#it’d be nice to do a much longer one

[what-the-fuck-khr]

what-the-fuck-khr’s most popular sky is tsunayoshi! he won with 38.6% out of 10 characters!

[plutotheplum]

Socks and Kisses

leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: a spontaneous shopping trip has leon re-evaluating his friendship with you.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, p in v, spanking, oral sex, praise kink, fluff, friends/roommates to lovers, fantasizing

wc: 3.7k

also posted on ao3!

There’s a shriek leaving you when you trip over a bundle of shoes in the doorway. It nearly sends you hurtling towards the floor, but there’s an arm curling around your waist, tugging you up before you can fall. Leon.

You glare up at your roommate, shoving at his chest so it sends him stumbling.

“Seriously, Leon? How many times have I told you to put your shoes to the side of the doorway?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest.

He winces at your shrill voice, his hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I was busy,” he says, his eyes pleading with you, “you know with… with work.”

You’re shooting him an unimpressed look, pushing past him to put the groceries on the kitchen counter. It was your day to collect them anyways. Living with Leon had happened entirely by accident. One shittily written apartment listing later and the poor guy was standing outside your door, begging you to let him move in. It hadn’t been so bad. Leon had been nice, and you two had gotten along well, becoming friends even. The only thing you couldn’t stand was how messy the man was.

Empty boxes from delivered packages, stray parchment sheets from when he’d bake himself something and socks strewn haphazardly across the floor, much like his shoes. Leon had practically turned your apartment into a deathtrap. 

You don’t get to reminisce for much longer, not when he’s reaching for the pack of popsicles you’d bought. Leon lets out a low whine, like a kicked puppy, when you swat his hand away and shoot him an irritated glance. “I’m putting my foot down,” you tell him firmly, “no more unorganized socks, shoes or- or anything for that matter!”

Leon only tilts his head, blinking over at you. You glance towards the clock before your eyes are flitting back to meet his.

“Ikea,” you explain, “we’re going to Ikea to get you some organizers or whatever.” 

“ Now? ” Leon asks, raising his brows “but I was going to go to the gym with Chris and-” he’s shutting up when he sees your hardened glare.

Leon lets out an exasperated huff, and you’re smiling over at him, happy you’ve won this argument. Just to reward him, you’re digging out a popsicle from the pack and handing it to him. “So stubborn,” he mumbles under his breath, freeing the popsicle from its wrapper. 

“I heard that,” you reply, sticking your tongue out at him.

You both finish up your popsicles, and you’re tossing him his car keys while you pull your shoes on again. 

“Why do I have to drive?” he complains, leaning against the doorway.

“Because it’s your mess,” you retort, rolling your eyes, “and you’re paying as well.”

Leon lets out a scoff, “oh, fuck you.”

You smile back at him, patting him on the shoulder for some comfort. You manage to annoy him a little more during the drive to Ikea, and Leon’s contemplating whether he should just stuff your mouth with the rolled up catalog you’re currently holding

It’s when you both get to the kitchen area that Leon realizes something’s wrong. His eyes are watching the way you bend over the model kitchen counter, gaze trained on the way your skirt rides up slightly, exposing the backs of your thighs. He swallows harshly, wondering what it might be like to come up behind you, grab your hips and grind his cock against your ass. 

Your voice breaks him out of his dazed thoughts, your hand waving him over as you point to the price tag.

“Don’t you think this is a catch?” You ask him, head tilting back to meet his eyes.

“A catch?” He echoes, raising his brows, “it’s $2000 . Do you even have $2000?” 

You roll your eyes, elbowing him in the stomach. “Don’t be such a jerk, Leon. I think it’d look good in our apartment.”

There it is. Our apartment. The words are so comfortably domestic that it has Leon’s knuckles squeezing tight around the basket he’s holding. He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t imagined you two dating. Especially after that time he’d come home drunk one night. You’d taken care of him so sweetly, despite all of your grumbles and chastisements, that Leon felt like he was falling in love.

That had only happened once though, and Leon wasn’t prepared to make a big deal about his feelings so he buried them deep down and carried on with his life.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on his little crush any longer, brows furrowing when he feels the basket in his hand grow heavier. You’ve been milling about, dumping various little trays and organizational tidbits into the basket.

“At this point, I think you’re trying to max out my card,” he drawls, trailing after you.

“I’m helping you, Leon” you shoot back, bringing a candle up to your nose to smell its scent.

It’s not until you both get to the bedding area that Leon realizes he might actually be losing it. 

He’s sitting down on the edge of one of the beds, the basket settled on the floor with how heavy it’s become. 

You’re fluttering about, checking out the duvet covers and pillow cases. His eyes watch over you, letting you take a seat beside him on the bed when you find a duvet cover you like.

“Pretty, right?” You ask him, showing him the design.

“I guess,” he murmurs absentmindedly. 

He thinks you look prettier though. Besides, it’s not like he can tell you that he’s imagining taking you on this very bed. Your face pressed into the pillows, his cock stuffed into your pussy. You’d probably make cute noises too, clench around his cock while he thrusted into you. He’d let everyone watch, he thinks, make sure everyone knew that you were his. 

You’re snapping your fingers in his face, trying to get him to pay attention to you.

“Are you okay?” You ask, staring into his eyes “you keep getting distracted.”

“What?” Leon flushes, clearing his throat “yeah- yeah I’m fine… just had enough of you is all.”

You swat his shoulder and he rolls his eyes. Both of you manage to get to the checkout without any further bickering. Leon’s card doesn’t max out thankfully, but you wince when you see the total, ignoring Leon’s glower as he tears the receipt from the machine.

To make up for the spontaneous shopping spree, you buy him a soft serve and hand it to him with a smile. 

Leon takes it with a grumble, his eyes dropping to the way you lick at your soft serve. The icy treat smudges across your lips, and he’s reaching out before he can stop himself, his thumb swiping at the corner of your mouth to clean the mess. 

“Think you might be the messy one,” he mutters gruffly, drawing his hand back. 

“Your socks alone have nearly crippled me” you reply, nibbling at the cone to try and quell the race of your heart at his unexpected action. 

Leon lets out a loud sigh, shaking his head. The drive home is quiet, the soft sounds of the radio filling up the car’s space.

You help Leon with the stuff you bought, leaving the goods in his room before letting out a satisfied nod.

“There. Now you don’t have an excuse for being messy. Better start cleaning up, Leon” you chirp, giving him a snarky smile before tugging his door shut.

You sigh happily, mind feeling at ease. You’re sure that your apartment won’t be so messy anymore. The sounds of Leon rummaging inside his room almost make you feel bad, but this had been going on for months and you were glad you had done something about it. 

Deciding to grab some food, you reach for the can of peaches on the kitchen counter. By some misfortune, your hand accidentally knocks the can, sending it rolling towards the edge. Letting out an irritated huff, you’re reaching across the counter to grab the can before it falls off. 

While this happens, you’re blissfully unaware of the fact that your skirt is riding up. Leon feels his heart nearly jump out of his chest at the sight when he had wandered out of his room to grab a garbage bag. 

He can see the swell of your ass, your cheeks peeking out from your panties as you’re bent over, grabbing the can of peaches. 

“Have you made it some sort of mission to bend over every kitchen counter you see?” he asks dryly, his arms crossing over his chest.

You squeak in surprise, body jolting. The can of peaches slips from your hand pitifully, landing on the floor with a loud thunk .

“Why are you sneaking up on me?” You whine, turning to give him a glare.

Leon doesn’t reply, coming to a stop in front of you. His blue eyes are dark, dirty blonde hair hanging over his forehead.

“Um… Leon?” You wave your hand in front of his face. 

“I’m starting to think you’re doing it on purpose,” he murmurs, his hand catching yours.

“Hm?” he squeezes your hand, his head lowering so he can stare right into his eyes, “bending over every kitchen counter so I can see your pretty ass?” 

You manage to gather your wits, letting out a loud scoff and push at his chest.

“You’re such a perv, Leon!” you accuse, narrowing your eyes and placing your hands on your hips. 

“I’m not a perv if you keep bending over like that!” he shoots back, his hands grabbing at your forearms to tug you towards him. 

You swallow harshly when his calloused hands drift past your wrists, finding your hands and lacing his fingers with yours. The warmth of his body seeps into yours and your head is tilting, eyes finding his.

“We- we are not fucking,” you whisper, shaking your head.

“Who said anything about fucking?” Leon asks, his head lowering again. 

His body presses against yours, causing your breath to hitch. You’re biting your lip at the way it feels, the hard planes of his body molding against yours.

“One kiss,” he whispers, peering into your eyes, “please? Just one kiss and it’ll be over.”

You’d be doing yourself a disservice if you denied his request. Leon was stupidly handsome even if he was a little annoying at times, and you had maybe masturbated to the thought of your roommate before.

“Did you happen to forget that we’re roommates?” you raise your brows, trying to voice your concerns.

“Roommates kiss all the time,” he says, his nose nudging against yours gently, “now c’mon, gimme a kiss.”

You don't know what sort of roommates he’s been hanging around, but you’re almost certain that roommates don’t kiss or do whatever the hell you two are doing right now. 

Leon doesn’t know what he’s doing either. That one shopping trip had seriously messed up his brain, but he was here now so there was no going back. Your lips look so pretty, your eyes all starry. He wants to kiss you senseless and bend you over that stupid kitchen counter while he fucks into you until you’re crying on his cock.

As if to encourage you a little more, he nudges his nose against yours again. You send him a glare, eyes slipping shut as you rock up on the tips of your toes and brush your lips against his. The kiss is fleeting, a mere touch of your lips against his, and it’s safe to say Leon is not impressed.

“There,” you say, trying to hide the smirk that spreads across your face, “you got a kiss. Now leave me alone.”

Leon lets out a low groan, his head falling against your shoulder, “you’re a fuckin’ tease, you know that?”

You hum, pushing at his chest, taking the opportunity to free yourself from the confines of his grasp.

“Not so fast,” he murmurs, his hand snagging onto your shirt, “c’mere baby.”

His low voice has the butterflies in your stomach fluttering, your eyes widening when his hands cup your cheeks and he presses his lips against yours.

It doesn’t take you long to respond, arms wrapping around his neck as he kisses you fiercely. He groans into your mouth, his arms winding around your waist to pull you closer. 

You’re both flush against each other and you let out an irritated noise when he shoves you up against the kitchen counter, feeling the solid surface dig into your back.

“Drove me crazy at that Ikea,” he whispers against your lips, his hands sneaking under your skirt to give your ass an appreciative grope, “thought about fucking you on one of those beds.”

The idea of it is so obscene and indecent that you find yourself moaning out loud.

“Yeah? You like that, baby? Me fucking you in front of everyone, letting them know that you’re mine?” 

You’re nodding desperately at his filthy questions, trying to tug his shirt off so you can see his chest and abdomen. He obliges you, quickly shrugging off his shirt. Your teeth sink into your lower lip at the sight, eyes half-lidded. 

You can’t help the way your body leans forward, lips pressing soft kisses across his chest and his pecs. Leon sucks in a sharp breath, his hands moving to cradle the back of your head.

“Just kisses, huh?” he murmurs.

You nod, peering up at him “no fucking, remember?”

He hums, tilting your head so he can kiss you again. Leon kisses you over and over until you can’t breathe. You’re feeling so dazed that you don’t even notice he’s spinning you around, bending you over the kitchen counter. There’s a soft whine escaping you when he flips your skirt up, his hands squeezing at your ass before his fingers slip under your panties, tugging the fabric back and letting it snap back against you.

Your fingers are scrabbling at the counter top when you feel him drop to his knees, his lips pressing against the skin of your ass. He kisses your body so reverently, you think you might actually pass out.

“Wanna kiss your pussy too,” he mumbles, tugging your panties down. You shudder when you feel his breath hit your sensitive skin, hips swaying back to meet the kisses he places on your clit.

His tongue lolls out before long, lapping at your cunt, collecting the slick that drips from you. 

“That- that is not kissing,” you whimper out, head falling against the coolness of the counter.

“Sure it is,” he whispers, burying his face deeper into your pussy, “just dirty kisses, sweetheart.”

The way he eats you out is messy. Leon’s trying to shove his face deeper between your thighs, his lips suctioning around your pussy. You mewl when he draws back and spits on your cunt, his mouth latching on soon after. You’re not sure how much longer you can hold on, knees beginning to shake. Leon delivers a particularly toe-curling suck to your clit and you’re shuddering, letting out whines and whimpers when he lets out a low laugh, his tongue swiping over your cunt repeatedly.

“Leon- fuck! Leon, ‘m gonna-” you can barely speak properly. 

“Then come , baby,” he whispers, his tongue pressing into your fluttering hole.

You squeal at the unfamiliar sensation, knuckles turning white as you come on his tongue. He licks up your slick eagerly, his wet lips pressing soft kisses against the swell of your ass as you pant.

He stands up, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. You press your back against his chest, turning your head to kiss along his jaw. His eyes flutter shut, his hands smoothing along your back to undo the clasp of your bra. 

Your arms lift and Leon helps you take off your shirt and bra, letting out a soft sigh as your head falls back against his shoulder. Leon’s hands are restless, reaching for your breasts. 

He hums at the sight of your hard nipples, pinching and rolling them between his fingers before letting go to squeeze your tits. 

“You’re real pretty, sweetheart” he whispers, kissing your cheek.

You mewl, cheeks flushing. You hadn’t expected him to talk to you so sweetly. Leon feels your body lurch forward, tits pressing against his palms. He laughs, giving another firm grope to your tits and finds your lips to give you another filthy kiss. While he kisses you, Leon grinds his hips against your ass, and you gasp into his mouth, feeling the outline of his cock through his shorts.

“Think my cock wants to give your cute pussy some kisses too,” he says, his mouth pressed against your ear, “you up for it, baby?”

You could be a bobblehead with how fast your head is moving up and down. Leon grins against your ear, placing another kiss to your cheek before he’s bending you over the counter. The coolness of the counter startles you slightly, but Leon’s hand rubs up and down your back, warming your skin. 

Tits squished against the hard surface, your feet on the tips of your toes, pussy glistening with his spit and your arousal, Leon can hardly believe his fantasy has come to fruition. He wants to take a picture, keep it safe and jerk off to the sight of you when he’s alone. There’s no pictures taken though, instead Leon’s hand delivers a heavy slap to one of your ass cheeks.

You moan, back arching slightly as you try and chase the feeling. It hurts and you can feel the sting of his palm prickling across your skin, but you want him to spank you again so badly.

“L- Leon, want more,” you mumble, looking back at him.

Leon takes your request in stride, his hand coming down on your ass repeatedly. Your body slumps against the counter, soft noises escaping you as he rains slap after slap onto your reddening skin. 

“Shit, sweetheart” he whispers, his hands smoothing over the damage he’s done to your ass “so fuckin’ pretty.”

There’s a babbled noise escaping you. Mind feeling like mush, all you can think about is Leon. He smooths his hands over your sensitive skin a few more times, trying to soothe the pain before you feel him squeeze gently as he presses the head of his cock against your aching hole.

Leon pushes into your pussy with a groan, his hands squeezing at your hips. It almost feels like he’s trying to ground himself.

“Fuck-” he hisses, drawing his hips back to thrust back into you again, “ fuck - you’re so tight, baby.”

You whimper at the feeling of his cock stretching you out. Leon’s thrusts are beginning to pick up in speed and you’re whining, the force of his thrusts making your body rub against the kitchen counter.

“Leon, Leon, Leon,” you chant his name and his body is draping over yours, lips pressing kisses to your shoulder and back, “feels so good,” you slur. 

His hips are rutting against your ass, cock stuffing you full. You’re moaning so loudly that Leon has to slip his hand over your mouth in an effort to quieten your noises. His balls are slapping against your clit and the combined stimulation is making your head spin.

Soon, his hand is leaving your mouth to grip your hips again. 

“Take my fucking cock,” he grunts, each word punctuated with a harsh slap to your ass. 

“It’s too much!” you wail, nails clawing at the counter to try and crawl away.

He growls, grip tightening as he keeps you in place, “don’t you dare run. Take my cock like a good girl, baby.”

“You’re insane,” you cry, but there’s a cockdrunk smile spreading across your face as he fucks into you. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, his head lowering so he can whisper into your ear, “and it’s all for you, because- because I like you.” 

There’s a loud whine ripping out of you at that, wet heat clenching around him. No one’s confessed to you before, like ever . You suck in a sharp breath, trying to calm your heart and stop the excited flipping of your stomach that comes with his confession.

Leon moans when he feels the clench of your walls around his cock and he’s fucking into you with renewed fervor. 

“I like you,” he whispers again “like you so much, sweetheart. Always taking care of me, looking out for me, makes me feel special.” 

“Only do that ‘cause you’re an idiot, Leon” you mumble, swallowing back another moan that threatens to spill out. 

“But you do it anyway,” he murmurs, driving his cock into you.

You gasp, eyes squeezing shut as his fat tip grazes the spot deep inside of you. He grunts when he feels you getting tighter, feels you clenching hard around his cock.

“You gonna come for me?” he asks, sucking little love bites onto your neck, “hm? Can feel you clenching around me, baby.”

“Wanna- wanna come at the same time,” you babble “right, Leon? Since- since you like me, we gotta come at the same time.”

He’s letting out a hoarse laugh, kissing your shoulder again, “yeah baby, I’m right there with you.”

All of a sudden, he’s burying himself to the hilt inside of you and your mouth drops open, a sharp noise leaving you as you both come. Your body is limp against the counter, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat as you pant. Leon kisses your neck, letting out a whine as his cum spurts into you. It’s warm and thick, filling you up so perfectly that it has a serene smile settling on your face.

He helps you onto your feet, his hands rubbing up and down your sides to soothe your shaky legs. You feel him press a soft kiss to the side of your head and you’re rocking up on the tips of your toes, returning a kiss to his cheek.

“I like you too, Leon” you whisper, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him down for another kiss. 

You can feel him smile against your lips and he’s kissing you back sweetly. Leon keeps you there for a while as you both kiss, his hands petting across your tired body.

He takes you to his room later, his hand encasing yours. The moment is almost perfect, if not for the sock on the floor that sends you careening into his desk. “Leon!” you grit out.

He only laughs, his arms wrapping around your waist as he picks you up and tosses you onto his bed.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

[chelseeebe]

just a taste

18+. mdni. smut. kinda perv!eddie x fem!reader. he is a lil freaky in this i'll admit.

a/n: i just love the idea of the citrus six all living together lol idk i think it’s so nice also i have never watched cheers i just googled 1991 american tv shows and picked one at random LMAO ++ for the movie, i thought it’d be a nice lil easter egg for them to watch something with winona in:,)

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

eddie doesn’t know who you are or why you’re coming to visit or why exactly it was him that was being made to vacate his room for the two weeks that you were here. 

“c’mon eddie,” robin pleads, nay, demands, “you sleep on the couch most nights anyway, what’s the difference?” 

“uh, maybe because it’s my room? i don’t want some random girl in there touching my stuff,” almost flabbergasted that she’s even asking. 

“she’s not a random girl,” robin frowns, “she’s my friend and she needs somewhere to stay.” 

“tell her there’s a great hotel in town,” rolling his eyes, trying to leave the conversation before she breaks out the puppy dog eyes. "i'll even give her a ride if you ask nicely," no longer interested in entertaining this conversation.

“i’ll give you fifty bucks,” robin deadpans, using her last resort.

this was bribery of the highest order but eddie's not stupid. fifty bucks is fifty bucks.

“now?” 

she sighs, sliding her wallet from her pocket to reluctantly hand over the bill. she stops just before it touches his palm, “promise you’ll clean your room.” 

eddie goes to grab the paper but robin’s faster, jolting her hand into the air, “and change your sheets.” 

“okay,” he huffs, holding his palm outstretched. 

she graciously places the note down, smiling wickedly as she does so before skipping off back to her own room. 

he can only roll his eyes, turning around to the shit hole that was his room, wondering if fifty dollars was worth having to tackle it. 

-

eddie’s sat on the couch when you arrive, barely looking back as robin begins to fuss, talking loudly about your journey. he doesn’t really care enough to involve himself, besides, elvis presley had just given sam a very important message. 

“eddie,” robin hisses, standing in front of the screen, “don’t be rude, say hello,” her hands firmly on her hips like she was his mother or something. 

he looks up at the looming figure by the couch, hoping his eyes hadn’t given his immediate shock away too much. 

you flash him a sheepish smile back, waggling your fingers in a short wave. 

two weeks on the couch didn’t seem so bad now. 

not if you were sleeping in his bed. 

it’s just a shame that he wouldn’t be in there sharing it. 

“hey,” he stands, hoping to indiscreetly catch his breath, “i’m- uh, i’m eddie,” offering his hand out, though he regrets it as soon as it’s done. 

who shakes hands now? christ. he needed to get a grip, and badly. 

“hey,” you reply, your name dripping from your tongue. though you do shake his hand, not bothering to hide your confusion in the process. 

“eddie very kindly said you could have his room,” a bright, big sarcastic smile on her lips. 

“yeah.. no biggie..” christ, he’s almost panting. “do whatever you want in there.. or you know, just- just make yourself at home.” 

his desperate pleas for the earth to split open and swallow him whole go unanswered. instead, robin shoots him a concerned glare before ushering you away from his weird, longing gaze. 

'pull it together loser' she mouths before disappearing, leaving him to reflect upon how utterly hard he had just fumbled that entire situation. 

-

when everyone’s home from work and you’ve exchanged niceties and greetings with the rest of the house, robin brightly suggests a movie. 

eddie usually hated movie nights in the house. 

jonathan would want to watch some indie cult classic that no one else had ever heard of, steve wanted to watch some dumb comedy that only he’d find funny and then nancy and robin typically opted for the romance genre. 

leaving eddie and argyle with absolutely no choice but to sit in silence as they bickered. 

tonight it’s different, you get to pick. 

and now he’s not saying that whatever you choose will forever change the way he views you but.. well, that’s actually exactly it. 

you land on edward scissorhands. 

not the worst choice you could’ve made, and hey, his mom used to call him edward when he was in real bad trouble. 

in the end, it doesn’t really matter what you had picked because eddie can’t muster up enough energy to actually care about the film. not while your thighs are peeking out from underneath your oversized shirt. he can’t help but wonder what they’d feel like wrapped around his ears. what previous sounds would fall out of your mouth in response.

at some point during the movie, you stand up and walk out of the room to the kitchen but that doesn’t stop him. staring through the open door, marvelling at the way the hem of your shirt lifts, exposing the tiny shorts you had on underneath. 

he’s practically hanging over the back of the couch to get a look, craning his neck at a ninety degree angle just to get a glimpse of your soft, pillowy skin. pinching himself as he tries to resist the urge to just sink his teeth into your inner thigh.

robin jabs her elbow into his ribcage, drawing his eyes back to the room with a grunt and a harsh glare thrown her way. 

“you’ve been staring at her all night,” she whispers angrily into his ear, “stop it, or next time it’s your balls,” a harsh warning he didn’t find entirely necessary. 

you sidle back into the room, drink in hand and eddie can’t help but let his eyes wander over again, short glances that robin hopefully wouldn’t pick up on. 

he can’t help it, some magnetic force swaying his gaze in your direction. he wishes so badly that he could just crawl out of his head and tell you how much he wanted you. 

unfortunately for eddie, he’d instead spend the night dreaming of your ass and all the ways he could have you if he’d only grow a backbone. 

-

living alongside you is an entirely new feat eddie’s not sure he’ll survive. 

it’s torturous. 

testing the limits of how ridiculously horny one man can get without self-imploding. 

so close and yet so far. each night you’d tuck yourself into his bed, doing god knows what in between his sheets all without eddie getting a look in.

of course he’d made up a hundred different scenarios to fall asleep to each night. 

his favourite being the one where he walks into his bedroom to find you mouth open, legs apart, too encapsulated in your pleasure to notice him. only until you do, inviting him closer, between those supple thighs of yours, a forbidden nirvana he’ll never get to know. 

though more often than not he’s cruelly forced back into reality by robin ripping the curtains open at the ass crack of dawn, blaring sunlight on his face as you slip away from the grapples of his dream land. 

now is his opportunity, the house quiet, bar the muffled giggles of you and robin upstairs. he’s safe for now, he thinks, rather foolishly. it’s late, the rest of them asleep or too busy in their own rooms to catch him in the act. 

eddie’s never done anything like this before. it’s disgusting, perverted to the core. 

good grief, this is prosecutable behaviour. 

tiptoeing down the hall to his room, the door open just a crack, enticing him in further. he can still hear you on the floor above, giving him enough confidence to push it open a little more, edging inside with a quick glance back down the hall, just in case. 

gratefully it seemed that you were just as messy as he was, your clothes strewn across the floor. his eyes immediately turning to the peeking of lace from under the pile. glancing one last time at the cracked door, ensuring that absolutely nobody would see him. 

reaching down to gather the fabric in one quick swoop, bunching them in his palm as he lets out a quick sigh of relief. 

oh fuck. they were so soft, fingers spreading to really get a feel. he wasn't even going to take them, he'd just wanted a little look, something to help his overactive imagination get all the important details right.

“what are you doing?” startling him in this precarious position, the lace of your underwear entangled around his fingertips. 

eddie freezes, he can feel the heat rising through his chest, all the way up to the tips of his ears. scarlet red. 

“uh.. i..i-i don’t know..” he hasn’t done anything like this before, he swears. 

your mouth is open in a sort of half-smirk, half-perplexed gawp, closing the door before he could bolt. 

you move around the mess, creeping closer until he can feel you brushing against his side, peering over into his hand. 

“oh wow..” you remark, breath hot and sweet against his cheek, “what were you gonna do with those?” 

eddie feels sick, trying not to projectile vomit across his room. there’s no way you wouldn’t tell robin. fuck. he could hear you now, voice full of disgust, robin laughing at how pathetic he was. 

“n-nothing i swear..” stumbling through his sentence, “i was just..” excuses fail to come to mind, “i was uhm.. looking for something,” the absolute best his flustered mind to muster up. 

“oh really?” reaching around to untangle them from his hand, “you sure about that?” 

there’s no anger to your voice, but he doesn’t dare turn around to look at your face. afraid of what he’ll find. your eyes pitying, sad that he has to root around your dirty laundry to get off. 

“i’m- i’m sure,” though the crack in his voice gives him away. 

you hum, coming around to stand in front of his gormless face, “so you don’t wanna keep these?” holding the evidence up to his face, the hem just barely grazing his cheek. 

eddie’s knees almost buckle, his breath shuddering as any semblance of composure he had left, floats right out the window. 

“here,” reaching forward to tuck the baby blue fabric into the waistband of his sweatpants, your eyes never once leaving his as you do so. “you keep those.. but next time just ask, okay?” 

he nods like an obedient dog, lapping up the scraps you were throwing him. he could stand here all night long, keeping up the weird little power game you’d started. 

“goodnight eddie,” you smile, giving him a gentle nudge, a sign for him to get the fuck out. 

you were the master, he was just the lap dog, eager to please. 

-

at breakfast the next morning, he struggles to even keep his eyes open. having spent an embarrassingly long amount of time on the couch last night shamelessly sniffing the lace you’d gifted him. 

you don’t even acknowledge it, or him for that matter. happily chatting along with nancy about some news article. 

“oh and eddie,” robin begins, flashing him a stern look, “i don’t appreciate finding your fucking panties in between the couch cushions,” 

he chokes on his mouthful, his knife clattering against the table in shock. a multitude of eyes turn to stare at the spectacle he was making. 

“they’re- they’re not mine,” clearing his throat as he clears his name, though he doesn’t dare look in your direction, terrified that he’d absolutely lose his mind if he did. 

“well whoever’s they are, i don’t care, stop leaving them on the couch.. i’m sure our guest doesn’t want to sit amongst dirty underwear,” she bites, calming down now she had gotten her point across. 

if only she knew. 

eddie must’ve fallen asleep with them still attached to his hand, thanking his lucky stars that no one had walked in on him with them pressed to his nose.  

he keeps his head low, focusing on the plate in front of him. nothing had ever been as mortifying as this. not even the time he had slipped off the dinner table in the middle of the cafeteria. 

cutlery scrapes and clinks against the china, uncomfortable silence until argyle clears his throat, “gnarly meal robin, thanks dude,” seemingly settling the tense atmosphere, for now. 

everybody hums in agreement, getting back to their food without another word. but your eyes peek up, meeting his with an indescribable glint. and really, the worst part is that eddie would sit through this horrific situation a hundred more times, just for one more measly sniff at your panties. 

-

eddie can’t take it anymore. 

he’s never been so pent up in his entire life. and he’s tried to hold on until he could move back into his room but he couldn’t last any longer. 

but he’s careful, waiting for everyone to trundle on off to bed, listening carefully for the muted click of the light switch and even then, waiting another hour to be sure. 

the clock glares an alarming 1:04 by the time his belt clinks and his jeans come down, the first of them would be awake in just a few hours, ready to take you on to the airport. 

he wishes it would’ve played out differently, that he wouldn’t be sat here on the last night of your stay alone. but alas, eddie’s never been particularly brave and especially not in regards to hot women. 

your panties wrapped around his right hand as he spits on his left, wrapping around his stiff cock while his fingertips play with the lace in his other hand. 

“ohh fuck,” he hisses, wanting nothing more than to start hollering the house down. 

robin wouldn’t be too pleased if she ever found out what he’d done. and he can’t really afford to get the entire couch dry-cleaned so he really must be careful. 

thinking quick, he shoves his t-shirt into his mouth, muffling the chorus of grunts and groans threatening to spill over into the dark room. the muted light from the tv illuminates his face, breathing loudly through his nose 

he hadn’t heard the door open or the soft sound of your feet padding down the hall, only made aware of your presence when he reopens his eyes, near enough jumping out of his bones. 

how long had you been there watching him shudder and whine?

“fuck,” he exclaims, fist still wrapped tight around his throbbing cock, too aroused to care about it too much. 

“you want some help with that?” 

eddie looks at his dick, then back at you, mouth hung open in a mixture of awe and confusion. 

it’s not very clear but you move closer anyway, sinking to your knees and nestling in between his spread legs. 

“okay?” maintaining eye contact despite how difficult it was, eyes bright and eager. 

he nods, unable to comprehend what was happening. knowing he’d wake up from this twisted dream to some soggy boxers and a whole lotta shame. 

your palm wraps around the base of his cock, shooing his hands away to make room, smiling as your lips wrap around the already leaking tip. were you a psychopath? were you placed on this earth to goad and tease him?

this isn’t real. this isn’t real. the voice repeats around his head though it’s quickly silenced by your tongue swirling circles around the tip of his cock, readjusting his t-shirt to bite down harshly on the fabric. 

eddie’s hands lay useless on his thighs, twitching to intertwine with your hair, still doubting the reality of the situation. this could all be a dream and the second he touches your hair, you’d disappear from in front of his eyes.

the t-shirt falls from his lips, “fuuck,” grunting into the tense air, gritting his teeth so as to not expose your precarious position to the rest of the house. 

the wet sounds of your lips wrapped tight around his cock make his toes curl, his hands find your hair, not without prompting from you. tugging gently at the tendrils as his head starts to spin. 

when your eyes look up to meet his, eddie thinks he might just cum right down your throat then and there. he can see that troublesome glint in your eye, a roaring fire that he so desperately wants to keep stoking. 

your fingers slide up his thigh, finding his neglected balls and with a slight smirk, you grab ahold, gently fondling them as his brain melts out of his ears. 

no one had ever, ever made him feel so good. collectively losing brain cells when you hum on his cock, getting just as much out of this as he was. 

“oh yeah, fuck- shit fuck, i’mcummingi’mcummingi’mcumming,” eddie’s mouth rushes, louder than he ever should’ve been. bright flashes of light fill his peripheral, using your scalp as leverage to keep himself on the couch. 

his hips stutter, thrusting into your mouth with his fingers tight in your hair, yanking harshly in an effort to get your lips off of him before he came everywhere. 

you don’t budge, nails digging into his thigh as his release seeps down your throat, his eyes squeezing shut as his fist instinctively comes up to muffle his mouth, moaning into his clammy palm instead of alerting the entire house. 

eddie’s other hand lets go of his strong hold on your hair, allowing you to get off of his dick, panting happily as you sit up between his knees and with lips glistening with his release, you kiss him. all soft and gentle while his brain fails to compute. 

it should be gross. but eddie just can’t find it in himself to care, because in reality, this was the hottest thing that had ever happened in his measly little life. 

“please let me taste you,” he begs between kisses, grasping desperately at your waist, the fabric of your shirt slipping between his desperate fingers.

you giggle, pulling back to look at him through the dimmed light, “not now,” you hover just above, constantly teasing and unobtainable

“well when?" jutting his bottom lip out in hopes it'd convince you to change your mind.

"when i'm back," letting him down gently. eddie'd count the seconds till you came back if that was what it took to get even a tiny glimpse of your pussy.

“what time do you leave?” he pants, chasing your lips. eddie was nothing if not a chancer, though if it hadn't happened already, there's a miniscule chance of it happening now.

“seven,” whispering back, a hint of annoyance that this build up had only crescendoed now, just as you were about to leave. he'll blame robin for that, poking her nose in and trying to turn him off. it shouldn't have worked. he should've been braver.

“but it’s your turn,” an awful sadness and regret overcoming him. someone better, someone like steve, would've had you pinned to that couch by now, his head between your thighs and your slick dripping down his chin.  

“next time,” only repeating yourself, smiling coyly before you plant one last kiss to his longing lips before standing fully upright and disappearing back off to his room, leaving him reeling with a story nobody else would ever believe.

[littlelamy]

Could you write a Rafe x reader fic where reader says she wants to spend more time with Rafe, but he gets upsets and says something mean in the heat of the moment. Reader is upset and stops "bothering" him and initially Rafe doesn't realise it, but he figures out you're ignoring him

Maybe with a fluffy HEA ending, but if you want to keep it angsty I'm also all for it (:

hope you like it! ⭐️ it was a quiet friday night when you finally found the courage to bring it up. things with rafe hadn’t been the same for a while. he was always out with friends or buried in work, his phone practically glued to his hand. you could see him drifting further and further away, and it left you feeling like an afterthought. you missed him, missed the little moments when he’d look at you like you were the only person in the world.

so, you decided to say something—softly, carefully—as the two of you sat on the couch with takeout boxes scattered around you.

“hey…baby,” you started, keeping your voice light. “i was thinking… it’d be nice if we could spend a little more time together, you know? just us.”

rafe barely looked up, shoveling food into his mouth. “what’re you talking about?” he mumbled through a bite. “we’re together now, aren’t we?”

you forced a smile. “yeah, but… i mean like actually spending time together. like doing something fun. or even just… talking.”

he let out an irritated sigh, setting his food down with a clatter. “are you serious right now? i’ve got so much shit to deal with, and you’re really gonna start whining about ‘spending time together’? Jesus, can you just not be so goddamn needy for once?”

the words hit you like a punch. you froze, staring at him, trying to process the fact that he’d actually said that. rafe’s face was already turned away, clearly oblivious to the way his words had cut through you.

you felt your throat tighten, but you managed to swallow back the hurt, forcing yourself not to react. the last thing you wanted was to give him more reason to see you as a burden. so, you nodded, blinking down at your food, even though you suddenly couldn’t eat a bite.

“sorry,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. but rafe didn’t hear, or maybe he just didn’t care enough to ask you to repeat it. he’d already gone back to his phone, acting like the conversation had never even happened.

that night, you made a decision. if rafe wanted space, you’d give him space. you stopped asking him to go out with you, to spend time together, to do any of the little things you used to enjoy. when he came home late, you didn’t wait up. when he sat down on the couch, you found something else to do. if he wanted room, you’d make sure he had more than enough of it.

at first, rafe didn’t seem to notice the change. he thought you were just busy with work or hanging out with friends, maybe that you’d taken his words to heart. it wasn’t until a few days had passed that he started to feel the shift, the strange, nagging quiet in the air whenever you were around.

you were no longer the warm, lively presence you used to be, filling the silence with laughter, stories, and little gestures of affection. instead, you felt distant, almost guarded, your movements careful, like you were tiptoeing around him. you didn’t smile at him the way you used to; you didn’t light up when he came home. you’d become polite, restrained, keeping just enough distance that he felt it even when he didn’t want to.

one night, rafe came home late, expecting to see you in the living room with a book or a show. but the lights were dim, the place eerily silent, and when he checked the bedroom, you were already asleep. he stood there for a moment, feeling an odd pang of emptiness. he brushed it off, but as the days went by, the feeling gnawed at him more and more, leaving him with an ache he couldn’t ignore.

finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. one night, he found you alone in the kitchen, stirring a cup of tea with your gaze far away. he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched you, his expression unreadable.

“are you avoiding me or something?” he asked, his tone sharper than he’d intended.

you looked up, a flicker of surprise in your eyes before you masked it with a tight smile. “no, i’m not avoiding you, rafe. i just… didn’t want to bother you.”

that word—bother—hit him hard, dredging up the memory of his own callous words. he felt something twist in his chest as he realized what he’d done, how his careless anger had made you feel so small, like you didn’t even deserve to be there.

“fuck,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “look, i’m sorry, alright? i was a complete asshole, princess. i was stressed, and i took it out on you, and i shouldn’t have done that.”

you shrugged, your face guarded, unreadable. “it’s fine. i get it. you’re busy, and i didn’t want to get in your way.”

“Jesus, stop saying that,” he mumbled, stepping closer, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “you’re not in my way. you’re the only person who… who makes all this shit bearable. i just didn’t see it until you started pulling away.”

for a long moment, you said nothing, just staring at him, weighing his words. finally, he took a tentative step forward, reaching for your hand. when you didn’t pull away, he felt a flicker of hope.

“let me make it up to you,” he whispered, his voice rough. “i’ll cancel my plans this weekend. we’ll do whatever you want, i swear. just… give me another chance.”

your gaze softened, and a small, hesitant smile crept onto your lips. “alright. one chance.”

he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you up in a tight embrace, his relief flooding through him. you relaxed into him, and for the first time in days, you felt the warmth return, that aching void in your chest slowly filling up again.

“i’m sorry, baby,” he murmured, his voice low, genuine. “i swear, i’ll never take you for granted again. you mean too fucking much to me.”

you let your head rest on his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath you, his arms strong and comforting. and as he held you there, you felt the hurt start to fade, replaced by a quiet, growing hope that maybe, just maybe, things would be different this time.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole

[suguann]

SAY YOU'RE MINE—GOJO SATORU.

✎.You shouldn’t elicit his attention more than any other Omega at the party—he doesn’t remember inviting that many—but he’s wondering how he let you slip by. | wc. 1.4k+

tags. fem!reader, age-gap, very shy reader, exhibitionism, reader wears glasses, a/b/o, 18+ only

masterlist

The big, awful truth nobody tells you about hosting your fortieth birthday is how the shine of the day wears off once you see your friends and acquaintances laughing with their loved ones, talking about their kids, showing off pictures of newborns swaddled in soft linens, and making plans for upcoming holidays. 

Gojo sips his drink, pretending to understand. He’s never given much thought to settling down, to take an omega as a mate and fill his big empty house with the sounds of pealing laughter and little feet racing down the many halls.

Forty years old, and he’s ready to admit that living the life of a bachelor doesn’t hold the same appeal as it once did. That returning from a two-week-long business trip might be better if there were somebody to go home to.

Forty years old.

Instead of cozying up in the living room with a family he longs to have, he’s going to spend the rest of his night picking up plates and champagne flutes after everyone leaves because he forgot to hire a cleaning company—all alone in his big empty house, wondering if his secretary remembered to pick up his dry-cleaning for the week.

An unmated Alpha—the reminder chafes as much as the fact he’s getting older.

He finally understands why his late aunt divorced and got married again twice in the same year, why people buy nice vacation homes on white sandy beaches that make the crow’s feet around their eyes worse, and spend too much money on sports cars even though they stay parked for three-fourths of the year. He gets it now.

It’s more or less an epiphany of a sad, pathetic truth that he swallows down with something cold and bitter.

In the middle of his backyard, standing between his neighbor and his pregnant wife, Gojo wishes he were anywhere else. Inviting everyone he knows within driving distance no longer seems like the well-thought idea he’d presumed it’d been.

He makes a few more rounds around the garden before sneaking inside, escaping another conversation about engagements and wedding dates to hide away in his study.

That’s until he sees you out of the corner of his eye, looking through the bookcases in his living room.

A pretty slip of a girl in your modest cocktail dress and wide-framed glasses slipping down the slope of your nose. An Omega, alone, just like him; your clean, sweet, floral scent sticking to the back of his throat like syrup until it settles in his stomach. Enough to make him dizzy.

You shouldn’t elicit his attention more than any other Omega at the party—he doesn’t remember inviting that many—but he’s wondering how he let you slip by. Not that it really matters because his back straightens, no longer wallowing in self-pity, and he studies you with interest.

After a few moments, you finally glance his way, only for you to hastily return your attention to the book you pulled down from the shelf. Cute.

Gojo adjusts the tie around his neck and feels his lips twitch.

“Sorry,” you say softly, long lashes fluttering against the top of your cheeks. “I didn’t mean—I was only—My friend invited me, and she—”

You are too busy working yourself up over an explanation that you don’t notice when he sidles up next to you and reads over your shoulder. "I have more in my office if you want to take a look.”

“E-excuse me?” You make this breathy, choked sound and peer up at him from under your lashes. This visibly timid type of girl who bashfully looks away at the sight of his smile. For some reason, that makes his mouth go dry—makes his teeth ache. 

It’s rare to be so driven by instinct and rarer to actually listen to that instinct.

“Books,” he says. “Do you want to see them?”

His words take a second to sink in, and he smiles when he sees liquid clarity in your eyes. You blink owlishly, scent spiking, pleased. He stands there patiently, finding how you start rambling endearing, a slight, private grin splitting across his face—silently amused.

He thinks you'd bolt if it weren’t for the fact that he’s probably standing much too close, trapping a mouse by the tail.

“I–I g-guess,” you finally stutter.

It’s too easy: You letting him usher you up the stairs toward his office. 

If Gojo were a better person, a less lonely Alpha—a better man—he might feel bad for how well it works.

It’s no small thing to work the tiny zipper at your back and watch your dress pool around your feet. He barely gets the top three buttons of his shirt undone before you are—delightfully, inexplicably—up on the tips of your toes, timidly pushing your hands through his hair, mewling into the hollow of his throat, close to where his gland sits.

By the time he has you pressed against his office window, you’re this flustered little mess with crooked glasses, fingers streaking the once pristine glass to keep your balance, and breasts sticky and wet with spit.

“Good girl,” he mutters, pulling back to look down at where he’s splitting you open. “Such a good little Omega for me, aren’t you?”

You don’t answer, and he crowds you closer to the window, grasping your chin and tugging your head up until you’re looking at him upside down. He squeezes your cheeks together, your pouty, supple lips pushed out, and kisses your mouth, tasting you—unimaginably sweet.

“Tell me—tell me what a good girl you are,” even though he knows you can’t with his fingers pressing into your cheeks, but you try anyway.

“U-uh but—people c-can see.” 

The base of his cock tingles as he catches a line of drool spilling from the corner of your lips. He makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, soothing, and you steadily melt against him when he slips that same finger underneath the elastic of your underwear, lightly nudging your clit with the tip of his finger until you’re shivering beautifully again.

“That’s it. Don’t worry about them,” he coaxes lightly, but it comes out muffled because he says it with his mouth wrapped around the gland at the base of your neck, teasing himself with something he’s never allowed himself to have. Not yet. “Just you and me, okay?”

Gojo doesn’t let up until your back arches and shoulders tighten, his knot caught inside your cunt until all he can do is grind the tip of his cock against that spot that makes you squirm and whine. 

He smiles to himself when you hide behind your hands after realizing you ruined his pants, and he carefully falls back into his office chair, pulling you with him so you’re both looking out across the garden, where his guests walk around wholly unaware of the breathtaking little Omega who made his birthday worthwhile.

“You’re a dirty little thing, aren’t you?” he muses, taking great pleasure in the way you start stuttering again.

On his forty-first birthday, he doesn’t throw his own party but still hides in his office, his pretty wife in his lap, flustered because he never turned the lights off this time. If anyone happened to walk by on this side of the house, they’d be able to see everything—his omega, soft and swollen from a piece of him taking root inside you.

Families are about making traditions, he thinks, and he’d like to start a few traditions of his own; leaving his party to fuck his wife in the quiet of his office being one of them.

[laiiaaa]

CINNAMON SUGAR — CARMEN BERZATTO

summary Carmen comes home to you late at night. Luckily, you manage to stay awake.

length 2k

contents absolutely zero plot, literally just a sweet n cute n sappy moment existing in a vacuum, holy shit so much fluff i might die (got the idea for this while listening to margaret & let the light in by lana del rey n it's realllll obvious), too many kisses to count, this is what he'd be like after intensive therapy i reckon, not proofread so be nice

Carmen opens the door to the bedroom carefully, minding the creaky hinge in the middle of the night. Moonlight peeks through the window, caught at the right time when the city doesn’t block its path into the apartment, giving just enough glow to the room to see you fast asleep in bed. It’s late, he realizes, even later than usual. He needs to work on that.

He makes his way to the bed, stopping at your side to kneel beside you and simply adore you: the curve of your nose, the plush of your lips in that pout you wear only when you’re asleep, the eyelashes laid against your cheeks.

You stir when he presses his lips to your temple, a soft groan pulled from your lips. “…Bear?”

“Yeah, ‘s me, baby.” Even at a whisper, he thinks he’s too loud, and with his rough and tired hand he brushes over the top of your head just light enough to keep you sleepy.

A drowsy hand reaches out from under the covers to smooth over the contours of his face, tracing along shadows made hazy by a few hours’ rest. “You coming to bed soon?”

“Almost,” he murmurs, smoothing a palm up your exposed arm to hold your hand steady. He pulls ever so slightly away from your palm, only to turn to land gentle kisses against its soft skin, worshiping the pieces of you that treat him with more care than he thinks he’s worthy of. “Needa take a shower first, alright? But I’ll be right back.” 

He could’ve done that much by now—could’ve cleaned himself, rid himself of a day's work before seeing you—but truthfully, waiting any longer would’ve driven him mad. He would’ve been itchy in the shower, skin aflame knowing he could’ve felt your touch by then, arms and hands jittering to have your curves beneath them. His lips trail down to your wrist before he turns over your hand to kiss the backs of your fingers.

“Okay,” you answer, muffled by the blankets and pillow and the squeak of the floorboard as Carmen stands back up.

He makes his trip quick and quiet. He brushes his teeth and swipes up a towel while the water heats up, leaving just enough time to hang it on the hook and strip before hopping in. There’s a beat where he closes his eyes and just breathes, clears his mind of the day’s stress, lets warm water saturate his hair and cascade down his back. He lathers his hair with shampoo—the one you bought for him once to free him from the chains of 3-in-1 and that he’s been purchasing ever since to keep you happy—before cleaning the rest of his body, all while thinking about how much better it’d feel, how much more relief he’d get if it were you beside him under the stream instead of just his thoughts. But with the shampoo and soap down the drain goes that idea, much like the fleeting thought of using conditioner. You’ve yet to get to him on that one, especially at a moment like this, when time is of the essence and you’re waiting on him. Maybe another night, when you take your own product and swirl it around his curls; if it gives him an excuse to stay with you just a few minutes more, he’ll do it.

He hops out of the water like it’s acid and wraps the towel around his waist after drying himself to avoid trouble in the morning (you hate when the floor gets wet, and even if it wastes time, he’ll be sure to prevent that). Out goes the light again as he walks into the hall, sneaking back into the bedroom to get dressed into briefs and nothing more—you’ll keep him warm enough under the blankets.

It’s only then—when he peels back those final layers—that he realizes he’s been smiling the whole time.

Once he’s settled into the grooves of the mattress, chest to your back, you’re turning around to curl into his torso, like a magnetic field brought you there. 

“Hey,” he coos, “Y’don’t have to move f’me, yeah? Just sleep, baby.” Moved by your eagerness, his arms curl around you, one along your waist as the other nicely fits comfortably into the space between your neck and shoulder. 

And yet you shift a little more to cast an arm against his chest, his heart beating beneath your palm, head on his shoulder with a leg hooked onto his hip, split halfway between mattress and his body. “ ‘S more comfy this way, Carm.” You sigh and breathe deep into his skin. “You smell good, too.”

He can’t even lie well enough to convince himself his heart doesn’t run a million miles faster when you cozy up to him like this, caught in a space part fatigue and part love, with your hums ringing in his ear. “ ‘S that shampoo you got me a while ago…Sometime this week—” he yawns, and if he weren’t dying to hear your voice a few more times, he’d be a little more thankful for sleep coming so easily— “Sometime this week we can go t’the store, you can pick out another body wash f’me to try, too.”

“Mm, I’d like that.” You smooth your hand from his chest to his neck and shoulder, massaging there gently where he gets sore as a barely-there kiss lands to the skin beneath you. “How was it today?” The restaurant. His headaches. Richie’s mood lately. The flow of the kitchen. The strain in his back.

“Was alright,” he answers, as honestly as he can, soothing himself by brushing a hand up along your spine. “Real busy, so I didn’t get to leave ‘till late, ‘m sorry.”

“ ‘S alright, I stayed in and just relaxed for the night.” You snuggle into him a little deeper, and he thinks he could melt. “I was gonna ask you to bring something home, but it’s a weekend, so I didn’t wanna bother you in a rush.”

“What’d you want?”

From your lips comes a light and airy giggle, milliseconds of the best sounds he’s ever heard. “I just wanted some fries, honestly…didn’t feel like going out.”

“Heh,” he laughs, smiling while his eyes stay glued to the ceiling—as if looking at you would make the moment disappear. “I would’ve picked ‘em up for you, ‘r at least had Fak get ‘em to you.”

You yawn in tandem with the tailend of his thought, so your answer’s a bit softer. “Uh-uh, I like them better when you make ‘em.”

“Yeah? ‘ve I been pampering you too much?” He teases you, adds on a kiss to the top of your head as he squeezes you a bit tighter, but it’s all a ruse to cover up how much faster his pulse is when you say those words, like all the work he’s put in—all the love he has for you—makes its way to the table for not just anyone, but for you, the one person he’s sure matters more than the rest. More than those fucking stars, more than Chef of the Year, more than any critic’s review, more than he can wrap his head around; he feels it in his chest and that’s enough.

“Of course you have,” you agree, peeking up at him and craning your neck to plant your lips to his jaw, savoring it long enough to leave a smirk against his skin. “You’re always so sweet to me, Bear—” one more quick peck just beneath his ear— “love when you cook for me.”

He thinks he could pass out like this, with the last thing he hears being those words, but his fatigue seems to serve as an anesthetic that lets him soak it in for a bit longer, running his free hand through damp curls while a heavy, giddy sigh leaving his lips that lets you know he hears you, that he loves telling you he loves you through his art, that he lives for the smile on your face when he stays home for a few hours longer to make you breakfast. Yet with all the time spent having his shell soften for you, he can’t always find the right words, so he settles for the next best thing: “Y’know, uh…Marcus’s been playing around with recipes…”

He feels you smile against his chest, knowing what’s to come. “Yeah?”

“Mhm, an’ I’d never let ‘im serve ‘em, ‘cause, y’know…” He loses himself for a moment in the lull of your fingertips tracing mindless shapes into his chest. “They don’t fit the menu…but uh, he made these…these rolls today…”

“Mhm? ‘M listening…”

Carmen knew that, of course, from the faint kisses you peppered between breaths. He lets the fan whir through the gaps in his thoughts. “I think you’d like ‘em, he had some classic cinnamon, ‘n…a blueberry lemon goin’…”

“That sounds really good,” you whisper, the syllables lengthened from a shared lack of sleep.

“I know,” he drawls, and he’s a little too proud of himself for once when he adds, “Which is why I said I’d let ‘im fix up the lemon recipe a few more times if he made a batch for you.”

“Did you really?” The dazed smile comes through in your voice, a bubbliness to it that tells him he made the right call. 

He figures that’s why he’s so drawn to you—all the right calls come easy to him, the effort feels natural and unpracticed, unlike the tar that builds in his throat when it comes to so many other people. With you, being good is anything but demanding. “ ‘F course, baby…” 

It turns him to a puddle, the sweetness that drips from your fingertips, so he cradles your wrist carefully in his hand and lifts it to his lips to show it the love it deserves before urging the hand to busy itself with the tufts of hair behind his hear, to which you happily oblige. You twirl a lock around your finger, performing a methodical spiral, and even though he knows by the time it dries it’ll stick out from the mess like a sore thumb, he’d stop breathing before pulling your hand away. It’s soothing, that pattern. It stokes the fire in his gut that makes him feel a little less lonely when you’re not around.

“I brought…” He yawns again, his eyelids growing heavy. “I brought you some of the cinnamon rolls…Sugar liked ‘em…they’re on the counter for you tomorrow mornin'…” He’s not sure whether it’s your doing or the hours of stress endured throughout the day, but he knows this is the most relaxed he’s ever been, laying with you and doing little else other than indulging in your tender touches and shy kisses.

“Thank you, my love,” slips away with breath, sotto voce, as Carmen leaves brief kisses to your hairline. 

And he thanks God for being able to do it even with such an intense fatigue washing over him—at least part of him does, the part that’s still awake—because the movement lets you tilt your head and graze your fingertips by his jaw, bringing his lips kindly to yours for the first and last time tonight. Somewhere in that beautiful tangle there’s a mutual agreement: an unspoken Goodnight, I love you, in the mix, a finality in his offering and your gracious thanks that doesn’t warrant anything more than your head tucked neatly into his neck, left to bask in the comfort of his arms wrapped around you.

Just like any other night with you, he can sleep peacefully with the unconscious push and pull of your bodies intertwined. He knows that by morning, you’ll still be in his arms, in the bed you share, waiting on your good morning kiss from under the covers.

And he’ll still be beneath your warmth, his mind fuzzy and full of tenderness, every part of him dying to marry you.

[13lov]

tethered pt. 2 | jjk

✰ pairing. — emo!jk x reader

✰ genre. — early 2000s au, best friend's older brother, childhood friends to lovers, smut, light angst.

✰ word count. — 10k+

✰ warnings. — swearing, family issues, friendship betrayal, mention of drugs/alcohol, smut [ cunnilingus, rough sex, ...idk how else to describe it ] reader and jk are both 18+, minors dni.

✰ a/n. long awaited part 2! the amount of love i received from part one was overwhelming and it means to world to meet that so many people instantly fell in love with this couple. another part is already in the works!

✰ taglist. @ahgasegotarmy116 @hellbornsworld @kissyfacekoo @littlestarstinyseven @skzthinker @cuntessaiii @nikkiordonez12 @ilikekpop-c @busanbby-jjk @xjjk187 @aloverga @kookcobain @mzeji @bxcndd @hoseokteardrop @canyon-lwt @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @jksteponme @parkinglot-nights @chromekingkong @jk97bam [ if i didn't tag u it's because tumblr didn't allow me to! ]

part one | masterlist | ao3 | buy me a coffee?

“Did you seriously think I wouldn’t find out?” Somi is glaring daggers at you upon opening the front door, arms crossed across her chest as she eyes you. Her lips are twisted into a disgusted snarl, you’ve never seen her this upset before.

You swallow the lump in your throat, “Find out about what?”

She cocks her head to the side, squinting her eyes at you. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

Fuck, you’re screwed. If there were a list of all the reasons why you shouldn’t have had sex with Jeon Jungkook, the simple fact of  him being your best friend’s brother would be number one.

With closed eyes, you let out a relieved sigh. As much as you wanted to wait to tell Somi about hooking up with Jungkook, it’d be an enormous weight off your shoulders not having to hide it any longer. It’d only been a few days since it happened, but you really hate keeping secrets from her.

“How’d you find out?” You question, chewing on your bottom lip.

“My parents told me, duh.”

Holy crap, Jungkook told his parents the two of you had sex? Why the fuck would he do that?

“They did?” You ask, completely bewildered.

“Well, yeah!” Somi finally uncrosses her arms, demeanor completely changing as her gaze softens, “Why didn’t you tell me your sister got engaged?”

Thank God you didn’t elaborate any further.

“Oh! Because they probably aren’t gonna last.” You respond, stepping into the Jeon household once Somi allows you to enter. It’s been a few days since you’ve been here, mostly due to the fact that you were completely avoiding Jungkook.

The empty condom in his trash bin had been plaguing your mind nonstop, you could barely even sleep from how embarrassed you were. Why did he fake his orgasm? What if he didn't fake an orgasm and just shot a blank? Did you do something wrong? Was he not attracted to you? Why was the condom empty? 

Seeing him in person would’ve only intensified the thoughts roaming in your head, so you avoided him at all costs up until now. You’d promised the Jeon siblings that you’d finally see Twilight with them and their friends despite not being able to function correctly around either of them. 

Somi snickers, following you into the living room. “Ooh, that’s not nice.”

“It’s true, though,” you explain, “she’s still so young, only a few years older than your brother. I mean, can you picture Jungkook getting married in a few years?”

The regret from that question fills you almost immediately.

“Sure,” Somi responds, pausing to greet the eager doberman charging at her. “As long as he finds the right person. He’d get married in a heartbeat.”

You want to ask what Somi’s definition of “the perfect person” would be for Jungkook or the type of girl she’d be willing to set him up with. It’d probably be the unnamed, mysterious redhead you recently dreamed about curb stomping (yikes!).

You don’t respond to this, taking a seat on the sofa when the sudden shout of your name has you flinching. It’s Somi’s parents, excitedly greeting you with open arms as you politely stand to properly hug them. “I feel like it’s been so long since we’ve seen you! How’s your family? We just heard the news about your sister!” Mrs. Jeon ambushes you with questions, all while cradling your face.

“About how she’s making the biggest mistake of her life?” You half-joke.

Mrs. Jeon playfully waves a hand in your direction as she steps into the kitchen, her husband only a few feet behind. “Oh, don’t say that. I’m sure the two of them will be very happy together.” She turns to her husband, grabbing his hand, “I just can’t believe Imogen is getting married. I still remember when she first started high school.” 

Mr. Jeon sighs in disbelief. “I know,” he mumbles, nodding at you. “You’re up next soon, huh?”

“Maybe she can marry Jungkook,” Mrs. Jeon comments, opening her fridge, “set him straight.”

“Gross, Mom. Don’t wish that on her.” Somi groans in disgust as she plops down next to you.

Well, that answers your previous question.

“We should probably get going, right? To make it in time for the trailers?” You ask.

“Yeah, we should.” Somi responds, tilting her head up towards the staircase, “Jungkook! Hurry up and come downstairs! We’re ready to go!”

“Gimmie a minute!” He shouts back, and a chill runs down your spine. It’s been too long since you’ve heard his voice. The last time you saw him, he was lying naked in his bed; you’re not sure how you’ll survive being around him all night knowing what your last encounter was like.

As promised, Jungkook is sliding down the staircase a minute later and nails the landing. He’s wearing a black Twilight shirt featuring the leading couple, black cargo pants, and, of course, black sneakers. He looks like his usual self until you take a closer look and notice the reddish-black eyeshadow that decorated his eyes. It wasn’t much, just enough to make his eyes pop, and it complimented him perfectly. A second later, you see the black nail polish neatly coated on his nails. You have to blink a few times to ensure this is real life and you’re not trapped in a wet dream.

He strolls into the kitchen, ignoring the stares from his parents before digging through the fridge. His mom clears her throat, crossing her arms at him.

“What?” He asks, retrieving a two-liter Mountain Dew bottle. 

“Seriously, Jungkook? The makeup? The nail polish?” She questions, clearly frustrated.

Jungkook cocks his head, unscrewing the soda bottle’s lid. “What’s wrong with it? Somi’s wearing the same thing.”

“Son, you know that’s different.” His father interjects.

Jungkook takes a swig of the soda before responding. “Why? Because she’s a girl?”

“It’s not like that, hon. It’s just…we didn’t make a big deal of it when you first started the piercings, and the tattoos, and the hair dye, but this…it’s a little much. Don’t you think?” His mother asks.

You want to step in and remind his parents that Jungkook is old enough to make his own decisions and express himself as he pleases, but it’s not your place. Instead, you cheer silently when Somi surprisingly interrupts the discussion. “Did you guys seriously force him to come back home just to criticize how he presents himself, or would you rather have a peaceful summer?”

“We aren’t trying to criticize him, Somi. We’re just looking out for our child.” Mr. Jeon responds.

“It’s a special occasion, Dad. Is it bad that I wanted to look nice for—” Jungkook abruptly cuts himself short, quickly glancing in your direction before returning his attention to his parents. “...to go see Twilight with my friends?”

What was that about?

Silence passes, and the three stare at each other until Mrs. Jeon sighs defeatedly and says, “No, there’s nothing wrong with that, sweetheart. I hope you guys enjoy the movie.”

“We will,” Jungkook responds, closing the soda bottle lid and placing it back in the fridge. He heads for the front door, beckoning you and Somi to follow behind. He’s eager to leave the house, quickly swinging the front door open and jogging towards his car.

You and Somi say goodbye to her parents with a promise to be home by eleven before following in Jungkook’s footsteps, who already has the car running. As you wait for Somi to finish locking the front door, Jungkook rolls down his window and shouts, “Hurry up! Let’s go!”

“Will you calm down?!” Somi throws back, rolling her eyes as she finally removes the house key from the lock.

You follow her towards Jungkook’s car, sliding into the backseat as you pretend not to notice Jungkook watching you through the rearview mirror. He wants you to look at him, but you refuse, busying yourself by buckling your seatbelt and convincing Somi to do the same. Once Jungkook is convinced you’re not going to do so much as glance at him, he puts the car in drive and pulls into the road.

Somi talks your ear off in the backseat about whatever comes to mind while you keep your eyes on the window. It’s hard to not notice Jungkook glancing back at you through the mirror at every red light or stop sign, but you don’t dare meet his gaze.

The movie theater’s parking lot is crowded when you arrive; it takes Jungkook a few minutes to eventually locate a spot. A smile is plastered on his face as he parks the car, eager to see some of his closest friends after being separated for months. He informs you and Somi to disregard anything foolish he friends may say, claiming they arrived early to smoke behind the movie theater, so they’re more than likely too high to function properly.

Jungkook shrugs when Somi asks why people do that, shoving his hands into his pockets as the three of you approach the theater entrance. "Some people say it makes the movie experience better."

You want to ask Jungkook if he's ever been high, but you can barely even bring yourself to look in his direction, let alone ask him a question. So you're silent as the three of you enter the movie theater, instantly spotting Jungkook's bandmates in the far corner.

Well… Jungkook's bandmates and one other guest.

The bubbly redhead greets you guys first, running up to Jungkook with open arms as if they haven't seen each other in a million years. It makes you want to vomit.

You look away as they hug, directing your attention to the concession stand employee who had already been watching you. His name tag reads 'Beomgyu,' and he resembles a younger version of Jungkook, with the same dark hair and similar lip piercings. His eyes stay on you until a customer blocks your path, and you're back to watching Jungkook reunite with his friends.

"Hey, you were the one at that party, right? With Somi?" The redhead asks, squinting her eyes at you.

"Yeah." Is all you respond with, because why in God's name is this girl talking to you right now?

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Scar," she introduces herself, extending a hand for you to shake.

Somi interjects, grabbing ahold of your wrist while glaring at Scar. "Your name is Scarlett."

She drags you along to the ticket booth, mumbling about how she doesn't like nor trust Scar. When you ask for her reasoning, she responds with, "I don't need one. I just don't like her."

At least you're on the same page about that. 

Still, you can't help but wonder why Somi has a distaste for Scar. You have your petty reasoning for disliking her, but Somi (more than likely) has better knowledge of Scar's personality, so whatever reasons she dislikes her could be legitimate. 

You're thinking of this as Jungkook orders the tickets for everyone, asking the employee to give him a minute when the friend you recognize as Yugyeom starts tapping his shoulder. "We should go see Saw instead; it just came out."

Jungkook looks genuinely confused at the suggestion. "What? No, we came here to see Twilight."

"So?!" Jaebeom chimes in, eyes red as the devil, "Come on, dude, you've already seen Twilight. Don't you wanna see something new?"

"Fuck no, we're literally in the middle of buying the tickets." Jungkook reminds everyone.

"I kinda wanna see Saw, too."

"Same."

"Yeah, me too."

"I do, too."

Jungkook whips his head around at his sister, "What? Even you?"

Somi scoffs, "Well, yeah! Twilight just seems boring in comparison."

"Come on, guys," the employee interrupts, "you're holding up the line."

Jungkook turns towards you. "Do you still wanna see Twilight?"

Truthfully, you want to go home; but seeing how excited Jungkook was for the movie made you feel something, so you nod. He lets out a relieved sigh. 

He moves out of the way to allow his friends to buy their tickets first, slipping his sister cash to pay for hers, which she initially rejects. "I don't need your money," she claims.

"Just take it, Somi. I brought it for you." 

From what you can make out, it's enough to cover her ticket and grab something from the concession stand. The pair of siblings may bicker a lot, but it's nice to know Jungkook still looks out for his younger sister whenever he can.

Somi reluctantly accepts the money and purchases her ticket; you watch as Jungkook follows suit, ordering two tickets for Twilight and stopping you from opening your purse. "Don't worry about it."

"Oh, it's fine. I have enough." You reassure him.

Jungkook laughs to himself, "Why are the two of you like this?" He questions, fishing out crumpled dollar bills from his pocket and handing them to the cashier, who sighs in annoyance, straightening and inspecting each bill before placing it in his register.

You don't know why Jungkook insists on being so nice to you despite your persistence in not speaking to him. A part of you wonders if he thinks this is some kind of date now that the two of you will be separated from the group. It doesn't matter. You don't know why you're overthinking it.

Once all the tickets have been purchased, the seven of you head towards the concession stand. Somi debates pushing herself to the front of the long line, claiming that the theater should make accommodations for those whose movie is starting sooner. Or something like that, you can't really focus with the way Beomgyu is staring at you. You're used to guys always staring, but they tend to shyly look away upon making eye contact. 

Beomgyu is quite the opposite, staring you down every chance he gets. Your skin feels hot, and you're suddenly anxious under his gaze. 

When the group ahead of you has finished ordering and is heading off into their theater, you're sure to stick close to Jungkook as you approach the counter. Beomgyu eyes him over once before returning his gaze to you. "What can I get for you guys?"

Jungkook takes the liberty of ordering a large popcorn for the two of you to share and doesn't even get mad when you request a slushie instead of a fountain drink. He doesn't let you pay, swatting your hand away when you absentmindedly reach for your purse. "You seriously have to stop doing that." He mumbles, handing Beomgyu the cash.

Beomgyu quickly prepares the popcorn and Jungkook's drink but takes his time making your slushie. He's sure to fill it to the brim, and you're worried it may accidentally overflow and leave a sticky mess. "You didn't want candy or anything?" He questions, handing you your drink. 

You shrug, "Maybe Twizzlers, but—"

Before you can finish, Beomgyu is reaching under the counter and sliding you a pack of Twizzlers. "On me."

"Oh, are you sure?" You ask, hesitant to accept the free candy.

Beomgyu sends Jungkook a cocky smirk before he responds, "Yeah, enjoy the movie."

You thank Beomgyu and pretend to not notice the death glares the two boys are sending one another before walking with Jungkook to your theater. "That guy was weird." He comments.

"Yeah." You agree, but it's definitely not true. Beomgyu was friendly and clearly interested in you, unlike Jungkook, who sent you nonstop, draining mixed signals. If his definition of weird is someone straightforward, then you should start going after weirdos.

Once you're settled in your seats in the back of the theater — per Jungkook's request — he clears his throat and says, "So, I tried messaging you on Facebook. Didn't get anything back."

"Oh, sorry. I haven't been using Facebook that much." You reply, hoping your lame excuse is believable enough.

He nods, eyes bouncing between you and the movie trailers playing in the background. "Yeah, I figured." He says. When you don't respond, he continues, "I would've asked Somi for your number, but I didn't want her to get suspicious or anything."

"That's smart." You admit, nodding in agreement.

"Are you okay?" Jungkook asks suddenly, his full attention to you.

You finally make eye contact, and the expression on his face makes your heart sink. He looks genuinely concerned and confused by your sudden coldness. You hate being so mean to him, but you're too embarrassed to explain the real reason why you've been avoiding him. So you nod and say, "Just a little tired."

It's clear he doesn't believe this; the same expression is still on his face as he refocuses on the movie trailers. 

You hate how awkward it feels to be around him now. Never in a million years would you have guessed the two of you would end up like this. A week ago, you would've been overjoyed at the idea of being on a movie date with Jungkook, and now you're considering leaving early and catching a taxi home.

The two of you remain silent as the rest of the trailers play on, and Jungkook immediately sits up in his seat when the lights finally dim and the curtains are pulled back further. He's reticent throughout the movie, aside from a muffled chuckle occasionally; he even side-eyes anyone making too much noise.

You enjoy Twilight nonetheless, agreeing with Jungkook that you do, in fact, dress like Bella Swan from time to time. When he asks if you liked it as you're exiting the theater, you tell him it was very nice and that you hope there'll be another movie.

Jungkook smiles at this, tossing his empty cup in a nearby trash bin. "I'm sure there will be. Maybe they'll even cast you as Bella's stunt double since you already have the clothes."

"Shut up." You tease, and it feels nice to joke with him as usual. You may finally have the courage to tell Jungkook why you've been so distant these past few days.

Saw doesn't get out for another few minutes, so you're stuck waiting in the lobby for Somi and everyone else. Jungkook gestures towards the nearly empty slushie cup clutched in your hands, "You get free refills on that, I think."

You take his word, strolling over to the concession stand. Beomgyu spots you immediately and gestures for you to skip around the line. You shake your head, but he still beckons for you to come over. You feel bad, but the line has gotten longer since you were first here, and you really don't want to wait in a long line just for a refill. 

"What flavor?" He asks once you've slid him your cup.

You tell him anything is fine and he gets to work, combining the cherry and blue raspberry flavors. "How was the movie?"

"It was good. The vampire stuff was cool."

"Have you seen Saw yet? It just came out."

"No, I haven't."

"It's so good; if you wanna give me your number, maybe we can see it together sometime."

What is it with guys offering to take you out to a movie they've already seen? You're not complaining; it's just odd.

Beomgyu is clearly interested in you and has offered to take you out. You'd be silly to pass up on this guy just because your current relationship with your longtime crush is at a standstill. So you accept, scribbling your phone number down on a napkin with your name underneath. He promises to call you once his shift ends and that he looks forward to seeing you.

When you turn to meet up with Jungkook, he's gone. You catch him storming out of the theater, hauling ass to his car.

You run to catch up to him, calling out his name and begging him to slow down.

When he finally does stop, there's a look on his face that you've never seen before. He gets angry all the time, but this was something completely different. "So you were just using me, huh?"

What? What is he talking about?

"Using you for what?"

"To lose your virginity. You just wanted to get it over with, right?" His voice is slightly hushed now but still loud enough for you to feel embarrassed about anyone passing through the parking lot.

"Jungkook, what are you talking about?"

"You used me to lose your virginity, so when you date other guys you can tell them you've had sex before. Is that what this is?"

This accusation hurts, considering that Jungkook was the only guy you've ever been interested in romantically and sexually. You don't know where this theory originated, but you don't like it.

Jungkook continues before you respond, "I tried reaching out and talking to you, and you just blew me off! And yet, here you are, giving your number to random guys! Am I not good enough for you?!"

"It's not like that, Jungkook!" You don't mean to raise your voice at him, but you can't help it. Both of your emotions were at an all-time high.

"Then what is it like?!"

Here goes nothing.

There are already tears forming as you go to explain yourself. "I didn't reach out to you because…because I was embarrassed."

"You were embarrassed to have sex with me?"

"No!" You yell in reassurance, "No, no, no. Of course not. I was embarrassed because I know you didn't finish. I just thought maybe I did something wrong or didn't do enough."

Jungkook quirks a brow at you, "What makes you think I didn't finish?"

You really hate that he's making you explain this. "I saw the condom afterwards; it was empty."

"You went digging in my trash can to find the condom?" Now he looks more disgusted than confused; this is going so horribly.

"No! I saw it when I went to get my phone off the charger."

Jungkook takes a minute to process everything, scratching his chin in deep thought. You can't tell what he's feeling, but he does look hurt. It makes you regret avoiding him in the first place.

"So, you were prepared to never talk to me again over an empty condom?" Despite his stern demeanor, he's clearly shaking as he questions you.

You want to say no, that it wasn't a case, but you can't bring yourself to lie to him again. So you say nothing. Jungkook nods at your lack of response before turning around and walking towards his car. You remain still, frozen in place, watching as he sits on the hood of his car and smokes a cigarette.

If it weren't for Somi finishing her movie within the next few minutes, you would've walked the entire way home.

This bitch is driving you crazy.

Your older sister, Imogen, is home for a few days to start her wedding preparations. The fake bridezilla persona she's putting on bothers you the most, bursting out in tears at the most inconvenient times or having a breakdown about selecting a theme. Deep down, she doesn't care about any of this bullshit; she's like you about parties or big events.

"This is literally the biggest day of my life, and you're being so fucking difficult." Imogen snarls at you, pouring herself a cup of coffee. You're sitting a few feet away on the kitchen counter, staring out the kitchen window. Despite Imogen's occasional yelling and snarky comments, all you can think of is Jungkook.

It's been an entire week since the movie theater incident. You haven't stopped by the Jeon household not once, telling Somi you fell ill and don't want to get her sick. It's another lame excuse, but she buys it, opting to talk to you on the phone daily until you recover.

You have yet to speak to Jungkook; it's not like you've tried. The idea of messaging him on Facebook and not receiving a response makes you anxious. It's hard to believe you subjected him to the same torture not long ago. It doesn't help that Scarlett is suddenly all over his page, commenting on nearly every one of his posts, writing on his wall, or tagging him in pictures. Your recurring dream of curb-stomping her is back in full force.

You sigh at your sister, "Whatever you say, Imogen."

She waves dismissively at you, "Please, don't even talk to me right now."

You hop off the counter in annoyance and stomp off towards the staircase, mumbling, "Fucking drama queen."

"Language." Your mom warns you, flipping through one of the several bridal magazines your sister has stacked on the coffee table.

Imogen scoffs, setting her mug on the counter. "I'm the drama queen? Whenever I talk about my wedding, you throw a fucking fit!"

"Why are you pretending to care about this stupid wedding and that stupid boy you barely even know?!" You shout back from the staircase.

"If my wedding is so stupid, then don't come!"

"I don't even want to go to your stupid wedding, with your stupid fiancé and your stupid red velvet cake that no one's going to fucking eat!"

This is probably the dumbest fight you've ever had.

Imogen doesn't respond to this, advised by your mother not to and to let you stomp up the stairs in a furious rage. You make a beeline straight to your desktop, waking up the computer with a mouse shake and entering your password.

Facebook is already open once you've signed in, Jungkook's page staring right back at you. You're ashamed to admit you'd been cyberstalking him, but you had no choice. Seeing him in person would've been too much, but you still want to ensure he's doing okay.

There's a new post up when you refresh the page; you chew on your bottom lip as you anxiously wait for it to finish loading.

It's a picture of his dirty Chuck Taylor's perched upon a wooden stool. You recognize the background immediately; he's in the treehouse in his backyard. You and Somi would spend hours up there as kids, giving each other manicures and exchanging secrets; now, you can barely look her in the eye without bursting out in tears. You hate how complicated things have become.

A light tap against your door has you swiveling around in your chair. It's Imogen, leaning against your doorframe with her arms crossed. "Who's that?"

"Somi's brother." You respond, scrolling to a photo that actually shows his face.

Imogen steps further into your bedroom, squinting her eyes at the computer screen. "Oh, yeah. Hasn't changed much, has he?" When you remain silent, she asks, "Would it be wrong of me to assume he's the real reason why you're so upset?"

You sigh, letting your shoulders drop. "You'd be very correct, actually."

She nods in understanding, sitting on the edge of your bed. "So, what's going on? You like him?"

"We kind of like each other, I guess." You mumble. Honestly, you're not quite sure how Jungkook feels about you at the moment.

"And Somi doesn't approve of it?"

You snort, "Somi doesn't know. There was nothing to tell her at first, but things have changed."

"Are you guys dating?"

"No. We actually haven't talked in a week. I may have hurt his feelings."

Imogen nods towards your desktop, “Where is he now?”

You shrug, “Home, I guess.”

She stands, stretching out her limbs. She glances around your room, locates a jacket dangling lifelessly from your doorknob, and tosses it to you. “Let’s go.”

Taking an impromptu trip to the Jeon household had you sweating. What if Jungkook doesn’t even want to see you? What if Somi catches you talking and asks what’s going on?

Each concern you raise is instantly shot down by Imogen, claiming you’re creating excuses to avoid seeing him, how you’re only imagining the worst possible scenarios. You appreciate her overwhelming support but can’t help the nervousness creeping through your body as her car approaches the Jeon household.

“Remember, be apologetic but not desperate,” Imogen informs you, putting her car in park in front of the house.

“I am desperate.” You remind her.

“Well, don’t let him see it. You got this.”

You thank your sister one last time for the advice before stepping out of her car. You’re careful to avoid being seen from windows as you make your way into the backyard; not entirely sure what you’d say if Somi were to catch you.

You scale the tree quickly, silently praying the old wooden steps are stable enough to hold your weight. 

You sigh in relief once you’ve reached the top, only to groan at the sight of Scarlett sitting across from you. She looks up from her iPod with a bright smile, quickly pulling out her earbuds as you enter the treehouse. “Hey, stranger! Watcha doing here?”

Her enthusiasm really makes you sick. “Came to see Jungkook,” you pause to glance around the tiny, wooden deathtrap, “but he’s nowhere to be found.”

“He’ll be back soon; went to use the bathroom,” Scarlett informs you, running her hands through her hair. “So, you guys really like each other, huh?”

What? She knows about that?

“Jungkook told you?” You question, trying your best to appear unbothered. You’re unsure where she’s going with this, but you have no reason to trust her.

Scarlett nods, “We tell each other everything. So when he told me you guys weren’t talking, I may have devised a plan to help you come around. You do use Facebook, right?” She smirks

Holy shit, all the posts of them together were to make you feel jealous enough to have a conversation with him; and your sworn enemy was the mastermind behind it. It was all a ploy to get under your skin, and you fell right into the trap. 

“You’re a stubborn little thing, though. Didn’t think it’d take you so long.” She comments, slipping her jacket on.

You shrug, “I didn’t think he’d want to talk to me.”

“Jungkook always wants to talk to you. I don’t mind it, though. You seem good for him.”

Aside from Somi, Scarlett is probably the last person you would’ve expected to be supportive of your relationship with Jungkook. So, to hear she’d been secretly rooting for you behind the scenes nearly gives you whiplash. You almost feel wrong about your dreams of shoving her face into the pavement.

You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “So, nothing is going on between you guys?”

Scarlett grimaces as if you deeply offended her, “Of course not! Don’t get me wrong, he’s cute, but not my type. His sister is cute, though.”

Woah.

“Somi? Jeon Somi? You’re into her?” You ask, completely stunned.

“Hell, yes. Hey, do you think you could set us up? Jungkook would never.”

“You do know that Somi can’t stand you, right?”

Scarlett excitedly nods, “I know, it’s kind of a turn-on.”

You hold your hands out to stop her from elaborating any further. Scarlett has surprised you in more ways than one in less than five minutes. You’re sure any new information would’ve made your head explode.

“I’ll…try my best.” You promise; not quite sure how Somi would feel about the idea of Scarlett liking her.

“For what?” A voice interrupts, causing you and Scarlett to direct your attention to the treehouse’s entrance. And there he is, in all his gothic glory. 

“Girl talk, none of your business,” Scarlett responds, making room for Jungkook to crawl in. 

“Fine. You keep your secrets; I’ll keep mine.” Jungkook groans, sitting between the two of you.

“Will do. I’m outta here. Got a hot date with a box of hair dye. See you suckers later.” Scarlett waves goodbye as she exits the treehouse, reminding you of your promise before disappearing down the steps.

Jungkook clears his throat, sweeping his hair away from his eyes. "So—"

"I'm sorry," you cut him off, "I should've reached out and talked to you, but I was just too embarrassed and didn't know how to approach you about it. I really like you, and I wasn't using you to lose my virginity. I mean, you're the only person I've ever been interested in. So, again, I'm sorry."

He sighs, "I understand why you were embarrassed, but I promise it had nothing to do with you."

"Then what was it?"

Jungkook anxiously scratches the back of his head before he responds. "It's just that…sometimes…it takes me a little bit longer to, uh…to finish."

Oh.

"Is it because of your…size?" You can't help but wonder.

Jungkook snorts, "What, you think I'm big?"

"I'm out of here." You joke, faking as if you're about to leave.

"Wait, wait, wait." He stops you, "I was only kidding. I never really thought size played a factor in it, but every guy is different. But, still, that doesn't mean I didn't enjoy us having sex. I mean, you had already finished, and I didn't want to tire you out just for my sake."

Knowing he had a perfectly reasonable explanation makes you feel even worse about spending all that time avoiding him. You want to tell him you wouldn't mind him tiring you out, that the idea excites you, but you refrain.

A beat of silence passes, and you ask, "But, I'm sure if there's something that you're really into, then it wouldn't take as long for you to finish. Right?"

Jungkook nods, "I guess."

"Then, what is it? What are you into?"

He coughs, tips of his ears turning a light shade of pink. "Um…I guess I'm into…roughness?"

Ah. 

"That's not a big deal. A lot of people are probably into that."

"I mean, it's fine either way, but I mostly prefer when girls are kinda rough with me. Fuck, this is embarrassing."

"It's not!" You reassure him, placing a gentle hand on his knee, "It's nothing to be embarrassed about. I appreciate you trusting me enough to tell me."

Jungkook stares at your hand on his knee before placing his own on top. You twist yours upwards and interlock your fingers, not missing the smile that forms on his face. His bangs have swept into his eyes again, and you use your free hand to move them out of the way. "It was my first time, too, by the way."

You snort, "You don't need to say that just to make me feel better."

"I'm serious," he continues, "I mean, I've gotten pretty handsy in the past, but nothing like what we did."

You shake your head, "I don't buy it. You seemed so experienced like you knew what you were doing."

Jungkook shrugs, "I mean, I'm not completely innocent. I may occasionally watch certain videos and read certain stories from time to time."

Porn and smut. Beautiful combination.

He shakes his head, "You still don't believe me; how come?"

You sigh, memories of the night before he left for college flashing in your mind. How you ran home in tears, how he only responded to Scar's comment on Somi's Facebook post. It almost hurts to think about. "The night before you left for school, there was an opened condom wrapper on your floor. I just figured…you know."

Jungkook nods at the memory. "I wasn't gonna go to the dorms the next day. I was planning on running away, that's why I gave you that bandana. After my parents helped bring my stuff to the dorms, I was gonna put everything in my car then take off."

You're having a hard time processing this information. Why would Jungkook plan on running away? What does this story have to do with the empty condom?

He continues, clutching your hand even tighter. "I only told a few people I was leaving, and there was this one girl who came over to say goodbye. She'd been really into me for a while and was heartbroken that I was leaving. We were about to hook up, hence the condom wrapper, but I couldn't do it."

"Why?" You question.

"Didn't feel right. I wasn't into her the same way she was into me. Just couldn't do it." He explains, eyes staring deep into yours. You believe him; you know he's being truthful.

"What made you decide to stay?" You ask.

"For Somi," he answers, "I couldn't just leave her like that. And for you, too."

Though you've felt it for many years, telling Jungkook you love him is too soon. But you want to, so very badly.

"I'm glad you decided to stay." Your voice is barely a whisper now as you try to stop yourself from tearing up.

He nods, "Me too."

You sit in comfortable silence for a minute, clutching each other's hands. You wish you could stay like this forever. 

"I just realized you never told me if there's anything you're into." He points out.

You shrug, "Just you." And it's true: Jungkook is the only person you've ever been interested in. Everything he says and does is genuinely attractive to you.

He drops your hand gently, using it to tilt your head towards him, and he kisses you. 

You're quick to cradle the back of his head as his hands snake around your waist, deepening the kiss. You move to straddle his lap, slowly pushing him onto his back. He grunts in surprise, breaking away from the kiss. "You—"

"Stop talking." You demand before your lips intertwine with his once again. With one hand on his chest, you reach to grab a fistful of his hair and tug lightly, earning a satisfied moan from him. You're not used to being rough with guys, but you're sure Jungkook enjoys it with the way his erection is already pressing up against your thigh.

Reluctantly, you pull away from him and sit up, staring at him sprawled underneath you in complete awe. "Alright, I'll message you my number so we can text. See you later."

"No! No, no, no. Please don't go." He pleads, holding you in place when you go to stand, "Just stay a little longer, please."

You smile down at him, fighting the urge to stay in the treehouse. "I can't. Imogen is waiting out front. We'll see each other soon, okay?" You promise, planting a kiss on his forehead.

Jungkook nods, fingers drumming against the floor as he watches you crawl out of the treehouse. "Don't be too surprised if I seem extra excited to see you next time." He calls after you.

"Trust me, I won't."

Jungkook is the first boy to ever sneak in through your bedroom window.

He carelessly tosses his backpack in first, cringing when it lands on your carpeted floor with a loud thud. Though you’ve assured him your parents are heavy sleepers, he’s still worried you’ll get in trouble if he makes too much noise and accidentally reveals himself. “Sorry,” he apologizes, wrist gripping your forearm as you help pull him in.

“It’s fine,” you whisper back, “they’re not gonna wake up.”

“Still,” he grunts, using his upper body strength to pull him further into your room. “Don’t want you getting in trouble.”

It’s a day after the treehouse incident; as promised, you sent Jungkook your number and spent all day texting back and forth. Despite not being big on texting, you admire how Jungkook likes to keep you updated on what he’s doing and how he checks up on you to ensure you’re okay. 

“We’ll be fine, but just in case, I did make room for you in my closet in case you have to hide.” You inform him.

Jungkook stifles a laugh, “Good to know.” He settles himself on the edge of your bed, moving over once he realizes he’d sat on a pile of clothing. “Oh, were you about to shower?”

“I was,” you answer, moving the clothing over to your nightstand, “but I’ll wait until after you leave.”

He has to stop himself from making a joke about joining you in the shower. He nods, leaning down to drag his backpack towards him, “Guess what I got today.”

“What?” You question, legs folded underneath you as you sit beside him.

Jungkook slowly unzips his backpack, careful not to make too much noise before rummaging through it and clutching something in his hand. He momentarily turns his back towards you, clips something to his shirt, then turns back around.

There’s a name tag on his chest now with his name scribbled in black ink and a little star next to it. “A job?”

He nods, “At that music store, Spin City. Need to start saving up before classes start. Plus, I wanna take you out somewhere nice before summer’s over.”

You gulp, “Like, a date?”

“Yeah. I mean, unless… I don’t know. I just kinda figured…” He trails off, suddenly worried he may be scaring you off.

You grab ahold of his hand, “I know, and trust me, you’re perfect, and I want us to be together. But, the night we saw you at that party, I did ask Somi if she would be upset if I was into you. Surprisingly, she said she wouldn’t mind as long as I talked to her before making a move on you. And, well…”

“We made a move on each other without telling her,” Jungkook finishes for you.

You nod, “Exactly.”

He sighs, “So, I’m guessing that means you wanna wait before we make things official.”

“Yeah. No matter what, I still want to be with you. But it’d be best for all of us to get her on board with this first. Show her how much we truly care for each other, and make sure she’s okay with it. So she knows my relationship with you won’t affect our friendship, and vice versa.” You explain. Jungkook’s eyes never stray from yours, listening intently and nodding at everything you say.

“That’s fair,” he agrees, “It’s a good idea. Do you want me to talk to her? Or for us to talk to her together?”

You shake your head, “She’ll definitely freak out on you; it’s best if I do it alone first, then you talk to her afterward.”

Jungkook leans back against your bed, resting his head on your pillow. It’s funny how different your aesthetics are; he looks perfectly out of place, sprawled on your baby pink pillow surrounded by teddy bears. “When?”

“I dunno,” you respond, lowering yourself until your head rests comfortably on his bicep. “Doesn’t have to be right away. As long as it’s before we move into the dorms.”

“We shouldn’t wait too long, though. It’ll only make things worse.” Jungkook mumbles, pulling you closer to him.

“I know. I’ll have a talk with her soon, I promise.”

You interlock pinkies to solidify your promise and ease his nerves. You hadn’t realized how anxiety-inducing this was for Jungkook as well. The idea of Somi not approving of your relationship had him genuinely worried. 

“But, you should know that no matter what—” he starts.

You cut him off, “I know.”

The hands that once purposely dumped slime in your hair are now tugging your panties down your legs.

“Can we try something?” Jungkook asks with a mumble against your lips, your soft blue underwear now clutched in the palm of his hand.

“Like what? I actually make you come for once?” You joke, earning a laugh from Jungkook.

“Don’t worry about me.” He presses another kiss against your lips, “You trust me?”

“Of course.” You respond, sitting up in Jungkook’s bed as he moves backward, never breaking eye contact with you. He pushes your skirt up slightly but pats your hand away when you go to remove it altogether.

“Leave it on.” He commands, bringing himself at face level with your cunt.

You’ve never felt this shy in your life, grateful your bunched-up skirt created the tiniest barrier between having Jungkook see you all flustered. Never had you been this intimate with a guy, especially not a guy you technically weren’t even dating.

His thumb is circling your clit before you have the time to protest, to tell him he doesn’t have to do this just for your sake, but the feeling of his fingers pressed against you has you at a loss for words. 

“This okay?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You respond, tilting your head upwards to stare at the ceiling.

Before you know it, his middle and index fingers are pressed against your opening, eliciting a gasp from your lips. At your reaction, Jungkook slips his finger into your entrance, thumb still playing with your clit. He insists on being teasingly slow today, wanting to draw out every moment and observe your reaction.  

He pumps his fingers in and out of you in a slow, consistent motion, an amused smirk on his lips when he hears your breathing become ragged. Abruptly, he slips his fingers out of you, moving your thighs to rest them atop his shoulders. 

“Wait, you don’t have to—oh fuck.” You’re cut off by Jungkook pushing himself forward, placing a sudden kiss on your clit that has your hips jolting in the air. His hand grabs your waist and licks at your slit, keeping you in place as he gently returns your body to his mattress. 

His growing erection is the last of his worries, all too focused on dragging his tongue across your cunt. He flattens his tongue, pulling the wetness upward until he’s circling your clit again. In search of something to grab onto, your hands grip the bed sheets until Jungkook reaches forward, moving your hand over to grip his hair.

His eyes are closed when you look down at him, and you swear you can hear him moan as he eats you out. You try your best to keep the noise down out of fear someone will hear, but you can’t help but yell out when he’s back to fingering you, all while circling your clit with his tongue. 

Your grip on his hair tightens, pushing his face further into your pussy, and he lets out a satisfied groan. It’s embarrassing how quickly your orgasm approaches; everything with Jungkook is so intense. He knows this, eyes fluttering open to watch your expressions. Black eyeshadow is smeared across his eyelids as his eyes focus on your own, hands gripping your thighs as he tongue circles your clit.

His fingers are relentlessly pumping into your cunt now, contrasting against how teasingly slow his tongue is moving. He pulls his mouth away, lips glistening with your arousal, and asks, “You close?”

You don’t respond directly, but the grip you have on his hair gives him all the answers he needs before he’s diving back in. It doesn’t take much for you to come after that, a final kiss pressed on your clit, sending you over the edge and coating Jungkook’s fingers.

Jungkook doesn’t stop there, still continuing to lick and suck your clit until you’re begging him to stop from the overstimulation.

“Sorry.” He apologizes, planting a kiss on your inner thigh, “Was that good?”

“That was literally the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You respond. Jungkook lets out a laugh as he crawls up next to you. “I should be upset with you, though.”

“What?” He questions, peppering your face with kisses, “Why’s that?”

“I came over to talk to your sister about us, and you distracted me.”

“How’d I do that?”

“Because! You came downstairs in your eyeshadow. Then you were all like, ‘Oh, hey. I cleaned my room; wanna check it out?’” You mimic a deep voice that sounds nothing like his. 

“I apologize for putting on eyeshadow, bringing you to my room, and eating you out. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

“I guess.”

You both laugh at this as you move to pull your skirt down. “Hey, how’d you realize you like it when girls are rough with you?”

Jungkook shakes his head as the memory returns to him, a shy smile on his face as he glances over at you. “A couple years ago, I was picking on Somi for something. I don’t even remember why, but it got to the point where my parents were telling me to stop, and I wouldn’t. Then, you just started yelling at me out of nowhere, and I don’t know why, but it was the hottest thing ever. I was in awe. I really thought you were gonna slap me. Since then, it’s just been a turn-on of mine.”

“Wow. That’s actually kind of pathetic.” You tease.

He groans, “Please don’t say that. You’re gonna make me hard again.”

Laughter is shared between you once again before you lean your head down to rest on his chest, the sound of his steady heartbeat making you feel calm. A comfortable minute of silence passes before you have to address the unfortunate inevitable, “Somi should be here soon, right?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook mumbles, “within the next ten minutes.”

You sigh, “Next time I come over, I’ll have to tell her about us.”

The next time you stop by the Jeon household, Jungkook has you bent over in the backseat of his car.

His finger digs into your waist as his cock is plunging into you at full force, emptying all the thoughts from your brain. You still haven’t fully adjusted to his size, but you don’t care; the pain of being split open makes you come faster. It feels better.

Jungkook insisted on taking things slow, telling you that you’d need to adjust to his size, but the moment you sunk your dripping cunt onto him, he was under your spell. 

Your body lunges forward with every rough stroke Jungkook gives you, hands buried in your hair as he pulls you up against his chest. His hand moves from your hair down to your neck, tilting your head back while applying the slightest bit of pressure against your throat. Your eyes close out of instinct as tears form in the corner of your eyes before trickling down your cheeks. He kisses them away one by one before settling his lips on your neck. You make a mental note to check yourself for hickeys afterward.

You’re coming around him before you realize it, body spasming as you grip the driver’s seat headrest. Jungkook shows no signs of stopping or slowing down; in fact, he’s sped up even faster since fucking you through your orgasm. He lets go of your neck to push down on your back, left hand gripping your waist while the right intertwines your fingers with his. 

A few strokes later, he’s finally coming and jokes about showing you the used condom as confirmation.

You shake your head, gesturing for him to pass you the shorts he’d tossed in the front seat. “I can’t believe I let you trick me again.”

“What?!” He exclaims in utter shock, reaching in the front seat to grab your discarded clothing, “How exactly did I trick you?”

“I came over to talk to Somi, but then you were all like, ‘Hey, come look at my car; I just got it washed.’” You playfully roll your eyes, searching around the backseat for your underwear.

“Can I keep these?” He asks suddenly, the most nonchalant expression on his face as your panties dangle from his middle finger.

You scoff, reaching to snatch them from him, confused when he retracts his hand. “I think I will keep them until you talk to Somi. Since it was you who wanted to talk to her first.”

“Then, I guess I’ll get them back tomorrow because I’m definitely talking to her today.”

Except you don’t.

You spent the entire summer sneaking around with Jungkook and procrastinating about having that talk with Somi. It was anxiety-inducing, to say the least, and you had no idea how she’d react. You tell yourself she won’t be upset as long as you assure her your friendship won’t be affected by you dating her brother. 

You’re scheduled to move into the dorms within a few weeks, so it’s best to sort things out now before you all live under the same roof, unable to avoid one another. Jungkook doesn’t seem nervous at all. In fact, he’d given you a pep-talk the day before you showed up at their home.

“She can’t stay mad forever.” He pointed out, eyes sealed shut as you do his eyeliner.

“I know,” you mumbled, adjusting yourself on his lap, “but that girl can hold a grudge.”

“Right, but this is you we’re talking about. You mean a lot to her, to both of us, actually.”

His words play in your mind as you enter the Jeon household, following Somi into the kitchen. “Baking something?” You ask, a sweet, decadent scent hitting your nose.

“Brownies for some stupid bake sale my parents are having. Help me clean up?” She asks, pouting her lips at you.

“Sure.” You agree, under the assumption that there wouldn’t be much to even clean up. 

Boy, you were wrong. It’s like Somi used every dish in the house to make one sheet of brownies. There’s no backing out now; you already agreed to help, and it’d be best to stay on her good side for now.

She gets to work rinsing each dish before handing them to you to load the dishwasher, moving quickly to get everything done faster.

“What a beautiful friendship.” A familiar voice comments; you fight back a smile as Somi groans at her brother.

“You wouldn’t know; you don’t have any friends,” Somi responds, laughing at her words.

“Neither will you, soon,” Jungkook whispers back, groaning when you swat him in the chest. “Any brownie batter left?”

“None for you. Shouldn’t you be at work?” Somi asks, handing you another dish.

Somi takes a break from rinsing off the dishes to bicker with Jungkook for a minute. You tune out from the conversation, dipping your fingers into the leftover batter bowl and gathering the chocolate on your fingers.

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving,” Jungkook says. When Somi finally directs her attention elsewhere, Jungkook takes the opportunity to grab your wrist, bringing your fingers up to his lips before sucking the chocolate off them. 

Your eyes practically bulged out of your head, nervously glancing behind you to ensure Somi hadn’t seen anything. You swat at Jungkook’s chest for the second time, and he laughs as if you’re being overly dramatic. It’s odd how surprisingly calm he is about everything. His demeanor would have worried you if you didn’t trust him so much. 

Jungkook wipes the renaming bit of chocolate around his lips before mouthing ‘Good luck.’ You give him a nervous smile, watching as he slips past Somi and leaves out the front door. You get back to work, making small talk with Somi as you help her load the dishwasher.

It’s now or never.

“So,” you start, “we’re gonna be living together soon.”

Somi smiles, “Finally! God, I can’t wait to have some freedom. My stupid curfew is a major cock-block. Right when things are finally getting good on a date, I have to go back home. So fucking frustrating. There’s literally cobwebs in my vagina.”

You snort, loading the final dish into the washer. “Well, you won’t have that problem anymore.”

“I know. And maybe you’ll even find someone worthy even to date you.” Somi jokes, hopping on the kitchen counter.

“Uh, what if I already have found someone…worthy enough?” You question, pressing a few buttons to get the dishwasher going.

“As if.”

“Somi, I’m serious.”

She sighs, still not buying your confession. “Alright then, who is it?”

“...Your brother.”

A beat of silence passes, and then Somi doubles over in laughter, nearly slipping off the counter several times in seconds. It takes her a minute to catch her breath, clutching her collar for support as she regulates her breathing; even tears are forming in her eyes. “Holy fuck, can you imagine? You and my brother? Jesus Christ.”

“Look, there really isn’t an easy way to say this, but we really do like each other. We’ve been…together this whole summer. Well, not officially; I didn’t want to put a label on anything without talking to you about it first.” You finally confess. The weight on your shoulders doesn’t immediately drop as you expected; it’s like the load has gotten heavier.

Somi has a blank expression as she stares at you, eyes darting around the kitchen as she processes the information. “You’re serious?”

You nod.

She shakes her head, “What kind of friend are you?”

Fuck.

“Somi, please, let me—”

She cuts you off, hopping off the counter and inching towards you. “So, what? All this time, you were using me to get close to Jungkook? Out of every fucking guy on the planet?!”

“No! Of course not! Somi, I never even imagined myself in a relationship with him until this summer, I swear!” Your voice trembles as Somi approaches you. The two of you have never been in a physical fight before, but the expression on her face tells you there’s a first time for everything.

“Oh, really? You expect me to believe that, huh? So it’s just a coincidence that you guys suddenly got together right before we’re all gonna be living in the same building?”

“I know it doesn’t sound great, but—”

“I think you should go.” Somi cuts you off calmly, her sudden change in demeanor shocking you. A moment ago, she looked angry enough to hit you, but now, she seems a few seconds away from breaking down in tears. 

You nod understandably, telling Somi to take all the time she needs and to call you when she’s ready to talk. 

She doesn’t say a word as you exit her house, and you wonder if you’ve just lost the best friend you’ve ever had. 

“I’ve never seen her this angry, Jungkook. I thought she was gonna hit me or something.” You groan, ear pressed up against your phone as you rant to Jungkook.

It’d been a few hours since you left Somi’s house; Jungkook had promised to call you during his break to hear how the conversation went. You’re still shaking as the memories flood you, how your best friend in the world accused you of using her. What a fucking joke. 

“She’ll get over it, trust me. Y’know, before I called you, she spent five minutes yelling at me over the phone. Five fucking minutes, and I just took it. She’ll be fine.” He says, following up with a loud slurping noise that suggests Jungkook has chosen to have ramen for lunch.

It’s astonishing how calm he’s managed to stay this entire time.

You flip over on the couch, head resting on the armrest as you stare at the ceiling. “I just don’t wanna lose her. She’s a fireball, for sure, but she’s my fireball. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“I just told you you’re not gonna be without her, okay?”

“...Okay.”

There’s a knock at your front door, most likely from the pizza delivery Jungkook had sent to your house.

“I gotta go. The food is here. Are you still stopping by after your shift?”

“Of course. You gonna be alright?”

“Yeah,” you stand, making your way to the front door. “I’ll save you some pizza.”

He chuckles at that, “You better. I’ll see you later, okay? I love you.”

He what?

“You what?” You pause, hand on the doorknob.

“I love you, and I’ll see you later.” He hangs up.

You don’t have time to process his words; the knocking at your front door happens again.

Twisting the knob, you’re met with Somi staring back at you. “Somi? What’re you—”

“I don’t care if you date Jungkook.” She claims, storming through your front door, “If you guys want to be together, then I’m not standing in the way. But I will not be your friend if you date him, so it’s either him or me.”

You follow Somi into your living room, your pulse quickening upon hearing her ultimatum. “Somi, that’s not—”

“Before you choose…as a girl, and as your friend, I have to be completely honest with you.” She sighs, fingers nervously raking through her hair as she sits on your couch. “I called Jungkook after you left, and he talked to me about you guys.”

You nod, taking a seat next to her. “Okay, and…?”

She sighs again, taking your hand in her own. “Everything he’s ever told you was a lie.”

[yunniverse]

Bliss

౨ৎ PAIRING— jeong yunho x reader

౨ৎ GENRE— fluff, established relationship, fem!reader

౨ৎ WARNINGS— very fluffy, yunho’s the best husband

౨ৎ WORD COUNT— 0.9k

౨ৎ SUMMARY— a soft morning with yunho

౨ৎ A/N— i genuinely want this with him :( i hope you enjoy it! feedback is always appreciated and thanks for reading, lovelies! <3

You blink your eyes open, letting them adjust to the bright morning sunlight filtering in through the window. The room feels pleasantly warm as you look to your right to see your husband, still sleeping peacefully.

Yunho’s face is flushed with a morning glow, a lock of his dark messy hair falling in front of his eyes as he breathes deeply.

Your breath is almost taken away as you quietly watch him, admiring the way he can still look so ethereal, even after sleeping and rolling around all night.

You’re convinced he’s an angel. There’s no other explanation.

As you look at him, a faint smile grows on your face. Your gaze drops to his hand, resting on the pillow near his head, the size of it making butterflies swim in your stomach.

Gently, you reach out, tracing the lines of his long, slender fingers, before carefully flipping his hand over to trace his palm.

You’ll never get used to the size difference, his whole hand is almost the size of both of yours, but they fit so perfectly together. Like puzzle pieces.

Unable to resist any longer, you reach out, brushing the lock of dark hair off his forehead, listening to him groan softly, stirring, but not waking yet.

Smiling to yourself, you gently trace Yunho’s collarbone before moving up to his jawline, stopping when you reach his lips. They’re parted slightly as he sleeps peacefully, looking smooth and soft. You fight the urge to kiss him right then.

Instead, you gently trace your thumb along his bottom lip, watching as he stirs again, wondering if he’ll finally wake. But he doesn’t, simply snuggling more into the silk pillow.

Deciding you want to see his pretty eyes, you lean in, pressing soft, gentle kisses to his face before moving to his neck. He tilts his head to give you more access unconsciously, probably not even realizing he’s doing it.

After a moment, his eyelids flutter opened and he blinks lazily a few times before he speaks, his voice deep and raspy from sleep. “G’morning, my love.”

“Mm, good morning, handsome,” you smile, pressing one last kiss to his nose as Yunho sleepily grins, the hand that was resting against the pillow lifting to cup your cheek in his palm, his thumb brushing softly against your skin.

“You’re so beautiful.”

His words send butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you feel yourself blush, knowing your cheeks are flushed pink.

Yunho chuckles, the sound rumbling from his chest as he moves his hand to the back of your neck, “You’re so cute when you’re shy, you know that, right?”

“You might have told me a few times,” you respond, your cheeks still colored pink as Yunho smiles softly before gently tugging your head down, until it’s only inches away from his.

“I love waking up to your face,” he whispers, his brown eyes sparkling with devotion.

“Likewise,” you giggle, the butterflies still very much present as you lean down a little closer.

Yunho’s gaze slowly shifts from your eyes to your lips and back again before he speaks, his fingers gently playing with your hair, “I love you, you know that?”

“You might have told me a few times,” you laugh, repeating your words from earlier as Yunho squeezes your neck gently before his hands shift to cupping your face.

“Most wives tell their husbands they love him too, hm?” he tells you cheekily, his thumbs brushing against your skin.

“Oh, they do?” you ask, feigning surprise. “I suppose I should stick to tradition then, huh?”

He nods, his gaze now glued to your lips as he shifts almost imperceptibly closer, “It’d be nice to hear those three pretty words from you, sweetheart.”

“Oh, it would?” you ask teasingly, making his gaze snap up to meet yours again, a hint of a challenge swimming in their dark depths.

“It would,” he replies, his voice husky, with a hint of a possessive growl.

“Whoa, no need for that, baby,” you laugh, smiling, as he rolls his eyes playfully. “I love you, Yunho. So, so, so, so much. More than the whole universe, all the stars and planets and everything, and more than—“

He cuts you off, pulling you down to brush his lips against yours in the softest of kisses, successfully shutting you up, as your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of his soft lips.

He soon deepens the kiss, his lips moving against yours, still gentle and so soft. He holds you as if you’ll break if he doesn’t handle you gently.

It makes you fall harder for him as you respond to his gentle kiss. You pull back for air once before kissing him again, intoxicated by the feeling you’d never felt before kissing him.

No one else compares, and you’re positive they never would.

When he pulls back, breathing a little heavier, his lips now glistening, he smiles, his eyes sparkling, as he boops your nose with his finger. “Bliss looks good on you.”

You laugh, playfully smacking his chest, as he leans in, kissing you one last time, before letting you bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his intoxicating scent.

Your senses are overwhelmed by the slightly peachy, sweet scent of his body-wash, mixed with his comforting natural scent. It makes you breathe in deeply once again, sighing contentedly as you snuggle into his neck.

“Comfy?” he asks softly, his hands rubbing up and down your back before resting against your lower back as he squeezes you a little closer.

“Mm, very,” you respond, mumbling into his soft skin. “I could live right here forever.”

“Oh, you could?” Yunho chuckles, pressing a gentle kiss to your hair. “I wouldn’t mind at all, my love.”

You smile, closing your eyes as you continue breathing in his scent. “Can we stay like this forever?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[gurugirl]

Next Door Neighbors | Part 2

neighbor!harry x reader

Summary: Your neighbor, Harry, goes feral after seeing you sweating in your garden.

A/N: Read Part 1 HERE!

Word Count: 5k+

Warning: 18+ only, smut, slight breeding kink, descriptions of bodily scents and tastes (sweat and the like), fluff

. . .

Harry couldn’t help but peek over the fence to watch you when he noticed you were in your backyard gardening. Wearing shorts so short he could almost see your cute ass. And he knew you had a cute ass. Cute everything really.

Though, the longer he watched the more like a creeper he felt. Like an actual creep watching you bent over with your knees and hands in the dirt and sweat soaking through the back of your tank top while you were totally oblivious. But you sure were a sight to behold. He imagined how your sweat must taste and smell. There was something going off in his brain as he watched you that was nonrational, quite carnal when he got right down to it.

He hadn’t seen you in a couple of weeks. You’d both been busy with your separate lives and jobs. And it was always awkward for anyone to try and initiate another “get-together” when who knows what the other person is thinking? Maybe to you, it was just a fun one-night thing. Because in a way that’s all it was to him. Not that he wouldn’t have been interested in doing it again, he just didn’t know how you felt about some kind of ongoing, no-strings-attached thing. Or if you even wanted ongoing. Or no-strings. There were too many ifs in the equation.

But he knew one thing. He couldn’t just stand there like a weirdo and stare at your backside for too much longer. So he had an idea, returning to his kitchen he poured two glasses of iced tea then walked back toward the fence and cleared his throat putting a grin on his face, “Looks nice,” he called out to you.

You dropped your trowel and turned around to see your neighbor looking over the fence at you holding up two glasses of something amber-colored. You smiled, standing up, wiping the dirt from your knees and palms, “Hi, Harry. What looks nice? Not much to see yet,” you began to walk toward the fence to get a better look at him.

“Well I can see you put in brick around the beds and ya know… just looks nice.” He shrugged.

“It’s just gonna be easy to care for flowers and shrubs. Some lavender too, for the mosquitos. I’ve been out here for almost two hours. It’s so much more work than I thought it would be. Never had the chance to have a garden before so I’m going to take advantage of this,” you smiled and watched Harry’s pink lips curve upward as his eyes ran down your frame.

“I guess it is a lot of work. Two hours is a lot of time to be out in the sun. I got you a glass of iced tea if you’re interested,” he held it out toward you over the fence and you took it, the icy glass immediately cooling to your palm.

“Thank you, Harry. This is nice of you,” you took a drink because you were thirsty. Parched actually. “Come over if you want to sit with me out here,” you gestured toward the table and chairs that were set up on your back patio. And maybe you were more than just thirsty. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind spending a little more time with your hot neighbor.

Harry grinned and nodded, “Think I will if it’s okay.”

You watched Harry round the fence and then open the gate to yours to let himself into your backyard and you saw the way he looked down over your skimpy attire not meant for public eyes.

“Oh…” you looked down at your soiled white tank top and sweaty chest, “Mmm… maybe I should change first? I’m a gross mess.”

“You look great. Don’t worry. Come on let’s sit.”

And he meant it. You did look great. You looked quite like a treat if he were honest. A little sweaty treat but that wouldn’t deter him one bit.

Now you were feeling that bit of tangly excitement strum through your veins at just the sight of him. He was so good looking and it’d been, what? Two weeks since you’d heard from him? It was a little disappointing to you that he never called or texted or dropped in to say hi. Especially after that night you spent with him on his birthday. He had your number because you both swapped them before he walked you back to your house after you had sex.

Of course, you knew what you were doing when it was happening. It was unlikely that you two were going to suddenly fall in love and get into some kind of relationship. You were an adult and it was a fun night. Nothing more. And that was fine. Really, it was. A touch discouraging but nothing to be upset over.

You and Harry sat at your table with your glasses of tea in hand and you took another big gulp to cool yourself down.

“So what’ve you been up to?” He asked as he watched you wipe the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand.

“Just normal stuff… work and I go to a book club once a week. Went out and bought all the stuff I’d need for the garden yesterday. Things like that. Nothing exciting. What about you?”

“Same mostly. Been working late this week, just got off actually. Today was an early day. Uhh… I mean that’s it really. Owning a small business means anytime anyone can’t work I’m doing their job for them. One of my guys is sick. He’s been out all week. Kind of sucks but I don’t want him going to a job and getting everyone else sick.”

You nodded, “Wow. That does sound like a lot. Does it happen often that you have to fill in for your employees?”

Harry shrugged as he took a sip from his glass, “Sometimes. It’s part of the gig. I knew that going into it. I really don’t mind it much. Does put a hamper on my social life, though.”

You weren’t sure why that somehow pleased you. Perhaps that meant he had little time to date around. Lack of social life but with a nice little neighbor next door who was always there when he got home… You swallowed a gulp of tea and grinned, “Makes sense.”

Harry tried to keep his eyes on your face but it was hard with the way your white tank top was nearly see-through where you’d sweated. Just under your breasts was wet and along the collar portion and down through the middle of your bra. He could tell you were wearing some kind of sports bra.

“So, uh…” Harry took in your face and realized that when you wiped the sweat from your forehead, you’d smeared dirt under your hairline. He placed his glass of tea down and scooted his chair toward you, cupping his hand at the back of your neck, “Here… you’ve got something…” he wiped his thumb over your forehead and your pulse immediately began to race.

Having his hand on the back of your neck to hold you in place as he used his other one to wipe your brow felt far more intimate than maybe was intended. You watched his face as he cleaned you up and then he lowered his gaze to yours, “You are a bit of a mess aren’t you?”

He grinned and licked his lips as he moved his hands away and you felt stunned as he lowered his sight to your tits. Maybe he did intend for it to be as intimate as it felt. Maybe he’d done it on purpose.

Looking down at yourself you saw how dirty your tank top was and how clearly sweaty you were. You hadn’t imagined anyone would see you like this but now here you were with your gorgeous neighbor’s green eyes on you.

There was definitely something in the way he was looking at you that made you feel extra hot. Even the sun wasn’t as searing hot as his eyes were on you, “Thanks. Sorry I know I’m so gross.”

Harry shook his head, “Not at all. Quite pretty actually.”

You laughed and looked out into your garden, “Not true. I smell like an unwashed trucker right now.”

Harry laughed with you and he took the arm of your chair and pulled you closer to him, your knees bumping into his as he did so, “Let’s see,” he looked down over the skin on your neck and to your clavicle, leaning in toward your throat you could hear him softly inhale, “Smells more like a sweaty girl who was working in her garden for two hours.”

His nose brushed against your jawline, “A little sweet-smelling, maybe a touch acrid,” he sat back to look at you, “But I’m not picking up any unwashed trucker notes on you.”

His smile was excruciating. You shook your head and balked with a laugh, “You’re crazy.”

He tilted his head and you watched as his seafoam green eyes landed on your lips, “Maybe a little.” He looked back up into your eyes and licked his lips with a soft grin spreading over his lips, “I happen to think you smell really delicious right now.”

Your eyes widened as you scoffed, “You really are crazy in that case. Delicious?” And even though you tried to sound like you weren’t aware of his sudden advances you could tell he wasn’t deterred one bit as he softly placed his middle finger over your knee and pushed up to your midthigh before bringing it back down toward your knee again.

“That’s what I said. Wouldn’t mind getting a better whiff, in fact,” his pink tongue pressed between his lips and you could see the tip of it slowly push outward as his mouth parted slightly, “A taste even.”

You gulped thickly and looked from his finger that was still working a path up and down the top of your thigh and up to his mouth and then his eyes. You could think of nothing you wanted more than to tear his clothes off and have another go with him. Except that you were stinky and even though he was hinting that he liked it you weren’t sure how that was possible.

Harry could smell you with the closer proximity. And he didn’t know what it was about your natural smell that was making his mouth water. He’d heard of pheromones and how sometimes body odor could be a turn-on for some people. He hadn’t ever experienced it until then. But you did smell incredibly sexy. Something primal in him was working its way to the surface and even making his cock twitch in his shorts.

“Do you want me to stop? Am I making you uncomfortable?” He asked.

You shook your head, “No. I’m just… a little surprised is all.”

Maybe Harry had a thing for sweat or something. You weren’t sure. But he was definitely coming on to you.

“So if I got onto my knees right now, pulled your shorts down, and then stuffed my nose right between your legs you wouldn’t be uncomfortable with that?” The grin on his face was facetious but somehow you believed him when he said it.

And what would your answer be? Would that make you uncomfortable? Or would that make you feel good? Would you enjoy Harry smelling your crotch?

“I don’t…” you laughed and looked down at his finger on your thigh, “Maybe it would be a little strange. I’ve just never… Like it smells bad,” you looked back up into his eyes as he scooted toward the edge of his chair closer to you.

“It doesn’t smell bad. I promise you. But would it make you uncomfortable?” The facetious grin disappeared suddenly and you were aware that he wasn’t playing around.

You laughed out a breath and blinked, “I don’t know.” You turned your head to look at the fence, “Oh my god this is so embarrassing.”

Harry took both of your hands in his and that drew your attention back to his eyes, “Let me do it. If you don’t like it I’ll stop. Okay?”

You couldn’t believe what was happening as you nodded and smiled shyly. You watched Harry scoot out of his chair and get onto his knees with his eyes on yours as his hands ran up your thighs to your shorts, “It’s okay if I take this off?”

You let out a woozy breath and nodded, “Okay.”

Harry smirked as he began to pull down the stretchy material to reveal your cotton thong underneath. The soft groan he let out when your shorts were placed down on the grass as he pushed your legs apart had your heart pumping hard in your chest.

You pulled your lips into your mouth and held your breath as he bent toward your thighs and his fingers smoothed along the plush inside part of your legs and up to your crotch.

He scooted in closer, tucking himself between your legs and then you felt his hands on the meaty part of your hips as he pulled you toward the edge of your chair before he tucked his face in between your thighs and moaned at your smell.

You couldn’t see his face. Only the top of his head and then his nose as he pressed it against the fabric of your sweaty panties. But when he did that he bumped into your clit and you gripped the arms of your chair at that little nudge. And he did it again before he looked up at you, soft green wandering up your body to your eyes.

“Let me eat you out. Y/n,” he swallowed, “my mouth is literally watering right now. You smell so good and I want to taste you. Didn’t get the chance last time.”

You bit your lip and screwed up your brows as you looked down at the man between your legs.

“Are you sure? You really wanna do that? I just can’t imagine that it’s going to be pleasant.”

Harry brought a hand to the back of your neck and pulled you in for a kiss. A sloppy, wet kiss that displayed just how much his mouth was watering, “I want to so bad. You can stop me if you don’t like it but don’t worry about me. I’m gonna enjoy myself if you let me.”

You huffed a breath and nodded, “Fine. But… Are you sure?”

His thumbs were pressing against the apex of where your thighs met your crotch, “Is that a yes?”

Rolling your eyes you nodded, “Yes.”

The grin on his face widened as his lips parted and he looped a finger into the fabric covering your pussy and pulled it aside. He dragged his middle finger through your crease and looked from your labia up to your eyes, “Relax.”

Harry bent down and licked a wet tongue over your pussylips and repeated, licking up and up until he pressed into your labia, spreading it apart and lapping through your folds.

He wasn’t sure why he loved it. He enjoyed the scent of women in general but your sweaty, natural scent, unwashed and concentrated had his mind going blank. Like he was an animal and needed to permeate himself with your smell. Needed to eat it and digest it and roll his body around in it.

And the tangy, salty flavor was so feminine and powerful and real… He moaned as he wrapped his soft lips around your clit and carefully tongued over your bud. You let your head loll back as you kept a grip on the arms of the chair you were sitting in when Harry lifted one of your thighs and draped it over his shoulder so he had a better angle of your cunt for his access.

You hoped the neighbors on the other side of the fence couldn’t see anything. If they did, it would just be your back with a man on his knees in front of the chair you were sitting in. But more than that it was the noises you were making that could pose a real problem.

Biting your lip to stifle your moans you looked back down at him. Soft curls on his head, eyes closed, pink lips smoothing against your pussy and lapping at the arousal he was creating. You could see your shiny slick on his tongue as you grew wetter and wetter. The angle at which you were sitting gave you the dirtiest view.

Harry tugged at the fabric of your panties again and ran his tongue along the outside of your pussy under the material of your panties and then he looked up at you as he brought his lips up to your clit and smushed them down onto you and kissed softly before parting from your pussy, “I need to have you riding my mouth,” he panted, “Need this all over my face. Can we go inside?”

You were in a daze. Harry had very efficiently worked you up in a frenzy and you’d nearly forgotten about your smell as you nodded and he pulled you up out of your seat, walking you into your house.

He was rushed as he pulled you along and into your bedroom where he gripped onto your hips and smeared his you scented lips against yours. You weren’t a fan of the smell in all honesty. It was too much. You didn’t mind your scent when you were clean but you hadn’t showered since that morning and to you, it just smelled like unwashed crotch.

His hands slid under the band of your thong as he pushed them down your hips, “Want you naked,” he breathed against your lips.

You moaned when he pulled your panties down your legs and then stood up to take off your tank top, slipping it over your head.

You reached under the elastic band of your sports bra and peeled it off as Harry stripped his own shirt off and then slid his shorts down his legs leaving him in only his boxer briefs.

He wrapped his hands around your middle and pushed you toward your bed before taking your breasts in his hands and running his thumbs over your nipples, “I’m just gonna say it, Y/n… I’m so fucking attracted to you. You’re gorgeous but the way you look right now and your taste… Kind of having a hard time thinking straight to be honest…”

You smiled at him in disbelief, but maybe you did believe him. He was acting like you were a long-awaited prize. Something he’d been saving up for and finally had the chance to have it. Could your smell be that much of a turn-on for him?

He pulled you with him into your bed, making you straddle his lap as he scooted himself into the middle of your blankets. His cock was already hard under his briefs as you brushed your pussy against the cotton fabric and you were reminded that you’d recently bought condoms. Should something like this ever happen again. But then that reminded you that you were ovulating. Big time. In fact, it was probably THE most fertile day for you in your cycle. You wondered if he could smell that somehow? Was there some kind of innate sense men had during a woman’s ovulation?

You felt his hands around your waist as he laid back and brought you up his chest, “Sit over my mouth,” he mumbled his words and his eyes were heavy as you tugged at you.

You laughed at his desperation as you pressed your knees into the mattress on either side of his head and very gently lowered yourself. You didn’t want to hurt him but he grabbed your hips and brought you down, making your pussy smother his mouth and tilt against his nose.

A gasp fell from your mouth at the sensation of his wet lips under you. He placed his hands on your ass and pressed you down further, making your clit run against his nose.

Harry would bathe in your scent. Use it as his shampoo and deodorant. Would bottle it up and make a perfume out of it. Yeah, he was losing his mind he was certain. In all his years of being sexually active, he hadn’t been so instantly obsessed with scent in this way. But it wasn’t just your scent. There was something else. Things were budding in him, like an instinctual impulse. It was something that felt ingrained, bestial. It was a base impulse that he couldn’t control.

He suctioned his mouth around your clit and looked up at you with your tits bouncing softly as you bucked your hips on him. Your pretty lips were parted and soft pants were falling from your mouth. He wasn’t sure what was happening but he needed more.

A deep, vibrating moan thrummed through your core, “Harry…” you breathed his name and looked down at him. His eyes were on yours already as he moved his mouth and tongue against you like he was a barbarian, a savage starved and heated… furious with hunger and you were his defenseless prey. A victim being fed on, eaten alive. It was filthy and so hot and he had your insides twisting and boiling with every suck of your clit.

“Fuck… you really like that don’t you,” you coughed a laugh before softly moaning as you placed your hands into his hair.

Harry’s brows were furrowed as he grunted and continued lapping and sucking. Like he had no time to respond to such a dumb question. It was obvious he liked it. No. He fucking loved it. He needed it.

His fingers pinched into your skin and you hissed at the sensation of it all. He was rough but it was good. It had you feeling like some kind of sought-after goddess over him. Like you were actually something special and he couldn’t get enough of you.

Your limbs started to quiver the closer you got. You rolled your hips down, pressing your pussy on his lips and bumping your clit against his nose as you moaned in ecstasy. The nearer your orgasm was the louder your voice became.

He drew your clit into his mouth and you felt his tongue slip up and down against it. The way you began to convulse and unravel over him nearly had you collapsing but he moved his big hands up to your waist to keep you steady as you cried out, rocking your pussy over his face.

You couldn’t control the way your body shook in your orgasm. It didn’t feel like you had full control of your movements as he continued to lick you through your release.

You jolted at how sensitive you felt, your clit suddenly feeling quite delicate and you pushed your hips up to separate from his mouth but he pulled you back down with a deep gravelly groan as he went in again, his mouth and tongue allowing no mercy.

“Harry! Fuck!” You giggled and pressed your palms onto his forehead and used your thighs to gain leverage to pull away from him, “Too much!”

You backed down his chest to move away but Harry sat up and grabbed your hips harshly, pushing your back down into the mattress after he crawled over you, “I’m going crazy or something…” he kissed down your neck and lowered his mouth to your breast and sucked the skin, swiping his tongue over every inch until he moved to the other side and delicately nibbled your nipple and pulled at it with a moan. When you felt his mouth begin to trail down your tummy as his hands began to spread your thighs again you snapped your legs closed and laughed, pushing at his forehead, “Are you serious? I’m too sensitive, Harry!”

He groaned and looked up at you, “I want more…”

You kind of loved this if you were honest. Loved how he seemed possessed by you.

“You can fuck me if you want. My clit needs a little break from your mouth, though,” you grinned at him, “Wouldn’t mind feeling you inside of me again. I have condoms this time.”

Harry sat back onto his haunches and you saw just how erect and hard he was. His cockhead was pushing at the top band of his underwear, begging to be let loose so you reached for it and pulled it away from his hips, letting his tip poke above the band, “Do you want to?”

He swallowed thickly and nodded, “Yeah. Fuck, okay.”

You pried his hands from your hips and moved to the edge of your bed to open up your bedside table, pulling out your fresh pack of condoms. Harry had removed his underwear quickly and then took the box from you as he moved behind you and tore the pack open to pull out a foil wrapper.

You bit your lip as you watched him toss the box onto your bed and rip the wrapper to bring the rubber out.

He looked up at you as he placed the condom on his tip, “Wish I could fuck you raw, Y/n. I know that’s a bad idea in my logical mind, but…” he looked down as he rolled his hand down his shaft and then back at you, “Something about you makes me want to do a really stupid thing,” he puffed out a laugh as he grabbed you by your neck and pushed you back into your bed.

You were completely caught off guard by his dominance but it did nothing but turn you on even more, “What really stupid thing?” You asked as he grabbed your thighs and pressed his palms to the back of them, pushing your legs out of the way of his hips as he pressed himself against you.

“It’s just a thing…” he looked directly at you as his crown pressed through your muscle, spreading you open gently, “Like lizard brain. Spreading my seed, claiming you…”

Your mouth dropped open as he plunged himself into you. That thick cock taking up so much space on your insides it ached.

“Oh fuck you feel so good, Y/n…” he growled as he began thrusting himself through your walls, getting himself good and deep, “Want to fill you up with my come is what I want…” he groaned, another stiff rut through your slick pussy, “Show everyone what I did… how I made you mine… fuck…”

You understood what it was he was saying. It was that primal thing most humans had in them to procreate. Especially men. And your ovaries were not opposed to what he was saying at that moment. But you knew that feeling would pass once you stopped ovulating.

You sighed as he rocked into you, his chest flushed and his arms flexed as he drove himself back and in over and over again until his rhythm grew brutal and he was hammering into you with deep moans.

You whined at the way he was punching into you, sliding through your cunt like he was going to die if he didn’t put his all into it. He was fucking into you like a madman.

“Oh shhhit, Harry!” You yelped out when his hips pasted against yours and he choked out a loud groan as his cock began to throb in heavy pulses inside of you.

“Fuck, I’m coming… Shit!” His face twisted up as he released into his condom, wishing he was coating your walls and letting his sperm seep into your ovaries. He felt a little bad that he didn’t make you come again, but he couldn’t hold back. He was in caveman mode, or whatever it was… completely blissed out and not thinking rationally.

You watched his handsome face scrunch up and then relax as his lips parted and he ground into you, swiveling his hips against you so hard it made your pussy clench with a pang of pain. The good kind of pain. This was the kind that was worth it. To watch this big man over you in ecstasy, soft gasps falling from his lips as his come drained out of his cock in relief.

When he finally opened his eyes and looked down at you he felt your hand on his jaw with your lips turned up in a soft smile, “Better?”

He laughed and nodded, “Yeah. Sorry. That’s… I don’t think that’s ever happened to me before.”

You gulped and pulled at him, both of you rolling to your sides, “I’m ovulating so I wonder if you’re like smelling the pheromones or whatever?”

He grinned widely and the corners of his eyes crinkled, “Maybe? I guess that’s a thing right? But… I’m sure I’ve been around other ovulating women. Never made me insane before.”

You raised your brows as you brought a hand to his temple and smoothed his hair back a little, it was all messy from you sitting on his face, “Maybe I’m just special.”

Harry licked his lips and his grin turned into something playful with an edge of lust, “Well you certainly taste special,” he lifted your arm up and leaned in, licking up the curve of your armpit and you squealed in shock and laughed.

“What on earth? That’s so gross!” You pushed at him but he pulled your arm around his middle so you couldn’t shove him too far.

“Mmm… I swear you have something in your sweat that’s making me crazy.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile, “I think it’s just lizard brain. Like you said.”

Harry shrugged and nuzzled in closer to you, “Maybe. The only way to find out is if we do this more often. Probably shouldn’t wait so long between seeing each other anymore.”

You were not disappointed by the turn this took. You’d be down to see him more often if he wanted, “Yeah?”

“Definitely, yeah.”

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[st5lker]

help a broke latine transfem out?

i was hoping i wouldnt have to make one of these but its looking like i have no choice. i do ubereats for work, and for of a combination of a few reasons (it being summer, inflation being as bad as it is esp here in socal, etc) it’s been extremely slow. on tuesday I was out for 4 1/2 hours and made literally only $11 before I had to go home because of pain. ive tried applying at less unreliable jobs but nowhere has gotten back to me, job market is extremely bad right now and being a full time college student does not help.

I have my credit card bill ($203) and the deadline for my car’s registration ($149) both coming up in the next week or so. Currently I cannot pay for both without having to dip into my savings, which I really really do not want to do. If I don’t pay for my car’s registration I obviously can’t work at all. as I mentioned I also experience really bad chronic back and leg pain because of how much I have to sit in my car’s uncomfortable seat while working, so it’d be really nice if I would be able to at least afford a nice cushion to sit on to help alleviate this and maybe let me work for longer hours.

this isnt the most urgent thing in the world but if you have anything to spare id really appreciate it. i really do not want to dip into my savings right now bc I don’t even have very much there either. it’s been extremely stressful and I’ve been spending my summer doing nothing but working sleeping and (barely) eating without even enough time to clean my room or do laundry since i spend my days off trying to recover from the pain. any little penny makes things easier for me, and if I get any more than enough to pay for those aforementioned bills it’ll go entirely to things like food, gas, that cushion, etc.

v/nmo: @rosechxrch

c/shapp: $rosechxrch

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[l0vergirlwrites]

i’m your favourite ; eddie munson

synopsis: eddie’s insecurities always make him question whether or not he really deserves you, but he knows he can count on you to continuously prove him wrong.

warnings: mentions of insecurities in terms of looks & relationship dynamics, few swear words, fem!reader in mind, reader has a mom, dad & little sister, established relationship, lil heated moments

note: inspired by role model’s song “scumbag” (if you haven’t listened to his latest album “kansas anymore” go do it!!!)

“i’m a train wreck, i’m a cigarette. i’m the side that no one’s rooting for. but you stand by me.”

“eds? did you hear me?”.

quickly blinking his eyes, eddie took in his surroundings & came back to reality. pressing a faint kiss to your hair, he nodded his head.

you both were having a movie night at his trailer with blankets & popcorn on his couch. you both weren’t super picky, so the random cable channel playing horror movies did the trick.

“sorry—zoned out. what were you saying, baby?” he tried to recover from his mere moment of weakness, his arm tightening around your shoulders to pull you closer to his chest.

“i was just wondering…” you teetered, “would you wanna come over tomorrow?” you nerves were taking over now that his attention was fully on you.

“it’s my little sister’s birthday & my parents are doing a barbecue to celebrate—it’s okay if you don’t wanna come, i get it,” you started to ramble, fiddling with the material of eddie’s shirt you wore.

“i just thought it’d be nice for you to meet my family, y’know? b-but you can totally say no—it’s not a big deal” you assured him, but you secretly hoped he’d say yes.

when eddie didn’t answer immediately, you lifted your head from his chest to get a better view of his face, seeing a look of uncertainty on his features. it made you worry if asking this was too much.

“you want me to your family? a-are you sure?”

nodding your head quick, your hand rose up to rest on his cheek, thumb smoothing over his skin. “i’m sure,” you smiled once you saw eddie’s face soften, his doe eyes twinkling under the living room lamps.

“you’re my favourite person, eddie. plus, my mom has been dying to meet you since our first date” your cheeks felt warm at that little omission, & you could see a pink hue bloom on eddie’s.

pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand, eddie pushed aside his insecurities for a moment. “okay,” he exhaled, “i’d love to come over”.

pushing yourself up on the couch cushions to thank him with a kiss, eddie’s hands tightened on your waist, sighing into your mouth the longer your lips were locked to his.

“by the way,” he pecked the corner of your mouth. “you’re my favourite too”.

**~*~*~~*~**~*~~*~*~**~**~*~~*~*

tomorrow had come & eddie was freaking the hell out.

his room had become a larger mess than it usually was, turning into a something that looked like a hurricane with all the clothes thrown everywhere & on everything. all morning, he had tried finding the perfect outfit to wear that would be acceptable in the eyes of your parents, but nothing seemed to work.

so for the last ten minutes, he sat against the edge of his bed with his fingers tangled in his lion’s mane, eyes pinched & breath heavy in frustration.

at least, that was until his landline phone began to ring.

“hello?” he spoke into the mic, voice dropping with defeat.

“eds? what’s wrong?” your voice was concerned, only causing eddie’s breath to hitch.

“nothing baby, it’s all good”.

you scoffed. “sure don’t sound like it”.

rolling his eyes playfully, he fully laid out on his bed, back growing uncomfortable from all the clothes sprawled across it.

“are you gonna tell me what’s wrong or continue to mope about it?” you chided, only making him sigh.

“i have nothing good to wear”. the statement made him seem pathetic in his eyes.

tilting your head (you knew he could tell your movements), you couldn’t help but have a small smirk on your face while you twisted the phone cord between your fingers.

“now i don’t believe that, baby” now you heard him scoff.

“your parents are gonna think i’m a freak—everybody does. i-i can’t help it”. he spoke softer now, insecurities flowing out of him & overtaking his being because he didn’t want to be made a fool out of.

he wouldn’t be able to survive knowing your family doesn’t approve of him.

& your heart drops at the mere thought of it.

“eddie,” you spoke, trying to reel him back in from the negative parts of his mind. “no one is going to think you’re a freak—you’re so much more than that stupid label”.

he continued to stare up at the client as you spoke, his chest growing heavy with anxiety.

“they’re going to love you because you’re kind, have good humour, extremely helpful, caring, handsome,” you could hear him let out a huff at the last word.

“… & because i love you”.

you both haven’t said those three words yet since you started dating a few months ago. so, now was the first time.

“y-you what?”

fear overtook you now, your heartbeat loud in your ears. did i say it too early you thought to yourself.

“i-i love you, eddie. i hope that’s okay” oh shit.

eddie almost dropped the phone from his hand, still somehow in shock that someone like you loved someone like him. he’s been known as trailer trash, a freak, a thrown out cigarette, a scumbag, a stain on the so called beauty of hawkins—he’s been torn down for too long.

but by the grace of god (or some other being or universe or whatever), you saw past all the tarnished scuffs on him.

it’s something he still can’t fully understand.

“eddie, i-i’m sorry if i just fucked everything—“

“i love you too. sorry it took me so long to say it”

his words took you by surprise, & you couldn’t help but laugh happily into the receiver.

“you don’t have to be sorry, you just have to come over & kiss me to seal the deal” you bit your lip at your coyness, hoping it’d be enough for him to pull through.

“i’ll see you in thirty, sweetheart” eddie said before ending the call, leaving you with a fluttering feeling in your chest. your head bumped into your pillow in a lovestruck haze, cheeks hurting from how hard were smiling.

you were so in love with that man.

**~~*~*~**~***~*~~**~*~**~*~*

you waited at the front door while the party festivities took place in the backyard, hearing your mom yell that the food was almost ready from the back door. you tapped your sandal clad foot eagerly, anxious for when the doorbell would finally ring.

& it hit you like bricks when it chimed in your ears.

your hand (which was slightly clammy from nerves) held the doorknob, twisting it slowly until the door was open & your lovely boy was in view.

he dressed in casual attire consisting of a dark red t-shirt, dark blue jeans, & a new pair of sneakers he got with steve the other day. he still wore his rings & guitar pick necklace, dawning those pearly whites of his with a grin when he saw you.

his hands were full, holding onto things with a claw like grip. in one, he held three small bouquets of flowers from the supermarket & his van keys. the other held a purple gift bag stuffed with white glittery tissue paper, the specks of glitter shining brightly in the mid afternoon sunlight.

“hey, baby” he said with a pep in his step, eying you up & down. you could tell he was still nervous, but he was trying his best to keep cool.

without missing a beat, your hands flew up to his face & you kissed him hard, taking him by surprise on your front door step. but who could blame you for doing such a thing after you both confessed your love over the phone?

“you’re gonna,” *kiss* “make me” *kiss* “drop everything”, he huffed, laughing into your lips when you refused to pull away initially.

“sorry,” you heaved. “just love you so much is all” you grinned harder at eddie’s flushed face.

“lemme put everything down & give you a proper one, yeah?”

you agreed, helping him inside your home for the first time, giving him a quick tour of the main floor as you headed to the kitchen to put the flowers in some water.

“my mom is a gonna get all sappy knowing you got us all flowers—thank you by the way” you pecked his cheek with a pop as you placed the flowers into three different vases.

placing the gift bag on the counter, eddie just shrugged nonchalantly. “well, it’s just what a gentleman does” he said, smirking when you smiled at him.

“yeah,” you made your way over to him, hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, chest pressing into his as his cold ring clad hands held your waist, squeezing it every few seconds.

“you really are the best” you leaned closer to him, lips just about to brush his.

“hmm, is that right?” his breath fanned your face, smelling like spearmint gum.

you could only nod, unable to resist the space anymore until he made the final dip forward, capturing your lips in his for a proper kiss where he could hold you close. it was slow, saying all the things you both wanted to say, while being sweet & soft & rewarding all at the same time.

“i love you” he breathed into your mouth, his thumbs fiddling with the smocked material on the lower back of your dress, being careful not to let them drift too low in case someone in your family caught him—& god forbid it’d be your father.

“i love you too” you murmured, pulling apart to laugh & smile & take all of him in like this.

you took a mental screenshot of him, safely storing it away in your brain’s memory box for later.

“so,” you patted his chest. “ready to meet everyone?” you asked, wiping away some of your lipgloss from his bottom lip while he sweetly tucked some of your hair behind your ear, fingers brushing over your earrings with a smile (because you’re wearing the ones he bought you).

eddie thought you tasted just as sweet as you looked.

“yeah,” he interlocked your fingers with his own, squeezing three times “now i am”.

“i’m a scumbag, i’m a scumbag (but you stand by me)”.

[ddarker-dreams]

play wrestling — blade.

Embarrassment doesn’t find you easily.

To experience embarrassment implies a degree of self-awareness. While you possess some, it’s decreased significantly compared to your earlier years. Such is the natural progression of life. This is why you felt free to act on a little impulse, initially uncaring of how it’d reflect on you.

However, faced with two eyes as crimson as freshly spilled blood, you can’t help but do some reassessing.

“… What are you doing?” Blade asks, dryly. You feel the low rumble of his baritone voice against your palms, which you’ve splayed against his chest. His neutral countenance doesn’t give much away. According to your peer-reviewed scientific analysis, he alternates between three expressions — apathy, irritation, and wrath. There is an additional secret one for when it’s just the two of you and he doesn’t think you’re looking.

From what you can tell, you’ve landed yourself on the apathetic side of the spectrum. You can work with that. You’ll commit to the bit.

“Besting an intergalactic criminal in combat, obviously,” you scoff, faking a bravado you don’t have.

“Hm.”

“…”

“…”

Is he not going to do anything to free himself from this position?!

Blade had silently slid himself next to where you sat on the floor, playing with your phone. This unique opportunity activated a primal part of your brain that probably should’ve stayed in the vault. You wrangled him down. Now, he’s lying flat on his back, with you sitting victorious atop his lower abdomen. Long strands of his black hair fall along his side, painting a pretty picture. You suppress the urge to run your hands through his silky locks. That can come later, you have an objective to achieve.

“Are you finished?”

“Wh— well, no,” you frown. And here you thought he might indulge you. “You have to, y’know, fight back…?”

He raises an eyebrow and you want to groan.

“But I’d win.”

The declaration is made like it’s a foregone conclusion. Which, if you’re being honest, isn’t wrong. Still, he should give you some credit. You can hold your own in a fight! Maybe you’re not waving-around-a-three-thousand-pound-ancient-sword good, but you’re decent enough. He’s no fun. Kafka would’ve played around with you.

“How can you be so sure— eek!”

He grabs you by the shoulders and flips you around, reversing your position. Despite the immense speed he used, your head doesn’t hit the ground hard like it should’ve. He cushioned the impact by essentially cradling the back of your head with his hand. This is why you never believe him when he denies being a ‘secret softie.’ You know the truth.

“This is how,” he says.

You pout. “Did I at least put up a good fight?”

His silence speaks volumes.

After getting his fill of how nice you look beneath him, he climbs off you. The second you’re no longer restrained, you begin your counterattack. You lunge at him, intending to pin him down, only to feel the cool leather of his gloves against your wrists. You struggle valiantly to regain your freedom. All this does is amuse him further.

“We’re pretty evenly matched, right?” You ask, beginning to grow breathless from the energy you’re exerting.

The corners of his lips twitch upward.

“Mhm. Right.”

[zzencat]

Little Things You Can Do To Get Back On Track - Timeless ⏳

If you came from my “Why Am I Still Unsatisfied?” reading, sit back and relax. Take in the messages I am collecting at this moment. These are very simple things you can do today to get yourself back on the track of life.

Note: This is meant to be short and simple, but a storm of butterflies can whip up a tsunami. I got more than what I asked for from my spirit guides today. It seems you have a lot to hear. You never know what could impact your life. “You should be prepared.”

DO BEFORE YOU READ: Clear your mind. Close your eyes, inhale deeply, fill up your chest to the fullest, feel the air brush against the ridges of your nose. Breathe out. You are no longer alone. Choose the photo that you can’t take your eyes off of.

—————-

Pile 1. “Simple is best.”

• You could use some vitamin C, to be honest. But don’t overdo it. Learn more about your body and keep up with it—things like how fast you metabolize certain things, but if you’re on medication or supplements, be aware that metabolizing medication is different from metabolizing food. You also either drink too much water or too little.

• If you’re prone to procrastination, start looking for libraries and cafes to help you better focus.

• TAKE BREAKS. Mental, emotional, all of it. Look out the window and observe things that catch your attention. Maybe you’ll start to realize that life does have its small and beautiful moments.

• You don’t have to be surrounded by friends and people all the time. Allow yourself some you-time, explore places on your own—I keep seeing someone wearing a scarf, drinking a hot-warm coffee (coffee is super dehydrating for you btw, so make sure you drink tons of water), fall season. Lounging around in your room and having a show binge by yourself is also good. It’d be nice if you had at least one day off every week to spend by yourself, without the presence of other people.

• Remember that you should recharge yourself too and that saying “no” is okay. You don’t have to be responsible for everyone else.

• Take a walk at dawn, but wear a jacket when you do so. Be wary of your surroundings still, but when you have a moment, breathe in the air of an area that has a dewy smell to it. Damp or rainy seasons work fine. Watch the sun come up for a few seconds and take that time to appreciate your environment.

—————

Pile 2. “Rejection is Okay.”

• Have you gone on any dates recently? I’m seeing a girl with her legs crossed at a cozy cafe, but she’s not bothered by it. She’s neutral in fact, very simple existing, and she’s reading a wall full of post-it notes from other couple. She seems intrigued, although not overly. Just neutral and an “oh, how nice” kind of vibe.

• Perhaps there is a lack of confidence. You should strive to be someone that is okay with being alone in public—specifically LOOKING alone in public. No, that does not make you seem lonely. It makes you comfortable with your own presence. Maybe you tend to think a lot or contemplate often.

• Working on leadership skills could be something. Maybe you’d like to become more assertive? I don’t have too much advice for this group, to be honest. But you should learn how to stand up for yourself more and be careful so that people don’t take advantage of you (for anything/any reason) easily.

• Condition your mind to not caring what others think. Obviously, there’s a limit and rules set in place so that we don’t get in legal trouble—I’m talking about your mindset. Don’t let others get to you easily and work more on your posture. Standing/sitting up straighter will begin to subtly convince your mind and you that you’re confident.

————

Pile 3. “It’s too quiet.”

• journaling can help. It might sound boring or it might be hard to sit in one place for a while, but you have to practice it. Discipline yourself.

• Kind of similar to pile 1, but this is a less responsible group. Don’t distract yourself from your problems and face them head on. Being cowardly isn’t a good trait to have. Be mindful about drinking and what other things you’re putting in your body. This could bite you back in the future.

• Friends may be questionable, may try to convince you to do things you weren’t initially planning to do/try. Be wary of this and stand up for yourself.

• Another thing if you do drink, learn not to drink away your problems or get high enough to escape them. It’s hard, I know. But you have to realize how important it is to live. Don’t be so reckless. If your soul is being let down, you’ll pay the consequences.

• If you feel like a failure or everyone around you says that you are, don’t feed into it. Build yourself up. Make something out of yourself but don’t let those people know. They’ll see it and possibly try to take credit. Don’t let them. Deal with it in a calm and diplomatic manner and turn your head away. You don’t need that extra nonsense. Simple acknowledgement is what they really need, so don’t give them the attention. You’ll mature so much from this.

• It might feel lonely and you may think you’re the only person who’s overthinking/overfeeling about something, or you feel like you’re different from the people you hang out with somehow. A small part of you probably thinks there’s more to life than just…this. Whatever you’re doing to pass the time and simply have fun. Like “they wouldn’t understand so I gotta fake it til I make it” type of energy. Laughing it off type of energy. “Ah, whatever- it’s nothing~” energy. Find like-minded people who share the same interests as you and bond with them. You will experience more authenticity in these relationships than your previous ones.

• Pile 3, you definitely have a bit to learn and it takes work, but you have it in you. The potential is very obviously there. You know it too, but you brush it off—don’t deny it. Don’t be scared of it and learn to speak its language. Reach your hand out to whatever is in that mental cave of yours and show it some kindness. It’s okay for it to come out. You’ll learn that it will take your hand faster than you’d thought. Don’t let doubt get in the way. This pile thinks A LOT and likes to drown it out, because it’s easy. Let yourself think and feel the emotions, bad or good. You won’t even recognize what you were holding back. You have power to impact people more than you realize. Good luck Pile 3, you have this.

————————-

Lil Teddy note: I hope you enjoyed this reading guys!! Today I asked for simple things that my readers could do to improve their lives and become better beings. I meant to keep it concise and give 3D, things-you-could-do-in-the-present type of things, but apparently, I received other messages to give that involved mental and physical health as well. Some piles made me feel worried and passionate, like their higher selves were desperate to get them out of these ruts or situations. The signs have been there but maybe some piles haven’t been taking them seriously or have been brushing them off one too many times. This is your sign man 😂😂 Please, take yourselves seriously and realize that you’ve only got a shot of this. Stay safe, work on that confidence, and learn to be with yourself. With all that being said, take what resonates and leave what doesn’t!! Thank you for coming to our reading today :) Teddy outttt

[perlelune]

Dollhouse | Rafe Cameron | ii.

The moment your mother marries Ward Cameron should have been the moment your life changes for the better. A fresh start out of the Cut for the both of you. And for the first seven years of living with the Camerons, everything truly is perfect.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Pogue!Reader, Stepcest, Secret Relationship, Manipulation, Jealousy, Drugs, Drinking,

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

You let your fingers wander over the edge of the car window, a big smile spread across your face. The gentle breeze flutters across your skin and birdsong fills your ears. You bask in the warmth of the sun and the comfortable feeling sitting inside your chest. The morning was spent visiting the university you’ll be joining in the coming fall. You were given a tour of campus and all the historical buildings you’ll get to wander through soon. It filled you with anticipation, getting that brief glimpse into college life. You’ve been in Outer Banks your whole life and while it’s pretty much a paradise, you’re looking forward to experiencing something new and exciting.

Dad insisted on driving you since you don’t have your license yet. The two of you constantly got wrapped in animated chatter on the way to and from campus. While it’s hard for Ward to watch one of his baby birds leave the nest, you appreciate how supportive he’s been overall. After long hours coaxing him with Mom of course. Dad was skeptical at first. He even suggested you take a gap year to mull it over, like Sarah did. But you and Sarah are like the sun and moon. She’d be the sun of course. While your big sister is content running off with the Pogues on wild adventures and setting aside college for now, you can’t picture yourself doing that. You’re a Cameron, but you’re not Sarah Cameron. With her sweet disposition and golden mane, your sister could probably get away with murder by batting her lashes and flashing her signature sunny grin. Things are different for you. Very different. You haven’t forgotten where you come from, much as everyone in the family pretends you’re just as quintessentially Kook as the rest of them. 

Tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, you pivot to Ward.

“Thanks for driving me, dad.”

He beams, his blue gaze drifting away from the road as it lands on you.

“No problem, sweetheart. It’s an amazing school. Great program. Campus looks good too. I know you’ll fit right in.”

A wave of warmth blows through you. “Thanks.”

Sighing, you turn to the epitome of gloom and petulance in the backseat. His arms are folded over his broad chest, his irate blue eyes glued to the window. Your brother’s been cranky all morning. Any trivial inquiry or mundane remark set him off. He barely uttered a word to Dad and graced you with nothing but stubborn silence. It’s blatant he isn’t handling the prospect of your imminent absence well. The silence concerns you a little though. Rafe isn’t one to chew his words or swallow them. So whatever resentment he harbors about your decision to go away for college must run deep. It casts a veil of despondency upon an otherwise wonderful day. 

Of all people, you’d expect your big brother to support you the most. 

His sour-faced demeanor never relents, even when Ward stops the car in front of Tannyhill. Dad sighs as he parks the truck. He’s already lectured Rafe twice on the way back. You note the disappointment etched on his face, the way he squares his shoulders and readies him to march towards his son and lash out at him again. You put your hand on his shoulder and shake your head. The last thing you need is your brother and father at each other’s throat again. It’d be nice to linger in the exhilaration the campus left you with a little longer. 

“It’s fine, dad. Let me talk to him,” your say. 

Dad’s shoulders sag. He yields, heading inside the house and leaving you with Rafe. You lean next to him on the truck, head tilted in concern. 

“Hey…You haven’t said a word since we came back. What did you think?” 

When he fails to reply, his face taut, your frustration swells. “You’re the one who insisted on coming.”

It’s when he snaps, the vein in his forehead pulsing. He swivels to you. 

“I just don’t understand why you have to go to a school so far from us, y’know? A five hour drive, really?”

Your brows crumple to a frown.

“Rafe…”

He cuts you off with a mirthless laugh, annoyance flashing in his blue eyes. “And the way you kept gushing about college parties and college boys…” His jaw ticks. “I just don’t like it.” 

Rafe pauses, licking his lips and humming as if lost in the depths of reflection. “I think…”

When he trails off, you urge him to go on, impatience clear in your tone, “What do you think?”

He shrugs before casually stating, “I think you’re gonna land yourself into trouble like the airhead that you are and come crawling back home.”

Your face comes ablaze at his words. You punch his shoulders as tears rush to your eyes.

“You can be such a jerk sometimes.”

You stomp away from him, ire radiating from you in waves. He catches up to you with ease. An apology creeps on his face, his fingers clasping around your arm.

“Wait, princess.” 

He impedes your path, forcing you to halt in your tracks. He puts a hand on his chest, his expression earnest. 

“Look I’m just trying to look out for my little sister here, okay?” A hint of sadness seeps through his tone. “I thought you at least appreciated that.”

Your shoulders slump. 

“I do, Rafe, but…I’ll be gone soon. I need you to accept it.”

“I just think it’s too soon.”

“Rafe, I’ll visit. So often that you guys will get sick of me,” you say, your tone reassuring.

The suggestion does little to assuage him, his eyes rolling in annoyance. 

“You could take a gap year like Dad said. It wouldn’t be a big deal. You’re a Cameron.”

You nibble your bottom lip. You’re keenly aware Rafe will abhor the words bubbling in your throat before they even leave your mouth.

“Well, not exactly...”

He snickers. “It’s those Pogues…they got in your head, didn’t they?”

Your brows furrow. In your brother’s eyes, everything’s always a Pogues’ fault. He’s never been too fond of the fact that you still hang out on that side of the island sometimes. The phrase ‘You’re a Kook now princess, act like it.’ has left his mouth a numberless amount of times in the past seven years whenever he found you drifting a little too far from the family.

“What? It’s got nothing to do with my friends, Rafe,” you retaliate. 

Your gazes clash, a silent war of unwavering wills as your brother looms over you. He works his jaw and unleashes a long exhale. 

“So you’re just gonna leave us? It’s final?”

Reluctance drips from your clipped tone. “Yeah, it’s final.”

“I see.”

He gives a sluggish nod of acknowledgement before rushing inside the house.

You trail behind him, panic fluttering through your chest.

“Rafe…”

His back remains turned. Your stomach sinks, his staunch ignorance driving a blade through your heart. The last thing you want is to be away from Rafe, away from your family. But college matters to you. Why can’t he see that? 

Mom stands by the counter, dumbfounded by Rafe’s furious stride up the stairs. 

“What’s gotten into him?”

A deep sigh ripples through your lips as you meet Mom’s concerned stare. “You know Rafe…”

You turn to her.

“You wanted to talk to me, mom?”

She beams at you. You straighten your spine. 

Mom texted you on the way back. She mentioned Sarah would be here too, causing your suspicions to hit a peak.

Nearly every talk with Mom devolved into a firm reminder to behave in a manner befitting a Cameron, befitting Ward Cameron’s daughter. Your mother’s foot never eased off your neck in the last few years. 

Nothing besides perfection is allowed.

Perfect grades. Perfect smile. Perfect behavior. Not a single blight or misstep shall ruin the blended nuclear family image Mom and Ward strive to project. Dad might be more subtle about it, but you know his expectations of you align with Mom’s. 

Whenever Sarah slackens, the burden passes on to you. You’re supposed to set an example for Willa and Wheezie to follow.

Mom glances between you and Sarah, the latter already sitting on a stool by the counter. It’s clear your sister would rather be anywhere but here. Likely hanging out with John B or some other fun thing. “To both of you, actually.”

You and Sarah exchange a look, one you have countless times before. The quiet acceptance that you’re both about to be lectured by Alice Cameron.

Resigned, you plop down in the stool next to Sarah’s. 

Excitement oozes off Mom’s voice as she starts speaking. 

“You remember when I told you about the Calliopean Society Debutante Ball?”

Sarah’s lips twitch as she tamps down a grin. “You mean the one you’ve been massively subtle about?”

It’s true. For months, Mom has dropped heavy hints regarding her desire to see both you and Sarah become debs. Even amongst Kooks, being picked to represent the institution is seen as the highest honor. Only a handful of young women from prestigious families in North Carolina are picked, ones whose families have made significant contributions to the county. 

A series of events antecedes the ball, including but not limited to Midsummers, a variety of tea parties and galas. The whole thing is archaic at best and cringeworthy at worst. 

You’ve tried to get Mom to relinquish the idea of you joining it. But she’s been relentless. The symbol of status it epitomizes isn’t something she’ll let go off so easily. 

Not when she’s tried to make everyone on Figure Eight forget where she comes from. Mom would do anything to bury any hint of her past as a Pogue.

You bump Sarah’s elbow, berating her with a frown, “Sarah.”

She chuckles and stands a bit straighter. 

Mom sighs at her antics, her forehead creasing.

“Girls. I need you to focus.”

“Sorry, Mom.”

“Sorry, Alice,” Sarah echoes.

Mom marks a dramatic pause, causing dread to tickle your insides. If she’s this excited, it’s almost a given that you won’t be.

Indeed, her next words confirm your inkling.

“Well, I managed to slip in both of your names in the short list while attending the Midsummer’s committee,” she says.

You wince. “Mom…why would you do that?”

Her elation doesn’t waver. “They’ve never had a young woman like you in their ranks and they’re trying to be more open-minded this year.”

“Mom, this is old-fashioned and gross. The girls are presented like broodmares to be sold.”

Her brows knit. “That is not what this is. Being chosen is an honor.”

Sarah rolls her eyes and you purse your lips. Mom squints at you, folding her arms.

“I want you two to participate in all the events leading up to it.”

Sarah blinks in disbelief. “Come again?”

“Isn’t Midsummer enough?” you refute. 

It’s bad enough you’re not given much of a choice in attending the stuffy event. The fact that Mom wants you and Sarah to take it one step further is wild.

“Do you know how many girls would kill to be in your place, sweetie?” she laments, looking straight at you. “It’ll be an opportunity to bond with young ladies your age.”

This doesn’t stir you. You doubt you have much in common with the kind of girls picked out as debutantes. This was probably the same crowd you’ve exerted great effort in avoiding at the Kook school. 

“Kie will be there too, but only if you go,” you specify.

This catches your interest, mostly because of how absurd that statement is. You’re pretty sure Kie would likely chop off an arm before agreeing to be a debutante, even if you did it too.

Sarah’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

“Kie? No way, you’re making this up.”

A mischievous smile unfurls on Mom’s lips.

“Well, it wasn’t easy to get her to agree but her father threatened to stop paying for her unlimited data plan.”

Oh so it’s like that? Kie’s parents resorted to blackmail. Makes sense. You just can’t picture your rebellious friend agreeing to this without an incentive. You surmise threatening to cut off her only means of constant communication with the Pogues might sway her mind a bit. 

“Yeah that…tracks.”

“Can you do it, please?”

Your shoulders sag. “Mom, I really wished you stopped trying to impress those women. You do realize they’ll always look at us the same way, no matter what we do.”

Mom’s face dims at your words. An instant wave of guilt fills you. You should have kept your mouth shut. She tosses her hands in the air.

“Fine. I never ask you girls for anything, but okay.” She starts frantically cleaning the kitchen, loud clangs echoing as she grabs random pots and pans from the oven and cabinets. “When I was your age…” You suppress an eye roll. Here we go. You and Sarah trade a knowing glance. Anytime she starts a sentence that way, you know you’re doomed. “I’d have killed to get an opportunity like this...” 

Mom continues rambling about how privileged and spoiled you and Sarah are, how she was never given those kinds of chances. She mentions her rough upbringing and hammers in the sacrifices she made to raise you. She reminds Sarah all the times she showed up for her and that she loves her the same way a mother would. You spot the exact moment your sister breaks. By the end, the guilt both Sarah and you feel is palpable, its weight clogging the air. 

“Ugh…Fine, we’ll do it,” Sarah relents.

Mom’s sour face immediately shifts to a triumphant expression.

As the evening rolls around, the sky shifting to duskier hues, an unexpected presence slips through your bedroom door. 

You sit up, your pink headphones tumbling down to your neck. 

“Rafe!” you exclaim, eyes widening in astonishment.

A lopsided smirk unfolds on his face at your reaction. He slowly closes the door and strolls to your bed. The mattress bounces when Rafe tosses himself on it. He drags his fingers along your sheets for a while, the golden family ring on his finger glimmering dully. You wait anxiously with your legs crossed.

After what seems an eternity, blue eyes swing upward as he sighs.

“I’m sorry I was a jerk earlier,” he blurts out. He licks his lips and holds your gaze, his fingers wandering to your knee. Rafe’s deep voice lowers, oozing sadness. “I just know everyone in this house will drive me crazy if you’re not there.”

“There’s always Sarah.”

That draws a burst of laughter from him. He shakes his head.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that.”

Your face breaks out in a grin. Throughout the years, it’s always staggered you how different the dynamic between you and Rafe is different from his relationship with Sarah. Everything’s a competition for Rafe when it comes to Sarah, starting with the ceaseless quest for Dad’s approval. Meanwhile, since that day at the wedding, Rafe has never failed to be there for you. He’s been the best big brother, attentive and kind. While on the exterior he could be a jackass to everyone, including your Pogue friends, he’s never been that way with you. You could talk to him about your problems, however trivial they may be. He’s the one who made you feel most welcome at Tannyhill, impugning every presumption you harbored about what having Rafe Cameron as your brother would be like. And now you can’t picture your life without Rafe in it. 

“It’ll be fine. We’ll text. I’ll call you every week.”

“Won’t be the same.”

You take a deep breath.

“For the record, I’ll miss you too. A lot.”

“You better.”

You chuckle.

“Hey, I never gave you your birthday gift…” Rafe says, fishing for something in his back pocket. A sly smirk tugs his lips. “I wanted to do something a little different this year.” You’re filled with shock when he produces a little bag full of white powder. 

You blink rapidly as he holds it up. You’ve seen him take some at parties, sell it to his guests. Once or twice, you got curious and asked to try. He vehemently turned you down, insisting he’s not about to let his little sister get fucked up…despite spending the whole night getting fucked up himself.

“Really?”

Rafe’s smirk broadens. “Really.”

Excitement flushes through you. You can’t deny you’ve always wanted to know what it feels like.

“You like…never let me try before.”

He laughs, shifting closer to you. 

“Because I was trying to keep my sweet little sister pure. Can you blame me, princess?” he says, fingertips tracing your knee. 

You swallow thickly, your face heating when he places the little pouch in your hand.

“I actually have no idea how to…”

“I’ll show you, of course. It’s my job as your big brother to teach you everything.” His voice dips to a velvety bass as your eyes lock. “So let me pop your cherry, princess.”

When you stare at him, slack-jawed, Rafe snorts. 

“It’s just a phrase, relax.”

Amusement dances in his blue eyes at your clueless expression. He grabs a paper from his pocket and begins rolling it. 

“Here, I’ll show you how it’s done.” He gently swipes the pouch and takes your hand, opening your palm to pour just a tiny amount of the white powder in the middle. “Let’s just keep this a secret between us, okay?” His eyes twinkle. “I don’t want Alice to think I’m… corrupting you or something.”

[bcyhoods]

WITH FIREWORKS! STEVE

synopsis : after a date at the carnival, steve gives you your first kiss! (prompt: “was that your first kiss?”)

word count : 1.6k

author’s note : repost from my old blog! i fixed her up a little bit, endured changing past to present tense just for you so….

“Those games were totally rigged,” Steve huffs as he prods at the small teddy bear clutched in his hands.

You’re situated on the hood of his car, smiley lips tinged blue thanks to the half-eaten cone of cotton candy in your hands. Steve stands in between your legs with a pout as his free hand rests beside your thigh, finger itching to graze your skin as it taps the metal of his car. The summer sun has just dipped below the horizon, but his face is illuminated by the multicolored lights of the fair behind you. Even with a sullen attitude, he just looks so pretty.

It was only your third official date — excluding the weekly, hour-long visits to Family Video, which Robin made sure to tease him for — and Steve figured it was time to rattle his feathers, so to speak. He wanted to impress you by showing off his athleticism, and carnival games provided an exemplary opportunity to do just that.

He envisioned your arms full and occupied by the array of giant prizes he won for you. You’d watch with an endearing grin on your face every time he beat a game. The night would end with your arms thrown around his shoulders and the perfect kiss that had you both swooning.

With fireworks in the background, obviously.

But luck had strayed far away from Steve Harrington’s side. Far, far away.

“Oh, they were, were they?”

“Definitely. ‘You can only throw it with an underhand,’” Steve mocks the game attendant with a husky voice — a terrible impression, really, but he knew it’d make you laugh. “That’s a made up rule. For sure. I’ve never heard that rule before. Ridiculous.”

The boy sighs defeatedly, letting you take the bear from his hand before running his fingers through his, now disheveled hair. The brown locks had endured the torment throughout the night as he increasingly became more and more stressed. And he didn’t want to admit he was embarrassed, it felt entirely dramatic and silly. But he was, and the way he avoided your gaze while his teeth worried his bottom lip was enough of a tell.

He laughs meekly at himself and squeezes the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, I was trying so hard to win one of those gigantic bears — too hard.”

You hum as your eyes scan over the stuffie. It was no bigger than the length of your hand. Its body was stiff and straight and a tuft of cotton spilled out from under its right arm due to a couple frayed stitches. The ribbon around its neck was barely being held together with a glob of hot glue.

“I like this one, it’s cute.” At his scoff, you double down, “I’m serious! It’s got a lot of charm to it. It’s perfect.”

You move your attention from the bear to Steve only to find that he’s already looking at you. His gaze is incredibly soft, smile lines decorating the corners of his lips as his tongue is coyly tucked into his cheek. His eyes are brimming with love, you think you might burst the longer they’re on you. He finally lets himself graze the skin of your thighs as a subtle thank you. The attention was all-consuming, it made it hard for you to focus. It was hard to do much of anything really, with him looking at you like that.

Quickly, you clear your throat and look up into the sky in abrupt thought. “I think I’m going to name him…Eve.”

“Eve? Eve the bear?”

“Mmhmm,” you affirm with the wave of the cotton candy, “Eve ‘The Bear’ Bearington.”

A huff resembling a short laugh leaves his mouth as he drops his chin down. Lowly, he mutters, “You’re unbelievable,” before looking up at you again with a doting grin. He moves to shake the bear’s hand gingerly, holding it between his thumb and his index, and bowing his head.

“Nice to meet you, Eve. You’re looking a little rough, bud. Bad hangover?”

You scoff and protectively pull Eve into your chest as if it were a child. The chuckle that reverberates through his chest encourages your heart to dither as heat rises to the tips of your ears. “That was very rude, Harrington,” you reply, feigning shock while trying to fight off the smile creeping onto your lips. It doesn’t work.

“What? No, Eve didn’t think it was rude. I’ve been there before, I’m sure he appreciates my empathy,” Steve argues, eyes momentarily flitting to the cotton candy that sat untouched in your hand for the past few minutes. As he nonchalantly stretches his hand out to pull a piece of the sweet, you move your arm out of his reach.

He glares at you with a tilt of his head. You raise your eyebrows to challenge him.

“Bullies don’t get sweets.”

A small gasp emanates from him before his lips are twisting into an impish lopsided smile. He tsk’s and takes a small step back. “Well, that’s too bad…because it just tastes so,” he looks away innocently, “…much,” he pauses.

”…Better!” He lunges forward earning a yelp from you as one arm wraps around your waist while the other moves to grab at the cotton candy. His fingers curl into your sides, eliciting a fit of laughs and giggles to fall clumsily from your sugar-coated tongue which makes it that much harder to fight against him.

Albeit, you don’t cease, pushing against his shoulder and still trying to stretch your arm as far away from him as possible. But it was no use as he slightly lifted you up off the car for just a moment to pull you flush against him. Your legs reflexively wrap around his hips and once you drop the bear, your unoccupied hand grips a handful of his polo for stability. The action had taken you by surprise, being too distracted to push him away when he ducks his head down to take a bite of the candy floss.

“Yup, just as I thought. Ten times better,” he preaches, letting it dissolve on his tongue to savor the flavor.

You’re sure you look a mess. Your eyes must be glazed over complimented by your lips still parted in shock. Your chest is rising and falling in a quick, inconsistent pattern as you try to collect yourself. Again, Steve has thrown your train of thought completely off course.

“You suck,” you manage to say. It was a lame attempt at an insult. But the words were practically dripping with adoration, all he could do was smile.

“Yeah?”

You nod meekly.

You’re certain he can feel your heart thumping wildly against your ribcage, certain that even through the background carnival noises and both your uneven breaths, he could hear it, as well.

And despite being so sure of your dumbfounded expression, Steve thought you looked so beautiful like this. In disarray, your sweater fell off your shoulders to hang loosely on your arms and your hand is holding his shirt so tightly like it was a lifeline. His eyes dart to your lips to trace over your cupid’s bow before glancing back up to find your eyes.

And you thought he looked just as pretty. His nearness was entirely disorienting. You could smell the saccharine hint of stolen cotton candy mingled with his ever-prized Calvin Klein cologne. His hair had fallen handsomely over his forehead. The moles and freckles scattered across his face are more fascinating than ever as you count them until you reach his lips. How soft and inviting they looked.

You’re so completely enamored, you don’t even register when he leans in, brushing his lips against your own in a feather-light kiss. Your breath hitches in your throat and before you can even bring yourself back down to earth, he begins to pull away.

“Sorry, I thought…”

He moves to step away from you, but your legs tighten around him to keep him in place as your fingers wrap around the wrist on your waist.

“No! I’m sorry, I…it was nice, it’s just I haven’t…I mean, I’ve never…” You swallow down a lump in your throat as you feel your eyes start to water.

The second you glance up to gauge his reaction, you regret it. You watch his eyes widen in realization and feel his grip on your waist go slack. Hiding your face behind clammy hands, you groan and drop your head to his shoulder. Your entire body felt like it was on fire and you wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

“Was that your first kiss?”

You nod timidly, dragging your hands down to your lap to wring out your fingers, your gaze immediately following. And Steve is not malicious, he’d never laugh at you, but you feel just a little mortified that you froze up.

“Hey,” he cooed, delicately cupping your cheek and lifting your head. “It’s okay. Don’t be embarrassed.” The words are hushed and soft, a sweet reassurance that causes your insides to melt.

“Was it…was it good?” he asks.

The question makes you giggle, “I dunno, I didn’t really get a chance to return the favor.”

He nods, the beginnings of a wide smile slowly making its way onto his blushing face. “Right…do you maybe, wanna try again?”

You mirror his expression before you’re the one leaning in this time, a kiss that he reciprocates feverishly. His lips slot against your own as his arm tightens around your waist once more. Your fingers dip into hair and he hums against you at the feeling before pulling away.

You giggle at the dazed look on his face and his kiss-bitten lips.

“How was that one?” he asks, eyes shamelessly journeying over your face.

“It was perfect.”

[majestyeverlasting]

A Little Less Restless

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (friends to lovers)

Summary: As Bucky finds himself within the still familiarity of Brooklyn, he comes to realize that he deserves nice things. And, most of all, that he deserves you.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I haven't posted any new writing in a bit, and it feels good to be resolving that (yay me). Please enjoy this piece I wrote today. Lot's of fluff and very obvious feelings. It's been a while since I wrote something for him. <3

Three knocks sound on Bucky’s front door as his reflection stares back at him in the bathroom. He's leaning close to the mirror in careful criticism. Enough to see the green flecks in his irises. The freckles on his cheeks from being in the sun. The pricks of hair making up his scruff. Then he eases back and squares his shoulders. They fall after he releases a breath. 

He prays he doesn’t look as restless as he feels. 

The smile you give him when he answers the door carries a warmth he isn’t sure he deserves. But he takes it because that’s all he can do. Enjoy it like a man who’s been cold his whole life. By some miracle, he feels himself smiling back in that small, weighted way of his. It was a trade off of sorts, and now you’re even. No outstanding debts. 

He motions you inside with a soft please, and you study him once you’re in the foyer. In the few seconds that you’re silently observing, Bucky wishes he knew exactly why. As tender as your gaze is, heat was already rising to his cheeks. But like everything else when it comes to you, he takes it. Looks right back at you shyly, pushes his hands into his pockets, and waits. 

“Your hair’s shorter,” you finally say, smile growing wider. “Did you cut it?” 

“Cut it,” he repeats like a question, hands moving to run through it. The previous night creeps back to the forefront of his mind. 

When he’d gone for a walk to get some air and inadvertently found himself being drawn in by the red, white, and blue barber’s pole spiraling on the next block. It’d been ages since he’d gone to a professional, but walking inside to the faint scent of tobacco and aftershave made him feel as though he’d never stopped. 

“Mhm,” you hum, certain. 

The stumped look on his face vanishes like it was never supposed to be there. “I went and got it trimmed at a place called Ricky’s last night.” 

“And you forgot that quickly?” Next thing he knows, you’re wrapping him in an embrace, peeking up at him after a few seconds, “I’m teasing.” 

He squeezes you back tighter. 

It’s you who eventually pulls away, and he finds himself trailing you as you venture deeper into his apartment, eyes roving thoughtfully. A coffee table now complements the couch in the living room. The walls are no longer bare. At long last, the space was beginning to look more like a home. 

For the longest time, Bucky had only seen it as a place to rest his head after countless assignments that took him miles away. It didn’t need to be anything special, or so he thought. One of the first things you told him upon coming into his life was that he needed a constant. A place to come back to that he could make his own. That was his. He’d spent so much of his life serving other people and belonging to other people that he was finally learning what it meant to be his own. 

It was exhausting not being halfway across the world with a task to busy his mind. Brooklyn was still in comparison. A place where he could recognize street names, faces, point out buildings that used to be something else when he was a kid. And now there was you, who made being stateside worthwhile in a way he didn’t think was possible. He realized then, how much he’d deprived himself of meaningful connections outside of work. 

“It looks great in here, Buck. What’d I tell you?” Your earnesty is genuine. Makes him, as old and borderline cynical as he is, feel special. “You’re gonna have to start inviting me over more.” You shoot him a wink, and he freezes because of the weight of the implication. If you notice, you don’t say anything. 

A few months ago you’d been strangers crossing paths. Then acquaintances. Now friends who cared about each other a whole awful lot. Only, it was more obvious on your end. He kept most of his sentiments guarded, not yet ready for them to bleed out like an open wound. It didn’t help that you were always wielding a knife, coming closer and closer to cut through the wall he built around himself. 

“You can come over whenever you want,” he says. “I’m always here.” 

“When you’re not on assignment,” you add. “And I know. I just don’t want to scare you away.” 

Bucky frowns at the suggestion, but his lips eventually turn up. “Good thing you’re not a scary person,” he says, counting on earning a laugh. Something. 

And you do, right before shaking your head. “I’m serious.” 

“You couldn’t scare me away,” he assures. 

You nod slowly. “So how’ve you been?” There’s something else lingering on the tip of your tongue, so he waits it out. It ends up punching him right in the gut. “You look…I don’t know.” 

It hadn’t been all too long since he’d come back from Morocco. Only a week. And it would be a while before he was sent out anywhere else. His mind was in the constant process of drifting to the type of thoughts all men sifted through when they have nothing but time. Those regarding purpose, belonging, and meaning. Not to a deep, crippling degree, but enough to make him want to spring into some sort of action. Find something to indulge in that wasn’t saving the world. 

Bucky swallows and shifts his weight. “Restless,” he offers. “Didn’t think you’d notice.” 

“I’ll always notice.” Silence stretches between the two of you and a siren wails in the distance. “Maybe we can go out tonight, just you and me. Is that something you’d wanna do?” The question sounds shy. 

What you didn’t know quite yet is that he’d probably do just about anything if it was with you. 

***

At the end of the night, it’s Bucky who pulls out his card and pays for dinner. Not even giving you the chance to think about digging into your purse. As an old tune continues playing overhead, your grateful eyes sparkle at him from across the table. 

Neither of you had dined here before. It’s one of the places Bucky said used to go by a different name and was run by a different family, Italians. You liked listening to him talk about what once was because it made you realize just how much he knew. Just how thoughtful and reverent he was when it came to the good memories he had. 

Being listened to so intently was new for him. But he enjoyed it. Especially when you’d ask questions or bring up a point he made further back in the conversation. By the time the waiter comes back around with his card and his copy of the receipt, the two of you are basking in the memory of the evening and thinking about what the rest of the night may hold. 

“This was really nice,” he says, folding his napkin and setting it aside on the table. Then his expression becomes consumed by a certain solemness. “I don’t know how well it comes across, but I need you to know that I appreciate you. A lot.”

Your heart nearly bursts. “I know, Bucky,” you promise. He still looks unconvinced, so you extend your hand face up on the table for him to take. “I know.” 

The cab ride back to his place is quiet. You hold onto his hand the whole way, relishing the feeling of his thumb tracing back and forth over your skin. It’s a gesture that says I’m here with, I’ll be here as long as you’ll have me. Brooklyn passes by in rushes of darkness peppered with light. Pedestrians walk alongside the streets, some holding hands just like the two of you. It isn’t long before the driver pulls up alongside the curb of the complex. 

It isn’t until you’re in the elevator that you’re sure that you want to stay. 

The two of you get off at the fifth floor. 

“Is it okay if I spend the night? If not, I completely understand. I know it’s such short notice,” you ramble as he’s turning his key into the door. He hopes you don’t notice the way he falters. But part of him knows you do. You don’t miss anything. Luckily for him, you’re just as fazed by your own question, holding your breath. 

It’s not until you’re inside that he graces you with an answer, “‘Course you can.”

Your shoulders drop in relief. What you’re not expecting is the laugh he tries to bite back. Maybe it was mean of him, but he liked knowing he could make you sweat. Sometimes it seemed like it was only ever you who made him openly anxious. 

“You’re terrible,” you accuse, failing at restraining a smile. “Absolutely horrible.” You’d forgotten to throw away an empty water bottle before you left, and it’s the closest thing you’re able to throw his way in retaliation. He catches it and tosses it in the trash himself. 

Mischief written all along his smile when he starts towards you. 

Partly scared and partly excited, you think to flee at the last second. After a few measly steps, you’re being pulled back into the firmness of his chest. He’s sure enough laughing now, the vibration rushing straight into your back right along with the warmth of his body. So are you. He only has one arm secured around your waist and, despite the fact that he’s not even trying, it's enough to hold you. 

“Wait, wait, wait—hold on a second!” your words come out giggly both because you’re anticipating some sort of attack, and because he’s never held you quite like this before. Unlike a normal hug, this feels like he has you rather than you having each other. It’s vulnerable. Dizzying. 

“You win, you win!” 

“What?” he laughs in surprise. His mouth is so close to your ear that you shiver. “Thought you had more fight in you than that,” there’s a playful warmth to his words. 

You shake your head in denial and relax back into him. You didn’t stand a chance of winning unless he let you, and you were more than willing to tap out early. Because even so, you were still in his arms at his mercy, and somehow that felt like the safest place to be. By the time you realize both of your laughter has faded to a thoughtful silence, he’s pressing a featherlight kiss to the shell of your ear. 

When he lowers his arm from around your waist, you turn around to face him. 

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face. He suddenly looks boyish, younger. Having crawled out of whatever shell of crushing expectation and responsibility he usually resided within. 

When he cups your face and presses his lips to yours, his shoulders relax and his breaths slow. And for once, he indulges. In you. In the prospect of having someone to lean on and being leaned on in return. It’s a reminder that he’s allowed to experience nice things. To have a life to look forward to outside of lending himself to cause after cause. 

You’re soft, and warm, and everything good a person could be. He pulls away slowly after a while, blinking down at you with heavy eyelids. You’re looking right back at him like he’s the world itself. 

“Maybe you’re not so terrible,” you whisper, smiling. 

Of everything he was feeling now, restless wasn’t one of them. 

_

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