulus?”

“Y-yeah,” Roman whines. 

“Speak up, Roman. Let her hear you. Actually–” Logan grunts, punctuating the sentence with a brutal snap of his hips “I want you to apologize to her.”

“What?”

“He’s that fuckin’ stupid, huh?” Logan pants, the comment directed at you. “Fucking. Apologize,” he tells Roman. “Do it now.”

“I’m fuckin’ sorry. Okay?”

“Again, Romulus,” Logan demands, annoyed. “Louder.”

Roman tells you he’s sorry again, and it makes you smile. His voice all high-pitched and broken. Good, it’s about fucking time he’s taken down a peg.

“Tell her again,” Logan says. “Like ya fuckin’ mean it, Roman. And you don’t stop apologizing until she comes. Are we fucking clear?”

Roman nods frantically, pumping his cock as he whines, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

His words go right to your core. Logan fucks you harder, and licks his thumb before bringing it to your clit. He uses those same practiced circles from before to coax along your release, and it’s not long before you’re pulsing around his cock, moaning Roman’s father’s name as you come hard, all that pleasure washing over you as Roman whispers how fucking sorry he is. 

With a few harsh thrusts, Logan’s spilling into you next, coming with a deep, guttural grunt and wheezing breaths, a sharp pain in his chest. It’s all fucking worth it. He reaches into his pocket and tosses you his handkerchief, then excuses himself, mumbling something about needing his supplemental oxygen. 

You sit on Logan’s desk as Roman strokes himself to completion, sobbing as he gets off to the sight of your puffy, swollen cunt, ruined by his own father, and dripping with his spend. He makes a mess of himself as he comes, “Here, Rome–” you offer, tossing your used cumrag at him. 

“Get that - fuck,” Roman cries, swatting it away. He sobs as he comes down from his orgasm, unable to even look at you as you put yourself back together. 

“It’s smaller in person,” you murmur, touching Roman on the shoulder before leaving. He flinches at that, then breaks down in tears again as he shoves his softening cock back into his pants. “See ya tomorrow, boss.”

if you enjoyed, please shout at me 🩷💕 comments, rb, or my inbox. I turned anons back on because I know a handful of freaks will need to scream about their horniness but would prefer to do so anonymously.

romey tags

@goldenispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @gaeela-6 @bean-is-reading @slutsoutgutsout

@galarian-weezing-on-prep @cum-a-calla @pastelpinkflowerlife @kolsmikaelson @moth-maam56

@kothku @cult-of-escapism @swiftiegirliepop @bluecookies-and-ink @romanarose

@kappasbbgirl @magpiepills @highinmiamiii @verstappensrealwife @thesummerpetrichor

@lilipads @luiscarrutherss @baronessvonglitter @myromeow

@ovaryacted @doll-0f-flesh @always-andromeda @causesimmer @pedropascalbabygirl

@baloobalee @slimybeth69 @pearlstiare @romanisbrat @callsignwidow @ziggymars

@perpetuallymanic @111melo @veryverycoolgirl @marisemonteiroo

@prettybpdgirl @butuhaventseenmyman @drunkdriverkillerwhale @fawnjaw

[lumiambrose]

~ ✰ UNSPOKEN ACCIDENTS ⋆｡°✩

featuring: reo x gn!reader (should pass as gn!, sorry in advance if it's not!)

summary: after months of unspoken feelings and an extremely tough match, he finally lets his deepest emotions slip...

request for nonnie xx

wc: 1.1k

tags: smut, little bit angsty i guess, friends with benefits, cumming inside, fluffy ending too i guess :)

Your fingers trace absentminded circles on Reo’s bare chest, his skin still damp from sweat, the air thick with his scent. The bed beneath you feels warmer than usual, but maybe that’s just him. Or maybe it’s you, pretending this means more than it does.

Reo is silently staring at the ceiling, his jaw clenched tight. You know this isn’t about you—not entirely. His team lost today—he lost today. A stupid mistake in the last five minutes cost him the game, and Reo Mikage does not take losing lightly.

Still, you hope… well, you’re not sure what you hope for. Maybe some sign that you’re more than a stress reliever, that you’re not just a warm body for him to sink into at a whim. But expecting anything is unfair of you. I mean, it goes without saying: no feelings, no expectations, just pleasure and the occasional bite of comfort when the world outside becomes too loud.

“Reo…” you start hesitantly, your fingers pausing over his heartbeat. He tenses under your touch, eyes snapping to yours. You’re not quite sure what’s going through his mind right now, but either way, you’re not sure whether you want to know.

“What?” his voice is sharper than anticipated, irritation bleeding through.

You bite your lip. “I just… you played well today.”

A bitter laugh escapes him. “Yeah, clearly. That’s why we lost, right?”

You sit up, pulling the sheet around yourself. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”

His jaw ticks. “You don’t get it.”

“I do, actually.”

“No, you don’t.” His voice rises. The frustration clear in his tone as he sits up abruptly, raking a hand through his hair. “You don’t understand how much this fucking means to me. How much I—” He exhales harshly, shaking his head. “Forget it.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, but your heart twists nonetheless at the rawness in his voice. “Reo, I—”

“I don’t need your pity,” he snaps.

That hurts. More than it should. You clench your fists, doing your absolute best to ignore the feelings surging up your body. “I’m not pitying you.”

He scoffs, running both hands through his hair. He looks wrecked—tired, angry, vulnerable in a way he probably hates. But you don’t judge him. You don’t think you even can. Knowing the weight of expectations he carries, the way he punishes himself for not being perfect.

So you do the only thing that crosses your mind. You reach for him.

At first, he resists, but when you pull him closer, his body sags against yours. His head resting against your shoulder, and his breath is warm against your skin, uneven.

“I hate losing,” he mutters, voice muffled.

“I know.” You run your fingers through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp. While it does take a while, you finally notice the tension in his body begins to melt.

And then, as if seeking something else—something more, his lips find yours.

It starts slow, but you both know where this is heading. His hands find your waist, your nails dig into his shoulders, and the weight of every unspoken thought between the both of you comes crashing down.

His kisses are tired and sloppy, a reflection of his current state, but the way he holds you makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters right now. The way his palms roam from your waist to rubbing the small of your back and eventually making their way to the globes of your ass, you almost feel special.

It’s not long until he’s removing his boxers, freeing his cock before taking your lips to his once again. Placing you on top of him, his hands continue to roam once again, and once you can’t take it anymore, you take your own initiative. Aligning your heat with his cock before slowly sinking down on him, a breathy moan escaping your lips, only to be muffled by Reo.

You start slow—painfully slow. Adjusting yourself to his size as you slowly shift back and forth on his lap. Reo reciprocates, grinding up into your aching core. It’s slow but surprisingly sensual, extremely sensual.

His lips are latched to your neck, planting wet kisses and marks throughout your skin as he holds onto the soft flesh on your ass. If you didn’t know any better, you’d actually believe he wanted you. Though that’s not relevant, not while your body aches in pleasure as every thrust sends jolts through your body.

Reo can feel it too. He guides your movements, helping you bounce on his lap as he thrusts up to meet you, slowly increasing in pace. The room fills with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and your mingled moans and grunts. And before you know it, you’re reaching that all-familiar high. The high only Reo can give you.

“Reo,” your voice strained. “I’m so close.” Your words come out slurred between a mix on moans and gasps, but he understands. He lifts you up slightly, allowing him a better angle as he continues to thrust inside of you, chasing both of your releases.

“Yeah? Go on, make a mess for me.” Even his own voice is strained, but that doesn’t change a thing as you find yourself trembling on top of him. Your high crashing over you as you moan out his name.

“Shit, you’re so tight,” he’s getting desperate too. “Gonna fill you up, ok?” Though he doesn’t give you time to reply as he reaches his own high. Hot seed spraying your insides as he finally slows down his movements, gently grinding his cum inside you as the two of you pant against each other's skin.

The air is thick—too thick, almost as if something is up. Maybe you’re just delusional, actually believing the impossible will happen. But as you rest against Reo’s chest, you hear the strangest words.

“I love you.”

Your body stills, your heart stopping mid-beat.

His eyes are wide, as if he himself can’t believe what he just said. But there’s no taking it back. His hands tighten around you, grounding you in this moment.

“You…” Your throat feels tight. “You love me?”

You look up, finally facing him as you try to comprehend his words. You’re not imagining things, are you?

“I do.” Short and simple, but everything you wanted to hear. The months of what you considered one-sided yearning, all to be reciprocated, and it feels like a massive weight has just been lifted off your chest.

The grin that spreads across your face is impossible to hide, even when you try and turn away; he pulls you back to him, reciprocating with a smile of his own.

And then, as if afraid you’ll slip through his fingers, he kisses you again—like he just won his greatest victory.

Taglist: @sky-casino, @bbladie, @thetwinkims, @inu1gf (join my taglist here)

©lumiambrose ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works

[katyawriteswhump]

love and other catastrophes at the omega cafe (1/8)

So I posted about this idea before here, (and was overwhelmed by the response—thank you!) but basically a cat café opened near me and inspired this:

Summary: Steve is a runaway Omega who gets a job at an Omega café, where he’s basically paid to curl up and purr in Alphas’ laps. It’s legal, and he earns a living, rents his own place. He’s getting along fine for a packless Omega. Then Alpha rockstar Eddie Munson turns up for an hour of ‘kitty’ petting, and shatters Steve’s fragile little world…

Rating: M (will be E); No major warnings; Tags: omega steve, alpha eddie, a/b/o dynamics, fluff and angst; (It won't get tooooo angsty, I promise, and I should probably write a shorter version, but this seemed to want to get bedded in for some plot, so...) read on A03 and thank you @lexirosewrites for being so patient with my weird belated questions about what do with my idea!

🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛

Chapter 1

Steve clocked in with Carol at the coffee counter and cosied up on a beanbag waiting for the first customer to arrive. He couldn’t stop yawning and struggled to keep his eyes open.

He didn’t usually work the Monday morning graveyard shift at ‘Kitties’—otherwise known as the Omega Café. Carol usually put him on the weekends, which were their busiest times. Plenty of Alphas—and sometimes Betas—were free then, to pass an hour with a cute Omega purring in their lap.

For a cost, naturally.

Steve, though, had called in sick yesterday and needed to make up his lost earnings. He’d been in heat. So, three days of cold sweats, congealed slick, and crippling cramps. At least the blockers he used for this job curbed his desperation to be fucked. All the same, a dull gnawing pain in his pelvis persisted, he’d barely slept and…

…Ugh, this beanbag was, if anything, too inviting and soft.

He’d gotten his most comfy, stretchy shorts on, his most butter-soft collar, and an only-slightly-cropped-at-the-midriff vest. His feet were bare, which was fortunate. Right now, only his icicle toes were keeping him awake. He was tempted to grab one of the many fluffy blankets scattered around the café, pull it up over him and snooze.

He was torn between asking Carol for a double espresso or napping—to be fair, it was unlikely anybody would join them till noon—when the bell on the door tinkled.

So much for a peaceful snooze.

Fortunately, rather than a hungover Alpha, Robin burst in. On spotting Steve, her shoulders sagged with obvious relief. She hurried up to the counter and presented Carol with her Apple-Pay. “Flat white with an extra shot, and an hour of kitty cuddles, please.”

“Sure.” The payment bleeped through, and Carol turned to grind the coffee beans. She never bothered with great customer service for Steve’s best friend. That said, customer service wasn’t Carol’s strength at the best of times. Steve liked that about her. For an Omega, she was a bitey feral, and she sure had their boss, Tommy, under her claw.

Robin sat down at a table, pulled a cushion onto her lap. Steve shuffled over on his knees and laid his head on the cushion:

“Jesus, Robin,” he whispered, as she started to pet his hair. It was usual practice for Omegas to wait till the customer spoke first, but this was, well, Robin. “You don’t have to pay to see me, you know that?”

“Apparently, I do, Dingus! I’ve been going out of my mind! Why didn’t you return my, like, billion texts?”

“Shit. Sorry.” Her fretful pettings only made him feel more guilty. “I’m out of data, and you know how shit Wi-Fi is in Sunshine Village. Plus, I had really bad cramps this month—I could barely crawl out of bed this morning.”

“Yeah, I guessed that. God, I’m sorry, too.” She slowed her strokes, as they both relaxed a little. “I worry about you all the time, living there. Working here. I wish I could take you home with me. Damn, I should rent somewhere you’re actually allowed to live.”

“No way. I’m fine, Robin. Seriously, I’ve landed on my feet. I like having my own little home. The heating is working in my block this week, and this is a pretty cushy gig.”

Steve didn’t even say that for the benefit of Carol, who’d just dumped Robin’s coffee on the table, slopping half of it into the saucer.

Steve had arrived in the city four months ago, down to his last few dollars. He’d soon realized that acceptable Omega jobs—teaching assistant, nanny, seamstress, junior positions in retail and catering—would all require handing over too much information about himself. He’d also swiftly discovered that Sunshine Village, the district he’d heard about where single Omegas could live unmolested, was little better than a slum.

He’d been caught between the terrifying choices of fleeing back home, starving, or sex work. Then he’d stumbled across this place.

If Tommy had checked the fake name Steve gave, he hadn’t cared. Steve got paid in cash after each shift and earned enough to rent a small place in the Village. Which, despite its shabbiness, turned out to be full of friendly, supportive Omegas.

It all meant he didn’t have to worry about Robin being evicted from her pleasant ‘beta’ neighbourhood for harbouring an unregistered Omega.

Robin chatted on, while sipping the remnants of her coffee and petting Steve idly. While she complained about how unfair the world was for Omegas—they’d met when Steve had turned up at an Omega soup-kitchen she volunteered at—her speech also underlined his point.

His life could be a shitload worse.

This morning, he was being paid for his best friend to give him much-needed bodily contact in a no-strings-attached fashion. While he didn’t have to force fake purrs for her, like he did for the majority of customers, soft sleepy purring happened anyhow.

After Robin left for work, the café was empty again. Carol made them both hot chocolate then turned her attention to doing her nails. Steve breakfasted on an out-of-date lemon muffin, which was still nice and gooey in the middle, then slipped out to the washroom for the second time since Robin left. He needed to re-check his hair.

He was reapplying his eyeliner, when he heard the bell tinkle again.

So much for the ‘graveyard’ shift. He pinched his pale cheeks, bracing himself to face whoever wanted to cuddle him next.

A high-pitched squeal from Carol pierced Steve’s hearing—one that was probably only audible to other Omegas.

And the scent snatched his breath.

The Omega café was flushed with scent-neutralising air fresheners, for obvious reasons. Whoever this Alpha was, his musk was potent enough to punch straight through. It nearly floored Steve with low notes of leather and woodsmoke, and high notes of… Christ, Steve didn’t know what that was.

Plums? Fine Californian wine?

It set his mouth watering, for all of a split second.

Carol! Was she okay?

He rushed from the washroom and peeped from behind a thick velour curtain.

Carol was fine. She was taking payment from an Alpha with long, slightly-frizzy retro hair, a jean jacket—who the fuck wore those?—and dark soulful eyes.

Steve’s heart rate spiked.

The Alpha was pretty damn good-looking, and young too, maybe only a year or so older than Steve.

He was also faintly familiar.

Did Steve know him from back home? Would he recognise Steve?

“So, how does this work?” asked the newcomer. His drawling accent sent a shiver down Steve’s spine that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. His voice was as sexy as the rest of him… and that definitely wasn’t a North County accent. Steve relaxed slightly, ogling the guy who was literally setting both his and Carol’s legs wobbling.

“You pay up front for an hour of kitty cuddles,” she said. “You have to order a minimum of one drink, and all new customers must read and sign our rules and disclaimers.”

“Ma’am, it’s Monday morning.” The Alpha sounded wearily amused, gesturing to the three-page fine-print document she shoved across the counter. “Do I really have to read all this?”

“How about I summarize for you.” Yup, Carol was being helpful and polite. Either someone kidnapped the real Carol, or this Alpha really was special. “You’re not about to go into rut, I take it? Because if you are, Sir, I’m really, really sorry—we can’t take that risk here, or we could get shut down.”

The Alpha shook his head. While Carol reeled off a few pertinent points—“no scenting, obviously. No kissing,”—his gaze snapped onto where Steve skulked, half-hidden behind the drapes.

Steve jumped back out of sight.

“Soooo,” said the Alpha, when Carol finally stopped talking. “To summarise—I can stroke the pussies, but I can’t stroke the pussies?”

Carol giggled. Though they’d all heard that joke, and every variation on it, at least a billion times.

“Pretty much,” she said. “We’re absolutely NOT a brothel. And don’t expect cat-ears and whiskers and all that jazz. Thursday is usually full-costume night, and… erm, right now, we only have one kitty, and he seems to have strayed. Boy kitty okay with you?”

“Yes, thank you, Ma’am,” said the Alpha.

“Cool. I’ll go coax him out with a saucer of milk or something.”

She found Steve backed up against the dingy back-corridor wall, knees basically jello. “Get out there! Christ, you do realize who that is?”

Steve shook his head, throat too tight to speak. He honestly didn’t know what was wrong with him. Alphas moseyed in and out of this place every day. He was usually able to keep himself together.

“It’s Eddie Munson! Lead singer of Corroded Coffin? Super-hot and super-famous bad-boy Alpha rockstar? Jeeees, you really did live in a box till you got here, didn’t you? Look, get out there—before I tell him boy kitty is off the menu, grab my skimpiest bikini, and burrow into that scorching lap myself.”

She nudged him through the curtain. Eddie Munson had already settled onto one of the cafe’s roomiest couches, arms splayed along the back.

Legs splayed too.

Eddie glanced up and those gorgeous eyes raked Steve, head-to-toe, stripping him so bare he might as well have forgotten his shorts. The Alpha’s grin spread slowly, revealing glinting incisors, and creasing up into the sexiest dimples Steve had ever seen.

Steve wasn’t sure how he made it across the room. Somehow, he did, shuffling the final few feet on his knees.

“Hello, Kitty,” said Eddie. Possibly taking pity, he closed his legs. He shoved his thighs forward so Steve could easily lay his head in them.

Steve did so, facing out across the café. His heart skittered like a little prey animal’s. It was only then that he realized Eddie hadn’t placed a cushion on his thighs. Well, if Carol hadn’t highlighted that part of the rules, Steve was hardly in a position to do it now.

Eddie didn’t mess around. Strong fingers plowed straight into the springy mass of Steve’s hair. “What’s your name, Honey?”

“Uh… St-steve?”

Who fucking stammers answering his own name?

“Hi, Steve. I’m Eddie.” He leaned a little closer, hot breath joining those strong fingers to send Steve even deeper into fluster. “How do you put up with the stink in here? I mean, I get it. All those Alpha-Omega scents battering each other would make this place a real fleshpot. Shame, though. I bet you smell real sweet. I mean, I think I get a whiff of you, even now.”

“You get used to it,” squeaked Steve, cutting that line of conversation off pronto.

“You get used to the diabolical plinky-plonky piano music too, Steve?”

“Honestly, I don’t even hear it anymore.”

To be fair, Steve didn’t hate the perpetual loop of movie theme-tune classics for exactly that reason. Even the smoochiest love songs—like the instrumental version of “Everything I do, I do it for you,” currently playing—didn’t mess with his emotions in the way music so often did.

Eddie snorted a dry chuckle, leaning back against the cushions again. Steve’s eyes fluttered closed.

“You’re right, Steve,” drawled Eddie, massaging deliciously into Steve’s scalp, “it’s pretty easy not to hear it. You have got the cutest purr.”

Steve’s eyes flew wide. He hadn’t even realized he was purring yet! Yeah, he could fake purr, but he’d been too befuddled to get to that. Now, he shook with loud rattling purrs that he could barely control.

Omegas purred when they were happy and relaxed, and also when distressed, to comfort themselves. He’d been reduced to that over the weekend. These purrs, though, grew couch-quakingly loud and felt different from anyway he’d purred before.

“You okay there, Honey?” Thank heavens Eddie was nice, though that made Steve’s weirdness all the more inexplicable. Eddie ran the back of coolish fingers down Steve’s burning cheek.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Steve. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” His hormones must still be doing weird things after his chemically fucked-up heat.

He probably should’ve called in sick today too.

“Don’t apologise,” Eddie said. “Look, it’s freakin’ Monday morning. I’m the weirdo Alpha checking this place out. You’re just doing your job, and you’re mighty fine at it, I’m sure.” The words washed through Steve, their brutal truth leaving an awkward residue. “Listen, I’m just gonna sip my coffee and chill. You reckon you can chill too, little kitty?”

“Yes, Alpha,” murmured Steve. The preening growl that jostled from Eddie was enough to make Steve desperate to obey.

He didn’t usually call anybody Alpha on the job. It wasn’t strictly against the rules, but unless a client demanded it—and only the real a-holes did—the kitties avoided it.

Eddie, though, had dragged it from Steve before he could think about it, much like those purrs.

And much like how, a minute or so of petting later, Steve found himself purring effortlessly, and totally relaxed. He wasn’t even stressed by the fact that his cheek rested dangerously close to Eddie’s Alpha dick. Which appeared to be ballooning slightly beneath his thick pair of sweatpants.

This was exactly why the cushions were compulsory. Though Steve barely had time to worry.

“Steve,” said Eddie, fingering around the edge of Steve’s collar in a fashion that literally made Steve’s eyes cross with yumminess. “Are there any rules against you getting in my lap for proper cuddles?”

“No. Absolutely not.” There really wasn’t, though of course, it only worked with the larger Alphas. There’d been no way Steve could’ve fitted into a Beta like Robin’s lap, for example, without some level of squishing. Eddie was, to be fair, not the largest Alpha around, but he was certainly large enough.

After some not-too-awkward manoeuvring—and guided by Eddie’s hand in the small of his back—Steve soon found himself sitting across Eddie’s lap. Eddie scooped him close, and his arms curled around Eddie’s neck.

He stared point-blank into the fathomless depths of Eddie’s dark eyes. Nope. Too much. He dipped his gaze, then squeaked. Now, he fixed on Eddie’s jawline and throat, dusted with scruff, and which drew him like, well, catnip.

Steve inhaled oaky-smoky plums and… Holy crap, what even was that? He was in serious danger of burying his face there and violating the no-scenting rule himself.

Once again, Eddie sensed his discomfort and guided Steve’s head down onto his shoulder, holding him there. “Hey, any chance of another coffee,” Eddie called to Carol. “Extra-large mocha with marshmallows, please, Ma’am? Think I might be settling here for a while.”

After that, Eddie appeared to go out of his way to make Steve even more comfortable. Perhaps noting Steve’s squirmings over getting too close to his scent gland, he slid a thin throw cushion beneath Steve’s cheek. He then settled them both back against the comfiest, most enveloping part of the sofa. He pulled one of those fluffy blankets up over them both. Soon, a floaty weariness, bone-deep but pleasant, overcame Steve.

Even his ovaries had stopped bugging him. God, this was nice. He really got paid for this? Damn, he’d fallen on his feet and Eddie smelled divine. He couldn’t help but daydream about that huge Alpha dick nestled stupid-close to his pussy, with only two layers of fabric between them. He was too sleepy to get too excited, tho’. He soon floated on the surface of a calm ocean, safe and serene…

When Steve began waking up, a honeyed glow saturated his head and heart and previously aching pelvis. He couldn’t remember his dreams, but they must’ve been good ones. He felt complete and happy and… he flicked his eyes open. Oh shit! The cafe buzzed with conversation. Several other kitties had come on shift and were snuggling with Alphas.

He’d fallen asleep on a customer’s lap.

Steve’s focus snapped onto the clock behind the counter, where Carol and her assistant, Chrissy, who also did kitty duties, were rushing around making lunches.

1.57 pm.

He’d been asleep on the job for nearly three hours.

Asleep in the lap of…

“Hey there,” drawled Eddie, “somebody’s a sleepy kitty.”

Steve daren’t look up. Was Eddie pissed? He didn’t sound it.

Steve opened his mouth. Shut it again, dabbing the corner. His head had slipped off the pillow and rested against Eddie’s chest. The Alpha’s booming heartbeat mingled with an amused chuckle.

Steve wasn’t laughing: “Oh shit, I’m so sorry. I drooled on your t-shirt!”

“I know.” Eddie’s low rumbling sigh was one of the most contented sounds Steve had ever heard. “You gonna charge extra for that, Honey?”

🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛ I have got quite a bit of this fic drafted, so hopefully more soon. If you’re enjoying, please let me know, or like and reblog... it means a lot to know somebody would like to read more *purrs hopefully* and thank you soooo much for reading this far 💚

[4nyangnyangz]

— checkmate! ♟️

synopsis: it was supposed to be just a normal hangout for you and your best friend, Taehyun until the both of you decide to add a little twist to the game of chess that you were playing, uncovering hidden truths and removing a piece of clothing with each loss. the game leads to the both of you revealing unspoken desires and dealing with the suffocating tension between you. a certain turn of events causes the both of you to discover that your friendship may evolve beyond platonic boundaries.

pairings: best friend!taehyun x fem reader

tags/warnings: nsfw content! minors dni. smut, masturbation, fingering, oral(f receiving), unprotected sex(wrap it before u tap it!), overstimulation, creampie, slight exhibitionism, slight voyeurism, best friends to lovers(?), freaky chess if that makes sense, LOTS of teasing and sexual tension.

wordcount: 5k!! THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD.

a/n: HEOL I can't believe I'm reaching 200-400+ notes already, it all seems so surreal to me still, but i'm really thankful for all the support!! I do have to say I would consider this as my actual first smut fic(the guitarist gyu fic was just a glimpse lol) so I may have gotten carried away on some of the scenes.... i'm still not too confident with writing smut so pls go easy on me! 🙏 happy tyun month! <3

fic below the cut!!

----------------------------

It was your typical Saturday afternoon when you found yourself at Taehyun's place. The weather outside was gloomy, clouds hanging low, casting an overcast that matched the lazy mood you were in. You knocked on the door to his apartment, a soft thud as your knuckles met the wood.

A few moments later, the door opened, revealing your best friend, Taehyun, standing with a wide grin that revealed his dimples and perfect teeth.

“Hey, y/n, I'm glad you made it,” he greeted, stepping aside so you could enter. “So, what are we doing today?”

You shrugged, offering a playful smirk. “I don't know. Just whatever sounds fun, I guess.”

He motioned toward his living room, where a table sat in the center. On top of it rests a chessboard which made your heart skip a beat. You’d played countless games of chess with your siblings over the years, but to your surprise, you recall you haven't actually played chess with Taehyun before.

Something about the way your best friend looked at you today made you feel like this particular game might be different.

What did he come up with this time..... you thought to yourself.

“How about a chess match?” Taehyun casually suggests, a mischievous glint in his eye.

You raised an eyebrow. “Really, Taehyun? You know I'm not exactly a pro, right?”

Taehyun chuckled. “Well, I'm not either. Besides, it's not about winning or losing. It's about... having fun.”

You shrugged, intrigued. “Okay, sure. But if I get destroyed, I'm blaming you.”

He chuckles as he set the pieces up with practiced ease. You took your seat across from him, ready to dive into a familiar rhythm. But as he moved his first piece—a white pawn, his eyes twinkled as he leaned back.

“Actually,” Taehyun said, his voice had a lower tone, “I was thinking we could play with a twist.”

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity visible in your expression.“A twist?”

“Yeah,” he said, his lips curling into a smile. “For every time someone gets a check on the other player, the person who’s in check has to answer a question. No dodging. No lying. Honest answers only.”

Your eyes widened slightly, but you nodded in response. It was a bit unconventional, but it wasn’t like you had anything to hide, and you have always been able to talk to Taehyun about anything. Still, there was something in the air—something unspoken between you two. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but it made your pulse quicken just a little. You knew it wasn't going to be easy, especially knowing how Taehyun could come up with something you'd least expect at any time.

“Deal. But don't expect me to go easy on you.” You said, picking up your knight and making your first move, dragging it across your row of pawns and placing it on the board.

The game began smoothly, both of you slipping into familiar roles. Taehyun's confidence was clear as always, despite it being your first time playing chess with him, it was clear he wasn't going to go easy on you. The sound of the pieces clicking into place was oddly comforting.

But the twist, the questions, were a different element altogether. You found yourself becoming more aware of Taehyun's every move, every glance. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lingered on you as he moved his pieces. You tried your best to keep calm, but you couldn't deny that it was slightly affecting your ability to focus.

By the time you’d captured his bishop, it was already becoming clear that this wouldn’t be a typical match. Your thoughts were scattered; you weren't focused solely on the game anymore.

When you made a bold move, putting him in check, you grinned. “Check,” you muttered softly, eyes glinting with playful mischief. “Alright, question time.”

Taehyun adjusted in his seat, grinning as if he was starting to have a glimpse of where this game was heading. “Ask away.”

You leaned back slightly, tapping your chin as you thought. “If you could change one thing about our friendship, what would it be?”

He blinked in surprise, not expecting such a serious question coming from you. He pauses for a minute before replying, “Wow, I wasn't expecting that kind of question.”

“Don't give me that, you added these rules in the first place. Honest answers only, remember?” you chuckled, seeing how he got flustered after your question. You were just starting to enjoy this game, after all.

You observed him as he contemplated, biting his lower lip as if he was trying to find the right words before answering. You couldn't hide the smile tugging from the corners of your lips as you figured from his hesitation that he was starting to regret adding these rules to what was supposed to be a simple chess game in the first place.

There was an immediate shift in his expression as he answers, however, catching you off guard.

“Nothing. I like how our friendship is right now. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

As his words settled in, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment creep in before you could stop it. You had hoped—just maybe—that his answer would hint at something more, something beyond friendship. But instead, it was safe and neutral. You swallowed the feeling quickly, masking it with a chuckle as you leaned back slightly.

“Good answer,” you said, forcing an easygoing tone.

But your mind lingered on it longer than it should have, and it showed in your next move, as much as you didn't want for it to. Your fingers hesitated before settling on the wrong piece. Taehyun, always perceptive, caught the shift on your behavior immediately. He could have called you out on it, but he didn’t have to. Instead, he seized the opportunity on the board, swiftly capturing one of your pieces and cornering you into a check.

A small smirk played on his lips as he rested his chin on his hand. “Check,” he murmured, then tilted his head slightly.“My turn.”

His eyes held yours for a second too long, and then he asked, almost a little directly for your liking.

“What do you think are the chances that what we have could be something more than friendship?”

Your heart stuttered.

Your eyes widened and your breath was caught in your throat, heat rushing to your face as you scrambled to form a response. Your mind raced between a thousand possible answers, each one tangled with feelings you weren't sure you were ready to admit out loud.

“I—” You hesitated, looking anywhere but at him.

Taehyun’s gaze didn’t waver. “No lying, y/n.” he reminded you, his voice softer this time but firm. “Just honest answers, remember?”

One thing about Taehyun is that whatever game you play with him, he definitely plays it better. You are just now realizing that you shouldn't have provoked him first.

You cleared your throat, trying to pretend your mind wasn't a mess before answering, but clearly failing as you let the words slip out of your mouth. “Um, well... I don't know. That depends. You said you liked how it is right now, and I like the way things are too, so-”

“Y/N,” Taehyun is quick to snap you out of it and you blink in confusion, your eyes meeting his gaze.

“You do know that I've known you enough to tell when you're lying or not, right?”

You stared at him, heat creeping up your neck as you tried to keep your expression neutral. “I'm not lying,” you insisted, gripping the edge of the table just a little too tightly. “I really haven't thought about it that way, and even so, I just like it the way it is now.”

Taehyun didn't say anything right away, just watched you with that knowing look that made it impossible to hide anything from him. He had always been good at reading you—probably a bit too good. It was both infuriating and terrifying, to say the least.

A small smirk curled at the edge of his lips. “Alright then,” he said smoothly, leaning back in his chair.“Why don't we up the stakes a bit?”

You narrowed your eyes, suddenly wary. “....what do you mean?”

“For every check from here on out, instead of asking a question, the person in check takes off a piece of clothing.” Taehyun suggests, not breaking eye contact.

You felt your stomach flip at the idea.“Are you serious right now?”

“As serious as you were when you said you hadn't thought about us being more than friends,” he shot back, his tone deceptively casual.

You scoffed, trying to ignore the way your heart pounded.“That's ridiculous. Why would I even agree to that?”

“Because I know you'd never back down from a challenge,” he said simply, tilting his head slightly. “Unless, of course, you were lying earlier and you're actually worried about losing your focus.”

You bristled at that, fully aware that he was baiting you. And even worse, it was working.

Your pride warred with your common sense, but Taehyun just sat there, waiting, perfectly composed, perfectly unreadable. He wasn’t going to let this go, and you knew it.

You exhaled sharply, crossing your arms. You felt your heartbeat start going faster at the idea that you're going to play a much more dangerous game from now on.

“Fine. But don’t think for a second that I’m going easy on you.”

His smirk widened. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

And with that, the game resumed. Only now, the stakes were much, much higher.

———————

You scanned your remaining pieces, picking up your rook and aimed for his king that was left open.

“Check.” you muttered hesitantly, obviously not prepared for what was about to happen next.

You barely registered the sound of Taehyun’s sigh as he unhooked his fingers from the hem of his shirt, tugging it over his head in one swift motion. The moment the fabric slipped away, your brain short-circuited.

Oh no.

You knew he had been working out a lot lately. He always made a point to update you—sometimes with a casual text, sometimes with a mirror selfie from the gym that you pretended not to analyze too much. But seeing him like this, right in front of you, was entirely different. His broad shoulders, the sharp definition of his abs, the way his toned arms flexed slightly as he tossed his shirt to the side—everything about him suddenly felt... distracting.

Way too distracting.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to keep your expression neutral, but it was a losing battle. Your thoughts were loud, so loud, and no matter how hard you tried to focus back on the game, all you could think about was how ridiculously good he looked. You were having a hard time even trying to look at the board without getting distracted by his bare torso as he sat across from you.

“Your move,” Taehyun reminded you, his voice was smooth and amused.

You blinked, realizing you had been staring just a second too long. You quickly dropped your gaze to the board, but the pieces were all a blur. What were you even doing? What was your strategy? Did you even have one?

A quiet chuckle broke your already fragile focus. You glanced up, only to see Taehyun watching you with a knowing smirk, his chin resting lazily on his hand. He wasn’t saying anything, but his expression said enough.

He knew.

He knew the effect he had on you. He knew exactly what was going through your mind, and he was enjoying every second of it.

“Why? Is there something wrong?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

You scoffed, quickly reaching for a piece just to seem composed.“Nope. Just thinking.”

“Thinking,” he echoed, clearly amused. “Right. About your next move, or something else?”

You shot him a glare, but your face was already burning, and Taehyun—ever perceptive, definitely noticed. His smirk deepened, and he let out another soft chuckle, shaking his head.

“Y/N,” he mused, his voice low and teasing, “for someone who insists they haven’t thought about us being more than friends… you sure are an open book right now.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, your voice lacking any real bite as you forced yourself to look away from his ridiculously smug expression. You needed to focus. You needed to stop thinking about the fact that Taehyun was very much shirtless, very much toned, and very much aware of how flustered you were.

With a sharp inhale, you made your move, pushing a piece forward with more force than necessary.

Big mistake.

You realized it a second too late. The moment your fingers left the piece, you internally cursed yourself. But it was too late to take it back.

Taehyun hummed, clearly noticing your slip-up, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he made his move seamlessly, as if he wasn’t even breaking a sweat. Meanwhile, your mind was still a mess, thoughts tangled between the game and the way his bare shoulders flexed slightly with each motion.

Another move. Another mistake.

You clenched your jaw, trying desperately to regain control, but the damage was already done. With each exchange, you slipped further and further into a losing position. And then, just as you were scrambling to fix things, Taehyun’s fingers moved decisively, and your heart sank.

“Check.”

You stared at the board, dread pooling in your stomach.

Oh, fuck.

No, no, no.

You were trapped. Your pieces were cornered, and there was no easy way out of it. Slowly, you lifted your gaze, only to be met with Taehyun’s expectant grin. He leaned back slightly, arms resting lazily on the chair, clearly waiting.

And that was when the real horror sank in.

You immediately regretted not wearing more layers. A jacket. A hoodie. Maybe a coat or two. Anything that could have saved you from this exact moment.

Swallowing hard, you hesitantly reached for the hem of your shirt, fingers curling around the fabric. Your pulse pounded in your ears as hesitation gripped you.

Then, before you could move any further, Taehyun's voice cut through the charged silence, soft and serious.

“You know,” he said, his teasing edge completely gone, “if you're not comfortable with this, you can just surrender and we can stop right here. I'm fine with it, but you really don't have to push yourself.”

Taehyun's gaze held yours, steady and unreadable, and for a moment, the air between you shifted. His words fully settled in, his offer to stop the game still lingering in the air.

You looked down at the board, your eyes scanning the remaining pieces. There weren’t many left. The game was reaching its final stretch, and you were dangerously close to losing. The logical choice was to surrender, to let yourself off the hook before this got even more out of hand.

But something inside you refused.

Maybe it was your competitive streak. Maybe it was the way Taehyun had been teasing you all night, getting under your skin like he always did, always so composed, so sure of himself. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that some part of you wanted to prove to yourself that you could handle this. That being this close to him, playing this ridiculous game, didn’t affect you as much as it did.

Well, it did, but you weren’t ready to admit that yet.

You exhaled slowly, lifting your gaze to meet his.“I want to keep going.”

Taehyun studied you for a moment, his usual smirk replaced by something softer, something laced with concern. “Y/N… are you sure?”

“I mean it,” you insisted, forcing a small, almost defiant smile. “What? Are you worried I might actually beat you or something?”

He didn’t answer right away, but his lips twitched, as if amused by your bravado. Still, his eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation. And when he found none—or maybe just saw that you were too stubborn to admit it, he leaned back with a sigh.

“Alright then,” he said, though his voice was quieter now.“But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Your stomach twisted as you finally gripped the hem of your shirt, heart hammering in your chest. The moment you pulled your shirt over your head and placed it to the side, the cold air of the room hit your skin instantly, sending a shiver down your spine.

If I had known I would've ended up doing this, I should've worn better underwear... you thought to yourself as you felt your face heat up.

And that’s when it really sank in.

You were sitting across from your best friend while playing chess, the both of you half-naked, just the two of you, in his apartment. Alone.

You felt the weight of the situation settle over you, a mixture of embarrassment and something else entirely crawling up your spine. Every inch of you was hyper-aware of the fact that his gaze was on you now. You weren’t looking at him, you refused to, but you could feel it. A flicker of movement in the corner of your eye, a subtle shift in his posture. You could've sworn you caught the change in his expression the moment you took off your shirt.

Still, you forced yourself to focus, swallowing hard as you reached forward to make your next move. Your fingers trembled slightly, but you steadied them, determined not to let this affect your game any more than it already had.

Even as you sensed Taehyun’s lingering gaze towards you, you kept your eyes locked on the board, pretending like this was just another match. Like your heart wasn’t just about to jump out of your chest.

Despite the undeniable tension crackling between you, the game pressed on.

Each move was careful, calculated, yet neither of you could fully ignore the underlying awareness now lingering in the air. The playful teasing had faded into something else. Something heavier, something unspoken. And through it all, Taehyun remained unusually quiet.

It wasn’t until a few moves later, when the game was teetering dangerously close to its end, that he finally broke the silence.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat as he moved a piece forward.“What should the winner get as a prize?”

You blinked, realizing only now that he hadn’t muttered a single word since you had taken off your shirt.

Your fingers, which had been hovering over your next move, paused mid-air as you glanced up at him. He was doing his best to appear nonchalant, but there was a slight stiffness in his posture, a certain tightness in his jaw that made your pulse quicken.

Was he…. struggling too?

The realization made something stir in you, a quiet thrill creeping into your chest. You felt relieved and slightly amused at the realization that he had grown awfully silent compared to how he was earlier.

So it wasn’t just you.

Your lips curved slightly as you leaned back. “I don’t know,” you mused, tilting your head. “What do you think?”

Taehyun’s eyes flickered to yours before he offered a small shrug.“How about the loser gets the winner a gift or something?”

You hummed to yourself, pretending to think it over. But really, you were studying the board, judging the current situation of your pieces. It was neck and neck now, one wrong move from either of you would decide everything.

And suddenly, an idea struck you.

You glanced up at him, feeling a boldness rise within you, fueled by the tension, by the competition, by the fact that he wasn’t as unaffected as he had seemed.

“You know what would be more interesting?” you said, voice smooth, teasing. “The loser has to do anything the winner asks them to do. Anything. No matter how extreme. There's no limit.”

Taehyun stilled for a fraction of a second. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a smirk—one that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Anything, huh?” he murmured, amusement lacing his tone.

You met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down.“Anything.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, as if measuring your resolve. Then, with a low chuckle, he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand.

“Alright,” he said, his voice dropping just slightly. “But just remember, Y/N… you were the one who suggested it.”

Your heart pounded at his words. There's no turning back now.... you thought to yourself.

And with that, the final stretch of the game began.

----------------------

The game had never felt more intense.

Each move was deliberate, each decision weighed carefully, but the tension between you both made it nearly impossible to think straight. The stakes were higher now, not just because of the game itself, but because of what came after. It was a battle of wits, of patience, of knowing exactly how to push each other’s limits, both in the game and outside of it. Neither of you wanted to lose.

You held your breath as Taehyun studied the board, his eyes scanning for an opening. His brows furrowed slightly in concentration, his fingers resting near a piece—but then, in an unexpected moment of miscalculation,

Taehyun made the wrong move.

It was subtle, something he normally wouldn’t have overlooked, but the second his fingers left the piece, you saw it. You saw the opening you needed. You didn't hesitate.

You moved your piece with confidence, a triumphant grin spreading across your lips.

“Checkmate.”

Taehyun blinked. He looked down at the board, lips parting slightly as he replayed the sequence in his mind, and the realization flashed across his face for just a second before he sighed, leaning back.

He had lost.

For a moment, you simply stared at the board, almost not believing it yourself. You had won. You had actually beaten Taehyun. All the built-up tension, all the stress of the game, came crashing down in the form of uncontrollable excitement. Maybe a little too much, but you couldn’t help it.

“Yes! I won!” You shot up from your seat, cheering and throwing your arms up in victory. “I actually won!”

Taehyun exhaled, shaking his head as he watched you practically bounce in place. “Alright, alright,” he muttered, lips twitching. “No need to rub it in.”

“Oh, but I do need to rub it in,” you teased with a grin, slightly leaning down towards him.“Losing in the very game you suggested? That’s kind of embarrassing, don’t you think?”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair and avoiding eye-contact with you. “I was careless. That last move… I shouldn’t have made that. But it was a close game.”

“But you did make that move,” you snickered, still basking in your victory. “And now you have to do whatever I ask. No matter how extreme. No limits, remember?”

Taehyun sighed, finally looking up at you with a small, amused shake of his head. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You won fair and square.”

Then, his expression shifted, growing more serious as he leaned forward.“So? What do you want me to do?”

You froze.

Oh, right. The prize.

You had been so focused on beating him, so determined to win, that you hadn’t actually thought about what you wanted.

Your excitement faded slightly as you sat back down, humming to yourself in thought. What did you want? You had thrown out the challenge so boldly, but now that the power was actually in your hands, you realized you had no idea what to do with it.

While you were still contemplating, Taehyun cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he muttered, voice quieter now. “While you decide, could you... put your shirt back on? The game's over, so....”

You blinked, momentarily thrown off by the request. But then you caught it—the slight unsteadiness in his tone, the way his voice was slightly shaky, the way his jaw was just a little too tense.

And when you really looked at him, you could see it. The way his fingers curled against his knee, the way his eyes flickered anywhere but directly at you. He had been keeping himself composed this entire time, but now that the game was over, his self-restraint was starting to crumble.

Your heart skipped a beat as you realized you weren't the only one struggling to keep composure. Taehyun’s usual confident facade had shown cracks tonight, and you decided to have a little fun with it. With a playful smirk tugging at your lips, you crossed your arms and refused his request outright.

“Why should I put my shirt back on?” you teased, your voice low and mischievous. “Were you too distracted by me that you couldn’t make your move properly or something? I could’ve sworn I caught you glancing at my chest earlier.”

For a moment, Taehyun’s eyes widened in mock indignation before he sighed, his defeat evident. He leaned back, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to smooth over the embarrassment.

“Believe it or not, Y/N,” he admitted, his tone softening with a trace of exasperation and honesty, “I'm a man too. I have no control of whatever physiological reaction my body has when a girl takes off her shirt in front of me.”

The confession hung in the air between you both, charged with unspoken meaning. His words, laced with vulnerability, made you feel a warmth that rivaled the playful teasing in your heart. You couldn’t help but let a genuine laugh escape, mingling amusement with the thrill of having the upper hand.

“Oh, really?” you replied, leaning in slightly as if daring him to say more.“So all those missed moves were because you were busy drooling?”

Taehyun’s cheeks flushed, and despite his best efforts to maintain composure, a reluctant smile tugged at his lips.“Maybe,” he grumbled good-naturedly.“But I can’t help it when you're… too distracting.”

In that moment, the tension shifted from the competitive spark of the game to something warmer and more intimate. The room, filled with the cool draft against your bare skin, suddenly felt charged with anticipation.

Taehyun’s honest admission had stirred something inside you, and suddenly the charged air of the room felt almost too intense to bear. In an effort to lighten the mood, you blurted out a terrible joke with a nervous chuckle, hoping to defuse the heat of the moment.

“Huh, I'm glad I won then,” you said with a lopsided grin. “I can't even imagine what you'd ask me to do for you if you ended up winning. What, were you going to ask me to kiss you or something?”

The words tumbled out almost too fast, and you chuckled awkwardly, immediately realizing the weight of your own words. For a heartbeat, silence reigned, punctuating the sudden vulnerability of the moment.

Before you could second-guess yourself, Taehyun’s expression shifted. The playful glimmer in his eyes was replaced by a resolute seriousness. Leaning forward with a calm intensity, he cut straight to the chase.

“Well, you're the winner. If you asked me to kiss you right now, I'll do it.”

The words hit you like a jolt. For an instant, your heart pounded, and you felt a flush of unexpected heat. You hadn’t meant for things to escalate so quickly, this was entirely unanticipated.

Your laughter wavered, replaced by a trembling silence. The playful banter had crossed a line, and suddenly every word felt amplified, every heartbeat echoing the gravity of the moment. You met his gaze, searching for a sign that maybe this was all just another game, but his eyes held nothing but earnest intent, leaving you breathless and uncertain of how to respond.

For a moment, you were unable to speak, unable to find the words to diffuse the tension or turn his request down. Your mind spun with every possibility, but your body responded without your conscious consent.

A warmth pooled in your core, and a tingling sensation spread across your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. You squirmed in place, shifting uncomfortably as the heat built in your lower abdomen. A whimper escaped from your lips before you could silence it, and with fumbling fingers, you discreetly rubbed the tops of your thighs together. The friction provided only partial relief as you tried to massage the pulsing ache away.

“I, um... Taehyun, I—” you stuttered, struggling to form coherent words. His gaze remained fixed on yours, a hint of gentle encouragement in the furrow of his brow. He was waiting for your response, and all the while, the pounding in your chest threatened to drown out your own thoughts.

You shook your head, desperate to regain control and steer the conversation back towards safer waters. Your words tumbled out in a nervous rush, contradicting the very actions your body had betrayed.

You bit down on your lower lip, hoping to contain the arousal that was building inside you. It was a futile effort; the ache between your thighs only intensified as you stole a glance at Taehyun. His gaze was fixed on yours as he waited for you to continue, his curious round eyes staring right at you seemed to only fuel your growing need.

You rubbed the tops of your thighs again, seeking any form of relief from the pulsing heat. But it was no use, and before you could stop yourself, your legs wobbled and gave way under their own strength. With an embarrassed squeak, you leaned into Taehyun, placing your hands on his shoulders for support that stopped yourself from completely falling to the floor.

Today was the first time you’d ever seen Taehyun’s shirtless. Even being this close to him and touching him like this felt strangely new and intimate to you, as if you were beginning to blur the lines that marked the boundaries of your friendship with him. But the thought fled from your mind as soon as Taehyun wrapped his right arm around your waist, providing balance and support with a gentle yet stable hold on the small of your back. Those months of him going back and forth to the gym turned out to be pretty useful in this moment, after all.

His touch sparked another jolt of electricity through your core, amplifying the pulsing ache between your thighs. A soft moan escaped from your lips, and your breathing grew heavy as you struggled to maintain your composure. You were a flushed mess, knowing Taehyun must have heard you considering how close you are to him at this moment.

You felt Taehyun’s gaze linger on you as the corner of his lips formed into a smirk.“Is this what you want?” he whispered, his voice raspy and low.“You want me to hold you like this?”

Taehyun’s warm breath tickled your ear as he spoke, the pulsing ache in your core growing stronger and harder to resist. His hold on your waist tightened ever so slightly, pulling you closer as he leaned in to speak again.

“Tell me, y/n. Is that what you want me to do?”

Your mind was a mess of conflicting thoughts and desires. All the while, Taehyun held you in his embrace, his bare chest pressed against yours. The heady scent of his perfume wafted through the air, heightening your senses to an unbearable level of arousal.

You were embarrassed and desperate, clinging onto him for dear life. His body pressed against yours was more than you could handle, and every part of you wanted to surrender to the lustful urges that had taken over. It didn’t matter that Taehyun was your best friend—your best friend of four years, for goodness’ sake. In this moment, all that mattered was for only him to satisfy your desires, and no one else.

The tighter you clung onto Taehyun, the more you could feel his body pressed against yours. And the more you needed him, you needed his touch in places that you couldn’t reach on your own. Every movement seemed to press your thigh against the hard bulge of his own arousal, the heat of his crotch against your core through the fabric of his pants. The sensations combined into an overwhelming ache, and it was all you could do to hold on for dear life.

With a deep breath, you gathered up every ounce of courage to confess your desires, whispering into his ear.

“Fuck, I... need you,” you stammered, voice trembling with need. “I want you, Taehyun, please...”

The moment you uttered those words, Taehyun stiffened. There was a pause of hesitation, a moment of anticipation as you both waited for the inevitable. Then, with a playful chuckle and a teasing note in his tone, Taehyun whispered into your ear.

“Took you long enough.”

Before you could process what he’d just said, Taehyun swept you up into his arms. You squealed in surprise at the sudden shift, but it quickly turned into a gasp as he placed his fingers on your thighs, wrapping around your legs in an intimate embrace as he carries you. Your heart pounded in your chest, threatening to burst forth in anticipation of what was to come.

With your arms wrapped tighter around Taehyun’s shoulders, you hid your face in the crook of his neck. It felt too embarrassing, too shameful to look at your best friend knowing that you were about to cross a line from which there was no turning back. You felt him chuckle as a response and yet, you couldn’t help but cling to him, needing the support and reassurance as he carried you to his bed and laid you down.

You closed your eyes in anticipation of the inevitable, waiting for Taehyun to climb on top and cover your body with his own. But instead of the heavy weight of his frame, you felt a featherlight touch on your knee. Your eyes snapped open, and your gaze met his, the corners of his lips forming into a smirk and his gaze is fixated on you. You felt the heat rush to your cheeks from the sight of him.

Taehyun knelt between your thighs, the fingers on your knee stroking up and down the length of your leg.“What do you want me to do?” he asked, his voice low and husky in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

“I-” you stammered, unable to think straight. “I...please, Taehyun.”

You couldn’t seem to form any coherent words, so you let your eyes plead your case. They met his in a desperate search for an answer, but all you found was his unwavering gaze and a small smile on his lips.

“Do...please,” you whimpered helplessly, losing the battle of wills between you two.

“Please what?”

“Please...” you gasped again, struggling against the overwhelming waves of arousal that seemed to suffocate you.“I just need you,” you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Please, do anything you want with me—just...I want to cum, okay?”

You felt the flush rise to your cheeks at the words you’d just uttered. It was so unlike you, so desperate and needy. But with Taehyun looming above you like that, there was no way you could think straight.

Taehyun laughed then, a husky sound that was filled with amusement and desire. The fingers on your thigh stilled, and he looked down on you with a reassuring gaze.“Don’t worry,” he murmured.“I’ll make you cum as much as you want.”

His hand reached down to your shorts. Your breath was caught in your throat as he tugged the waistband, dragging both your shorts and your underwear down, exposing your inner thighs and core to his hungry gaze. But before you could even register the loss of clothing, Taehyun had grasped your thighs and pushed them open.

“Ah!” you squealed, arching your back from the sudden movement. Your hands flew up to cover yourself, but Taehyun soon had them pinned above your head.

“Be a good girl for me, y/n.” he chuckled as he leaned over you.“Let me get you ready first.”

You squirmed at his words, unable to stop the rising tide of desire within you. But there was only so little you could do as Taehyun started massaging your inner thighs, slowly inching his way up towards your core.

His fingers skimmed across your clit and over your pussy lips, the gentle pressure sending sparks of electricity across your nerves. Your hips arched into his touch with a will of their own, and you could feel the wetness of your arousal coating his fingertips with a growing slickness. He teased your clit with slow circles and tugs, driving the building heat between your legs to an unbearable peak.

“Taehyun,” you whined, unable to contain your pleas any longer.“Please—” your words ended in a broken moan, punctuated by the relentless teasing of his fingers on your clit.

Taehyun smiled, and his eyes never left yours as he leaned down to lick your wetness off his fingers. Your whole body flushed at the sight, and you couldn’t seem to look away from the intimate action of his tongue lapping up the evidence of your arousal.

“Please,” you begged again, losing all composure. “I need you inside me....”

Taehyun hummed, and with a teasing grin, he leaned in closer.“Okay,” he whispered into your ear.“I’m gonna give you exactly what you want. But I promise you, y/n, it’s gonna be so much better than you’ve imagined, so just trust me.”

And before you could say another word, Taehyun shifted his body, lowering himself between your thighs to leave you trembling with anticipation. His tongue flicked out, swiping over the length of your slit and over your clit. You gasped, bucking your hips in desperation as he settled his lips over your core, lapping and sucking on your arousal with a hunger that rivalled your own.

“Oh fuck—fuck! Taehyun...!!” you moaned, your mind reeling from the pleasure coursing through your body. The slick heat of Taehyun’s mouth covered you in waves of your blissful release, and you could only arch your back and succumb to the onslaught of pleasure that he had unleashed on you.

The first orgasm hit you suddenly, and all you could do was grab Taehyun’s hair with a wordless cry. Your pussy clenched with the force of your release, pulsing with an ache that threatened to tear you apart. But Taehyun didn’t let up, not even a bit. His tongue only seemed to grow more eager, his lips sealing tighter around your core as he sucked you dry with the fervour of a starving man.

The second orgasm hit you harder, and this time your voice rang out clear in the quiet of his bedroom. Your hands fell limp to the sides, too spent to do more than writhe under Taehyun’s relentless touch. And still, he wouldn’t let up. Even as your legs began to tremble with fatigue, even as your whole body trembled from the aftershocks of your second release, Taehyun’s fingers and mouth continued their ministrations.

It was more pleasure than you could take, more than your body could bear, and yet you were so desperate for his touch that you couldn’t bring yourself to say stop. All you could do was cling to the bed sheets, your mind a haze of lust and arousal as Taehyun devoured your wet pussy like it was his last meal.

Finally, it was Taehyun who drew back, his breathing heavy and his lips slick with your juices. He sat up, his gaze flicking over your body as if taking stock of what he’d accomplished. You watched him with hazy eyes, still struggling to regain your composure in the face of what you’d experienced.

Taehyun smirked then, satisfaction plain on his expression as he saw the state you were in. He reached up to wipe off his lips, and without a second thought, he pushed two fingers into his mouth and sucked them clean while looking straight into your eyes. A new wave of arousal washes over you at the sight and you could only let out a whimper at the expectations of what's about to come next.

Taehyun turned back to unbuckle his belt, and you watched with heavy-lidded eyes as he tugged down his pants. His hard cock sprang free, and you gasped at the sight before you. Taehyun was big, almost impossibly big, and the throbbing of his cock only served to make you realize why he’d had to prepare you like that first.

A soft laugh escaped Taehyun’s lips as he saw your reaction.“Didn’t expect that, huh?”

You shook your head, unable to voice a response as Taehyun climbed off the bed.

“I’m not exactly carrying any condoms around, I wasn't expecting for this to happen today-” he admitted, his chuckle low and his cheeks a tint of pink from embarrassment.“So...are you okay with this? Just trust me and I'll pull out, I promise-”

You nodded hastily at his words, too desperate for him to make the offer.“I trust you, Taehyun,” you said with a gasp of breath.“I trust you.”

Taehyun smiled at your response, and without a word, he leaned forward to kiss you. His lips were hot on yours, their touch sending shivers down your spine. You gasped into his mouth, and Taehyun took advantage of your parted lips to slide his tongue in.

He kissed you with an intimacy that was more than enough to drive you wild, and even when he pulled back, he didn’t stop. Instead, he leaned down to remove your bra, his fingers gentle as they traced over your skin and unhooked the clasp at your back. A quiet moan escaped your lips as his fingers brushed over the skin of your back, but it only grew louder when he began massaging your breasts.

“Taehyun—” you whimpered, his name a broken plea on your lips.“Please—I’m—” you couldn’t finish, couldn’t get out the words to express just how desperate you were to have him inside of you. But Taehyun understood all the same.

He positioned himself between your legs again, the tip of his hard cock brushing against the slick of your entrance. You arched your back in anticipation, body trembling from the growing need within you.

“Ready?” Taehyun murmured against your ear, his breath hot on your skin.“Tell me if it hurts or if you need me to stop, okay?”

You nodded, unable to say anything else. Taehyun groaned in response, his body leaning over yours as he began to push himself in slowly. The stretch of his cock was more than enough to make you moan, and you couldn’t help the whimpers that escaped your lips.

“Shit, Y/N!” Taehyun cursed under his breath.“You’re so tight.” He leaned in to kiss you, his lips soft and gentle as he continued to push into your core. Your whimpers turned to cries of pleasure as he bottomed out, your whole body trembling from the overwhelming sensations that threatened to consume you.

“Fuck,” Taehyun breathed, his eyes fluttering close for a moment.“Ahh, fuck—” he gasped again, drawing back before pushing into you once more.

And that was it. The thrusts started slow and shallow, but soon grew to deeper and faster thrusts. Your nails dug into Taehyun’s back, and your legs wrapped around his waist to pull him in closer. The waves of pleasure washed over you like a tidal wave, threatening to drown you in their depths. And all you could do was hold on to Taehyun with everything you had, your lips sealing over his as he fucked you into the bed with everything he had.

Your breathing came in short, desperate gasps as his cock ravaged your wet pussy, your body writhing under him as his thrusts grew deeper and faster. Every movement of his sent sparks of electricity coursing over your skin, every thrust building your need to the breaking point until you could hold on no more. With a loud cry, your body tensed, and your pussy clenched down on Taehyun’s cock with enough force to make him cry out in response.

Taehyun slowed his thrusts to give you a moment’s respite, but even as you felt the aftershocks coursing through your core, he started moving again. His cock began to pound into you harder, deeper, and you couldn’t stop the cries that fell from your lips.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Taehyun groaned, his breaths growing heavy and desperate.

“Y/N, fuck, I—” his thrusts became shorter, and you knew he was close, so close to cumming too. “I can’t—I won’t last much longer. If you want me to pull out—”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence. “No, Taehyun— I want to feel your cum,” you gasped, your voice broken with need.“I'm on the pill, so please—I want you to fill me up....”

A soft curse escaped Taehyun’s throat, and before you could say anything else, he started rutting into you like an animal. Your whimpers grew louder, your pussy clenching down on him with a force that threatened to suck the cum right out of him. His thrusts grew wilder, deeper, until he let out one final groan and shuddered above you. The warmth of his cum flooded your core, filling you up with his load deep inside you and your own release soon followed in its wake.

Taehyun collapsed on top of you, his weight crushing the breath from your lungs. You didn’t even care, couldn’t even process the overwhelming pleasure that still coursed through you like a raging tide. All you could manage was to cling to Taehyun’s broad shoulders, holding him close as the aftershocks ravaged your core with wave after wave of your release.

And when Taehyun finally rolled over, pulling out of you with a soft grunt of pleasure, you couldn’t do anything but fall limp against the bed.

“Fuck,” Taehyun muttered, his hand reaching up to card through your hair.“That was.....amazing.”

You chuckled into his chest, the movement sending a jolt of pleasure through you as his softening cock slipped from your core.

“You’re...” Taehyun whispered, his fingers brushing over the strands of your hair. His touch was light, gentle, and his words sent shivers down your spine.“I always knew that you were gorgeous but I never knew you could be so beautiful like this. I never knew you could look so cute.”

You smiled at that, his words sending warmth to your chest. You reached up, wrapping your arms around Taehyun’s neck and pulling him into a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around you, and without any prompting, he rolled over until you were lying on his chest with his arms still wrapped around you.

“Can I clean you up?” he offered after a moment, his voice soft and gentle.

You shook your head hastily at that, the idea of being parted from him suddenly becoming unbearable.“No,” you stammered, pulling him closer as if to prevent him from moving.“Just let me stay like this, please.”

Taehyun chuckled at your words, his lips pressing against your hairline.“As long as you want,” he murmured, holding you tighter still.

The room was silent for a long moment then, neither of you doing anything but basking in the warmth of the other’s embrace. But then, suddenly and without warning, you were reminded of the answer he’d given earlier.

“Nothing”, he’d said, his response echoing in your ears like a cold slap to the face.“I like how our friendship is now. I wouldn’t want to change a thing.”

He hadn’t even thought of anything beyond that, hadn’t even considered the possibility of more. It was just you, desperate and shameless. And now—

“Why?” The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them, your body suddenly tensing in Taehyun’s arms. “Why did you say that earlier?” you asked again, turning your head to look up at him.

Taehyun blinked in response, confusion plain on his features.“Say what?”

“That you didn’t want anything to change in our friendship,” you replied, your heart suddenly heavy in your chest.“I thought you—” your voice trailed off, the words too shameful to say aloud.

Taehyun’s expression changed at that, softening into an understanding gaze.“Hey—” he began, his hands smoothing over your back.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, trying to push away from him. “I get it. I guess it was just me feeling this way this whole time.”

But Taehyun didn’t let you go. Instead, he pulled you back into his arms, holding you closer as if trying to keep you from running. “Hey,” he repeated, his lips brushing over your hair.“Look, y/n, I didn’t say that because I didn’t like the idea of being with you.”

You turned your head to him, your brow furrowed with doubt.“Then why did you?”

Taehyun sighed, his arms pulling you in tighter still. “Because I didn’t know how you felt at the time,” he replied.“And I didn’t want to ruin our friendship by forcing something you didn’t want.” He hesitated for a moment before continuing,

“And even if you did, I didn’t know if you’d want to stay like that in the future, or if...if it was just a one-time thing.” His voice was soft with his words, reassuring despite the uncertainty behind them.“But I’ve always liked you,” he continued.“I’ve always wanted to do this with you, if it was what you wanted.”

You were silent for a moment at that, your mind reeling with the words he’d just said. And then, finally, you smiled up at Taehyun, relief and happiness flooding your chest at the simple reassurance of his words.“I...” you began, the words threatening to spill from your lips.“I—” and then, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Oh my god, I can't believe I actually fucked my best friend,” you laughed out, your head falling on his chest.

Taehyun chuckled then, his whole body shaking with the movement.“Well, yeah,” he grinned, pulling you closer to his body. “You did.” He paused for a moment, his lips kissing over your forehead.

“We’ll deal with the consequences later. For now... let's stay Iike this for a little longer.” he trailed off, his hold on you only growing tighter.

“Okay,” you whispered, smiling to yourself as your words muffled against his chest. And as the warmth of Taehyun’s body wrapped around you, you couldn’t help but smile at the simple intimacy of the moment. It wasn’t just a game now. It was real. And despite all the unknowns that still lay ahead, there was one thing you were sure of: Taehyun would be there through it all. He would stay with you, no matter what. And that was enough to make you smile, enough to make your heart flutter with a newfound happiness.

--------------------

taglist: @tyunzznluvr @interestellear-blog @hyunelixbun @dawngyu @tubasmiracle @no1likemybbgcharlie I hope y'all like this one too!! 🫶

[cocosparkel]

anything with hermes please

All For You

(Hermes x princess!reader)

Summary:You are the sole daughter to a king in ancient Greece. What will you do when Hermes gives you an irresistible offer ?

Warnings: none

Word count: 636

Story tags: fluff ______________________________________________________________

You sighed as you flung yourself on to your bed. Being a princess may seem like a perfect life to everyone, but all you wanted was a little freedom.

Being the youngest daughter of the king with 3 older brothers, you were heavily pampered, and looked after like you were still a baby.

While this was nice at times, there were instances where all you wanted was for your family to let you make your own choice.

Just a few minutes ago, you had walked in on your father and your eldest brother planning on marrying you off to some prince. You had argued with them, and your father sent you to your room and forbade you to leave.

Honestly, all you wanted is to travel the world, explore the places your brothers and father had told you about. You wanted to sail through uncharted waters, and discover new places. But, being a woman seemed to be the problem here.

“Why so sad, darling ?” A mischievous voice said, and you looked up to find Hermes.

You scrambled out of your bed, “Hermes ?”He grinned, his wings fluttering as he floated to her.

“Do you know anyone else as handsome as me ?”

Laughing, you shake your head. “I thought you wouldn't be able to visit today ?”

Hermes was one of your best kept secrets. You had met him almost 2 years ago, by accident, and after that, you kept seeing him everywhere. It wasn't too long before your tentative friendship turned into something more.

“Can you blame me for wanting a break from my extremely tedious job ?" He said.

You rolled your eyes at that, but smiled nevertheless. “No, I guess I can't.”

“Well, tell me, my sweet princess, who do I have to blame for that frown on your pretty little face ?”

You could feel your cheeks turn red at his subtle flirting, as you stammered out a reply, “Father wants me to marry some prince..”

His face fell slightly,“I see.”

“But I don't want to marry him,” You blurted out.

“Oh ?” Hermes murmured, an unreadable expression on his face. “And why is that ?”

“I-I want to travel the world, I want to see every corner of the world and meet new people, learn about their culture, and-” she stopped suddenly, seeing the smile on Hermes’ face. “Sorry, I was rambling again… It's just that if I marry a prince.. I'll never be able to do that.”

“No no, it's fine.” He said, plopping down on her bed next to her, as they lapsed into a comfortable silence.

You bit your lip, stopping youself from saying how he was one of the reasons you didn't want to marry that prince, or any prince for that matter.

“You know, I could take you around the world.” Hermes said, suddenly standing up.

He looked at you, a strange intensity in his eyes.“Wherever it is you want to go, I can take you.”

You blinked, taken aback. “What ? Why ?”

He looked away, “I’d do anything for you, princess, if it means I get to have you for myself.”

You swallowed, shocked. Your thoughts were racing, was this his way of saying he wants you in a romantic way…?

“How ?” You asked.

He pulled you up with him.“You don't have to worry about it darling.” He said winking at you.

You still weren't convinced. Seeing your hesitation, he sighed.

“Don't you trust me ?” he asked with a small pout.

“I do.” You said without missing a beat.

His smile grew wider, “In that case, what are you waiting for?”

Giggling slightly, you hold his hand,and he pulls you towards him, before lifting you bridal style, leaving you a blushing mess.

“Ready princess ?” He asked, the glint in his eyes making you feel excited and apprehensive.

______________________________________________________________

A/N :

Hope you like this, your request was kind of vague, so I did this first.

(rules for requesting)

[cherrycheolkat]

• hoodies and candy

feat. kim mingyu & choi seungcheol •

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹I ˚ .𖥔 ݁ ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁

pairing: kim mingyu x f!reader x choi seungcheol

word count: 4.6k

genre: fluff, angst, f2l, friendship, college au, study buddy au, soccer player!mingyu , clumsy!mingyu, cute!mingyu, soccer player!seungcheol, implied poly

summary: mingyu left his hoodie at y/n's after studying until he passed out - he doesn't know why y/n is wearing it and refusing to give it back, especially when he knows she just took pity on him and his horrible grades and is basically tutoring him through his econ class - maybe if he hadn't been a jerk the year before and blown up everything between them, but here they are, and he really just wants his hoodie back

warnings: explicit language, mentions of anxiety, sexually suggestive situations, drinking, implied poly relationship (throuple)

a/n: this changed as I wrote it, there should probably be a part 2 explaining seungcheol x reader…and maybe a part 3 were there’s some resolve..but this is what i have rn

♡ if you would like to be tagged in my upcoming posts, let me know

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁

Mingyu sat up suddenly, his heart racing as he blinked sleep from his eyes because where was he, he wondered - he stared around the neat apartment trying to gather his bearings. His mouth was dry and tasted a bit gross - he knew he definitely wasn’t at home. He was on a couch though and there was a coffee table close by covered in textbooks. It clicked in his mind that he had been studying with y/n - fuck, he had been studying with y/n and had passed out - that was his best guess of the situation. 

Shit, he thought, he had been studying with y/n the night before and had been tired from weeks of insomnia and morning practices and of all the fucking places, he blinked slowly and was amazed that she hadn’t thrown water on him and kicked him out. 

He attempted to quietly grab all of his books and notes and laptop - if he had managed to go unnoticed for this long, he wanted it to stay this way. The last thing he needed was for her to stop helping him study for econ and his random ass poly sci class. 

She was literally the only reason he was making it through either of those classes. He blinked hard, trying to focus on which notes were his. He knew this was a cluster fuck, and god forbid she somehow didn’t know he was still there. He stopped and rubbed his face again before checking one more time that he had gotten his things and left everything else undisturbed.

He glanced around, hoping that she wasn’t like actually standing just out of view watching him make an ass of himself. The situation might be a bit better if he didn’t have the crush that he had - the one that he pretended he didn’t have because if he admitted it then all his teammates and friends would be right about what a fuck up he was - that he had fucked up everything with y/n almost immediately. 

He shook his head, this was not the time to dwell on that thought, he needed to pull himself together and stop mentally rehashing the same things. It had been like more than a year anyway, and he was lucky that she was even willing to talk to him. But after the first econ exam grades posted, he had swallowed his worries and asked for her help.

It hadn’t been easy either - she was busy packing up, talking to her seatmate, who also seemed to know what was going on and before he could even say anything, she had glanced up.

She had looked him over for a split second, “Hey, Gyu,” she leaned on the table with her face resting in her hand like she just knew he was going to ask something.

He could only hope that he didn’t flush the brightest shade of red, “Hey, uh,” he hated being nervous and stamming or speaking too fast, “can I talk to you?” he asked quietly, not wanting to announce to everyone that he was absolutely sucking ass in this class. 

She quirked an eyebrow at him but nodded, “Yeah, why not - I’m in a good mood,” he bit his lip wishing that that was some cryptic phrase, but he knew it wasn’t. The last time they had talked hadn’t been good and it had been late the previous fall when they met - and now he was talking to her after another fall semester had passed. Still, he nodded, he was fine with whatever she said.

He waited for her to grab her bag and wave to her friend who gave Mingyu a less than kind once over before glancing back at her with a skeptical look. Regardless, she turned back to him, “Come on then, I need to grab some coffee, assuming that works for you?” she asked, voice a bit sharp.

He nodded and tagged along as she crossed the lecture hall in easy, long strides. He wondered how it escaped him that she was also tall - not his height, but tall. And from behind he noticed the little wispy hairs that had escaped her ponytail and gently touched her neck. He chewed his lip lightly wondering how he had managed to tell her he wasn’t interested. But he had - he had looked at her and said he wasn’t into long term things, and they hadn’t talked after that. 

He could see the scene all too well in his memory - the way her easy smile had dropped away, and her face had hardened instead - the way she had nodded, and said ‘oh’. He regretted it the moment he had said it, but he had seen her phone when she had gone to the bathroom. He hadn’t meant to, but he had seen all the texts from some other guy asking her where she was - that he missed her. Mingyu could only guess that he was some rebound fuck, at best. It had hurt because they had gone out a few times, and he had been excited for her to stay over because his roommate was out of town. He had loved being alone with her and the way they had made out - he had thought maybe it was serious. 

He had just felt so dumb then, lying back on his bed, feeling her warmth slowly dissipating from the spot next to him - he felt dumb and upset, not really angry. She was out of his league to begin with. He knew that he was a bit of a dork, like naturally - dorky and clumsy. And she was beautiful and smart. He knew it was better if he just made up something and ended it before he really got carried away with his own happy thoughts of her. 

Besides, when she inevitably got back together with this other guy, she would just drop him anyway. So he was really just doing them both a favor by ending things where there were. He was surprised by her though, the way she had stared at him for a moment - the way she had looked like she wanted to say a lot more than she did - but she had just shaken her head and muttered something to herself as she got dressed and walked out of his room. 

He stayed in the rest of the weekend, feeling like absolute shit. Hoping that somehow it was her texting him every time his phone went off because maybe she would call his bluff and - he had stopped his thoughts there and decided he just needed to accept that he wasn’t for her - some guy named ‘Soonie’ was though. 

He moped around during his holiday break too, and even for a few days when the spring semester started, but then soccer practice had started in earnest and took up all of his brain power. The games had started in the fall, but the intense games were set for spring. The weird thing was, he had been certain that he had seen her at some of the games. He knew there wasn’t a ‘Soonie’ on the team though, so he had never really figured that part out, and he tried not to dwell on it.

But now he had successfully made it out of her apartment and back to his own to shower. He really hoped that she somehow hadn’t noticed him sleeping in her living room, but he knew that was ridiculously unlikely, which meant that she had just let him sleep there. He pressed his forehead against the cool tile remembering one terrible fact - he had woken up with a blanket. She knew, he thought, of course she knew, she had given him a blanket to sleep with - fuck - he was fucked, that was the only conclusion. And he had to show up to class too, he rolled his eyes at the thought.

He made it to class just in time - right as the professor was closing the door. He rushed to his seat and only after he was settled did he dare to glance over at her - she wasn’t paying attention. She was busy taking notes, but he noticed what she was wearing. He choked on air, coughing and making a few people stare for a moment, but he didn’t care, y/n was wearing his hoodie.

It took him a moment to regain his composure, or what was left of it because his mind was whirring - why was she wearing his hoodie, he wondered. He couldn’t pay attention during class. And when there was a break, he started after her, planning to ask for it back, he guessed - he didn’t know what his fucking plan was. But she had already left the room. He whined quietly, feeling foolish and exposed.

But when he turned around her seatmate was there, “Looking for something?” he asked, voice acidic.

Mingyu started to shake his head but the seatmate suddenly held up his phone and it was a picture of Mingyu asleep on her couch - he swallowed hard and reached for the phone, only for the guy to yank it away.

He smiled, “You’re lucky she still thinks you’re cute - I told her to kick you out, like any other trash,” he finished and turned to walk away.

Mingyu felt like he had been smacked - some random guy was calling him ‘trash’ and he had Mingyu’s photo - he was suddenly feeling all his nerves hit at once. He tried to breathe through the anxiety, even though he could feel his heart pounding. He jumped when he felt someone touch his arm - her.

He couldn’t even make eye contact. He could feel all the panic rising and washing over him like a wave. He didn’t exactly know what happened next, but he knew he was suddenly in the bathroom dry heaving.

He didn’t care about his grades anymore. He had only made it back to his room because Seungcheol had shown up with his inhaler. And he had gone into Mingyu’s class and collected his bag, saving Mingyu the immediate embarrassment of returning to class.

He found himself lying on his couch, the tv playing lightly in the background while Seungcheol played some game. Mingyu knew Seungcheol was there to keep him company and make sure he didn’t lose it again. He didn’t ask what was wrong or what happened. He just stayed close and ordered food for them.

It was the next morning before Mingyu even realized he didn’t have his phone. He heard his alarm and immediate grumbling from Seungcheol as he turned it off. Mingyu imagined going to grab his phone, but he had the annoying feeling that that would cost him something - probably an explanation. He decided he was okay without it.

He curled into himself and went back to sleep, only waking up again when Seungcheol woke him, “Seriously, please fucking answer her - she’s driving me insane,” he dropped Mingyu’s phone onto his stomach.

Mingyu groaned and rolled over, not sure who “her” was. He vaguely wondered if maybe it was his Mom or something.

He didn’t think about it again until that night, when he went to eat with Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua.

He had slept most of the day. And according to Joshua, he was required to shower and change clothes if he was going out with them - he couldn’t look “depressed and shit” because it was “killing the vibes.” He didn’t mind cleaning up, but he sometimes found Joshua’s bluntness annoying.

He showered and changed into loose fitting black pants and a black tee. He pulled on his high tops and a jean jacket as he walked outside to meet the other guys. He was quiet as they walked along, barely speaking until they were in the restaurant and he had to place his order for food and a drink.

He still felt like shit, so he started with beer. He had had several when he felt his phone buzzing. He had been ignoring it since Seungcheol gave it to him. But now it wasn’t a text, it was the call screen. He practically threw it off the table trying to silence it completely.

When he glanced up, he realized Seungcheol was watching him, “Did you ever answer?” He asked in that nonchalant way he had.

Mingyu knew him well enough to know he was interested, and he had probably told Jeonghan and Joshua since both were suddenly very quiet - they were all waiting.

He shrugged, “I’m not in the mood,” he imagined he sounded serious.

But that idea was quickly shattered as Joshua finally took over, “So what happened anyway?” He sipped his drink like it was the most normal question.

Mingyu rolled his eyes, “I’m sure you already know,” he glanced at Seungcheol, knowing he was a traitor.

Jeonghan spoke up, “No, actually, none of us know why you had a panic attack in the middle of your class,” he spoke softly - for once he didn’t appear to be teasing.

Joshua coughed, “Well, that’s not exactly true,” and he unlocked his phone to show a group chat that included the picture Mingyu had seen the day before - him falling asleep at y/n’s. There he was slumped over, cheek pressed to his textbook, and a dark green blanket tossed over him.

He glanced quickly and noticed the sender was ‘Soonie’, with the message “did you actually say he’s cute.” Mingyu saw the message underneath from y/n saying “yes, he’s cute - what about it???” and asking if she should wake him. Apparently, no one thought she should, at least in the gc.

Again, Mingyu just shrugged, “She’s helping me with econ. I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he huffed.

Joshua sighed, “You have to know it’s not the falling asleep part,” he glanced at Mingyu in a judgmental way, “It’s what happened in your class, when you saw her and uhm absolutely lost your shit,” he smiled sweetly as he said the last part.

Mingyu rolled his eyes, “Yeah, well I wasn’t expecting to have someone shove that photo in my face and tell me how she should have kicked me out, okay?” He knew he was talking way too fast, “and I wasn’t expecting her to come to class wearing my hoodie either - I just wanted to ask for it back,” he went back to sipping his drink.

Seungcheol was still watching him, “She’s been texting since your class yesterday - I had to force you to take your phone because I couldn’t handle any more texts asking if you’re okay or not,” he swirled his drink, avoiding eye contact as he added fuel to the fire.

Mingyu was quick, “You could have just answered that I was fine,” he shot back.

Seungcheol snorted, “I’m not answering the texts you want to avoid, especially from y/n,” he finished.

“What does that mean? Especially from y/n,” he quipped back, feeling insulted for some reason.

He saw the collective eye rolling from the other three, but it was Joshua who responded, “Because we all know something happened between you two - you were all cute and disgustingly sweet and then, suddenly, out of nowhere, even mentioning you around her was like setting off a bomb,” he was staring at Mingyu as he spoke.

“I don’t think we were all that cute” —

Joshua and Jeonghan cut him off with groans, talking over one another to tell Mingyu just how cute and gross he and y/n had been the year before.

The thing that made it through clearly was the reminder that before anything, Mingyu had the habit of giving y/n back hugs at parties. He knew they were notorious for being beer pong partners, but even if they were just waiting to play, he had the habit of pulling her close against him.

He shook his head, “It wasn’t like that,” he didn’t care what history they were throwing at him.

Joshua laughed, “Dude, we all watched you - you were like attached,” he laughed again, “just admit you’re down that bad, it’s not the end of the world - I mean, she’s hot, either admit you’re still into her or say you’re over her so at least Seungcheol can take a shot,” he giggled softly.

Mingyu was quick to look at Seungcheol - he could feel the heat come into his cheeks.

Seungcheol’s eyes widened, “Dude!” He was fast to call Joshua out, “I’ve literally never said I’m into her,” he had the look of pre-rage-Seungcheol - his eyes were wide and his normal cuteness was gone. He was glaring daggers at Joshua.

“You’ve never really had to say it though, have you?” Jeonghan asked in a whisper, giggling with Joshua.

Mingyu felt his mouth go all dry at once. It had never crossed his mind that anyone else was into her, well not any of his friends at least. But it suddenly made sense why she would have come to some of their soccer games. She was into Seungcheol.

Mingyu blinked slowly, and nodded, “Yeah, look I’m going to head home,” he knew he sounded weird. But it didn’t matter.

He was up and out the door before any of them could say anything. He was almost out of earshot when he heard Seungcheol’s sudden outburst of “why the fuck would you tell him that?” He had left money on the table. He didn’t care what happened.

He planned to go home, but there was a text that caught his eye. Caroline. They had a bunch of classes together. They talked at parties. She was hot. Seungcheol could have y/n all to himself, and Mingyu could move on.

[caro 21:07]

hey come save me from boring party talk plzzzzzzz

He nodded to himself. Yes, a distraction was what he needed. He silently thanked her as he typed a fast response.

[mingyu 21:08]

sure but where am I going??

She sent him the address. He asked the driver to change his destination.

He was glad he had showered and made a small effort to get dressed. The party was loud. But he found Caroline easily enough - she was hard to miss if he were honest. She was quick to hug him, pressing close to thank him for showing up. He just nodded, not in the mood to yell over music and other voices.

She wound quickly through various rooms before going upstairs. He almost pulled back, but then again, he wondered why he bothered - he wasn’t seeing anyone.

She pulled him along to a door, but it was odd when she knocked on the door. He watched the door crack open and heard the soft, “Caro, I’m not really in the mood,” from inside.

Caro leaned against the door to say something in a hushed tone. Mingyu thought about leaving, but he felt the tight grip on his arm. He was maybe a bit slow in realizing Caroline had no intention of letting him slip away without a good reason, looking at her hand, he could only assume the acceptable reason was maybe the house being on fire.

He found himself being pushed through the doorway, “Look, you two need to chat for like ten minutes at the very least and if that’s too much, then okay, fine - you’re maybe the most stubborn people to exist,” she had shoved Mingyu inside the room and closed the door by the time she finished her sentence.

He glanced to see he was in a bedroom, not one he knew. And there was y/n sitting on the floor. He was almost annoyed.

She was dressed for the party. She was always cute, but he liked her tendency towards jeans and slightly boyish tops that she managed to make very girlie - like the little collared sweater she was wearing and the fact that he could see through the thin knit to the lace bralette beneath.

She glanced at him for a moment and sighed, “I guess you didn’t die,” she rolled her eyes and looked anywhere but at him.

He bit the inside of his cheek, knowing he kind of deserved a bit of attitude. He sat down across from her and swallowed, waiting for her to at least look at him. He was glad he at least had a beer.

She glanced his way after a few moments of quiet. She watched him for a minute or two, and then she moved all at once to be in his lap. Her arms encircled his neck. He couldn’t help but breathe in the scent he had been missing. His heart immediately beat faster.

He felt her fingertip trace against his lower lip, “What did I do?” Her voice was so soft.

He stared for a moment, “I’m just a rebound,” he saw the immediate confusion on her face.

She almost laughed, “Rebound from who?”

He gently loosened her hands from his neck, “Soonie,” he felt like it was obvious.

“Soonyoung?” She sounded immediately baffled, “What are you talking about?”

“I saw his texts to you - ‘babe i miss you - you know i’m jealous - come home,” he mimicked.

She laughed, and immediately clamped a hand over her mouth, “Holy shit, seriously - that’s why you went all ‘I don’t like long term’ on me?”

She was staring at him. He flushed, “It seems like a real reason to me,” he couldn’t understand why he felt dumb.

She glanced around for a moment like she was searching for the words she needed, “Gyu,” she paused, “Soonie is - Soonie and me?” She shook her head, “we would both rather die than, oh my god, that’s just how we talk!” She had grabbed his forearms, “it is not whatever you thought, okay - I swear,” she let go of him to cross herself for emphasis.

He flushed slightly, “Then who is he?”

“A close friend - like since childhood friend - he sits next to me in econ,” she waited for a moment, “trust me, it’s impossible for me to be his type,” she looked almost on the verge of tears.

Mingyu thought of the guy who seemed to hate him for no reason, “So a childhood friend who seems to absolutely hate me” —

She cut in, “Seriously, there’s nothing between us - we would literally kill each other,” she sounded intense now.

He shrugged, “Sounds like you’re just waiting to get together,” he wasn’t in the mood.

She stared at him for a long moment, “Trust me, there’s no waiting around for one another - we aren’t like that, like for one it would make things so weird since we’re step-siblings,” she made a terrible face, “not to mention it’s literally posted on our old school’s website where we got into a fight during a debate club meeting - they had to drag us off stage,” she was less imploring, but still close, watching him as he absorbed what she was saying.

Mingyu wasn’t sure what to think. He believed her. He would have probably believed her without the explanation, if he were honest. But it didn’t change the way he felt. It didn’t change the sinking feeling in his stomach that told him he had wasted time.

She stared at him, waiting. The quiet stretched out between them. She sighed, “Do you want me to call him? You can see pictures of our family?” She offered before sighing and crossing her arms. She looked defeated.

He was surprised when she suddenly stood up, “Okay, anyway, so I’ll see you around.”

He didn’t know what to say. He had carried the thought around for so long. He was going to come upstairs with someone else. He felt stuck.

He ran a hand through his hair, before glancing back, “Seungcheol likes you - he’s just been waiting around to figure out what’s wrong with me, I guess.”

He couldn’t see her face, “Ahah, uhm,” he could hear the pause, “thanks I guess,” he could hear the small tremble in her voice.

He closed his eyes, knowing what he wanted to do. But somehow he couldn’t make himself move. Instead, he silently wished for her to come back - he pleaded mentally for her to come back. He wanted to feel her arms around his neck again.

And then he heard himself, the deep, shaking sigh. He was sure she had slipped out the door and was already downstairs. He turned around to see her still standing, her back against the door.

She watched him, “Do you really want me to just leave?” She asked softly.

He shrugged.

She walked back to and gave him a small shove, “I’m here with you, and I’ve been waiting around, trying to to figure out what I did,” she whispered.

He shook his head, “You didn’t do anything, okay?” He was exhausted, “It’s my fault - I fucked everything up, and now I’m sitting here, knowing that I fucked everything up even more than I originally thought, okay? It’s even worse,” he pulled his knees close and hid his face.

He heard her scoff, “Do you think I would have even helped you if things were so impossible between us?”

He didn’t answer.

He felt her hand lightly on his head - she ran her fingers through his hair, “Look, come downstairs with me - be my beer pong partner and hug me close like you normally would, okay? Think of it as a re-do. We can re-do that night and the day after and leave out the misunderstanding - just pretend it’s not part of our timeline,” she whispered, pulling his hair gently.

He looked up at her. She reached down, smoothing his bangs, “Please,” she offered. He felt himself nodding. He wanted nothing more than to wipe away all the time he hadn’t been with her.

xx

He woke up the next morning wrapped around her. He pressed close, nuzzling her neck, kissing the sensitive, exposed skin. She was sleeping in his tshirt and her underwear.

He imagined dipping his hand down, under the delicate fabric of her panties to tease her clit and her pussy. But he heard the soft snore, the one that wasn’t from her. It was the one from Seungcheol.

Mingyu was curled around y/n, and y/n was curled around Seungcheol.

Mingyu chewed his lip lightly, knowing it wasn’t worth it to upset the balance right now. Especially when he barely wanted to acknowledge there was a balance to maintain. He pressed closer to her, knowing now that she hadn’t needed him to tell her anything about how Seungcheol felt - she knew perfectly well. He sighed gently, wondering how he had set this all in motion.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹I ˚ .𖥔 ݁ ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁

a/n: i started writing this last year and just found it in my drafts - i think i originally imagined this as a sick fic but tbh it went off the rails in a not fun way, and it still maybe does go off the rails, but idk gyucheol x reader seems fun so why not

tell me if you want the seungcheol pov..better! should they be rivals??? or throuple sandwich..or throuple who doesn’t acknowledge it - y/n just yk makes plans with them equally - they’re adults - no one is jealous ;-;

♡ kat

[mortallydeepestobservation]

The Case of Us.

Summary: You and Namjoon are an unlikely pair, clashing from the start. He’s a seasoned detective, used to working alone and running on instinct. You, a rookie, fresh off acing your detective exam, ready to prove yourself. At first, you butt heads—your sharp, hardheaded approach grating against his calm, measured demeanor. But there's an undeniable pull between the two of you, an unspoken understanding that begins to form as you both tackle case after case. Through the chaos of the job, you rely on each other more and more. And though you're still figuring out the balance between the stubborn rookie and the seasoned detective, you both know one thing for certain—you're a hell of a team. A/N: Oh Hey everyone... So, I did it again—I got overwhelmed by life and felt the need to write... And you know the drill. (I ended up re-reading Chapter 4 of Holiday Pretense so many times that I couldn’t tell what was repeating and what was just my brain spiraling. And i guess I rage-quit for the day) So instead, I ended up writing something completely different. But this time, it's really random and far "into the story". Also, that pancake dialogue is loosely inspired by a conversation from "Castle"-oldish detective serries i love to this day. Call it a teaser if you will? (I wanna know if anyone would be interested in something like this.) (besides those 5 wips i have already lol. i need professional help 😓🥲) (thank you always @callmenoona25 for proofreading. love you) Pairing: Namjoon x f.reader Genre: detective/ thriller. neo noir(?) Rating: explicit. Minors do not interact. Warnings: Guns. Mentions of serial killers and bodies. Crimes. Corpses. police/detective lingo. Detective Yoongi and Jungkook being the best duo. (Also, if you know me. I tend to keep it light- not very gore. But i do have a genuine obsession with true crime/detective stories/criminology. So this might turn off some readers. proceed at your own discretion) tag list: @uniquetravelerone @sexytholland @codeinebelle @annyeongbitch7 @rpwprpwprpwprw @goldietigers294 @amarawayne @oneshallsmile

The dead of night. The scent of rain still clung stubbornly to the damp, heavy air, even hours after the downpour had stopped. Your tv was on, though it was on mute.

Then you heard it.

A sound—a shuffle by the doorway.

Instinct took over. The lights went dark in an instant, your hand moving with practiced ease to the gun at your hip. You gripped it tight, steady, breath held as you listened.

The sounds didn’t stop. The lock turned. The knob twisted.

Before the intruder could take a step inside, you struck—slamming your full weight against him, pinning him to the doorframe, gun pressed firm against his throat.

“Holy shit-!”

A familiar voice. Your grip tightened for just a second before recognition set in.

“Namjoon?”  you didn’t lower the gun.

“Who else would it be?” his tone was maddeningly casual, one hand gripping your wrist, pushing the barrel down to his chest, right above his heart. “Just— don’t shoot the face.”

Your pulse was still hammering in your ears, the rush of the adrenaline refusing to fade. You let out a slow breath, easing the gun off his chest but not fully lowering it.

Namjoon let out a short chuckle- half amused, half exasperation. “Nice to see you too,” he muttered, rolling his shoulder as if shaking off the impact.

“You could’ve called.” you shot back, eyes still sharp, scanning his face in the dim light. he looked tired, damp hair falling messily over his forehead, his clothes wrinkled like he’d been running all night.

“And argue with you over the phone?” he asked, rubbing at his throat where the gun had pressed, “I think it worked out better this way.”

Your gaze flicked to the door, still slightly ajar. “You picked the lock?!”

He shrugged. “Old habits.”

You exhaled through your nose, finally lowering the gun all the way. “What the hell are you doing here, Namjoon?”

His smirk faltered slightly. For the first time, you noticed the tension in his jaw, the way is fingers curled slightly over the damp paper bags he was carrying.

“I-” he took a breath, like the confession hurt, “I’m worried about you.”

You huff, incredulous, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it.

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can. Clearly.” he gestured vaguely towards the gun in your hand. “Doesn’t change the fact that as your supervisor and partner, I worry about you.” He moved with ease, setting the bags on your kitchen table, leaving a trail of wet footsteps all across your tile floor.

“Namjoon, I’m not a rookie anymore.”

Namjoon let out a quiet sigh, rubbing a hand over his face before leaning against the counter. “I never said you were.”

You crossed your arms, watching him. “Then stop treating me like one.”

His eyes flicked to yours—sharp, unreadable. “If you want me to stop, then quit making it so damn easy to worry.”

That shut you up for a second.

The weight of his words lingered in the space between you, thick as the humidity still clinging to the air. You glanced at the paper bags on the table, the edges crumpled from his grip. “What’s this?”

“Dinner.” He peeled one open, pulling out a takeout container. “Figured you haven’t eaten.”

You frowned, but your stomach betrayed you with a quiet growl. Namjoon heard it—of course he did—and the smirk that tugged at his lips made you want to shoot him just on principle.

“I was going to eat.”

“Yeah?” He arched a brow, flipping open the container. “What, exactly? Stale instant noodles? Maybe those grotesque granola bars you like to keep in your purse and only eat after they expire?”

You huffed but didn’t deny it.

Namjoon grabbed a pair of chopsticks and held them out. “Sit. Eat.”

“Is this standard procedure with all your trainees?” The sarcasm was thick in your voice, but you still took a seat across from him.

“Just the ones that get themselves targeted by serial killers.”

Your grip on the chopsticks faltered for just a second.

Then you scoffed. “That supposed to be a joke?”

Namjoon didn’t laugh. Didn’t even blink.

Your stomach twisted.

“I’m serious.” His voice had dropped, low and steady, the kind that sent a chill down your spine. “We need to talk.”

You eyed him warily, then set the container down. “About what?”

Namjoon exhaled, rubbing at his temple like he already regretted this conversation. “There was another one.”

Your fingers curled instinctively around the edge of the table. “Where?”

“Downtown. Two blocks from our last case.”

You didn’t need him to elaborate. Your mind was already connecting the dots, pulling up images you didn’t want to see.

Same M.O.? You almost asked, but you already knew the answer.

Namjoon watched you carefully, like he was waiting for the realization to hit.

It did.

“That’s why you’re here.” The words tasted bitter. “You think I’m next.”

His jaw tightened. “And you clearly agree. Why else would you sleep with your gun strapped to your hip?”

“I think you guys are overreacting.”

“Is that why you called the protection detail off? You were supposed to have uniforms watching you right now.”

“The captain is being absurd.” You take a bite of rice “Much like you are right now.” You argue between mouthfuls.

“You’re impossible.” He watched you with that usual superior look of his, that challenging glare that made your blood boil.

“So, what? You decided to break in and deliver takeout because you think I have a target on my back?”

Namjoon’s expression didn’t shift. If anything, his silence spoke louder than any answer he could’ve given.

Your stomach churned—not from the food, but from the implications hanging between you.

He wasn’t here just because he thought you were in danger.

He was here because he knew you were.

“I’m staying the night.”

You snapped. “Oh, like hell you are!”

Namjoon didn’t flinch. He just set down his chopsticks and looked you dead in the eye, his gaze unwavering.

“I’m staying the night,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You shot him a look that could cut glass, but his expression didn’t change. There was something in his eyes—something you couldn't quite place.

“Not a chance, Namjoon,” you snapped, pushing yourself away from the table. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“No, you need to not get killed.”

The words snapped like a gunshot between you, sharp and final.

Neither of you spoke.

Outside, the rain threatened to start again, fat droplets tapping against the glass.

You held his stare, your jaw clenched and shoulders squared, the air between you so tense it felt like either of you might snap.

“Fine.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “But you sleep on the couch.”

Namjoon’s lips twitched into a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Deal,” he said, nodding in silent agreement as he slowly backed away from the table. He didn’t argue further—there was nothing left to say once the terms were set. “I also got us a bottle of wine to celebrate you finally taking an order from me.”

“You’re impossible,” you counter, using his earlier line.

You resumed eating, though the rice had lost its appeal. Each bite felt heavy, burdened by the tension between you. Every clink of chopsticks and scrape of ceramic against the table punctuated the silence like a metronome counting down the moments until something else would shatter the uneasy calm.

Namjoon didn’t respond immediately, his gaze drifting toward the kitchen counter, where the bottle of wine sat like a silent witness to the strange turn of events. He seemed content to let the silence stretch between you, his presence still an unspoken weight in the room.

The tension was thick, almost suffocating, but you didn’t care to break it. Not yet. The thoughts swirling in your head—the things you hadn’t said out loud—kept you rooted in place. The noise of the rain outside, once soothing, now only added to the discomfort that crawled under your skin.

Namjoon poured two glasses of wine, his movements slow and deliberate. When he placed one in front of you, you took it without a word. He watched you for a beat, his eyes searching, trying to gauge what was really going on beneath the surface.

You took a sip, the warmth of the wine doing little to ease the cold unease that wrapped around you. The day, the case, everything was starting to feel too close, too personal. And Namjoon’s silent presence wasn’t helping, no matter how much it was meant to comfort.

After a few minutes, Namjoon cleared his throat softly, watching you look down into your glass. “I don’t suppose you’d mind if I set up my gear in the living room?” he asked, voice low. “Just in case we need to move fast.”

You frowned, glancing toward the door where the muted TV light played over the wall. “It’s your turn to be my backup tonight,” you muttered, half teasing, half warning.

He raised an eyebrow. “You know I never leave your side—even if I’m on the couch,” he replied, a trace of amusement in his tone that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You shot him a sidelong look, then set your glass down. “Get your things, Namjoon. And for the record, I’d prefer not to have a detective rummaging through my living room,” you added, attempting to lighten your tone despite the unease creeping in.

He smirked. “I’ll try to behave,” he said with a wink that belied the seriousness behind his words.

Moments later, the quiet hum of preparation filled the apartment. Namjoon unpacked his duffel bag with the methodical precision of someone who’d been in high-stakes situations far too many times. You found yourself glancing repeatedly at the window, where the rain began to fall again in earnest, drumming against the glass like a ragged heartbeat.

“I’ll fetch you some blankets.”

“A few pillows too.”

You chuckle, “Do you want a facemask too?”

Namjoon looked up from his bag, a playful glint in his eyes despite the tension hanging in the air. “Only if it comes with a side of earplugs,” he teased, the corner of his lips twitching upward.

You rolled your eyes, standing up from the table and moving toward the closet “Yeah, baby boy needs his beauty sleep.”

You tossed the blanket and pillows onto the couch, but as you straightened up, the sound of the rain outside seemed to deepen, becoming almost repetitive in its heaviness. For a moment, neither of you spoke—just the low hum of the apartment and the soft drum of water against glass.

Namjoon broke the silence with a more serious note. “Try and get some rest. You’ve had a long week.”

You paused, turning to face him, your gaze met his, and for a moment, the usual banter was gone, replaced by something more sincere—something that tugged at the edges of your own quiet worry. You opened your mouth, but the words didn’t come right away, and you debated if you even wanted to let them out.

“Thank you.”

Namjoon’s gaze softened, the seriousness in his face fading into something just slightly softer.

He nodded slowly, as if accepting your gratitude, though his lips didn’t curve into a smile. There was something grounding about the way he held your gaze, like he understood more than you were saying.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he murmured, his voice low, but the words carried weight. “It’s what we do.”

You exhaled quietly, finally giving in to the tension in your shoulders. “Yeah, well... it’s still nice to hear.” You couldn’t stop yourself from adding, the soft edge to your tone. “Thank you for being here. And for dinner.”

“It’s no problem,” he said quietly, his voice steady but gentle. “You know I’ve got your back.”

“Yeah.” You still sigh despite yourself, pushing towards the bedroom “Goodnight Joon.”

Namjoon watched you as you moved toward the bedroom, his eyes soft, but there was a hint of something unreadable in them. He remained silent for a moment, just watching you before speaking in that calm, reassuring tone of his.

“Goodnight,” he said quietly, though his voice lingered in the space between you, grounding you in the moment.

You didn’t turn back, but his presence, quiet and constant, felt like a weight lifted, even just for tonight. The quiet murmur of the rain outside seemed softer, less oppressive as you closed the door behind you.

~~~

The smell of pancakes felt foreign in your apartment. The rich, buttery scent filled the air, its warmth cutting through the cool, damp atmosphere of the morning. You blinked a few times, trying to shake off the grogginess, your mind still hazy from sleep. It took a few seconds for you to process what was happening.

Namjoon.

You could hear the faint sound of him humming, the clink of utensils, the quiet sizzle of batter on the griddle. The peacefulness of it felt almost surreal after the tension of the night before.

Rubbing your eyes, you stepped out of the bedroom, the coolness of the floor beneath your feet grounding you back in reality. You walked toward the kitchen, where Namjoon was flipping pancakes like he’d done this a hundred times in your kitchen—like he belonged there.

He glanced up when you appeared, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but it was the kind of smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. The weight of last night still hung in the air between you.

“Morning,” he greeted softly, the scent of coffee following the pancakes.

You blinked at the scene, still a little dazed. “Did you... make this?” You gestured toward the stack of golden pancakes, the syrup bottle, and the neatly placed plates.

“I wanted to make eggs. But they expired last year, and your bacon had something growing on it.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. We need to go to the precinct.”

“Will you relax? Just sit down and eat.”

You shot him a look, but he was already plating another pancake, as if he were completely unfazed by the chaos that had defined your life for the last few days.

“I’m serious, Namjoon. We don’t have time for breakfast. The precinct is waiting, and you’ve got a duty.” You gestured vaguely to the mess of plates and syrup bottles, your voice tightening slightly despite the absurdity of the moment.

He turned to you with an almost exasperated expression, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “You need food. We both do. The precinct will be there when we're ready. In the meantime, we sit. We eat. You get a few minutes to breathe.”

You huffed in frustration but couldn't deny the logic behind his words. He was right, you were barely functioning on caffeine and adrenaline, and you needed a break—even if just for a few minutes.

“Fine,” you muttered, sitting down at the table. “But as soon as we're done, we're out the door. No more distractions.”

Namjoon gave you a nod, his tone still light. “Oh, I forgot the newspaper.” He turned off the stove and did his little half-jog to the door.

But as soon as he twisted the doorknob, the door slammed open against the weight of the body propped against it. A sickening thud reverberating through the apartment. Your heart skipped a beat as the sight of the corpse registered in an instant—its pale, lifeless face staring up at you, eyes vacant and unseeing. The air in the room felt like it had thickened, the weight of the situation crashing down on you.

Namjoon froze for a moment, his hand still on the doorknob. Then, without a word, he stepped back, his body moving with precision as he grabbed his cell and tossed it to you.

“Call the precinct.” He instructed, fetching his gun in an instant “And stay back.”

Your fingers trembled as you caught the phone, the shock still running through your veins. You barely registered the coldness of the device against your palm, too focused on the scene in front of you. The body. The blood that had pooled around it, seeping into the carpet like it was part of the apartment itself.

You fumbled with the phone, dialling the precinct, your breath hitching in your throat. The line rang once, twice, before someone picked up, their voice professional, unaware of the horror unfolding in your living room.

“112, what’s your emergency?”

“This is Detective Hwang, badge number 1209. There’s a body on my front door.”

The voice on the other end of the line shifted instantly, now alert. “Detective Hwang, stay on the line. Is the scene secure? Do you need assistance?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice tight as you tried to steady your breathing. “We have a body. It's… propped against the door. Get someone here immediately.”

“Understood, Detective. Stay where you are. Officers are on their way. Do not engage with the scene further.”

You glanced over at Namjoon, who was crouched by the body now, his gun trained at the door as he assessed the situation. He didn't flinch or pause, moving with the practiced calm that had always been his trademark.

It took less than 8 minutes for your apartment to be crawling with uniforms, CSU, and of course, Detective Yoongi and Jungkook.

“So,” Jungkook was talking to Namjoon, merely a few steps away from where you sat at the kitchen table across from Yoongi. “Wine glasses.”

“Yeah, Namjoon brought dinner and wine.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and Namjoon with a smirk. “Dinner and wine, huh? Cozy night in?”

Namjoon shot him a deadpan look. “It was supposed to be breakfast, too, until we were rudely interrupted by a corpse.”

Jungkook let out a low whistle, shaking his head “Pancakes?”

You glanced over at him, confused.

“So, nothing else happened?” Jungkook continued undeterred.

“Jungkook what are you on about?”

“Well, you know what they say about pancakes.” Yoongi replied, though his eyes were still glued to his notepad.

You narrowed your eyes, glancing between Yoongi and Jungkook. “Okay, I’ll bite. What do they say about pancakes?”

Jungkook grinned like he’d been waiting for you to ask. “Pancakes are the best way to say ‘Hey, thanks for that amazing sex last night.’”

You choked on absolutely nothing, spluttering as Namjoon let out the world’s longest sigh beside you.

“Oh my God,” Namjoon muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can we not do this right now?”

Yoongi finally glanced up from his notepad, entirely unbothered. “It’s a well-documented theory.”

Jungkook nodded, very seriously. “Classic post-hookup breakfast. Means it was so good that one of you felt compelled to whip up something warm and sweet the next morning.”

Your mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again. “It was just breakfast, Jungkook.”

“Was it?” Jungkook teased, crossing his arms. “Because the way I see it, there are two wine glasses on the counter, Namjoon sleeping over, and pancakes on the table.”

Namjoon made a noise somewhere between a groan and a death rattle. “I hate all of you.”

You threw up your hands. “For the last time, nothing happened!”

Yoongi huffed, and Jungkook shook his head as he jotted down on his notepad “witness refuses to cooperate.”

You gawked at him. “Are you seriously writing that down?”

Jungkook nodded, scribbling dramatically. “Refuses to acknowledge the overwhelming evidence of post-coital carbohydrates-”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, dragging a hand down your face.

Namjoon, looking moments away from actual homicide, turned to Yoongi. “Please arrest him for obstruction.”

Yoongi barely held back a smirk. “Tempting.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

not so dead after all

for @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘rose’

rated m | 367 words | cw: blood drinking, technically temporary MCD | tags: came back wrong, vampire Eddie Munson, pre-relationship, first kiss, robin is the only one with any sense

🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛

“This feels very…Dracula.”

“You’re making jokes? Eddie’s standing in front of us dead and you’re making jokes?!” Steve feels insane. Robin is referencing a fictional vampire while Eddie, who has definitely been dead for six months, is standing right there, watching them.

“I don’t think he’s so dead after all,” Robin says.

“No shit!”

Eddie hasn’t said anything since they first opened the door and shrieked in his face. That’s understandable since they…shrieked in his face.

They dragged him into Steve’s house and they’ve been staring at him since, waiting to see if he dissolves into nothing or they wake up from this shared dream. Neither of those things happen.

“So…you…rose from the dead?” Robin asks Eddie.

“I don’t know if I’m alive,” Eddie admits.

“Okay. Cool. So you’re a ghost?” Steve thinks that’s a fair assumption to make based on how pale he is and also the fact that he was previously dead.

“No. Definitely more vampire craving your blood,” Eddie says calmly.

“Steve’s blood? My blood? Anyone’s?” Robin takes a few steps back even though she’s kept her distance since he walked inside.

“Steve’s. I guess anyone’s would do, but his smells best.” Eddie sniffs the air. “Like wine and honey and chocolate.”

“My blood smells like that?” Steve winces. “Gross.”

“Far from it, big boy,” Eddie laughs. “But I have self control so. You’re safe.”

“How do you know?” Robin asks. A good question since it looks like this is the first place Eddie stopped when he came back to life.

“Because I’ve been smelling it for months and haven’t attacked him yet. Pretty sure I would’ve by now.”

“Months?” Robin and Steve ask at the same time.

“It’s been torture.”

“So will it…help?”

Robin smacks his arm. “You cannot offer your blood to Eddie until we figure out what’s going on!”

“Maybe it’ll help us figure it out! Just call Hop so he can be on his way if something goes wrong.”

“You’re serious?” Eddie steps closer.

“Might as well. Hope I taste as good as I smell.”

Robin fusses. Eddie bites Steve’s neck.

Steve’s knees buckle. Eddie holds him.

“Feeling very alive right now,” Eddie says when he’s done.

Steve kisses him.

[thebe4ulog]

THANKS. FOR THE TAG. !

Last Song - money money money (mamma mia film soundtrack) i was listening to my musicals playlist but also i LOVE abba so id be listening to it anyway

Last Movie - toy story 3! i dont want to talk about it i have an emotional connection

Last Thing I Looked Up - am i trans.. yeaaa im going back into questioning its not fair but im more confident that im not cis

Favourite Colour - yellow! blue is also nice and pink can be one of my favs too. i got told my beige flag is that beige is my favourite colour which like its not but literally all my clothes are like beige and brown so i guess urm yea true

Spicy/Sweet/Savoury - hmm depends on how im feeling.. right now i could go for a nandos so spicy.. usually sweet though

A Beautiful Relationship In My Life - hmm probably my dog idk i dont really have any friends, if i were to say a person itd probably have to be my best friend monty. i dont think by most peoples standards hed be a best friend but weve stuck by eachother through a lot and it feels like ive always known him, hes like a little brother to me i care about him a lot and i wouldnt be who i am today nor would i be confident enough to be if it werent for him

Current Obsession - IM ALSO OBSESSIONLESS AFTER TRAITORS but honestly like im still really into the universal theme parks thats been an obsession for like a month now but i fear its going away.. is there a theme park community on tumblr its like my special interest?

Looking Forward To - im hoping to meet up with monty at some point for the first time so probably that! but also celebrity traitors to behonest.. also easter that time of years usually really fun

Last Animal Encounter - my DOG. she's here right now say hello. i promise you she did it!! okay gooodbyeee

mutuals summon... @nograndchoir @unashamed2b @slafkovskyhughes @lillythecorvid @archerygun @atlasavian @sillylittlerock @afriendofblahaj @the-design-is-very-human @trans-fem-menace @edryaith @thepiedcurrawong that's right i just figured out i can pull up the follower list to the side and write down mutuals that way.. i feel so smart

Tagged by @talshiargirlfriend and @justhere4thevibez for this one! 😘😘

Last song: Adore by Trey Best (JEFF I❤️U)

Last book: Christmas at Little Beach Street Bakery by Jenny Colgan. I usually like her books but this one had lots of characters refusing to communicate and/or stand up for themselves and it got frustrating.

Last show: Murder, She Wrote. Yes, again. It’s my comfort show and I’ve had quite a month.

Last movie: Star Trek: Section 31. I, um, I fell asleep.

Last thing I looked up: HelloFresh meal delivery. Trying to see the prices *before* signing up, and they really don’t want me to.

Favorite color: idk it changes all the time honestly. Today it’s forest green.

Spicy / sweet / savory: sweet first, then savory. Never spicy!

A beautiful relationship in my life right now: a few friends in the town I moved away from six years ago, who are refusing to lose touch with me and kindly invite me to their weddings. I love them all so much.

Current obsession: I don’t think I actually have one right now. I’m feeling kind of blah and apathetic about most things lately, except the aforementioned weddings. (And yes I joke a lot about “needing to up my meds” but I actually did talk to my doctor and he did adjust my medications. No shame in getting help, my loves. No shame at all.)

Looking forward to: feeling better.

Last animal encountered: my big fat bitey kitty, who is lucky he’s so cute because he can be a bastard sometimes!

No-pressure tags:

@pearlypairings (I haven’t tagged you in one of these for awhile!) @chornayadrakoshig @potatoesenpaii @the-unforgivenn @jo-harrington and anyone else who wants to 😉

[necrotic-nephilim]

If you want to be bothered. Maybe this for dick and Bruce???

i ALWAYS want to be bothered these are always the highlight of my day tbh you're a delight for letting me just yap <3

Dick. For the canon isn't real square I am Specifically talking about the Tom Taylor Nightwing run. Usually I ignore bad runs but given this one is ongoing (though about to end THANK GOD and get replaced by Dan Watters who i have high hopes for since i adored his Sword of Azrael (2022) run but i digress) so I counted it. Especially since it's so debated if that run is bad or not, for some reason. I'm a 90s Nightwing truther. I love Dick so dearly and tbh recently I've been more enamored with him the more I read his Discowing era, I didn't used to be as big of a Dick stan as I am these days.

Bruce. Honestly where do you even start with Bruce. I want to fist fight him and also patch him up. He got me into comics and superheroes as a whole but I roll my eyes whenever he shows up in a story. He's a bastard and usually not a good father but also complex and should be dissected under a magnifying glass. I love him dearly. He's also just the worst. I think that's why I love him. I'm always a fan of unabashedly Complicated Asshole Bruce who's generally not always the best person, particularly not to the Batfamily and that being the driving force of his relationships with them, especially in shipping.

And for bonus points, Tim. Because know above all else, I'm a Tim Drake kinnie /deg. He's been my number one for a decade and I've yet to uproot him from my brain. He's literally the Worst half the time and I love him for it. And the canon isn't real refers to Tim Drake: Robin because... that sure was a comic. And that's about all I can say about it. Pre-Flashpoint Tim I miss you so dearly. I think it's fun that I want to put him in a blender and drink the juice but also want Nothing Ever to happen to him.

[silversinfinity]

B/eastars is already such a horny show, and then they animate snz like THAT?

someone put their entire dick and balls into animating that spray, that's all I'm saying...

[citizen-grantaire]

the only thing the tags are right about is that Enjolras and les amis de l'ABC, as a group, were republicans in the 1830s, almost 200 years ago.. the addition is slightly better.

This wasn’t meant to be a serious post, but I do think that in a modern au, Enjolras should be a communist to remain comparatively thematically and ideologically consistent with canon Enjolras and his stance toward society and the times he lived in, in today's world. + I stress that I’m specifically referring to Enjolras here, not all characters. (e.g. this blog is named after grantaire, whom I love so much as a character, but no way in hell he's a communist)

Communism is the doctrine of the conditions of the liberation of the proletariat [link to principles of communism by Engles] It is not just an economic system but also a sociopolitical framework that seeks, through the application of dialectical materialism and revolutionary action, to eventually achieve the abolition of private property, liberate people from all forms of oppression and exploitation, and establish a classless, moneyless stateless society after and through the implementation of a transitional period of socialism, during which the proletariat (or working class, for simplification) takes political power and works toward equity through what we call a dictatorship of the proletariat where the workers collectively seize and own the means of production and the socialist state works to serve their interests instead of that of the bourgeoise etc.. welcome to communism 101 (broad, simplified)

Authoritarianism/totalitarianism are just silly words really, you can define them however you like.. they just serve to make the current power structure seem "normal" instead of requiring constant enforcement, it's only called authoritarian when usamerica feel threatened. (surprise. it feels threatened by the mere existence of communists and does anything to literally kill them around the world.) anyway, I love communist authoritarianism yay

"the ability to pick your leaders" in a liberal democracy isn't real, I don't even think that we should have to explain this after the trump vs harris circus, they all serve the empire and are not different in any meaningful way. This type of democracy is an illusion, and not a well-made one.

Reform/public services within capitalism (the examples you mentioned), while good, is not enough and limited at best, especially in countries in the global north, and need to be implemented within a socialist system, otherwise you're treating some of the symptoms but not the disease.

Okay, back to Enjolras because this is getting long.. in the book, he was a radical republican in the 1830s and wanted to overthrow the monarchy, he had knowledge about the first republic like he witnessed it and ideologically followed the montagnard (robespierre, saint just.. the men of 1793), he symbolizes the revolution, believes in necessary political violence and his beliefs centers about workers and poor people despite being born rich.. etc which are all great positions from someone from 200 years ago, overthrowing monarchy and reestablishing the republic is revolutionary in france then.. so let's ask ourselves what is comparatively true to his revolutionary stances in today's world if he was born in the 21st century instead of the 19th? Sure some things have changed in the world. Of course, canon Enjolras is an idealist which is a fatal flaw but that's not the point right now (just like I'm ignoring dear Hugo's mess of politics)

If a modern au Enjolras isn't a communist then it's not a believable adaptation of the character to the modern world. You can argue for anarchism with him I guess but it'd be a strong argument..

What other 'form of government' is revolutionary and pursues the end of exploitation and oppression from the roots you're arguing for? Thinking of Enjolras as a liberal is laughable. Reactionary!Enjolras

But once again he's just a fictional character and it doesn't matter how you write him if you do, but happy to introduce you to the immortal science of Marxism-Leninism, I guess <3

A modern au Enjolras should be a communist btw. Non-negotiable.

[mariatesstruther]

okay but a version of events in which tommy takes ellie to the fireflies, but NEITHER of them come back. and maria joel have to work together to get them back

[fiapple]

i'm getting towards the end of the skypeia arc, & i'd like to say just how much i adore the way the female strawhats have been treated.

just... every aspect of how the way their characters have been previously contextualized influences the story-line is treated with a masterful amount of consideration. we're given so many layers to both of them that enrich not only their characters specifically, but the arc, and the one piece world as a whole. without nami & robin having their specific skills, and their specific values, without those being built upon, the story would have come to a halt.

you could not have skypeia without nami & robin being who they are as individuals. not just because they never would've gotten there without nami, but also because the way these women think is itself foundational to the machinations of the arc as a whole.

to be totally upfront, if you think any other strawhats were more central to the skypeia arc than nami & robin were you are full-on fucking lying to yourself.