#oh fuck maybe it's not too late. maybe i can go back to who i used to be. but then they find the slaughtered village and snow is like

[gobeyondthesky]

I almost trip in shock.

The prince? Here? With a cake?

I must have lost my mind… maybe smelled one too many Dusklilies and I’m hallucinating. The image of a prince in his pristine outfit, complete with his little hat, standing in the middle of my living room/room/kitchen, with a dirt floor and an old Merlin’s Magical Goods tarp for a ceiling, was one I never thought I’d see.

Some remaining sane part of me screams “Say something!”, but shock is a funny thing. I’m stiff like late King Corvious’ statue and my mouth as dry as the Hasar Desert.

“Uh— is she dumb?” His Majesty asks.

That brings me back.

“Of course not!” I yelp. Quickly remembering I could lose my head for being rude, I add begrudgingly, “Erm, Your Majesty”.

I can’t remember when was the last time Prince Ellias left the palace. Rumor has it he’s been preparing for his ascension to the throne day and night, working to master his talents — mysterious powers no one knows about. I’ve always thought he’s just a stuck up bitch baby that won’t get his pretty little silk slippers dirty.

Sure, he is beautiful. Gray-blue eyes, sculpted face, silky black hair falling on his face gracefully… but nice? The stories seem to tell otherwise, and I’m confirming that live.

“You don’t seem like a flower girl at all”, the baby says, a sneer on his face. He looks me up and down, pointedly stopping at my empty hands.

The bastard. Like I wanted to do this. Stealing flowers and selling them is easier than stealing and selling anything else. Hells, there’s a house in Puckard Street owned by a blind lady that has a huge garden with all sorts of plants and it’s not like she will notice them missing.

The prince looks back at his advisor, confusion mixed with disdain. The advisor shrugs back, hands trembling a little over some papers.

“She’s the only flower lady in the realm that’s in her 20s and has a birthday today, Your Majesty,” the advisor tries to whisper, nervousness lacing his voice.

To me he says, mustering courage, “the Prince wishes to celebrate your birthday, as a sign of thanks for your service to the realm”.

I don’t buy it. So I stare at him point blank.

The Prince sighs, clearly debating something with himself, his body hunched as if in defeat.

The part of me that cares not for her head blurts out, “What.”

And suddenly, he’s on me.

His lips are trying to find mine and my two brain cells can’t decide between stabbing him with my hidden knife or kissing him and seeing where this is going, hopefully leading to some money. I’m tired of living in this alley makeshift house my mother left me in.

I decide to push him. Instinct I guess.

“You— what the hells is going on?!” I scream pushing with all my strength and the two loafs of bread I’ve had to eat today.

He stumbles back, his advisor catching him. His eyes lock with mine as he says “I will not continue to live with this curse, stop making this harder on yourself”.

The fuck?

Why can’t I have nice things? I mean, it’s my birthday for god’s sake! Where do these people get these ideas from? How can I, a mere flower girl that hasn’t two pennies to rub together, break a curse?

“What in the Hells are you saying?!” I stare back and hard. I will not stand for this.

“It’s your birthday is it not? The prophecy states I must share a love kiss with a ‘girl touched by flowers on the date of her 25th year or the darkness will persist’” he exclaims as if I had to have knowledge of this, because of course, who wouldn’t.

I can only stare in disbelief.

That damned mother of mine. She truly was a witch. And she truly meant it when she said she’d give me “the realm and the world to lead”. I thought she was on something. Balckcapped mushrooms perhaps.

And I, naturally, break out laughing.

The cake is a nice touch, but this is a game I can play too.

“Oh, Prince, I would most definitely kiss you, but this will cost you”, I purr.

The advisor bites his lip and closes his eyes, as the prince squints his eyes and shakes his head. I can hear him mutter to himself, “flower girl alright”.

I smile and mentally start to prepare for the rest of my life.

You are a poor girl selling flowers. Today is your birthday but no one knows. When you return home you find the prince of the kingdom waiting for you with a birthday cake. "Are you sure this is the one?" He whispers to his advisor.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Cuffed To The Grind

Pairing: Detective Tim Rockford x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: You're working late 'cause you're a detective. Oh Tim looks so good handcuffed to a chair. Warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, riding, handcuffs, domming the detective, vag badge, commingled cum, fucking your boss, panty gag, holding on to holsters, whiskey, cop stuff Words: 2,800

A/N: Written for the wonderful @wannab-urs's Dom That Middle Aged Man Campaign.

Masterlist

---

You hate your new boss. Tim Rockford, the hot-shot fellow detective who all the girls in the precinct fawn over. Yeah, yeah. Tall, broad, beautiful, deep brown eyes, strong jaw, perfect hair, blah, blah.

Arrogant, kind of a jerk, struts around the station like he owns the place, always gets his way because he figured out the great pie mystery last year.

He holds you to impossible standards. Every case has to be wrapped up in record time, every lead followed to exhaustion, every 'i' dotted and 't' crossed to his exacting specifications.

Yesterday, he kept you late yet again because he wasn't satisfied with the progress on the Wilmington robbery. Never mind that you'd already been pulling 12-hour shifts with him for a week straight. No, Tim Rockford needed results, and he seemed to always need them from you.

—

It’s late… too late… and you’re stuck with Tim in his office yet again. As you pore over the case files, you can’t stop stealing glances at him across the cluttered table. The low light of his desk lamp casts a shadow on his handsome face. God, he’s so frustrating but he’s gorgeous.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, mussing it slightly. He shrugs off his suit jacket, draping it over the back of his chair. His crisp, white dress shirt strains against his shoulders. He rolls up his sleeves methodically, his strong arms revealed to you. You wonder just how golden his chest is.

You try not to stare as he loosens his tie, pulling it free. You wish you were the one taking it off of him.

He picks up a file, his large hands flip through the pages. A long, thick finger runs down a page as he takes information in. You wonder what his hands would feel like all over your body, what his finger would feel like inside you.

Tim leans back, stretching his arms above his head, he catches you looking and arches a perfect eyebrow. "See something you like, detective?"

You scoff and roll your eyes. "Don't flatter yourself, sir. Let's just focus on the case."

He flashes that infuriatingly cocky grin. "Whatever you say, sweetheart." 

Sweetheart. His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. Damn him.

Hours pass as you two meticulously examine evidence and victim statements. Tim's brow furrows in concentration as he studies crime scene photos. You hate to say it, but you’re mesmerized while you watch him work. He's sharp. Insightful. Maybe even brilliant.

He paces across his office, file in hand. "I think I've got something," he announces. He walks over to you and leans in close, his strong shoulder brushing against yours as he points to a detail you’d missed. You can smell him and feel his warmth, it makes your breath catch.

Get it together. This is Tim Rockford you’re talking about. Arrogant, insufferable Tim Rockford. But as you both bounce clues back and forth and finish each other's theories, you can’t deny there’s something there. The way his gaze lingers on your lips. How your pulse races when his hand grazes yours when he reaches for the same file. 

Damn it. You’re in trouble. You might just be falling for your boss.

—

He leans back in his chair, his eyes heavy with frustration and exhaustion.

“If I look at one more file, I’m going to lose it. I need to take a break.”

He opens a drawer, pulling out a bottle of whiskey and two paper cups. Fancy.

He fills both cups and slides one over to you. "Here. I think we've earned this."

“Sir, you’re offering alcohol to a subordinate.”

“I know, but you deserve it,” he smolders, actually smolders at you as he nods towards the cup.

You eye the cup warily before taking it. The whiskey burns smooth and warm down your throat. Tim watches you with hooded eyes, a playful smirk dancing on his full lips.

"You know, you're not half bad, detective," he drawls. "Quite the spitfire under that buttoned-up exterior."

"And you're not nearly as dim as I thought," you retort with a smirk of your own. "Guess there's more to both of us."

“You know," Tim says, leaning forward. "I've always admired your mind. The way you piece together clues, your attention to detail. It's… impressive."

His intense eyes lock onto yours. His gaze drops to your mouth again. You lick your suddenly dry lips, noticing how his eyes track the movement.

“And here I am thinking you hated me,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“Quite the opposite. You’re brilliant and smart—and beautiful.” His eyes are dark as he stares into yours. Damnit.

You lift the cup up to him and nod.

He smirks, lifting the bottle and pouring you another shot before doing the same for himself.

You gulp the shot down, trying not to wince as the liquor burns down your throat. Your skin feels heated under Tim’s gaze and the whiskey.

Emboldened by the alcohol and tension between you, you rise from your chair and saunter over to him. His eyes widen in surprise as you sit atop him, straddling his lap, the heat of your body pressing against his firm muscles.

"Beautiful?" you purr, trailing a finger down his jaw. His breath quickens, his pulse jumping beneath your touch.

In a swift motion, you grab his wrists and yank them behind the chair, snapping your handcuffs around them with a click. He lets out a shocked grunt, his brows furrowing in indignation and arousal. 

"What the hell are you doing?" he demands, straining against the cuffs. 

You lean in close, your lips brushing against his ear. "Taking what I want," you whisper. "And right now, I want you at my mercy, Rockford."

He shudders beneath you and groans as you nip at his earlobe. You unbutton his shirt, pushing it open to reveal the golden skin of his chest. You rake your nails lightly down his smooth skin, his muscles tensing under your touch.

With a wicked grin, you stand, reaching under your skirt and shimmying out of your underwear before stuffing the silky fabric into his mouth effectively gagging him.

He lets out a shocked, muffled grunt, his brows furrowed in confusion, chest heaving and nostrils flaring as he struggles against the cuffs.

“Relax sir,” you tease. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”

Your words seem to calm him, his head falls back slightly, a muffled groan vibrates around your panties stuffed in his mouth.

You begin to unbutton your blouse, one button at a time. His eyes follow the path of your fingers, darkening as your smooth skin is revealed to him. The blouse slips from your shoulders, baring your lacy black bra underneath. Your hands trace the path of your tits spilling over your bra before reaching back and unclasping your bra, letting it fall away. You trail your fingers between your breasts, over your stomach, down to the waistband of your skirt. Your fingers lingering at the waistband. You turn slowly, giving him a view of your back as you begin to lower the zipper. You glance over your shoulder, catching Tim’s searing gaze. His muscles strain against the cuffs, his shoulders sit broad and wide as his chest rapidly rises and falls. You smirk, knowing the power you hold over him this moment.

Slowly, you pull down your standard issue gray skirt. Your hips sway as you feel his eyes on your ass, a muffled whimper leaves the detective as you bend forward, pulling the skirt down and letting it pool at your feet.

Turning to face him, you look down, your eyes widening when you see the crotch of his pants bulging with his erection.

You saunter back over to him, now only clad in your heels, your hips swaying with every step. You lock eyes with him before bending over, causing him to groan as he gets an eyeful of your tits. As he is distracted, you reach into his pants pocket and pull out his badge. With a wink, you hold it up for him to see. He quirks an eyebrow up, letting a sound of confusion out from behind your panties. 

You raise your leg and place it between his solid thighs. The cold metal of the badge grazes against your warm skin as you drag it slowly up your inner thigh. Higher and higher you trail the badge holding his gaze as you press the hard, cool metal against your aching cunt and moan loudly.

You grind shamelessly against the badge, smearing it with your slick. Tim makes a strangled sound, his hips bucking upward. You’re empowered by the way he whimpers and buzzes for you. Grinning, you reach down and unzip his pants, pulling his cock out. He’s golden here too, thick and already leaking out precum you want to taste.

Wrapping your fingers around his wide base, you swirl the badge around his glistening head before delicately stroking him with his badge smearing your wet along the length of him. His head falls back, tendons straining in his neck as he fights for control.

"You like that, detective?" you purr, pumping him faster. "You like it when I use your badge to get you off?"

He nods frantically, a desperate whine escaping him.

You bring the badge to your mouth, licking the mixture of you and him off the metal before tossing it behind you.

You straddle his lap, hovering just above his straining cock. His eyes widen as you grab onto his holsters for leverage and sink down onto him with a moan.

He bucks his hips up to meet yours as he fills you completely. The sting of your cunt stretching to accommodate him feels better than solving any case.

You rise up slowly, sliding along his thickness, his dark brown eyes are wild with need while his wrists strain desperately against the cuffs.

“God damnit, I don’t like you Mr. Rockford, but fuck, you feel so good inside me,” you moan as you roll your hips, taking him deeper. “So fuckin’ big and wide, stretching me just right.” You trail your hands up your body, cupping your tits, pinching and tugging at your nipples. His gaze is locked to your chest, watching and groaning behind his gag as you tease him.

"You like watching me play with my tits, don't you? Bet you wish these were your hands, your mouth." You squeeze your breasts together. "Too bad you're all tied up."

He lets out a defeated whimper, his brows furrowed over his wide brown eyes.

You grip the leather of his holsters again, bouncing on him at a maddening pace. The velvet of your walls clenching around the steel of his cock.

Your nails drag down his chest, leaving red marks in their wake, his muscles tensing under your touch.

“You’re mine now Mr. Rockford, now you’re my subordinate,” you growl, leaning in close to his ear. “I get to rule this cock, I get to rule your pleasure.”

He groans behind the gag, eyes rolling back as you grind down hard. You can feel him throbbing inside you, close to the edge.

"Not yet," you command, stilling your hips. "You don't get to cum until I say so."

You lift yourself off him completely, savoring his muffled cry of protest.

"Beg for it," you demand, hovering just above his cock. "Show me how badly you want it."

He nods frantically, pleading sounds escaping from behind the gag.

"Good boy," you purr, sinking back down onto him.

His eyes flutter shut in relief as you roll your hips and fuck him.

Your hands grip his holsters as you lean back giving him a view of your tits bouncing up and down as you ride him with abandon.

Tim’s whole body is taut as he strains against the cuffs, desperate to touch you.

“God, you feel amazing,” you moan, your head falling back. “You stretch me so good sir.”

You grind your hips down on him as the sounds of Tim’s muffled groans and the wet squelch of your cunt spearing itself on his cock fill the room.

Your hands roam your body, his eyes surveying your movements as if he’s on a stakeout. Your hand trails down to your clit, rubbing tight circles on it. You gasp at the feel, smiling a diabolical smile at him as he bucks his hips up to meet yours.

“You like watching me touch my pussy, don’t you?” you pant. “Tell me officer, have you thought of me doing this before? Maybe me fucking myself while thinking it’s your big cock?”

He nods frantically, his pupils blown out, his brown eyes looking almost black in the low light. A bead of sweat rolls down his cheek, you lean over, and lick the salty drop off of him, eliciting a whimper from behind the silk of your underwear.

Your fingers work your clit faster, you start to see the siren lights behind your eyes. Bright and flashing.

Tim’s thick thighs meet yours, his abs clenching with effort as he takes over, fucking into you from beneath.

“That’s it,” you moan. “Fuck me like you’ve always wanted to Detective.”

His muffled grunts are desperate, his skin glowing with perspiration. He’s throbbing inside you, fighting for control.

“Are you close, officer?” you tease. “Do you want to cum?”

He nods, the clink of him straining against the cuffs echoes through the office air.

You lean in close, your hand reaches up and grasps the silky fabric of your panties, slowly pulling them from his mouth. As soon as his lips are free, he gasps out a hoarse, “Fuck!”

Raw and desperate, just how you want him. You trail your fingers along his stubbled jaw, down his toned neck.

“What do you want, Detective?” you ask.

“Please,” he pants. “Please, I need to touch you.”

“I don’t know. Have you earned it?”

“Yes,” he growls. “God, yes. I’ll do anything. Just let me touch you.” You nod as you reach behind him, press the keys fully into the lock and unlock the handcuffs.

Click.

The moment his hands are free, they’re on you, grabbing your hips, thick fingers digging into the your flesh and he drives up into you.

He effortlessly lifts you, supporting you with his big arms and thick thighs. Your legs wrap around his body as his lips crash against yours, desperate groans spilling out of him as he licks into your mouth. Your tongues battle for dominance against each other as your fingers thread through his hair, pulling at the soft tendrils.

His hands roam your body, exploring you like evidence.

“Fuck,” he growls against your skin. “You feel so fucking good.”

Now you’re the one whimpering as he pounds into you. Suddenly, he pulls out, leaving your empty and aching for his cock.

Your mouth opens in protest, but before you can make a noise, he sweeps the papers and files from his desk to the floor. They scatter across the room, all of your hard work gone.

“What the fu—” you begin to complain but lose your words when your back lands on the smooth wood. His thumb begins rubbing circles against your swollen clit as he thrusts deep into your cunt, hitting the spot you want to feel him the most.

Tim folds himself over you, covering your body with his. You grab onto his holsters, the leather cutting into your palms as he buries himself into you over and over. The sirens, you can hear them, see them, and feel them.

He’s got you cornered and you give yourself up, screaming his name and surrendering yourself to Detective Tim Rockford as your orgasm captures you. Your body trembles, your pussy clenching his thick cock as your head thuds against the solid wood.

He groans, burying his face in your neck as his movements become more erratic. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grits against your skin.

“I’m close,” he pants. “Where do you want it?”

“Inside,” you moan. “Cum inside me Detective.”

With one final thrust, he stills as he pulses inside you, emptying himself into you. His body shudders against your still trembling body as you both ride out your orgasms.

He still covers you, breathing heavily on top of you, both of your bodies slick.

He lies there for a moment, catching his breath and gently kissing your overheated skin before pulling out and standing up. You’re not even shy as his eyes rake over the sight of your overworked body, lying spread eagle on his desk.

“Good work Detective,” he says, admiring the sight of your commingled cum dripping out of your pussy. “Though, you’ll have to stay late tomorrow again.” 

[hiraizyo]

girl, do you really wanna be my friend?

synopsis — megan needs your help staging a relationship. things get a little out of hand once it comes to public displays.

fake dating trope, non idol au, making out, masc!reader, mature language.

now playing: pretend lovers, montell fish.

a/n: been thinking about meg having a masc gf with a size difference lately… this was the result of that.

“are you fucking kidding me?”

“what is it?” lara asked as soon as she heard megan’s yell of displeasure.

“look at this!” the chinese girl shoved her phone in her friends face. taking it into her hands, lara comes eye to eye with an instagram story of megan’s ex and her new girlfriend.

“oh, yikes…” the redhead muttered lowly, handing the phone back to her. she pursed her lips, feeling pity for her friend.

megan’s previous relationship had only just ended a mere two weeks ago after being together for over ten months. to move on that fast, lara knew it was huge sting to the ginger.

megan flopped onto her back, her elbow almost knocking lara in the process. she groaned loudly, anger running through her whole body. her ex girlfriend had told her multiple times how much megan meant to her, only for her to move with the girl she was supposed to not worry about.

it was absolute bullshit.

“what are you going to do?” lara questioned, moving to lay on her side while resting her head on her propped up arm.

“what can i do?” megan retorted back, staring at the ceiling in hopelessness.

it was enough to have her heart broken over the relationship ending, but seeing the instagram story sent her mind into a deep spiral. hurt, betrayal and rage was all that she felt in the moment.

lara hummed at she contemplated different ideas in her head, trying to figure out the best solution for this.

“oooh wait, i have an idea.” she grinned devilishly, sitting up and crossing her legs.

megan lifted her head, her interest piqued. seeing the look in her friends face, she shuffled upwards until she was laying with her back on the headboard, waiting patiently.

“you should one up her, show her that you’ve moved on too.”

it was a simple idea, one that wouldn’t require much effort — the only question left was who.

that’s when you came in.

lara had the perfect idea for megan to have you act as her newest lover. it wasn’t going to be hard to believe in any case. the indian thought you were exactly megan’s type, and she always imagined that you’d make a great couple.

you were a mutual friend of lara and manon, discovering that when the latter arranged for you to meet her newest group of friends, only to be surprised that you already knew the redhead girl. that was a little over three months ago, and by now you’d made somewhat of a connection with each girl in the group.

two days later, when you were over at lara’s for a short visit, megan had made her request to you while the rest of the girls were busying themselves with playing games on the tv.

you and megan were off to the side, sitting on a two seater couch.

“so… you want me to pose as your rebound?”

it was meant as a taunting remark, but megan, already nervous for asking you this, thought you were serious about it.

“no! no, not a rebound.” she awkwardly scratched the side of her neck, eyes wide. “just maybe as my new… girlfriend?”

her voice squeaked. it was hard not to find her adorably cute.

“i’m just teasing, darling.” the pet name rolled off your tongue out of habit, but it didn’t stop the blush that dusted over megan’s cheeks.

“oh,” she mumbled, looking down. “so, will you? help me with this?”

you grinned, thinking it over in your head.

you weren’t currently involved with anyone, and megan surely seemed like a girl you’d go for. it wouldn’t hurt to do this, even if it was just a once off thing.

“sure.” you agreed after a few seconds.

megan didn’t expect you to say yes, her eyebrows raising up in surprise. the look on her face resembled a fish out of water, mouth hanging ajar.

“o-okay,” she stammered, “cool. okay, thanks yn.”

you chuckled at seeing her like that, all nervous and tense. quickly checking the time on your phone, you noticed you had to leave now in order to be time to pick up your younger sister, hyein, from a friend’s place.

“i’ve gotta go now, but i think we should meet up or you could text me to plan this.” you suggested, pocketing your phone.

megan nodded in agreement, already planning what she’d have you do in her head. when you stood up and stretched, your shirt rose slightly, exposing your lower abdomen. the ginger tried not to let gaze linger, but damn you looked good.

you sauntered over to the group, pressing a kiss to lara and manon’s cheek, ruffling yoonchae’s hair and telling lara to let her parents and sister know you give your regards.

after the game had finished with lara and sophia winning, the former sat herself next to her friend.

“so, did you ask?” she inquired, a teasing smile tugged on her lips. lara played with megan’s fingers absentmindedly, a habit of hers that began the closer they grew.

megan hummed, “yeah, i’m supposed to text her a plan of how it’s going to work.” she used her thumb picked at her finger nails of her free hand, coming up with different scenarios.

“oh cool, do you have anything in mind?”

she shook her head as a way to say no, but it would come to her eventually. megan leaned in closer to lara, speaking in a hushed voice.

“do we let the girls in on this?” she asked, looking over at them as they restarted the game.

yoonchae had taken lara’s place as sophia’s partner in mario kart, so they were all distracted enough for the two girls to discuss their plan.

“maybe only manon, since her and yn are close. but it would be more believable if the rest didn’t know.” lara commented, almost as if she was an expert in this whole faking a relationship ordeal.

megan thought it over, deciding lara was right. the conversation ended, and they watched and laughed as manon and daniela cussed at one another after losing.

a couple days later, you found yourself in megan’s room. she’d texted you, asking to come over in order for her plan to take place. she thought a simple action such a posting a picture on her story would do. after all, it was how she found out hex ex had moved on.

you waited patiently, sitting on megan’s bed and admiring the interior design of her room and the decorations that hung on her walls. there were a couple pictures of her and the girls, a framed photo of her family and a few band posters hanging on her walls.

when megan walked into the room, you turned to her looking like an obedient puppy. she found it funny considering your large stature.

“alright, so like, how are we going to do this?”

the ginger laughed at your eagerness, the frown on your face making her laugh enough me. she gestured with her hand, “follow me.”

megan strolled out the room with you in tow. you were now in the bathroom, with her closing the door behind you.

“i was thinking of a mirror pic, like all those couples do on instagram.” she told you, moving a few things around the bathroom counter top in order to make space.

she faced you, planting her hands face down on the counter and pushed off the ground, sitting down in the surface. the white marble counter had enough space for her to be there, it was long and had a square sink in the middle, with draws underneath it. there was a large mirror behind her, good enough to capture a perfect photo.

megan signaled for you to come closer, handing you her phone. the camera app was already open, awaiting the start of your agreement.

“we should try and make it intimate.” she told you, while you stepped closer to position yourself in between her legs.

you thought of poses you could do before settling on one that thought would definitely send a message she was taken.

placing a hand on her lower back, you looked directly at her.

“is this okay?”

with your height, megan was eye to eye with you, feeling your breath on her skin. she nodded silently, while you slid your hand down until a part of it was tucked into the back of her jeans.

the tank top she wore allowed for her to feel your skin on hers, her heartbeat rising at the feeling. your stepped closer, the proximity making you hyper aware of everything in the room.

megan then wrapped her arms around your neck and you leaned in, near enough for you to tuck your head into her neck. holding the phone up with your right hand, you snapped a couple pictures, hoping it would be enough.

when you finished, megan let out a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding, her arms unwrapping from behind you. you handed the phone back to her, looking down at what you captured.

“do you think it’ll work?” you questioned.

“mh, i hope so.” she gazed up for a split second.

neither of you realized that you were still so close, the sudden awareness of your proximity caused heat to run through both of your bodies.

she chuckled and stared at down her phone, thinking you both looked amazing.

this would definitely do.

quickly open up imessage, she sent the photo to lara, asking her opinion on it. her nails tapped against the screen, as you watched the words delivered turn into read.

meg <3: *one photo attached*

meg <3: thoughts?

lara responded back almost immediately, her message making both you and megan laugh aloud.

lara 🍒: oh GIRLLL

lara 🍒: that’s so hot !!!

lara 🍒: pls tell me ur posting it

megan typed a quick message to her, and then opened up instagram to post it on her story. she captioned it ‘mine ;)’ and placed her phone down on the counter when she was done.

you stepped back, titling your head. “was there anything else you needed?”

the chinese began to think of any other ways for the two of you to sell the ruse, suddenly remembering a party that adéla would be throwing this upcoming weekend.

“actually, my friend is having something this saturday.” she informed you, leaning back on her hands. “i don’t know if my ex will show up, but it’d be great to have you there either way.”

“you got it, gorgeous.”

that was how you ended up standing with megan in a room full of people that you didn’t know. the rest of the kats’ were scattered around different parts of the house, enjoying the party with their own entertainment.

the music boomed loudly in your ears as you weaved through the dancing crowd, trying to make your way over to megan on the other side.

“here you go.” you handed her the drink she’d ask for a few moments ago. she flashed you a light smile, telling you thanks while you took a sip of your own.

you and megan began conversing over the marvel cinematic universe, discussing your favorite movies and characters of the franchise. her voice occupied your attention, hanging on to every word.

then, as if it was happening all in slow motion, her eyes caught sight of her ex over your shoulder.

megan stilled, stopping herself mid sentence. you noticed this as you looked at her in confusion. she gazed at her ex girlfriend, before she looked back at you, her voice low. she placed her hand on your back, bringing herself closer.

“she’s here.”

you tried to sneak a glance, craning your neck to the side and looking over your shoulder. “the ex?”

“uh huh.” she confirmed.

megan glanced for a second time, quick enough to notice her ex looking, but also quick enough for her not be caught staring. she was holding hands with a woman, but her attention was on the ginger. megan could feel eyes burning holes into the side of her head once she placed her gaze back on you.

carefully, she set her drink down on a surface nearby. she whispered lowly, leaning in closer until you could feel her breath fan against your skin. megan’s eyes looked up into yours, holding hints of a question and nervousness.

“can i kiss you?”

the question fell from her lips quickly. it caught you off guard, almost knocking the air out of you. your mind spiraled. you knew at some point you and megan would have to kiss in order to sell the scheme of your fake relationship, but now it was becoming a reality.

you cleared your throat, taking in a deep breath.

"sure, yeah, that— that's fine." stumbling over your words, you pat your thigh softly with your hand, as if to remind yourself this was really happening.

megan giggled one last time at your reaction and your attempt at composing yourself. her hand was still on your back, moving down slowly until it rested on the lower part. she began to fill the gap, gazing up at you for a final confirmation, before her eyes fluttered closed as she pressed her lips against yours.

the kiss was sweet, albeit a little bit tentative, but it was nice nonetheless. megan’s lips were soft, and you could taste the sweetness of her strawberry lipgloss.

as you pulled away, your lips hovered over hers, quietly mumbling, “i think we can do better than that if we really want to convince her.”

megan frowned, “huh?”

you placed your own cup down on a table beside you, and leaned down to capture her lips again. your left hand was now cupping her jaw while the other went to hold her waist, lightly pressing her against the wall.

megan gasped into your mouth, her eyelids falling closed while her hand on your back pressed deeper into the material of your t-shirt. her free hand fell to hook her fingers into the belt loops of your jeans, pulling you closer by the waist.

this time, the kiss was rougher but still had a tinge of gentleness to it. her lips moved against yours in a rhythm that seemed as if you’d done this before. everything around you began to fade away, feeling only megan; her hand bunching up your t-shirt in a fist, her delicate lips, her chest moving up against yours.

time seemed to slow as you pulled away from one another, being so close that you were sure she could feel your heartbeat. megan’s eyes were still closed for a short second before they opened again and she gazed at you with a hazy glint. the both of you were breathing heavily, the kiss clearly taking an effect.

you were the first to speak, eyes still trained on her lips. “do you think that did it?”

megan looked lost, momentarily forgetting where she was and why she was doing this in the first place. she breathed, slowly. her voice was hoarse when she finally replied.

“yeah,” she swallowed, “mh, definitely.”

should i do a part 2? 😋

[cherrysurf]

winning you back pt.2

-where haikyu boys try to win back you their ex gf

-this is lwk depressing but maybe it’s bc of the music im listening to rn LMAO

contains; atsumu, tsukishima, kita, sakusa, oikawa, iwaizumi

pt.1 of winning you back here!

atsumu; He still very much has all your pictures on his feed that he never deleted and never will you had to go minimal contact with him because he kept texting you every other day to try to get back together, he still loves you and thinks your gonna be his wife and that this is just a rough patch, so when you post that you’re going to be volunteering at osamu’s restaurant for a charity that osamu is doing for young kids to get into volleyball he takes it upon himself to cancel his practice for that day and go and join you two and begged and forced osamu to make you too work together so he can talk to you, and those dam miya’s being so good and weaseling there way back into life’s, it worked. You two are now talking again. You told him that you wanted to take this slow, but atsumu later that week posted a soft launch of you two at dinner.

tsukishima; tsukishima acts like he’s so nonchalant but no one’s seen him cry over how bad it’s killing him that you can fully ignore him when he’s usually the one doing that. He hates how bad he fucked up so he decided to make a plan to win you back, what does that mean he had to do? work at the same cat cafe as you, at first you weren’t on the same shifts and maybe hanging out with cats was a plus but getting crushed on by other girls wasn’t. Anyways as soon and he saw you two were on the same shift he couldn’t be more happy, it was a slow shift so he used this time to catch up and be very soft and respectful he saw you weren’t fighting back so he was thinking that was a step forward, until later on when a girl came by to order a drink and was clearly flirting with him so tsukishima ignored her, as she said “can i get your number?” you turned to see what he would do all he said was “no i have a girlfriend she’s right there actually, i don’t what gave you the confidence to think you could ask me” he said laughing which left the girl embarrassed and you flustered.

kita; Kita is forever my yearning man. He writes letters for you and sends them, you kept them all because you still didn’t get over him. He thought it was the right choice to let you go but he couldn’t have been more wrong, and I fear kita is the type to have a romantic scene like the movies. So what? anyways he comes by your hour IN THE POURING RAIN. to apologize “i’m sorry im selfish for breaking up with you yn, i just clean up well i forget myself” OOOO YOU END UP SOBBING BC WHO WOULDN'T?! anyways safe to say you kissed in the rain and he won you back

sakusa; stubborn ass ho. He was shocked when you broke things off even more when you actually stood on business, sakusa was one to keep his composure and not crashout but he couldn’t understand why he was so affected by the breakup it’s like his whole life flipped upside down. He even stopped keeping up with himself for a bit which was totally out of the norm. So when you saw him at your apartment in the lates of the night messy hair, wrinkles in his clothes looking dead you knew something was wrong, he almost felt like he could breathe again once you embraced him, disgusting and all and he didn’t let go since and tried to change for the better

oikawa; He acted happy at first like it didn’t matter because he thought you needed him more than he needed you. Oh how wrong he was, the fan girls didn’t support him the way you did, didn’t cheer for him the way you did, no one could cook as good as you, no one could get him out his depression like you could, so one night around 4am he gave you a call wanting to quit volleyball because he felt like he couldn’t do anymore without you there, which broke your heart because you saw how bad he was struggling without you there and that’s when he finally admits “I needed you more than you needed me. Come back yn, i’m sorry” and you did because you needed him just as much as he needed you.

iwaizumi; it was mutual breakup but not really he just did whatever he could to make you happy he hated fighting with you, he never deleted your pictures, he still kept all your stuff that you didn’t take at his house, he was still loyal even if you weren’t together, He blamed himself for not fighting back. he became very very career oriented that’s when he saw you at a job interview, you had just finished interviewing for the place he works at as a sports medical assistant. you weren’t aware he was working there so he stopped you and asked to get lunch since you were leaving and he was on his lunch break. That's where he apologized for not doing more and still thought about you and asked for a redo and would do anything for a second chance, and you agreed because you felt the same.

tags; @solarvrse (for the atsumu one) @sahrii (for the iwaizumi one)

[goingtojohnkramershouseee]

could u do a fluff fic with either matt or chris where they see best friend!reader is drunk at a party (maybe she’s overly flirty and clingy) and they take her home, it’s one if my favorite tropes

Thanks so much for the recommendation I absolutely love this idea!! Also, this is my first time writing fluff and only my second time ever writing so please let me know what I can improve on:) love you allll :D

warnings!!! drunk!reader, comforting!matt, mentions of alcohol, mentions of w33d, mentions of vomit.

It was a Friday night, you were drunk, stoned, and felt like you were floating on a cloud. You were out with your two best friend's matt and Chris, trying to get them out of the house to live a little. Matt and Chris watch as you flirt with a guy who's getting a little to touchy. "I don't like that guy y/n is talking to, he gives me weird vibes". Matt said to Chris while leaning on a counter sipping his root beer, carefully examining the way the guy touched your shiny skin and the way you absolutely loved it.

"Hm, I think She's good, she knows how to handle herself". Matt did not like the way Chris was handling this; he puts down his cup and starts to walk over to you. "Yo matt she's g-" matts already gone by the time Chris gets to finish his sentence. "Hey y/n its getting late we should y'know head out." You look at matt with puppy dog eyes as the guy y/n is talking to steps closer to matt. "Hm and uh who are you?" Matt looks at the tall blonde-haired man and says, "I'm her brother and she needs to get home Shes got finals tomorrow and actually should be studying right now". Matt lied he didn't want this guy to fuck with you and a little white lie didn't hurt anyone. "What no I don-", matt grabbed your wrist, “say goodbye to your friend y/n”matt said looking at Chris as he started to make his way over to see how he was handling this.

Y/n says goodbye and soon walks out of the party with matt and Chris by her sides "why did you say that matt, I was having a good ti-" you cut yourself off with vomit falling out of your mouth the second matt opens the car door for you. '"Oh shit, you good?", matt looks over at Chris judging him by what he just said "Stfu Chris n' get in the car". Matt pulls your hair out of the way and holds it back as you throw up in the ditch Infront of his car. “You got it, you're okay sweetheart”, Matt Coes as he rubs your back trying to let you know he’s there for you. “I’m so sorry Matt, I-I didn’t mean too”. “Shhhh, it’s okay you didn’t do anything wrong let’s get you home". Matt puts you in the front seat of his car while Chris sits in the back slowly falling asleep.

They soon get back your home, and Matt gets out the Car to open your door. You were asleep, Matt trying not to wake you carefully picked you up and brought you inside. You slowly shift in matts arms as he makes his way to your bedroom. You let out an aggravative groan as matt sets you down on your bed carefully taking off your heels. "ughm, matt m'tired" you whine out as matt looks up at you and speaks, "It'll only be a little longer than you can go to bed". He soon gets both your heels off. "Do you wanna sleep in your dress or are you gonna change." "Can you just take my dress off and get me a hoodie or something."

Matt nods and makes his way over to your closet and grabs the first hoodie he saw and made his way back over to you. He carefully took off your dress trying to not make you uncomfortable or feel awkward. He soon puts the hoodie on you. Before matt could say anything, you were already asleep and snoring. He lets out a small laugh and kisses your forehead right before he left your room." She good?" Chris asks once matt gets back to the car. "Yeah, she should be fine until she wakes up tomorrow and she's hungover". They both share an exchange laugh and then make their way home.

an: Omg I'm so so sorry this took so long for it to not even be good. But please let me know what you guys want me to do next and if there is anything I can improve on!!! LUV U ALLLLL:D

[mccallhero]

favourite ouat scenes: 31/?

[phagodyke]

the masculine urge to take a saucepan off thr draining board and bash myself repeatedly over the head with it until I pass out and no longer have to experience feeling Bad 😍

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

[pericky; a look into ricky's head during their meeting.]

---

"I'm glad you came, I wasn't sure you would." The wine pours, the sound of it drowning out the missing word in that sentence: back.

Of course, is the response, and the part of Ricky that's spent twenty years tearing itself apart to understand why vibrates with relief. It doesn't matter anymore. Of course, of course, he thinks giddily along with the words. He never needed to wonder why Pericles wasn't coming back in the first place; he was always going to.

I'm happy you invited me, and of course he thinks again. A lifetime of pretending he wasn't always going to either falls away. However harsh and lonely the world has been, all's right with it again; and the shy voice of the boy inside him that he's tried so hard to kill says, so quietly, I missed you.

[widevibratobitch]

.

[ironmanstan]

one of these days my dad is gonna realize what my school schedule is in the meantime he will continue to exist adjacently to me and never in the same space

[norikuna]

MAMA, A DIVA BEHIND YOU! — toji fushiguro sfw!

prologue. → toji loves his son, he really does. unfortunately, young megumi is less than receptive when it comes to toji's efforts to impress the pretty neighbour who just moved into the apartment down the hall.

or five times megumi actively made toji's love life worse. and the one time he actually helped.

pairing. toji fushiguro x afab!reader

warnings. megumi is his own warning. mild age gap implied. non sorcerer au, toji is raising megumi on his own. reader has she/her pronouns. nothing else, just shenanigans :) toji gets knocked down a few pegs by his son 😭 mildly ooc toji <3

word count. song inspiration. paper rings — taylor swift

a/n. this is sooo silly and for fun lol 😭 i feel like you can tell this just isn't my genre or writing style 😭

mp3. i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings <3

TOJI FUSHIGURO didn't have a lot of treasures in life. he just wasn't that type of guy. treasures were for people with their lives together — the kind who budgeted for organic vegetables and owned matching socks. toji's list of prized possessions was short: a semi-reliable pay check, a fridge that kept his beer cold on a good day, and the one channel that aired late-night baseball games.

oh, and his kid. megumi fushiguro.

the little brat was the one thing in toji's life he could call a blessing without choking on the word. but lately? toji was seriously considering the logistics of international shipping. could you send a five year old punk to siberia? where was the paperwork for that?

everything had been fine. hell, downright manageable. until you moved in down the hall.

at first, toji didn't give a fuck. neighbours were usually either noisy or nosy, and sometimes the tragic combination of both. the last guy had banged on his door at least once a week, yelling about toji's late-night weightlifting sessions and muttering something about 'quiet hours.'

toji had pegged you for the same. maybe with a yoga met and too many scented candles.

but then, you showed up on his doorstep with a kind smile that could probably light up half the districts in the city. and a polite, sweet, "excuse me, but could you help me with my bed frame?"

and that was it.

the universe must've been real bored, because that was the moment it decided that toji fushiguro — self proclaimed expert on not giving a damn, was going to lose his damn mind like cupid has struck him with the painful arrows of a crush. and he was a goner.

take #1 — my neck, my back

spring in tokyo had come into full bloom, the kind of day where the air smelled faintly of sunshine, and the cherry blossoms drifted around like lazy, little freeloaders. below the apartment complex, the park wasn't much to write home about — a scrappy patch of grass, a couple of benches that looked like they'd seen some shit, and a swing set that squeaked like it had a vendetta against joy.

but for toji? it was good enough.

he'd figured this 'let me show you around because i'm so friendly' outing would be low effort. easy. casual and neighbourly, even. except now, he was leaning against a tree which was far harder than it sounded when his lower back was screaming at him louder than megumi had this morning about brushing his teeth.

but you stood nearby, smiling that damn warm and disarming smile of yours, gently plucking a stray blossom from megumi's messy hair. the kid, for his part, was pointedly ignoring you both, kicking rocks with the type of dedication usually reserved for a brat trying to avoid his homework.

toji cleared his throat, "so, uh, the area's not bad. quiet most of the time. that convenience store over there's open late. great for snacks. or milk. y'know, the owner's a bit of a bitc —"

"why are you standing like that?"

megumi's voice cut through his rehearsed tour like a rusty knife.

toji shot him a sharp glance. a look that screamed: keep your mouth shut, kid.

megumi just tilted his head, all faux innocence, and then delivered the killing blow with those sea-green eyes gleaming in what toji was certain was pure maliciousness, "dad, your back hurts again, doesn’t it?"

toji froze, scrambling for damage control, but you were already pressing your lips together, trying not to laugh. trying. but he could see the corners of your mouth twitching.

"back's fine," toji huffed, straightening up too fast. something in his spine must have popped loud enough to startle a crow off a branch, "solid a rock, hah! good as new."

megumi glanced at his scuffed sneakers, and then back up, "you said it was hard getting off the couch this morning. didn't you say you're old now and falling apart?"

toji's entire soul left his body. the punk was a traitor to a family name. he should have just sent megumi back to the clan long ago.

"don't you have a rock to kick?" he hissed.

"already did all that."

and that was it. your laugh finally burst out, bright and loud, ringing through the little patch of a park. toji found himself staring at you like some idiot in a rom-com who’d just realised he was completely doomed.

"kids, huh?" he muttered, throwing megumi a glare that promised revenge.

"kids," you agreed, eyes still sparkling as you excused yourself, something about leaving a pot on the stove. you gave toji one last look as you turned to go, warm and soft with that lingering amusement.

toji leaned back against the tree once you were gone, letting out a long sigh. megumi was still standing there, kicking the same patch of dirt, as though he were trying to discover unseen archaeological wonders underneath the earth.

"you're lucky i don’t sell you to a circus," toji grumbled under his breath.

megumi didn’t even look up, "you wouldn’t get that much for me."

smart-ass kid.

take #2 — the liar's pants are blazing on fire

walking someone home shouldn't have felt like scaling mount fuji, but toji fushiguro was now sweating bullet. the evening was crisp, the air cool enough to keep him from outright drowning in these stupid nerves, but it helped little.

the streetlights flickered on one by one, casting a faint yellow glow over the neighbourhood. nothing fancy — just rows of small apartments with laundry dangling off balconies and the occasional stray cat darting under parked car. it wasn't exactly romantic, but in the soft glow of the spring, it didn't look that bad.

you walked besides him, laughing at some half-assed joke he'd cracked earlier. and damn, toji liked that sound. more than he should've. more than he'd admit to anyone, including himself. now though, the silence had crept back in, and he was left psyching himself up for the move.

just hold her hand, his brain hissed, it's not rocket science. come on, man. no! wait, give her a compliment, call her hot. ugh, idiot. don't say that yet -

his thick fingers flexed awkwardly at this side as he tried to look natural. a valiant losing battle when every nerve in his body screamed, you have one job, fushiguro. don't ruin this.

"dad!"

toji's head snapped up like a startled animal, and there he was. megumi. his kid. his little shadow. gasping, clutching his throat, and staggering toward them like a samurai dying in glorious battle.

"dad! i — i can't breathe!" megumi wheezed, voice raspy as he doubled over in dramatic agony.

toji blinked. what the —

"i think i'm dying!" megumi croaked, collapsing onto the sidewalk with all the subtlety of a boulder tumbling down a hill.

toji sighed, already pinching the bridge of his nose. should’ve known. thid kid had been hanging around that white-haired freak downstairs too much. what had that gojo satoru been teaching him? shakespearean death monologues?

"what is it this time?" toji asked flatly, his voice like gravel.

"maybe, maybe it's the peanuts!" megumi sputtered, clutching his chest now, because why not? "the ones i ate at home! i think i'm allergic!"

toji stared at him, unimpressed. this was the same kid who could inhale salted peanuts by the handful, barely pausing for air, like he was training for some bizarre snack-eating championship.

"you're not allergic," toji deadpanned.

"i think i am!" megumi wheezed, dropping to his knees, his little hands shaking dramatically.

"oh my god!" you gasped, wide-eyed. "should we — i mean, do we need to take him to the hospital? i can drive —"

toji waved a rough hand, trying to salvage what little dignity he had left, "nah, kid’s fine. just go on home. i'll handle this."

"but —"

"it's fine," toji insisted, forcing what he hoped was a reassuring smile, even as megumi collapsed onto the pavement like he’d been struck by lightning.

you had hesitated, clearly torn, but eventually nodded, "okay… but call me if you need anything, okay?"

toji nodded, biting back the heat threatening to crawl up his neck. "yeah, yeah. go on."

the second you turned the corner, toji crouched next to his "dying" son, who immediately cracked one eye open and coughed weakly for good measure.

"what the hell was that?" toji grunted, "what did i say about huffing gasoline in the laundry?"

"don't do it."

toji flicked the punk's forehead, "mhm, so?"

megumi shrugged, sitting up and dusting off his pants. "thought i was allergic."

"to peanuts? that shit you eat everyday?"

"better safe than sorry, dad."

toji huffed, ruffling a hand through his choppy black hair. he glanced in the direction you’d gone, muttering under his breath, "you're lucky you’re cute, kid."

the next morning, toji opened his door to find a basket sitting on the mat. a pristine, gingham-lined basket packed with golden, buttery pastries and muffins that smelled like heaven. attached was a note:

for megumi! i hope he’s feeling better!

karmic justice demanded that toji sit down, scarf it entirely, and leave nothing but crumbs for the little brat. he'd earned that much.

take #3 — they didn't get my nose right!

toji fushiguro didn’t get flustered easily. fights? He could eat a punch for breakfast. bills? well, avoidance was a valid financial strategy. but you, sitting on his couch, smiling at him like you’d never met a red flag you didn’t want to rehabilitate, while unpacking groceries for him and megumi? that was uncharted territory.

terrifying.

the apartment was...presentable. which was more than he could say ten minutes before you arrived, when he'd barked at megumi like a drill sergeant to hide every suspicious stain and questionable stack of dishes. now, the faint sting of cleaning spray lingered in the air, and the tiny place almost looked cozy. not that toji would admit it.

"you didn’t have to bring anything," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"oh, it's no trouble!" you chirped, beaming like some kind of saint. "i thought you and megumi might like some fresh vegetables. and i couldn’t resist grabbing some sweets for him."

from the corner of the room, megumi's ears perked up at sweets. he dropped the crayon he’d been chewing (toji pretended not to see it) and padded over, all innocent wide eyes and suspiciously good behaviour.

"dad," megumi started, his tone way too angelic for a kid who regularly schemed like a demonic manga villain, “can i show her my drawing?"

toji utterly froze.

megumi never asked to show off his drawings. usually, he just thrust them into unsuspecting hands like a nosy salesman who couldn't take no for an answer. this? this was premeditated.

"uh," toji grunted, squinting at the kid. "maybe later. she’s busy."

but you, bless your overly trusting heart, smiled and said, "oh, i'd love to see it! i'm sure it's adorable."

toji didn’t even have time to stop him. megumi whipped out a crumpled paper from his pocket like he was smuggling state secrets and handed it to you with an air of triumph.

you unfolded it carefully, and toji wanted to crawl into the walls.

there it was: a chaotic, technicolor mess of lines and smudges.

and centre stage?

a terrifyingly accurate caricature of him labeled "dad," locked in what could only be described as a life-or-death struggle with a rabid raccoon twice his size. above his head, a speech bubble screamed, "no!" while the raccoon yelled back, "mine!"

toji groaned so loud it could’ve registered on the richter scale, "kid. seriously?"

your laughter was instant and loud, the kind that made you clutch your sides and tear up. "this — oh my god, this is amazing!" you wheezed, doubling over.

"it’s not even accurate," toji muttered, crossing his arms, his biceps straining against his shirt like they were trying to leave this embarrassing moment behind. "i won."

"dad didn’t win," megumi piped up, as smug as a kid who’d just blown up his old man’s spot in front of a pretty lady, "the raccoon stole the chips."

"megumi," toji growled, pinning him with a glare that would’ve made lesser beings tremble. the kid just shrugged, popping another crayon into his mouth like this was all part of his five-year master plan.

later, after you’d left, still giggling and promising to "treasure" the drawing, toji leaned over the kitchen table where megumi was innocently snacking on his candy.

'kid," toji said, his voice low and dangerous, "if you ever pull something like that again, i’ll eat your crayons. one by one. and i'll make you watch."

megumi didn’t even flinch, cool as a cucumber, "good luck. i hid all the good ones."

take #4 — take your broke ass home!

the neighborhood festival was the kind of event that came together with duct tape and misplaced enthusiasm. a few janky game booths, a cotton candy machine that looked like it ran on prayers, and a ferris wheel that creaked like it was auditioning for a horror movie. but toji didn’t mind. he had a plan.

this was going to be his moment.

he invited you under the pretense of "fun time" for megumi, but really, it was to show you what a catch he was. buff, capable, ruggedly charming — he was ready to prove it all. what better way than with a little festival bravado? he’d win you a giant stuffed panda or one of those oversized bears that could double as a couch. easy.

you and megumi stood by a booth plastered with painted bullseyes, rows of rubber balls stacked neatly on the counter. toji rolled up his sleeves, flexing his arms just enough to catch your attention. he reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of crumpled cash like he was buying the entire festival, "watch this."

from beside him, megumi crossed his arms. his eyes squinted with the kind of judgment only an six-year-old could muster. then, like a sniper, he fired off the line that would ruin toji's day.

"careful, dad," megumi said, voice loud enough to turn a few heads. "that’s our grocery money for the week."

toji froze mid-reach for the first ball and his jaw clenched. slowly, painfully, he turned to face megumi, who was standing there with a look of angelic smugness.

"megumi," toji growled through gritted teeth, "let's remember who brought you here."

megumi didn’t miss a beat, "oh, right. i'm just worried that dinner tomorrow is soy sauce soup."

"kid’s got jokes," toji muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, his cocky energy now entirely replaced by something closer to "please make this stop."

"oh, i don’t think he’s joking," you teased, tears forming at the corners of your eyes from laughing too hard.

"yeah, definitely not joking," megumi deadpanned, "dad’s gonna start eating protein powder straight from the jar."

"megumi," toji barked, praying for divine intervention that would include his son being carried off by a stork, "you’re grounded."

"for what? telling the truth?"

before toji could escalate into full-on dad-mode, the game attendant — clearly desperate to avoid whatever domestic drama was brewing, handed toji a stuffed panda.

"here, sir, on the house," he said with a strained smile, like he was hoping toji wouldn’t throw a ball through the booth.

toji grabbed the panda and shoved it into your hands with all the grace of a man trying to save face, "here. told you i'd win ya something."

you had just hugged the panda, still grinning ear to ear, "who knew you had a sweet spot? i'll cherish it forever, especially after hearing how hard you worked for it."

megumi, the little bastard, had already wandered off to scope out the cotton candy stand.

toji watched him go, then glanced at you, feeling oddly resigned, "i’m never bringing him to one of these again."

"oh, come on," you said, nudging him playfully, "i'm glad we came. this was fun. besides, he's a sweet kid."

he wondered if you were half-blind, but held his tongue. instead toji groaned, rubbing his temples, 'kid’s not eating for a week."

take #5 — brought the heat back!

it was a quiet thursday evening, the kind of night that lured people into thinking life wasn’t a complete dumpster fire. the sky was fading into a smug sort of pink, and a light breeze was making it just nice enough to forget toji's apartment was a little too warm because he’d cheaped out on air conditioning.

you’d accepted his invitation for dinner, and now here he was, a grown man trying to pretend he wasn’t about to impress the hell out of you with his cooking.

see, toji wasn’t just some dude who could barely boil water. nah, this man knew his way around the kitchen — specifically around a bowl of spicy curry that could win hearts. but he couldn’t let you know that.

toji liked to think that he had a reputation to uphold: rough around the edges, dangerously hot, and way too casual about everything.

so when you walked in, he scratched the back of his head like he’d just thrown the recipe together from a vague memory, muttering, "i dunno, figured i'd try somethin’ new. if it’s bad, there’s takeout."

except this wasn’t new. toji knew exactly what he was doing. his curry was legendary in very specific circles — namely, his own ego.

meanwhile, megumi was hanging around the kitchen like a suspicious little gargoyle, all quiet and sneaky-eyed. that should’ve been the first warning sign.

and when dinner was served, toji had to admit it, it looked perfect. rich, golden curry with just the right balance of spice, heat curling off the plates like a victory lap. hah, an easy win.

you had taken a polite bite, smiling at first. until your face suddenly froze like you'd just been slapped by a fire demon.

"what, it's too spicy?" toji asked, as he watched you struggle to smile. your lips twitching like they were trying to run away.

"no, no!" you wheezed, "it's — it's really good. just got a lil' kick to it, that's all!"

kick? toji blinked. you looked as though you had been delivering a roundhouse to the face.

suspicious now, he scooped up a big bite himself. the moment it hit his tongue, he nearly choked. his sinuses exploded, his tongue went numb, and he could feel sweat instantly forming on his brow.

"what the fuck," he sputtered, slamming down his fork and lunging for his water. toji guzzled it like a man who’d just escaped a desert, while you valiantly kept nibbling as though your dignity depended on it.

megumi, sitting way too calmly at the table, didn’t even flinch. he was eating like the curry was perfectly fine, which made it even worse. this little freak.

toji squinted at his only child, "megumi. what did you do?"

"nothing," the kid said, wide-eyed and dripping with fake innocence. too fake, tsk, toji knew that look. "just...helped with the seasoning."

toji’s stomach dropped, as his blood pressure rose, "how much seasoning?"

megumi shrugged, stabbing at his rice like he wasn’t actively committing a felony, "i dunno. a lot. jus' wanted to be helpful, dad."

"y'trying to kill me? her? yourself?!"

you laughed nervously through the pain, "ah, toji. it’s really not that bad —"

"don’t lie, doll" toji snapped, shooting you a look, "sweatin' like you ran a marathon."

"so are you!" you shot back, snickering. and you weren’t wrong. toji's forehead looked like he’d just finished a full-body workout.

megumi leaned back in his chair, chewing slowly, and said with an infuriating amount of smugness, "i like spicy food."

toji pointed at him, wondering if it would be easier to pick up the kid and launch him out the window, "you better start liking ramen, ‘cause that’s all you’re eating for the next week."

"fine with that," megumi said, clearly unbothered, "isn't that what i eat all the time anyway?”

toji groaned, dragging a hand through his messy hair, which now stuck to his forehead in sweaty, choppy strands.hHe turned to you, desperate for some kind of redemption. "this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. it’s normally amazing. i swear."

"it’s fine," you laughed, even as you sipped water like your life depended on it. "honestly, i think it’s kinda cute."

that threw him for a loop. "cute? what’s cute about this? i just served you a bowl of liquid hell."

you grinned, a little too amused for his liking. "it’s the effort."

toji, for once in his life, had no comeback. he just sighed, defeated, and grabbed his phone to order takeout. megumi, meanwhile, looked entirely too pleased with himself, even lifting the bowl to his lips to smack away the remnants of the soup that he slurped.

interlude: the peace talks

you’re standing outside toji's dingy apartment building, where even the cracks in the walls look like they’ve seen some things. you’re not entirely sure why you’re here. okay, that’s a lie. you’re absolutely sure— it’s because of him. that rough-edged, broad-shouldered man who can bench press your common sense into oblivion. but of course, you’re telling yourself it’s "just to check in."

totally innocent.

you knock. a few beats of silence, then the door creaks open just wide enough for a face to peek out. it's megumi fushiguro, toji's odd kid, and his expression already screams ugh. the kind of look that says, "what does this clown want?"

"uh, hi," you say, suddenly unsure if you’re allowed to be nervous around a first grader, "is toji here?"

megumi stares at you like you just asked if the sky was plaid, "nope," he says flatly, but doesn’t move. he keeps the door partially open, like he’s either waiting for you to leave or deciding if you’re even worth his time.

"oh. okay, that's fine, i'll just —" you motion vaguely toward the stairs, already regretting this whole situation. but then the kid speaks up.

"why do you wanna see him?" his tone is casual, but his eyes? sharp like sea-glass. too sharp for someone so young. he’s leaning on the doorframe now.

you blink, mind going blank.

"i don’t...i mean, i was just dropping by to say hi. that’s all."

megumi tilts his head, scrutinising you like you’re a suspect in a crime only he knows about, "do you like my dad?"

you choke on what must be your last breath on this earth, "what?! no! i mean, what are you even saying, he's..."

you’re spiralling, and megumi's smug little smirk says he knows it. He’s enjoying this way too much.

"sure," he says with a shrug, stepping back into the apartment. he leaves the door wide open like it’s an invitation — or maybe a saw trap. against your better judgment, you follow him in.

megumi plops down on the couch, picking up a laptop like you’re not even there, "you’re not the first," he mutters without looking up.

"what’s that supposed to mean?" you ask, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

he shrugs again, still not meeting your gaze, "just saying, dad’s got... fans." he says it with the kind of disdain only a kid can muster when talking about their parent, "but you’re, like... different."

"different how?" you ask, instantly regretting it. you shouldn’t engage. this is toji's kid, not your personal gossip columnist.

megumi finally looks up, one eyebrow raised, "you don’t seem as dumb as the other ones."

wow. compliment of the century. "that's way harsh. but thanks," you say dryly, crossing your arms. "and here i thought we were bonding."

there’s a flicker of something else in the child's eyes. a glimmer of protectiveness, maybe, "look, i'm just saying...don’t get your hopes up, okay? i don't think my dad's that type of guy."

you frown, perplexed at having this conversation with a child who barely comes up past your waist, "what makes you say that?"

megumi looks like he’s about to launch into a powerpoint presentation on why toji fushiguro Is a walking red flag, but then he stops. his petulant expression shifts, softens, just a little, "i don't anyone to be sad."

and there it is. the kid act drops for a split second, and you see it. he’s not just being a little punk — he's protecting himself. maybe he’s seen toji screw up one too many times, or maybe he’s tired of people coming and going from their lives. either way, you feel a pang of sympathy.

you sit down on the edge of the couch, careful not to invade his space, "i get it,” you say gently, "and i appreciate you looking out for me, and for your father. but...maybe your dad’s not as bad as you think."

megumi snorts, "yeah, right. i think he's a mess."

"well, sometimes messy people need someone to believe in them," you say, surprising even yourself with the honesty in your voice.

he doesn’t respond right away, just stares at the laptop screen like it holds the answers to life. finally, he sighs, closing it with a decisive snap.

"fine. you can...hang out with him. or whatever. i won't pull any dumb shit,” megumi suddenly pauses at the slip of his tongue, “wait, don't tell him i said that word. but if this screws up, i'm saying ‘I told you so."

he sounds like he’s just agreed to let you borrow his favourite video game.

you smile, relieved, "deal."

just then, the front door opens, and in walks toji, all feathery raven hair, sweat-slicked muscles, and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder like he’s just conquered a small country. he pauses when he sees you, eyebrows raising in surprise. "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, voice rough but warm.

before you can respond, megumi pipes up from the couch, "we had important business."

megumi watches you leave, your footsteps echoing down the hallway. you turn back once, smiling at toji like he’s just said something funny — or maybe like he’s not completely hopeless. his dad stands in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically relaxed, a satisfied smirk on his face that makes megumi's stomach churn.

how disgusting.

the second the door clicks shut, toji sighs like some kind of romantic hero from the bad drama his dad loves to secretly watch, running a hand through his choppy black hair and scratching at the back of his neck.

"isn't she cute?" coming from a guy who once tried to flirt with a waitress by asking her how many push-ups she thought he could do.

toji disappears into his room, leaving young, burdened megumi stranded on the couch with his thoughts. his dad — the six-foot-four slab of muscle and bad decisions who calls protein shakes "wizard juice" — is clearly falling for you. and honestly? megumi doesn’t hate the idea. you’re nice. you don’t talk down to him like other adults, and you don’t smell like motor oil and regret like toji's usual crowd.

but toji? his dad couldn’t woo a cactus. if this is going to happen, megumi's going to have to step in. it's the responsible thing to do.

he grabs his laptop again, boots it up, and clicks on the email icon with all the gravitas of a general preparing for war.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: hey gojo i need help message: hey gojo i need help.

he hits send, satisfied. within ten minutes, there’s a reply. gojo's always on his computer nowadays, swamped by senior finals.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: hey gojo i need help message: why are u emailing me. i feel weird emailing a six year old.

megumi rolls his eyes. he’s six, not stupid. he definitely thinks he's smarter than gojo satoru.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: i think my dad has a crush.

there’s a pause. megumi imagines goji sitting in his weirdly pristine apartment downstairs, wearing those stupid sunglasses he insists are cool, trying to process what he just read.

the reply comes in two words.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: come downstairs.

then another one.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: let’s debrief. i got cookies.

megumi shuts his laptop, slides off the couch, and heads for the door. it's time someone with real intelligence got involved.

megumi fushiguro sits at the kitchen table, eating rainbow cereal and trying to ignore the way his dad is pacing the room like a stressed-out gorilla. toji fushiguro, a walking, grunting tank of a man, is mumbling under his breath about "women" and "bad timing" and something about his shirt being "too tight." not that his dad has any normal shirts — just those stupid gym shirts.

megumi, as the only person in this house with half a brain cell, knows exactly what’s going on. his dad's got it bad for you.

not that he thinks that his dad would admit it. no, his dad's strategy for dealing with his obvious feelings is to act like a complete idiot whenever you’re around. last time, he dropped a dumbbell on himself while trying to show off. the time before that, he laughed so hard at one of your jokes he spat coffee everywhere. megumi had to clean it up.

so yeah, his dad was hopeless, and apparently, it’s megumi's job to fix it.

but megumi doesn’t think of himself as a matchmaker. he thinks of himself as a tortured genius, forced to live among lesser idiots. and frankly, he doesn’t even like the idea of his dad dating. because that's gross.

but the truth is, megumi's tired of toji stomping around the apartment like a lovesick rhino, and if getting you and his dad together means toji might finally stop asking megumi if his hair looks "cool," then so be it.

he starts small. when you knock on the door that afternoon, megumi answers and blocks the entrance like a bouncer, just like gojo told him to.

"oh, dad's not here again," he says, casual.

your face falls, and megumi immediately clocks it. bingo.

"you're in luck today, lady. wait here," he interrupts, darting inside, "i'll grab him."

except his dad is in there, muttering something about a broken pipe in the kitchen, while tapping furiously on his phone. megumi marches in, hands on his hips.

"i let her in," he announces, like a town crier.

his dad looks up, like a deer caught in the headlights of his own stupidity, "what? why didn’t you tell me? damn punk," he scrambles for a shirt.

"i'm telling you now, dad," megumi says, dully, "also, you’re acting like a weirdo. just go talk to her. ask her out."

toji freezes, halfway into his shirt, "what's gotten into you, kid? gonna drop a knife on me, huh? what am i supposed to say?"

megumi resists the urge to roll his eyes so hard they fall out of his head, "i don't know. say hi to her. maybe don't mention the gym."

his dad frowns, "you're six, punk. what do you know? people like hearing about that shit."

"not normal people."

once toji is finally presentable — or as presentable as a man with permanent bedhead and a scar on his lip can be — megumi ushers him out of the room. then, like the misunderstood mastermind he is, megumi follows quietly, lurking behind the door to eavesdrop.

toji opens the door to find you standing there, fiddling with the strap of your bag. his usual dumb smirk creeps onto his face, "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, leaning on the doorframe like he thinks he’s starring in a cologne commercial.

"yeah, i was just...in the neighborhood," you say, sounding way too nervous for someone who claims this is a casual visit.

megumi winces. they’re hopeless. this is your neighbourhood, too.

toji scratches the back of his neck, a nervous tick Megumi’s only seen when he’s trying not to embarrass himself, "well, uh, you wanna come in? i was just... doing some cleaning. we can...talk, or some shit like that."

megumi knows for a fact that there's a lie in toji's words. the only cleaning his dad's ever done is shoving everything into the closet and calling it "organised."

but somehow, it works. you step inside, smiling at him like he just offered you free ice cream. now, that would be a decent offer.

from his spot behind the door, megumi mentally pats himself on the back. phase one: complete. he decides to clock out, flopping back on his rumpled bed to pull his laptop back out, immediately logging back onto his game.

but by the time you leave an hour later, toji looks like he just won the lottery. you’re smiling too, waving awkwardly before heading down the stairs. and ugh, gross! you lean in and press a soft kiss to toji's cheek before you turn.

as soon as the door shuts, toji leans against it and lets out the most ridiculous sigh megumi has ever heard.

"hah, kid. she likes me," his dad says, grinning like a lovesick idiot.

megumi, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, crosses his arms, "that's foul. but no thanks to you."

his dad opens one sharp green eye at him, and scowls. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

"it means," megumi says, feeling a lifetime of bribery for ice-cream excite him, "you owe me. big time."

toji’s standing in the doorway, looking at megumi like he just asked him to join some cult. he scratches the back of his head, giving megumi that look — like he’s trying to figure out what the hell his kid is up to now.

"eh, you look weird today," toji mutters, a half-smirk tugging at his lips. he reaches down and ruffles megumi’s hair like it’s no big deal, making it stick up even more. his hair gets all spiky and untamable, and megumi scowls, smoothing it down, trying (and failing) to get his dark spikes to behave.

"yeah, whatever, dad," megumi mutters under his breath as toji turns and saunters off into his room. toji’s probably about to do a hundred push-ups and gloat to himself. megumi can already hear the dumb grunting from the other room.

as soon as toji’s gone, megumi sits back down at the table, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

for once, the apartment is quiet. no random phone calls, no weird people showing up, no random training sessions that sound more like a one-man wrecking crew than “exercise.” just peace.

it’s bliss.

he takes another bite of cereal, enjoying the calm and the fact that someone else is going to have to deal with toji’s nonsense for once. it’s about time.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: mission accomplished message: it worked. my dad's in love.

a few seconds later, gojo’s reply pops up.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: mission accomplished message: that's great! wanna help me with the guy i like?

megumi squints at the screen, blinking twice. he closes his laptop with all the gravity of someone who has just solved world peace.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: re: re: mission accomplished message: no.

[boowritess]

part 2 lol

so apparently it's really fucking hard to get into the SAS. and ontop of that I've been getting tiktoks of people going around an army base asking why they joined. most responses were to pay off student loans, bills, school, (someone said there's was 6 years of prison or school and *mental note for idea*), the recruiter lied or spoilt them, barracks bunny.

141 (poly?) x notsobaddasssoldier!reader

and now i can't stop thinking of soldier!reader. who really half-assed their way through everything - only doing the job for the money and to pay off student loans + they had nothing better to do.

who somehow ends up being adopted by Price (kinda like Gaz i guess ???) all because reader happened to be in the right place at the right time and saved Price's ass while managing to complete a mission the Task Force were doing.

and it's not that you saved his ass or completed the mission that makes Price go *this is mine* - it's the fact that afterwards all you can say is-

"this shit is so not worth paying off my student loans."

"oh fuck i forgot to cancel my subscription. fuckk- waste of fucking money"

- all the while a building is burning in front of you but yeah just not at all concerned about what had just happened. so price just *grabs you by the back of your neck and holds you up, claiming you as part of his task force now.*

(lol you probably can't do that irl but this is fiction sooo suck my ass.)

and laswell's just like no... they are very much still green john. way too green. no.

but it's too late. he's already introducing you to the task force. singing your praises and you're just like

"man he promised to pay off my student loans and give me food." basically how ur recruiter got ya ass.

enough said. you get the whole off the books speech, saving the world by doing things others wouldn't like. but u couldn't give a rats ass - you should but nah...

and like... you know you're the rookie... you're still green... but some of the shit 141 do you just...

"so you just gonna kidnap the wife AND the child...? right... kid, you wanna watch bluey? here..."

"and you do this often...? crazy."

but you don't exactly protest. how could you with how much you get paid. you kinda just side-eye and look away when it's geta a lil crazy. *bombastic side-eye*

and the other 141 guys - oh my days. become just as enormed as price and want to start really trying to amplify your skills. but every time, they start explaining how to do things - the best way to go about a situation or how to fight a certain way.

you pull this face. like your top lip pulls back, your eyebrows scrunch together, and there's a slight frown on your lips as they speak. like you look confused/disgusted. but you don't even realise cause-

"why're you pulling that face?" 141

"that's... that's just my focusing face..."

"oh..." 141 feels bad

then when they do take you in feild you're shaking your head no. like you haven't been around that long. what the fuck? now you're bout to infiltrate an enemy base!?!?!

"can i just wait in the car?"

"no." price

"i'm gonna vomit."

"aim at the enemy." ghost

people think that because you're suddenly in this badass task force that surely they're just using you for your assets.

they all think you're the 141 barracks bunny. and maybe you should be pissed or annoyed or grossed out. but all you can do is sigh and pause from the burger price got you, and let out a long exhale.

"fuck... maybe i can just do onlyfans or be a pornstar... shit maybe it's not too late..."

"military is bascially sex work - selling my body..."

"not that different from what i'm doing now. body being used, check. body sore in the strangest places, check."

your tone so empty, blank and nonchalant, but there's a serious look in your eyes that when you grab your phone out to maybe do a little research on how you could do that, your phone is snatched from your hand by one of the guys and they walk out the room without a second look back.

with an annoyed huff, you go back to eating your burger. but suddenly, you turn to the person who genuinely thought you were a barracks bunny.

"hey you think if i be a barracks bunny i get out of missions and shit?"

"...that's not how it works..." rando.

"fuck."

and maybe you try...

like you go to price's office and the guys are already in there, chatting about something that you should really pay attention too but you can't be assed. instead you unashamedly start to speak...

"if i suck ya'll dicks can i get out the mission?"

"no. you still have to join." gaz says amused

"even if you-" *que long sigh from price* "even if you suck our dicks."

"that's fucked up. i should've done porn."

and with the most hurt and broken-hearted look on your face, you leave the office, closing the door with a dramatic sigh. the guys just stare at the door in... confusion, amusement, and maybe arousal if ya'll dig that

idk man just gimmie more soldier!reader who just really ain't the fucked, there for money, lowkey hungry and doesn't know what the fuck is happening. kinda a pet or little sibling energy that the 141 love.

bonus*

"wait so they aren't sucking our dicks?" *soap says getting slapped in the back of the head by ghost

a/n: brain is rottinnggg. i should be doing so much other shit but... cod just consumes my brain 24/7

[irisinluv]

Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? PT 1

All I could do was stare at my reflection. This had to be a joke. I was going to wake up in my bed, right this instant.

“FUCK!”

Ok, so, pinching myself hurts. That’s fine. This is like. Some sort of lucid dream. What do they say to do if you’re lucid dreaming? Oh, that’s right, put your finger in your palm, it’ll phase through!

I resist the urge to scream as my finger meets solid flesh.

You see, I’m not in the right body. Or the right world from what I can tell. No, I’m supposed to be back home, waking up in a panic as I realize my alarm didn’t go off cuz my phone died after I stayed up way too late reading manga.

But of course, I’m not late to work, I’m in a lavish bedchamber right out of the latest webcomic I’d been reading! And by the looks of it…. I’m the crown princes crazy fiancé! As much as I love reading about the Isekai trope, I never wanted to be in one! And come on- as the Yandere Villain!? Couldn’t this at least be original? There’s hundred of stories just like “my next life as a villainess,” why couldn’t I be like… a stable hand or something? Ugh. Ok. Think!

I need to get home. Do the protagonists ever get back home in the stories I read? I pace around my room and rack my brain over every webcomic I’ve ever read, every manga I waited in line for, every anime I binged, even the unfinished manhwas! I can’t think of a single fucking one where they get home?

Well this isn’t going to stop me. I have a cat who’s going to absolutely flip if she’s not given fresh kibble in the morning. She has enough in her bowl for another 2 days but she needs it topped off ok! She’s a princess! I can’t be stuck here! Who’s going to throw her pompom toy for her if I’m not there???

What did all these have in common? What’s the barebones trope layout? Ok let’s see

1) person either died or falls asleep and wakes up in a new world…. Check

2) person is the villain!…. Check

3) to avoid the characters terrible death, person tries to change the story, ends up being new protagonist…

Ohhh… hey…. Do these Isekai characters ever just…. Play along? Even the “reincarnated as a baby” ones, they only play along till they’re old enough to try to run away or rework the political structure of the entire city. Maybe that’s it. Make it to the books natural end, and you’ll wake up where you belong. It’s like when you get part of a song stuck in your head. Play the whole song, and it’ll get out.

Ok, I’ve trained most of my adult life for this- I can totally ace this trope! I just have to stalk the crown prince, act totally in love with him, and be a bitch to the female lead. Then my finance will leave me, I’ll do some crazy dramatic act to try to kill the female lead, and then I’ll be exiled or executed, and wake up to feed my cat. How hard can it be?

Hard. It’s very hard.

Where the hell did he go!? My fiancé, the crown prince Eric, was JUST HERE. I swear! He turned that corner back there and then went down this hall… at least I think it was this hall? Ugh! This is impossible! For someone with such loud shoes and an armed escort, you’d think he’d be easier to follow! Now my feet just hurt. They don’t make these fancy shoes to run around the castle all day. They’re meant to daintily peek from beneath my many skirts as I host a tea party or some shit.

Ok. I’ve got this! I’ll just peek into each room until I find him, maybe I can get a better feel for the layout, or maybe find his office and see if he has a schedule or a day planner or something I can use to make this whole stalking thing easier.

I begin snooping, and it’s a bit of thrill to be honest! Back in my real life, I’m the kind of person to hide a wrapper deep in the trash can if I’m babysitting, sitting on the floor playing a game on my phone after the kid goes to bed rather than “making myself at home” the way the parents insisted as they showed me how to access Netflix. I’ve never been a snooper. Now…. Well. It’s totally on brand for this character! I’m not me, I’m a psycho lovesick fool! I giggle a bit at that as my fingers trail over a shelf of beautiful pottery in some sort of sitting room.

“What’s so amusing dearest?”

I practically screech as my heart leaps to my throat and I whirl around, and see the very person I’d been searching for has snuck up on ME…. That’s so unfair!

“W-what? O-oh! Nothing! I was just- uh, admiring the pottery?”

I stutter out as I try to recall how to act like a human being while simultaneously trying to stop feeling my own pulse in my ears. The idiot has the nerve to LAUGH! Full on snort and everything!

“What are you doing in this wing anyways? Weren’t you meant to be out riding today?”

Shit. I was so busy trying to figure out his schedule, I didn’t consider maybe the body I was shoved into had a schedule of her own. Ok. Play it cool- I’ve got this!

“Yes, well, I decided I wasn’t in the mood and wanted to stay in today instead.”

His brows furrow

“Oh, but you love riding? Are you feeling ill? I can fetch the royal physician for you if you-“

“No! That’s- that’s quite alright! I simply wanted a change of schedule, that is all. Um… what about you? What are your plans for the day?”

He looked a bit surprised at that, and a small smile danced on his lips.

“I was just going to the library to do some paperwork, boring stuff really, and then of course our dinner at its regular time.”

I nod like that means anything to me. Ok think, if I were crazy in love with this man, what would I say?

“Would you like some company? Reading in the library sounds really nice, maybe we could have some tea as well?”

Ok. I’m already fucking this up. He looks confused…. God damnit …. I knew I shouldn’t have skimmed over those early chapters- but the translation was shit ok!?

“Well… I’d actually love that. But are you sure? You haven’t exactly shown interest in reading, and you’ve never requested something like this before…. In fact I don’t think I can recall the last time we’ve interacted outside of dinner or a scheduled social event in… well. Ever.”

Wait…. What? Isn’t my character like goo-goo-ga-ga over him? Are you telling me she never asks to just… spend time with her lover? They only talk during dinner and parties or whatever?

“Of course, I think it’ll be relaxing! Just lead the way!”

My brain is working overtime as I smile politely at him as we reach the library and I pretend to browse for books. I’m missing something here. What is-

Oh. Shit. That’s right. I’m supposed to be really insecure and awkward about him. That’s why she stalks him- she spends all her free time obsessing over this man from the shadows, threatening the competition…. Yet chokes up when it comes to how to act natural. Her inferiority complex is what drives her entire character. And then to him, they’re just two nobles in an arranged marriage who speak on dull subjects like the weather and horse rides…. And who barely interact.

This must have been a real big shake up, she always stays out of sight, they never run into each other by chance. And she certainly never would ask to sit and read with him…. Maybe watch him do his work from a hidden keyhole somewhere, but that’s right…. She IS more of a traditional lady with her hobbies. She was raised to be the perfect noble wife, so naturally, her hobbies include things like dancing, needlepoint, and horse riding. The only studies she’s interested in are etiquette and things that noble ladies are supposed to know.

Well…. Shit. That’s so like me to already have fucked this up. But that’s ok. That’s ok- he’s going to meet the female lead and fall in love and so I just have to be the obstacle they need to overcome. Surely the details don’t matter too much…. It’s my first day in the job ok? Not everyone’s perfect!

I find a book that honestly actually sounds interesting, it’s historical, but it’s giving Hellen of Troy, the closest to a dark romance I think I’ll get from an academic personal library like this. I settle into what looks like the comfiest chair in the central area, and begin reading. The prince and I exist comfortably, the only sound being the scratch of his pen, and the occasional rustle of paper as he flips a document or I finish a page. We continue like this for several hours until he puts down his pen and clears his throat, getting my attention.

“I know it’s a long way from dinner…. But I was thinking I’d grab something light for a mid day meal and then take a walk about the gardens …. Would you care to join me?”

Honestly, some lunch and pretty royal gardens sounds like so much fun, so I agree. As we begin walking, I ponder how I can recover from all this.

You know what.. this can totally still go to plan. This is just me being the evil villain and sinking my claws into him! The female lead will appear, and I’ll reveal my true, nasty side to her! She’ll have to fight to save the prince from his marriage to me!

*insert evil laughter!*

“You’re smiling.”

“W-what?”

“A smile. It suits you. You’ve been doing that a lot today….. I like it.”

Ok and now I’m blushing. I go to reply when I suddenly find myself weightless for a moment, and then hit the ground with a hard thump.

“Ow! What the-!?”

My eyes snap up and glare at this pretty blonde girl who just rammed into me, and sent me flying

“Do you not know how to watch where you’re going!? Owww…. Ugh.”

Ok I’m sorry I’m usually a nice and understanding person but I’ve never been literally knocked over before! Who does that to a person?

Eric helps me to my feet and sends a reproachful glare toward the girl, asking me if I’m alright with most concerned look…. And the girl gasps and says,

“C-crown prince Eric! I apologize! I’d didn’t recognize you!”

She drops into a curtsy and lowers her eyes all demure and modest as if she hadn’t just bulldozed me. I send an incredulous look toward Eric…. She… didn’t see HIM? I’m the one she took out? He gives me an equally puzzled look and so I decide, you know what, fuck it. I’m this evil person in this world…. I need to act like it!

“And not recognizing his highness is an excuse for taking out the princess consort, soon to be crown princess? Are you blind or just daft?”

Oh my god I really just called someone daft! This feels like when you stay up late thinking all the witty comebacks you could’ve used against your high school bullies, except actually using them in the moment!

And Eric is being a sweetie and letting me handle this, waiting expectantly for blondie to answer me, just prompting her,

“Well?”

“Forgive me…. Princess consort…. You are right. My oversight in inexcusable. It appears neither of us were looking where we were going. I hope we can start fresh!”

I scoff- that’s it? Who does this bitch think she is? Yes, I was looking at Eric, but I was going a walking pace, who rounds a corner with so much force that you knock someone over?

Suddenly something clicks- oh shit! This is the female lead!!!! This scene happened in the story, just without the prince here. This is good, that means this is on track. Although I gotta say- I was much more on the female main characters side when reading it. Now, I just feel like she’s one of those mean girls in high school who’s not *technically* doing anything mean. Anyways- what was I supposed to say? That’s right.

“Yes…. Well. I’m sure we won’t be seeing much of each other anyways. If you’ll excuse me-“

Nailed ittttt…. Now her line?

“Well, actually…. My name is Lady Cressida, and I’ll be staying in the place for several months as my father is a foreign ambassador overseeing trade agreements with his highness the king. So I imagine we will be seeing *plenty* of each other. That goes for you too your highness! So please- forgive me, I look forward to getting to know each of you better!”

Oh that’s so cool, seeing her recite the lines from the story. But ok- I have a role to play as well. I scoff and grab Eric’s arm, pulling him behind me as I storm off, playing the part of entitled lover, stuck up and irritated at this ambassadors daughter who DARED to speak to my love.

Yea, this will work, Eric will think Cressida is a genuine sweetie, and see me as being the unreasonable bitch who’s refusing to accept her apology, or apologize for not looking where I was going either. And now I’m manhandling him- totally unlady like. God I’m killing this aren’t I? Minimum wage job and demanding cat, here I come!

What I don’t see, as I lead Eric by the arm, is the cold glare he shoots towards Cressida, before smiling down at our connected hands, an unreadable look in his eyes.

Part 2

[lymtw]

It's three in the morning and the sound of your phone vibrating against the bed wakes you from your peaceful slumber. You lazily reach for the blinding light next to you, instantly knowing who's on the other end when you see the blue diamond emoji.

"Hello..."

You were very much asleep, the raspiness in your voice making it that much more evident.

"Hey, sorry to wake you. Are you okay to talk for a bit?"

Satoru sounds like he's wide awake.

"Don't worry about it. What's up?"

You roll onto your side, your phone between your ear and your pillow. If you close your eyes for more than three seconds, you'll fall asleep again.

There's a slight pause between your response and his. Maybe the signal is bad or he didn't hear you.

"Is everything alright, Satoru?"

"I can't sleep."

He responds quickly this time. His tone didn't change. He didn't sound like he was in distress or too worried about the fact.

"Oh. Uh... have you tried drinking some chamomile tea? I personally don't like it, but when I need to rest, I suck it up and force myself to drink a cup."

He chuckles on the line. You always do what is best for you, even if it's not something you particularly enjoy.

"I think i'm just missing you a lot. Can I come over?"

It was strange to think he hadn't tried a tea remedy for his inability to sleep, but who were you to tell him that? Sleep deprivation does things to people.

"Right now? It's a little late, don't you think?"

You blink slowly, trying to adjust your blurry vision in the dark.

"I promise I won't fall asleep behind the wheel. I really want to see you. Please say yes."

You shut your eyes tightly and open them, your vision clearing up a little. When have you ever said 'no' to him? He always manages to change your mind when you do.

You sigh.

"Okay. You have the spare key to my apartment. I'm going back to sleep."

"I'll be there in like fifteen minutes. Love you, bye!"

You can hear the joy in his tone. He was genuinely so uncomfortable being alone with himself, that he had to wake you up so late at night to invade your space.

–

You knocked out again, once you hung up the phone. You were in such deep sleep that you didn't even notice when Satoru got to your apartment, or when he entered your room.

You did feel the bed weigh down when he laid down next to you, and your nose couldn't ignore his sweet, sweet scent.

"Baby," he whispered. "I'm here."

"Okay, now go to sleep," you mumble, your eyes still closed.

"Come here." He effortlessly turns you over and pulls you close, lifting your leg over his hip. His hand went up to your face, caressing your delicate, peaceful features before scattering kisses all over it, making sure to elongate the duration of the ones he leaves on your lips.

"Baby," he coos. "Come on, kiss me back."

He's like a dog—constantly begging for your attention. The thought makes you crack a smile, one Satoru does not miss.

"I know you're awake." He smiles, putting your leg back in place, before rolling over until he's on top you.

"Fucking hell, 'toru," you break, cracking up at how he had no remorse after crushing your body.

"There's my pretty baby. I'm so glad you're awake now."

"It's your fault," you grumble.

"If wanting to love you is a crime, then throw me in the slammer and toss the key." His nose dove into your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. "You're just so pretty, and you're all mine."

His affection was starting to evolve into more than lovey dovey kisses. His lips stung every time they met your delicate neck. His hands were roaming beneath your shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He loved the way your breathing quickened. It had him chasing more of the reactions associated with the hummed melodies.

"You are mine, right?" He knows the answer, but hearing you say it from time to time always makes him happy. His icy blue eyes can read your response before you even form it. He loves flustering you with eye contact tied with touches that burned with desire. To top it all off, he loves teasing you to see the way you scramble your response. "It's okay if you're not." He smirks, catching the way your eyes widened the slightest bit. "That's subject to change, isn't it?" He eggs on.

"I'm yours, Satoru. I belong to you," you say, making it crystal clear to him. "All yours." With this, he wouldn't doubt it again until the next time he wasn't with you.

"Yeah? You know, I would've done anything to hear those words from you." He leans down to kiss you, a spike of arousal hitting him when you bit his lip and sucked on it.

"Oh... you can't do that. I will put a baby in you." He has never said anything so seriously.

"I dare you to put a baby in me," you say, teasingly. You know he won't do it. He's not ready to share you yet.

"Keep acting like that and I will."

His lips ghost the column of your neck, trailing down your chest and lower to your abdomen. Your oversized gown of a t-shirt was the only thing standing between your body and his eyes. He pulled it up and off with a little help from you, tossing it aside after.

You were a little nervous about what was running through Satoru's head. He was devouring you with just his eyes and already you felt so flustered.

"God, don't ogle me like that, 'toru." You put your hands over your breasts—a makeshift bra to cover what he was staring at.

"Let me see you, baby," he pries, gently. He puts his hands on yours, not pulling them away as to not make you do anything you don't want to do. You end up moving your hands on your own, but turn away, unable to hold his gaze when he's watching you that way.

He cups your breasts, his thumbs swiping over your nipples, instantly making them pebble. He could feel the way you tried to press your thighs together, your relief disturbed by his body wedged between your legs. You tried your hardest to remain composed, but his fingers wouldn't let up. His eyes were glued to your face, watching intently until you let out a shaky breath.

"Mhm..." he hummed, grinning at your bashful attempt to stay quiet. "I know this is driving you crazy."

"Shut... up."

"If it isn't, why can I feel you rubbing up against my stomach."

You stop and your cunt throbs at the suddenness of it.

"Just let it out and we can move on. Let me hear that pretty little ah-"

"Fuck," you whimper, interrupting his instructive moan. Your back arches slightly off the mattress, your hands flying to grip his wrists, tightly.

"Good girl," he praises, his fingers letting off your tortured peaks. Little butterfly kisses are placed between your breasts, trailing down to your stomach, where he spends so much time eliciting giggles from you.

His fingers hook around the elastic band of your shorts and panties, pulling them both down in one swoop.

"I didn't know kissing turned you on so much," he says, eyeing the glossy remnants left in your underwear.

"'toru..." you whine, feeling somewhat embarrassed about the amount of arousal you feel at the simplest touches from him.

"What? I'm not complaining one bit. It's cute."

He slides two fingers between your folds, easily collecting your sweetness. You jolt at the sudden contact, looking at him with doe eyes.

"Oh, baby. I don't deprive you of my touch that much, do I?"

You shake your head as he continues to collect your nectar, his fingers dipping in slightly to fully coat his fingertips.

"My sensitive princess." He smiles, softly. "How many times do you wanna cum?"

He never asks you this, always just giving you everything he can give or what you can take. You go for a small number, not wanting to seem excessively needy.

"Maybe two times? Please?" Your voice sounds meek. Like you're asking him for the impossible.

Satoru just chuckles. "How 'bout we triple that number?"

–

"S-Satoru—fuck— just like that, like that!" Your head pushes back against the pillow, your hands beside your head, scrunching up the sheets.

This was the fourth orgasm. There was cum spotted over your inner thighs and sweat layered over both your bodies. He had driven you to insanity like he planned.

"More, baby?" He grunts, thrusting with his continuous pace.

"Please," you cry out, fresh tears welling in your eyes again.

Satoru loved watching the tears stream down your face because he got to lean down and kiss them away. He takes the opportunity to praise you— to tell you how good you're being for him.

Your back arched and you braced yourself for the intensity of your next orgasm. Satoru swallowed your moans, kissing you fervently through his own rush. His breathing stuttered when he felt your nails clawing at his back, and once again his cum spurted into you. His breathing was heavy through the nose due to his insistence of kissing you until he you patted him for air.

"Fuck," you muttered. You let out an out of breath laugh, your chest rising and falling quickly as you tried to even out your breathing.

"That's five, baby." He exhales sharply, leaning back and running a hand through his dampened locks. You look at him with twinkling eyes, a smirk being thrown in your direction from your admiration.

"Come here," you say, outstretching your arms towards him. Satoru immediately fills the vacancy, sighing when you rake your nails against the nape of his neck. "Want you to take your time with this last one."

He takes that as a green light to start up again. He guides his cock into you again, savoring the hum that leaves you when he stuffs you again and begins his slow rhythm.

"'toru?" Your voice sounded sultry to his ears.

"Hm?"

"This won't happen again. I hope you know that." You're trying your hardest not laugh or make any sounds that take from the meaning of what you're saying.

He had to raise his head to meet your gaze. Something in the way he looked at you made you believe that this would definitely happen again.

"I hope it does. I love having you under me."

"It's inconvenient. It's so late, 'toru. Why can't we fuck when i'm not trying to sleep? Like in the daytime, or earlier in the night?"

His lips trace your jawline, and you just know he's going for your neck. Satoru lives for pointing out the marks he left on you, the day after.

"Simple," he hums. "I want you to myself." His hips continue to rock into you at the same languid pace. "At night, nobody is gonna take you from me. You won't be distracted and I get all your attention to myself." He kisses your neck. "You're all mine at night. Nobody expects you to be awake."

You gasp when he hits a spot that aches deliciously.

"Come on, baby. Give it to me," he murmurs into your neck. You can feel the way his back ripples as he instinctively picks up the pace. He was overwhelming, thrusting deeper and deeper like he was trying to consume you. What was supposed to be a slow drive towards your final orgasm of the night, turned into him unapologetically using his stamina to lure everything he could out of you. He was almost too much with the way his mouth was ruthless towards your neck and the bruising grip he kept on your hips. You were rendered the smallest thing for him.

"Satoru," you moaned, mindlessly grabbing onto his shoulder blades.

"I know, sweetheart, I know." He kisses you, tenderly, heavily contrasting the savage speed of thrusts.

You whimpered into the lip lock. Your heels dug into the mattress and your toes curled from the intensity of the pleasure you felt. Your breathing became heavier but Satoru refused to unlink his lips from yours. He couldn't when the sounds you made tasted like heaven on his tongue. His own sounds mingled with yours, a harmony that let you know that you weren't the only one feeling good. He was rutting into you, a telltale sign that he was about to cum.

"Mmm..." he hums, before unlatching his lips from yours. He panted as he watched you unravel beneath him, the smallest pinch between your brows as you gushed on him again. The way your walls spasmed around him had him following right after, another load painting your walls.

He grinned at you devilishly, the expression followed by a bright and sunny, airy chuckle. He pulls out of you, and looks down to watch your combined fluids slowly ooze out of you.

"Damn, you really tried putting a baby in me." You sigh, heavily, immediately regaining his attention. "Why do we fuck like this every time?" You rub your eyes, your sleepiness coming back around.

"I'll get one in there someday." He rubs his palm over your stomach. "And also, it's always like that because I love the face you make when you cum and you love the process of giving me that sight." His eye conveyed a seductiveness to their expression that kept you in check.

Your face goes red, warm to the touch. "Shut up." You sit up and playfully shove him.

"I get to cover you in semipermanent kisses, too." His hand comes up to the side of your neck and his fingers trace the red smudges that will darken over time. You roll your eyes, yet still put your hand over his, bringing it to your lips to press a kiss to his knuckles.

"We should shower. It's almost five in the morning." You ignore the mischievous glint in his eyes and the way he's obviously trying to suppress a boyish grin.

"Carry me, please?"

Satoru chuckles, knowing exactly why you want him to carry you.

[elliewithcellie]

Girl, Interrupted

summary: Eddie crashes by your home when you least expected, but everything happens for a reason, right?

wc: 1.8k

cw: PURE SMUT (MDNI 18+), basically no plot, friends to fwb?, oral (f receiving), Eddie is a tease, fairly bold reader lol, fingering, talk of p in v sex, hair pulling, orgasms idk let me know what else

a/n: my bestie bought me slutty pajamas for my birthday, and since I'm a hypothetical whore, this has been on my mind nonstop. Finally took a break from my spn series to write this down. This is the filthiest thing I've written to date but definitely short and sweet

Eddie’s jaw fell slack as the door opened before him. He knew he shouldn’t have shown up to your place uninvited. Sure, you were his best friend, and of course, you had said he could come over whenever, but that never truly meant unannounced. He was already kicking himself for showing up as late as he did when you opened the door.

Your oh so short pajama shorts were the first thing that caught his eye, how your thighs spilled out beneath them, the cotton begging for relief. His eyes trailed higher to your tank top one size too small. The hem rested just above your midriff, the outline of your hips more prominent than he had ever seen. Your face was flush, pinks and reds lining your cheeks. He fought the urge to pinch himself, scared that he was dreaming, scared that he’d wake up to the absence of you and very real feelings emerging.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?” you asked, your arms crossing over your chest. “I thought you had a date.”

Date, what date? Eddie’s mind was going numb. His brain was flatlining at the mere sight of you, more exposed to him than he’d ever seen you. Fight or flight kicked in, debating on whether to say something or just turn around and leave. He was almost sure he was not supposed to see you in this state.

“I—uhh—it didn’t go well, so I cut it short. But I know you love the place, so I figured I’d bring over the leftovers.”

“Oh, sweet. Thank you.”

Eddie hesitated, scared to ask, but his interest piqued. “Is someone—you’re alone right now, right?”

Your eyebrows pinched together. You exhaled a dry laugh. “Please, I’m always alone. Come in. Tell me about your date.”

You ushered Eddie inside and settled into your couch. You pulled a blanket over you, and Eddie released a sigh. He couldn’t believe the hold you suddenly had on him. It was like he was in high school again, ready to combust at the sight of a shoulder. At least with your legs covered, he was less inclined to think about spreading them.

“Was it really that bad?” you asked, drawing Eddie from his thoughts.

“She was just so boring,” Eddie complained. “Like, there’s nothing wrong with her, but it was like we were from different planets! She didn’t know Metallica! How am I supposed to bond with someone when there’s nothing to relate to?”

“Did you think of showing her?”

“Showing her what?”

“Metallica!” you laughed. “Wouldn’t that be kind of romantic, you know, to introduce that to her? Maybe tell her you’re in a band? It’d be like showing her a whole new world. And maybe you’d get a groupie out of it.”

Eddie swatted at the air. “It’s not worth it. We were both bored. And it was clear she wasn’t looking to rock with a guitarist.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“You didn’t meet her. She’s pristine, a Chrissy Cunningham type. Meant to be with a lawyer or some shit.”

You leaned in closer to Eddie, your blanket sliding down your thighs. “Those are the girls who fantasize about guys like you the most. Those girls on the straight and narrow, the ones who seemed destined to be sweet stay-at-home moms or perfect career women, those are the ones who dream of just one night doing something they never thought they could. Something so wild that when they’re taking their kids to soccer practice, or their ‘perfect husband’ is asleep on the recliner while they're doing the dishes, they can think back to that wild night when they fucked a rockstar.”

Eddie’s lip trembled as chills coursed through his body. You leaned back against the couch and shrugged like what you said was nothing. You had to be on something, he decided. Never had you been so frank when the topic of sex came up. Your face was still flushed with color, and you couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position on the couch, shifting yourself from one side to the other to no specific rhythm. Heat radiated off of you, though you weren’t known to be the furnace between the two of you. Something struck Eddie as so foreign but so familiar as he took you in.

“Would you fuck a rockstar?” Eddie found himself saying.

Heat rose to your cheeks. “Do I seem like one of those straight-and-narrow girls to you?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Eddie said, a newfound confidence overtaking him. “You came up with that way too fast to act like you don’t think of it, too. So, would you fuck a rockstar?”

You bit your lip and shifted in your seat. You huffed into the couch. “Wouldn’t anyone?”

“Why so shy all of a sudden?” Eddie asked, egging you on. “You’ve been squirming since I got here, sweetheart. Is something on your mind?”

Your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Tonight is not the night to ask me that.”

“Why is that?” Eddie chuckled. “Were you in the middle of something? Was something left unfinished when I so rudely interrupted? And now all you can think about is the ache between your legs?”

You shuddered at his words. “Eddie,” you said, your voice shaking.

“I could help you.” Eddie leaned closer, his words almost a whisper. “Because I may not be a rockstar, but I’m sure I could give you the night of your life.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Don’t tease me. It’s not funny.”

“No one’s laughing.” Eddie pulled the blanket back, his hands resting on your thighs. Your legs slightly opened on instinct. “What kind of friend would I be, huh? If I didn’t at least offer?”

Eddie didn’t know where this bravado came from, but he didn’t care. All he knew was the longer you looked at him like that, the harder he got.

You grabbed him by his shirt and forced his lips on yours. Nothing soft or sweet came from your lips. You were needy and desperate, clinging to him like he was the air in your lungs.

The urgency shocked Eddie, but he quickly found your rhythm. He smirked against your lips as he pulled his jacket off. His hands snaked from your thighs to your hips to your ass, lifting you onto his lap. You groaned into his mouth as he rolled you against him.

He was sure he was dreaming now. Only there did he ever picture you above him, grinding your hips into his. Only there did he imagine you moaning from his touch. But never were his dreams this vivid, this real, this fucking good.

He pulled you from him and pushed you back onto the couch. You whined at the loss of contact. He’d never seen your eyes so dark, so lustful, so hungry for him.

He slid down to the floor onto his knees and pulled you to the edge of the couch. “You still want my help, sweetheart?”

You nodded emphatically.

“I need to hear you, baby. Say it.”

“Please help me, Eddie. I need you. Please.”

“Atta girl.”

You lifted yourself up as Eddie pulled your shorts down your legs. Eddie’s cock jumped at the sight of you. He bit his lip to maintain what little composure he had left.

“Aww, your poor little pussy’s just as needy as you, isn’t she?” He spread your knees apart, the cold metal on his fingers sending chills up your spine. The throbbing between your legs only intensified, a small whimper escaping your lips.

Eddie couldn’t wait any longer. There was no time for teasing, no time to explore. You needed him, and he was going to deliver.

He dove into your aching pussy like a man starved. You jumped at the contact, your hands flying to his hair. His tongue worked overtime, kitten-licking your clit before diving in for more.

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he said, smiling against you. You moaned in response, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him closer.

Your sounds turned him on even more, searching for his own release as he rubbed himself against the couch. His mind was in a daze, in utter disbelief that anyone could look so perfect for him with your legs spread and your back arched. Your chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his tongue, and your lips formed a perfect ‘o’. Oh, how Eddie wanted to feel your lips around his cock. How you’d sink down on him, your perfect innocent mouth being completely sinful just for him.

He placed a finger at your entrance and pumped in and out, his thumb now circling your clit. Your head fell back. “God, yes, Eddie. Just like that.”

“I need you to do something for me, baby,” Eddie said as he added a second finger.

“Wha—what’s that?” you asked, breathless.

“I need you to tell me what you think of when you get off. Tell me what you were thinking of before I showed up at your door.”

“I—I oh god,” you shouted as Eddie’s lips found your clit. “I—I thought about you on your fucking date.”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groaned into your pussy, the vibrations shooting up your spine.

“I pictured you fucking her from behind, her skirt hiked up to her hips, her panties to the side as you fucked her in front of the bathroom mirror.”

“Fucking C—Christ,” Eddie stuttered, his hips rutting into the couch faster. “Keep going.”

“Then it was me you were fucking. You grabbed me by the hair, so I could watch what you were doing to me,” you said, your voice shaking with every word. “Eddie, please. I’m close. Please.”

“Come on, baby. You can do it. Tell me what I was doing to you.” He was past dreaming at this point. He was sure this was heaven. Hearing your words had him reeling. He didn’t want to stop, didn't know how to stop. He just knew he needed to see you come.

Your lip trembled. “Your hands were all over me, playing with my tits, your lips on my neck, and—and your big cock pounding into me over and oh-ver and—and Fuck! Eddie, don’t stop! Please, please, please!”

Your orgasm crashed down on you, expletives and Eddie’s name on your lips. Eddie continued to pump his fingers in and out of you like a madman as he lapped up your cum.

“Oh god, oh fuck!” he moaned against you.

You pushed his head off of you and caught your breath. Eddie took a breath, too, leaning back against his heels. You pulled him back up to you and kissed him, tasting yourself on your lips.

“That… was so hot,” Eddie said, releasing a breath.

“Can it be my turn to help you?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Eddie’s cheeks rouged slightly, his eyes trailing to the growing wet spot on his jeans. “I had a turn already,” he said, guilt painting his words. He leaned in toward you, a devilish smirk joining his features. “But I’m not done with you. Not yet.”

[girlygguk]

BAD THINGS | JJK (Part 1)

summary getting jealous, sending mixed signals, simping for a gorgeous geek who has no idea what effect she has on him... it's just what jungkook does best. oh, and football. he's really good at football.

pairing jock fuckboy!jk x nerdy fuckgirl!reader

rating 18+ minors dni; smut, angst, fluff

genre f2l, fwb au, university au

word count 7.4k

content jk 20 | yn 20. down bad, simpy, jealous jk. he's kind of a himbo 😭. oc is a nerd but shes confident, a little slutty and a little bitchy. misunderstandings. mcs are (retired) hoes. they r both hopelessly & secretly(?) in love w each other. but one of them is just a littleee more obvious abt it... oc has dissociation as a defense mechanism baddd when she's hurt. football (soccer) jk. campus librarian yn. kth is oc's ex bf. the slightest bit of love triangle themes but like she's jk whipped cmawnn it's me 😭. cursing. kissing. short nsfw scene; dirty talk, p in v sex, almost getting caught

a/n so this is another draft dump LOLLL… i chopped off the end bc i wasn’t happy with it and decided to just turn this into a two-parter with an undetermined pt2 release date. so don’t read this if you’re not a fan of open or unresolved endings, baby!! not even the Lord himself knows when i’ll get back to her since i’ve got a lot in the works atm 😬 butttt i think this first part is seaux cute and it’s my blog so i’m posting it 💋 just like habits, here’s a sweet little treat - maybe a lil sumn sumn for you to pass some time with... <3 love you lots

now playing: bad things—mgk & camila cabello

“It smells like sex in here.”

Your roommate’s voice cuts through the quiet room, half-amused, half-accusing.

Looking up at her from under your warm covers, you respond casually, “Well, autoeroticism is a type of sex.”

Nari tilts her head, her lips pursing slightly as she processes your words. Then, closing the distance, she sits at the edge of your bed. The blanket shifts dangerously low, nearly exposing your bare chest. You bite the inside of your lip to suppress a laugh, quickly tugging it back up in time.

“Is that a nerdy way to say masturbation?” she asks, narrowing her eyes. “And did you really have to get fully naked? With the door unlocked? God, Y/nn, I’ll never get used to how comfortable you are with your sexuality.”

You giggle softly, leaning back into your pillow, lashes lowering as you gaze up at your pretty roommate. “I can teach you how to get comfortable with it if you want.”

Nari rolls her eyes, her lips curving into a sarcastic smile. She playfully smacks your thigh through the blanket, making you laugh. “I’m gay, but not gay enough to settle for a slut, sorry, baby.”

“Slut?” you echo, feigning offense with a dramatic gasp, your eyebrows shooting up in mock surprise. “It’s 2024, unnie… I don’t know if you can say that anymore.”

“Mmm,” she hums thoughtfully, her eyes sweeping over your barely-covered frame as she shakes her head. “It’s not even two o’clock, Y/nn. Like—” she cuts herself off with a chuckle and a shrug. “No, you know what? I’m not even surprised. Anyway, I came to ask if you needed anything from the supermarket. I would’ve texted, but I heard your voice through the door…” She pauses, realization dawning a beat too late. “Oh god. Those weren’t conversations. Fuck, sorry for interrupting.”

“It’s okay.” You smile, poking her lightly with your blanket-covered foot. “Wasn’t going that great anyway.” You shrug. “Strawberries, please? And some chocolate—the dippy kind.”

“Sure,” she nods, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on your sweaty cheek. You try to nuzzle into her affectionately, but she laughs, pushing your face back into the pillow. “‘Not that great?’ You’re sweating like a dog,” she teases as she stands to leave. “Be back soon. Love you.”

“Love you,” you echo, waving lightly as she shuts the door.

The second you hear the front door click shut, you exhale sharply, tossing the blanket off your overheated body.

“‘Not that great?’” Jungkook’s voice breaks the silence, mock offense lacing his tone as he steps out of your closet, his cock still hard and pressing against his stomach. You reach for your bra from the floor, pretending not to notice his pout. “Not exactly the review I usually get…”

You laugh halfheartedly, clipping your bra back on and scanning the floor for your panties. Jungkook frowns, shuffling back onto the bed, his warm chest brushing against your back as he watches you tug your panties up.

“Hey…” His voice softens when he realizes you're redressing. His hand gently rests against your side, only for it to be covered by your shirt as you pull it over your head.

“Y/nn? What—what’s wrong? You don’t wanna keep going? I’m—” His words falter as you stand to pull your jeans on, facing him with a look that leaves him unsure. His throat tightens, but he tries again, “Did you— I mean, I-I’m more than happy to keep going. It didn’t bother me that she almost caught us…”

You give him an amused smile, making his heart lurch, but you say nothing. Jungkook’s mouth goes dry as he watches you fasten the button of your jeans and walk over to your desk. Still silent, you put on your glasses, picking up your phone and swiping across the screen.

Jungkook sits on the bed, completely naked, his lips pursing as he watches you text without sparing him a glance. He opens his mouth to say something, but you’re already locking your phone, reaching for your jacket hanging on the back of your chair. His heart sinks as you walk toward the door without a word.

You twist the doorknob, then hum softly like you’ve forgotten something. “Could you lock the front door behind you, please?”

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. You tilt your head, faking confusion as you ask, “Is that going to be difficult for you…?”

Jungkook scoffs, shaking his head as he leans down to grab his briefs from under the bed. “You’re a real bitch, you know that, Y/n?” His tone is sharp as he tugs the underwear on.

Leaning against the door, you nod nonchalantly, watching him stuff his hardon back into his briefs. “Mhm, I’ve heard…”

Jungkook pulls his black tee over his head, still looking incredulous. “Why are you acting like this? Did you—did you, like, actually not enjoy it?”

Your stomach tightens as you catch the insecurity flicker in his eyes, his brows knitting together slightly as he zips up his jeans. You roll your eyes at yourself for feeling bad, knowing that's exactly why you’re in this position to begin with.

“It was good, Jungkook.” You blink at him, your voice lacking the enthusiasm he’s used to. Now fully dressed, he walks over to you, his shoulders drooping slightly.

You clear your throat and open the door wider, a gesture for him to leave. Jungkook hesitates, stopping just in front of you, his hand brushing your arm gently. But you pull away, and his heart sinks further.

“I have to go—”

Jungkook cuts you off with a frustrated huff. “Y/n, if I did something you didn’t like, you need to tell me. I told you before, if I get too rough, I want to know… I'm sorr—”

“You weren’t too rough,” you laugh humorlessly, shaking your head. “I’ll text you later, okay? I really have to go—”

“Seriously?” He snaps, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. “Where? To Taehyung’s?”

Your head tilts as you look up at him, unimpressed. “Why do you just assume I’m going to another guy's? I could have a study group—”

“Because I know when your study groups are,” he shoots back, glancing at his phone and then at you. “And because you said we had a couple hours. It’s only been forty-five minutes.”

“Can I explain later?” you sigh, exasperated. “This is taking so lon—”

“Holy shit,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, shaking his head, jaw clenched as he brushes past you toward the front door.

He shoves his feet into his shoes angrily, staring at you as you quietly close your bedroom door and follow him. There’s a softness to your movement, a quietness that almost makes his anger dissolve. Almost.

“I’m not going to keep doing this.” His voice holds a cold finality, one that makes your eyes drop to the floor. When you finally look up, there’s a slight glassiness in your gaze, and his throat tightens. “I’m not going to let you make me feel like this anymore.”

You stay silent, your eyes flicking between his before you nod slightly and slip on your sandals. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands as you open the front door. You stand there, waiting for him to walk through.

Jungkook glances at the corridor, then back at you, and his resolve immediately fucking crumbles. His lips part, ready to take it all back. Tell you he didn’t mean it. That he doesn’t care how many times you push him away, ignore his texts, put your situationship on hold while you see where things could go with another guy that could offer you what he couldn't. He’d still come back.

He’ll always come back.

But his eyes flick to your phone as it dings, a message from your ex, Taehyung, flashing across the screen. You meet his gaze briefly before you flip the phone over, hiding the notification. But it’s too late. Jungkook already saw it.

He leaves without a word.

“Dunno. Been like two days or something. Don't remember, don't care.” Jungkook’s voice is flat, casual, but tension lingers behind his words as his thumbs flick over the controller, eyes locked on the screen.

He and Jimin are sprawled out on their dorm couch, Jungkook playing FIFA while his best friend scrolls through his phone.

Jimin doesn’t even look up, fingers tapping lazily as he scrolls. “Why do you still pretend like you don’t care around me? I’m like the last person you should lie to.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, eyes focused on the screen as his player sprints down the pitch. But everything feels off, like the game’s moving slower than it should. His shot misses the goal by a mile, and his teeth clench hard. “I’m not lying.”

Jimin rolls his eyes amusedly, still swiping through his Instagram feed. “Mm, sure, Jungkookie. I believe you.”

“I’m not,” Jungkook snaps, offended, his grip tightening on the controller. He flicks back to the main menu and loads into another match after getting absolutely thrashed in the last one. “She hasn’t texted me, I haven’t texted her. Whatever. She’s probably back with her ex or something. Couldn’t care less.”

The small sniff that follows is almost imperceptible, but Jimin catches it, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “Ah.” He hums, not even bothering to look up. “You’re trying to convince yourself, not me. I get it. No worries then.”

Jungkook’s fingers freeze over the controller, jaw locking as his eyes snap to Jimin. He’s burning holes into the side of the blonde’s head, and it takes everything in him not to hurl the controller across the room. Meanwhile, Jimin, lounging comfortably on the other end of the couch, continues scrolling, completely unbothered.

Jungkook exhales harshly through his nose, turning back to the screen. His chest tightens, frustration building, making every movement feel stiff and out of place. The new match starts, but he’s not in it. The ball slides past him, and when another easy goal slips through his fingers, his teeth grit harder.

He can’t focus. Not on the game, not on anything. Because all he can think about is you. How you brushed him off like it was nothing, how you acted like he didn’t matter. And the worst part? You still haven’t texted.

Not once.

He keeps telling himself it’s fine. That he doesn’t care. But the tightening in his chest, the ache in his stomach — it all says otherwise. You both get around, and it’s no secret. Jungkook can’t even remember the last time he even cared about hearing from someone after hooking up.

But you?

You have him wrapped around your finger so tight that he hasn’t eaten properly for the past forty-eight hours, meanwhile you haven’t even sent him a single fucking text.

It’s pathetic. He's pathetic. And it’s all your fault.

Jimin’s voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts, softer but still pointed. “You know,” he starts, glancing up from his phone, “if you really didn’t care, you wouldn’t be this upset, Jungkookie.”

Jungkook sighs heavily, dropping the controller to the side without even pausing the game, dragging a hand through his messy hair in frustration. "Yeah, I know, hyung. But I don’t even know why she’s mad in the first place. Things were fine. Good, actually. Like really fucking good."

‹ ‹ ‹

“Holy fuck!”

Your gasp fills the room as you clutch the back of your thighs, holding your bent legs up while Jungkook drives his cock deeper inside you. His hips snap against yours with his athlete precision, his thick length slamming into your g-spot with each thrust, ripping strangled, throaty moans from your throat.

“Yes baby,” you whimper, your voice cracking. "So goo—uh! uhh, uhhh, my godddd!"

Jungkook’s chest heaves, his teeth dragging over his lip ring as he watches you fall apart beneath him. “I know, baby, I fucking know,” he groans, his voice rough, the sound of your wet cunt sucking him in driving him wild. “Feels so fucking good. Always take me so well, Y/nn. Such a pretty little pussy. Made for me, ah? Fuucck.”

Your nails dig into your thighs as you spread your legs wider, needing him deeper. "Yessss, uh, love your big cock, Jungkookie. M-makes me feel fucking dumb. Godddd, I love it."

He groans, his pace quickening, eyes locked on the way you tremble under him, your eyes rolled back, expression completely fucked out. His lips part to tell you how fucking pretty you look when—

The sound of your roommate’s keys jingling in the front door freezes him.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath, pulling out of you so fast it makes you wince. In a scramble, Jungkook jumps off the bed, grabbing his clothes and kicking them under the frame in a huff.

Your blanket is barely covering you when he dives toward your closet, slipping inside and shutting the door just as the front door swings open. Your heart sinks as you watch him disappear. You clear your throat, sitting up just in time for your best friend to step into the room.

› › ›

Jungkook leans back into the couch, arms crossed over his chest, scowling at nothing in particular. “See what I mean? We were good. Then, boom, she’s pissed.”

Jimin scoffs, still amused as he scrolls through his phone. “Are you fucking stupid?”

Jungkook turns to him, confusion written all over his face. “What?”

Jimin rolls his eyes, tossing his phone onto the coffee table and fixing his best friend with a deadpan stare. "You really don’t get it, do you?"

"Well, obviously fucking not, hyung. Can you stop talking in code and just tell me?”

The dim lights of the campus library flicker slightly as Jungkook pushes through the double doors, the sound of ice clinking against the sides of the drink in his hand echoing in the foyer. The space is mostly empty now, save for a few scattered students packing up their things, preparing to leave for the night.

His eyes immediately find you. You’re by the front counter, walking away from one of the tables, probably having just told the last few stragglers that the library is closing. For a moment, you don’t notice him, too absorbed in your task, your brows furrowed in concentration as you tidy up the space. But when he approaches the counter, heart lodged in his throat, your eyes finally land on him.

“Sorry, we’re closed for the n—” Your words falter as soon as you realize who’s standing before you. Jungkook, clad in a cozy hoodie, the hood pulled over his head, his big boba eyes skimming over your face. His expression softens as he blinks, shifting the drink in his hand.

“Hey,” he says quietly, placing the Dunkin’ cup on the counter in front of you before slipping his hands back into his pockets. “Can we please talk?”

Your eyes flicker from his face to the drink, lingering on the straw already placed in the cup, a chunk of the liquid missing. You wrap your fingers around the cup with an amused look, lifting it to take a sip of the caramel coffee.

Glancing at the time on the computer monitor beside you, you ignore the way him getting your order exactly right makes you feel and nod slightly. “Sure, but can it be quick? I’ve still got a bit of reshelving to do before I head off,” you hum, your gaze darting back to him.

“I’ll help?”

Jungkook’s gaze follows you as you step up onto the stool, reaching to place a book on the top shelf. He couldn’t tell you what the novel’s about, not even if you held a gun to his head. But he could tell you exactly what color panties you’re wearing, thanks to the perfect view your short skirt offers him every time you stretch up.

Baby blue, by the way.

Once the book is nestled between the others, you glance down at him, pushing your glasses back up your nose when they slip slightly. “Next one, please.”

He blinks, shaking off the haze clouding his brain, and hands you the last dusty book in his hands. His eyes trail over you, glued to the way you move as you place the book on the shelf, the scent of your coconut shampoo and vanilla-creme perfume making his head spin.

“You know, we’re almost finished, and you still haven’t done much talking,” you say lightly, your Docs clacking against the steps as you climb back down.

“You look so pretty today,” Jungkook blurts dumbly, his voice a little hoarse as he follows you down the aisle, pushing the book cart.

Your head tilts in amusement as you watch him get closer, his hood still tugged low over his hair. “Thank you, Jungkook. You look cute in your hoodie.”

“Y'still mad at me?” he asks with a cute little frown, pulling the cart to a stop before stepping around it to stand directly in front of you.

Your soft laugh hums through the quiet library as you shake your head. “Don’t think so.” You let him close the distance, his big hands ghosting over the sleeves of your sweater, sending shivers up your arms.

“Stop calling me Jungkook then,” he mutters, his lips brushing your ear as he leans down, resting his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent he’s been craving for days.

“Isn’t that your name?” you feign confusion, lifting your hands to pull his hoodie down, fingers threading through the soft strands of his hair that appear.

Jungkook nips lightly at your neck in warning, the gentle bite making you let out a soft breathy noise, and he swallows hard. “Kookie or Jungkookie,” he corrects, his voice barely above a whisper as he presses little kisses into your skin.

“Kook?” you hum, your teasing tone making his hands slide further down your waist.

“No,” he scoffs under his breath, his lips finding a particularly sensitive spot on your neck without even trying. “Tae calls me that.”

A laugh slips from your lips, but he’s not laughing. He pulls you closer, his lips lingering on your skin as he mumbles, “I’m so sorry, Y/nn.”

He leans back to meet your gaze, and the intensity in his eyes makes your stomach twist. “I didn’t hide because I was embarrassed of you, I swear. I just—”

“Whoa,” you mutter, your hands pressing gently against his chest as you push him back a little. “I didn’t say that. Why are you—”

“Jimin hyung told me,” he pouts, taking a step closer as you step back. “I didn’t understand why you were mad, but he explained it to me, and—”

“You’re telling people about what happens between us?” you snap, moving around him. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I was confused and losing my mind,” he rushes out, his voice tight with frustration. “You hadn’t texted me since that day, and I was going crazy—”

“You didn’t text me either,” you shoot back, shaking your head as you grab the last three books from the cart and climb the step stool. “We’re not together, Jungkook. You don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings.” You laugh bitterly. “And anyway, you didn’t—”

“Bullshit,” Jungkook frowns, stepping closer to the stool as you shove the books onto the shelf with more force than necessary. “You were pissed at me.”

You don’t reply, your hands gripping the books tightly as you try to shove them into place, but your frustration makes them impossible to slide in properly. Jungkook keeps talking, and your hands shake as you fumble with the last book.

Then, with one final shove, the book slams into place, but your shoe slips against the edge of the stool. Before you can even begin to fall, his strong hands are around your waist, lifting you off the steps and plopping you safely on the ground.

“Y'okay?” Jungkook asks, his voice soft as he steadies you. His hands linger on your waist, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

You don’t want to admit how flustered you feel, but his hands are so warm, so soft, and you don’t pull away. You just nod gently.

Jungkook leans in, his lips brushing your neck again as he mumbles, “You're usually private about your personal life, and I didn’t want you to worry about explaining anything to Nari that you didn't want to. Would never be embarrassed of you. Could never be."

Your heart softens at his words, and you can't control your body as it melts into him, your fingers curling into the back of his hoodie. His lips drag up the soft skin of your neck until they eventually find yours, and just like that, you forget why you were ever mad at the pretty fuck-boy in the first place.

His mouth moves hungrily against yours as he pushes you gently against the shelves and your breath catches, letting him lift you by your thighs until they're wrapped around his waist, his groin pressing right between your legs.

The kiss grows a little deeper, a little wetter, and your hands thread through his hair, tugging at the scalp and humming in delight when his groan vibrates against your lips. His tongue swipes against yours, his nose nudging up that your glasses lift and a soft moan slips from your lips, your own tongue trying to lick off all the caramel he stole from your drink.

Just as your hands slip under his hoodie, your phone starts buzzing in the cart. Jungkook pulls back, breathing heavily, his lips red and a little swollen as his long arm reaches for your phone. He hands it to you, letting your legs sink to the ground as he takes a quick peek at the screen.

His tongue flicks over his lipring in annoyance when he sees the name on the display. KTH.

You glance down at the phone in your hand, completely unbothered as you decline the call. Taehyung’s name disappears from the screen, and you lean up to press a soft kiss to Jungkook’s pouty lips before turning back to pack the stool into the now-empty cart.

Jungkook adjusts his hoodie slightly as he watches you push the cart back down the isle. He follows close behind, biting his lip to keep from breaking into a big fucking grin.

“Did you guys at least use a condom?”

“Shut up,” you laugh, nudging Jungkook’s side as the two of you make your way toward the library entrance. The lights flick off one by one behind you, your voice filling the quiet space. “I didn’t sleep with him.”

Jungkook has your bag slung over his shoulder, his pleased little smile plastered across his lips as he gives you a once-over. His tongue darts out to swipe over his bottom lip, unable to stop himself from staring.

You just look so sweet. Wrapped up in your white knitted sweater, smooth and soft legs disappearing under the hem of your little plaid skirt, hair falling imperfectly perfect over your shoulders. And those glasses. Those pretty fucking glasses perched on your pretty fucking nose. He doesn’t know why, but the sight of them makes his cock throb in his joggers. You just... do that to him.

Finally, you both reach the double doors. Jungkook pulls the keys from your bag, dropping them into your palm as he steps a little closer. The air between you stills for a moment, neither of you saying anything as he watches you carefully. His brow furrows slightly, his heart skipping a beat as you fidget with the keys in your hand, blinking up at him through those pretty eyes. He wonders what’s running through that brilliant mind of yours.

“I’m sorry, Kookie,” you say softly, your voice breaking the silence.

Jungkook frowns, shaking his head as he takes another step closer, the concern in his eyes clear. “Why?”

“You told me you wouldn’t let me ‘continue to make you feel this way,’ and I just—”

“No, Y/nn, I didn’t mean—”

“No, Jungkookie.” Your voice is firmer this time as you look up at him, your expression more serious. “You have every right to establish boundaries. If I make you feel confused or frustrated, you don’t have to put up with that.”

“I’d let you, like, spit on me and tell me I’m stupid, Y/nn,” he shrugs, flashing you a pretty grin. “Well, I am stupid, but still, I’d let you—”

“You are not stupid.” Your eyebrows pull together as you cross your arms, voice sharp with protectiveness. “Did someone call you stupid?”

Jungkook bites his lip, fighting to keep the smile off his face. “No, I’m just saying you could if you wanted to.”

“You’re such an idiot,” you huff, your arms falling to your sides as the keys jingle in your hand.

“Hey… you just—”

“Ah,” you murmur, giggling softly as you step closer, slipping your arms around his waist. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. You’re the smartest boy,” you coo, tiptoeing up to press soft kisses under his jaw.

Jungkook’s lips purse as he bites back a smile, his heart swelling at your touch. He tilts his head down, his eyes locking onto your cute little pout, and with no resistance left in him, he lets his grin break free as he leans down to capture your lips with his.

A light groan escapes from his throat as your arms tighten around his waist, your soft, warm body pressing against his like it’s exactly where you belong. His hands slip up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers gently threading through your hair as his lips part against yours. His tongue slips through, finding yours effortlessly as the kiss deepens, his world melting away until it’s just you. Just the way it should be.

Until the weirdest thing happens.

It's almost as if the one person Jungkook least wanted to see on the entire planet had suddenly—

“Y/nn?”

Taehyung’s voice shatters the moment, and you immediately break away, furrowing your brows in confusion as you turn toward the sound. You’re still snug against Jungkook’s chest, his arms reluctant to let you go, tightening a little when he realizes who it is.

“Tae?” you blink, your hands dropping to Jungkook’s forearms, gently prying them loose as you glance up at him. His jaw is set tight and you wipe a bit of your lip gloss from the corner of his mouth. “One sec, Kookie. Lemme just—”

“Y/n…” Taehyung’s knock on the glass comes again, this time a little more impatient, and Jungkook's eyes roll to the back of his head.

“I’m coming,” you call out, slipping from Jungkook’s grasp and flicking the latch on the library door. The cold night air rushes in as Taehyung steps inside, a warm smile instantly spreading across his face as he spots you.

“Hey,” he greets, moving closer and wrapping his arms around you in a quick hug. You reciprocate, giving him a light pat on the back, but his hands slide down to rest around your waist, lingering in a way that makes Jungkook’s tongue poke the inside of his cheek.

Jungkook shifts his weight from one foot to the other, your bag slipping slightly down his arm as he stuffs his hands into his pockets, his narrowed gaze fixed on the back of Taehyung’s head.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask, stepping back from Taehyung’s hold, your brows knitting as you look up at him.

Taehyung sighs, letting his hands fall to his sides. “You weren’t answering my calls or texts for the past three days. I even went to your dorm and asked Nari what you were up to, but she told me you died and to go away, so… I’ve been trying all the places I thought you’d be.”

Jungkook’s brows shoot up, disbelief flickering across his face. The sheer guts it took for Taehyung to admit all that in front of him? And the fact that he was doing all that in the first place? He thought he was your biggest simp, but shit.

Then, as the words settle, a wave of relief washes over him. You haven’t talked to Taehyung in three days. So, you really weren’t texting him that night.

His heart soars.

You offer Taehyung a small smile. “I’ve just been really busy, sorry, Tae.”

Taehyung chuckles, shrugging lightly. “Yeah, seems like it…” His eyes flicker over to Jungkook, lingering on the bag hanging from his arm for just a second before he nods in acknowledgment. “Hey, Kook.”

The striker forces a tight-lipped smile, returning the goalie's nod. “Hey, Tae.”

The tension in the air is thick, making you clear your throat awkwardly. Being stuck in an empty room with the both of them? Fucking nightmare fuel.

You knew getting involved with two guys from the same sports team and friend group was a disaster waiting to happen. But in your defense, it wasn’t exactly the plan...

You’d already been hooking up with Jungkook casually for a while before Taehyung even entered the picture. In fact, the last time you had slept with Jungkook was right before a match that Taehyung had invited you to watch. You’d been texting with him for a while, and the plan was to go out to dinner after the game. Jungkook had never invited you to a game…

Anyway, not exactly your proudest moment.

It's just that when Jungkook had gotten all pouty and sad after you told him you wanted to see where things with Taehyung could go, and there were twenty minutes left before the game started…

It was a parting gift, okay?

Taehyung had been a great boyfriend, truly. Caring, funny, easy on the eyes — things had been going well. You weren’t even sure why you ended it after five months.

Maybe it had something to do with the way your stomach would twist every time you were out with the group, and Taehyung wasn’t the one making you laugh the hardest that night.

Maybe it had something to do with the way you’d sit in the bleachers, watching their games, but your eyes would somehow always drift to Jersey #1 instead of Jersey #30.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that a twenty-minute quickie with #1 had been more intense, more mind-numbing than anything you experienced during five months with #30.

But those were just theories, of course.

“Have you eaten?”

Taehyung’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and you blink, refocusing on him. “Hmm? Uh, no. But I was going to—”

“Hanjie’s is open late. Did you wanna grab something for dinner?” he suggests, his tone hopeful as he looks over at Jungkook and adds, “You down, Kook?”

Your brows furrow instantly at the worst idea you’ve ever heard. As your lips part to impolitely decline the invitation, Jungkook responds faster than you can.

“Yeah, I could eat.”

Your eyes snap to Jungkook, wide with horror. He’s holding Taehyung’s gaze, the faintest hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips as he adjusts your bag on his shoulder. He glances at you, his head tilting slightly like he’s enjoying this far too much.

You narrow your eyes at him, disbelief written all over your face, before turning back to Taehyung. You’re about to put an end to this terrible plan, but Taehyung chimes in again, all smiles and casual energy. “Cool, let’s go.”

He pushes the door open, holding it for the two of you, looking back at you expectantly.

Your fists clench at your sides, and you stay rooted to the spot, but then Jungkook’s warm hand presses gently against the small of your back. “C’mon, know you’re hungry,” he murmurs, leaning down so only you can hear. “I’ll pay.”

You roll your eyes, but reluctantly step forward, letting him guide you into the cold night air. Taehyung happily lets the door swing shut behind you both, glancing back as Jungkook locks the double doors behind him with the keys you hadn’t even realized he’d slipped from your hands. He drops them back into your bag, pulling his hood back up over his head before stuffing his hands into his pants pockets.

You fall into step between the two football players, walking silently down the cold campus path toward Hanjie’s Sikdang. You hug your arms tighter across your chest, sending up a silent prayer that one of the street lamps overhead would give way and fall right on top of you.

You trail behind Taehyung and Jungkook, who are already making their way to a booth. They slide into opposite sides, both of them leaving an open space beside them, clearly expecting you to take a seat.

Your jaw clenches as you glance between the two options, your eyes drifting to a stool at the edge of the room. It's tempting, but dragging it all the way over to sit at the end of the table would make you look like a fucking freak, and so, with a resigned sigh, you walk toward the left side of the booth.

Jungkook bites back a smirk as you slide in next to him, promptly grabbing your bag to plop it on the other side of the seat, removing the barrier between you. His knee bumps yours under the table, and though you roll your eyes, you pick up your phone, pretending to check your notifications to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

Menus are passed around, and the three of you glance over them briefly. Taehyung orders a steak sandwich, while you and Jungkook opt for cheeseburgers and he gets fries for the table.

As the pretty waitress walks away, you steal a quick glance at Jungkook, curious if he noticed the way she blatantly flirted with him. But, to your surprise, he seems completely unfazed, swirling his straw in his drink with casual indifference. Hm. He definitely noticed.

Taehyung, ever the easygoing type, tries to break the silence by bringing up a lighthearted memory. From when the two of you were fucking dating.

"Y/nn always used to order iced tea on our dates," he chuckles, glancing at the drink both you and Jungkook just ordered. "Guess some things never change, huh?"

Your eyes flicker toward Jungkook, who already knows how much you love iced tea. He’s watched you order it countless times on group nights out, and sometimes, he’s even ordered it for you when you were running late or in the bathroom when the waiter came by. His lips pull into a tight smile as he takes a sip from his glass, clearly trying not to react to the comment.

"Yeah," Jungkook says, his voice casual but carrying a subtle edge. "I know."

The conversation drifts from small talk to more neutral topics, and soon the food arrives. You try to focus on your cheeseburger, nodding along as Taehyung chats about practice and classes, chiming in here and there. But somehow, the conversation keeps veering back to your shared past with him.

"Remember when you used to bring me snacks to practice? Gummies and pocky sticks?" Taehyung teases with a grin, leaning back in his seat as he takes a bite of his steak sandwich. "You were so good at taking care of me back then."

You laugh lightly, brushing it off with a nonchalant shrug. It's an old chapter of your life, one that no longer holds any weight. But beside you, Jungkook’s energy shifts. His body grows tense, his thigh pressing harder against yours as his grip on his burger tightens.

You glance over at him, your brows furrowing slightly. He’s clearly frustrated, and you just blink slowly. You didn’t care about Taehyung’s comments. Why should he?

"Yeah," Jungkook mutters, his voice low as he shoots Taehyung a tight smile. "I’m sure Y/nn’s still great at taking care of people."

There’s a sharpness to his words, a barely-veiled implication that makes you chew slower on your bite of the burger. You glance down at your plate, shaking your head subtly as discomfort creeps up on you. Taehyung, oblivious or unbothered to the underlying tension, laughs at Jungkook’s comment and nods along.

"Yeah, I’m sure she is," he agrees, his tone light and carefree.

You force a smile, but the entire situation feels like a cruel joke. You glance at the door, reconsidering your poor life choices. A free cheeseburger is definitely not worth the month’s supply of testosterone you’ve just inhaled in the past fifteen minutes.

"I'm tired," you say after another minute, setting down your half-eaten burger. Both boys glance up at you, Taehyung is the first to respond.

"Long day?" he asks softly, biting into a few fries.

You nod, reaching for a napkin to wipe the grease from your fingers. Jungkook’s gaze is heavy on the side of your face, and when you look up, you see him finish chewing before giving you a nod.

"Okay, let's go," he says, waiting for you to slide out of the booth.

You shake your head, gesturing toward the food still left on both their plates. “Finish eating, I’ll wait until you guys are done.”

Jungkook’s lips part, probably to insist, but Taehyung beats him to it. "I'm pretty much done... I can walk you back to your dorm if you want? It's getting dark out."

Your head turns to Taehyung, blinking at his unfairly gorgeous face before you smile appreciatively. "That's okay, Tae. It’s not far, I’ll be fine."

Jungkook looks down at his plate, his jaw working as his tongue runs along the inside of his cheek. Without a word, he picks up the last bite of his burger, shoves it into his mouth, and quickly chugs the rest of his iced tea. He swallows, then pats your thigh with finality. "C’mon, let’s go."

You glance up at him, noting the firm set of his expression as you grab your phone from the table. Jungkook reaches for your bag, sliding it off the booth as you both prepare to leave. Taehyung hums in surprise, stuffing a few more fries into his mouth before sliding out of the booth with a smile.

"Hey, no, if you’re still hungry, eat," you frown lightly, tilting your head at Taehyung. "We’ll wait."

Beside you, Jungkook’s hand tightens around your waist in protest, and you give him a pointed nudge in the ribs with your elbow. He exhales sharply through his nose, clearly annoyed but relenting.

Taehyung laughs through his mouthful, shaking his head before swallowing. "Nah, all good. I’m full now, let’s head out."

Jungkook’s hand slips from your waist momentarily as he tosses a few notes down for the bill and a tip before placing his arm back around you. Taehyung follows suit, placing his cut on top of Jungkook’s and tucking his wallet back into his pocket. He falls back into step with the two of you, still smiling as you guys leave the diner.

The walk back to the female dormitories isn’t long, the three of you strolling along the stony path under the soft glow of the streetlights.

Things are okay now, your stomach satiated and the fact that you're going to be tucked up in your bed soon easing your mind. Taehyung walks to your right, Jungkook to your left, the latter quiet, the former chatty. As the temperature drops even further, you can’t help the slight shiver that runs down your spine.

Taehyung notices immediately and stops his ramble. “Here,” he says, starting to shrug off his jacket, his voice as warm as ever. “You’re freezing. Take this.”

Normally, you would’ve accepted it without a second thought because 1. it's a cute boy offering you his jacket, and 2. why would you want to freeze to death?

But when you feel Jungkook tense slightly beside you, you pause. Suppressing the urge to roll your eyes, you gently rub your hand over Taehyung’s shoulder in thanks, offering him a small smile as you decline. “I’m fine, Tae, thanks though.”

As you glance over at Jungkook, you catch his eyes, narrowing yours as they shift up and down his hoodie. If he doesn’t want you to have Taehyung’s jacket so bad, he can offer you his own.

He holds your gaze, his lips quirking up in amusement as his tongue darts out to swipe over his lip. His hands easily drop to the hem of his hoodie, lifting it slightly to reveal his bare stomach with no shirt underneath.

You can barely suppress the laugh bubbling in your throat at the sight of his cute tummy after eating, but you keep your expression serious, raising a brow as if to say, Okay, and? Give it.

Jungkook tilts his head at you, his lips curving upwards, a breathy laugh escaping as he bites down on his lip ring. With a resigned shake of his head, he stops walking, both hands going to the hem of his hoodie as he starts pulling it off.

A snicker bursts out of you, and before he can expose himself any further, your hands fly out to stop him, tugging his hoodie back down. “Shameless,” you mutter, shaking your head, still laughing softly as you grab his arm and drag him along.

You fall back into step with Taehyung, who glanced back curiously at the two of you, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he shrugged his jacket back on. When you finally reach the steps of your dorm block, you climb up the first one, turning back to face them.

“Thanks for walking me home. Sorry I was a bummer at dinner.” You give a small, apologetic smile, your hands clutching the strap of your purse. “It was good, I’m just tired.”

Jungkook blinks, his eyes raking over you, hands shoved deep into his pants pockets as he remains quiet. Meanwhile, Taehyung shakes his head, his voice gentle. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. Love spending time with you, no matter how you’re feeling.”

Your heart tugs at his words, the familiar pang of guilt settling in your chest. You feel bad for ignoring his texts, but even worse because, as sweet as his words are, you wish they were coming from Jungkook instead.

God, you fucking suck.

“Thank you, Taehyungie.” You offer him a soft smile, setting your bag down on the step before stepping forward to wrap your arms around his neck.

He steps closer, his hands curling gently around your sides as he pulls you into a warm hug. His body relaxes slightly in your embrace, the sound of the nickname you'd always call him when you were together turning his limbs to jelly. Your hands rub gently across his back before you give him a light squeeze.

As you pull back, your eyes meet Jungkook’s. His expression is hard to read — his gaze on you, but not quite meeting yours. Taehyung’s hands reluctantly fall away from your waist, and he quickly wipes the disappointment from his face, replacing it with his signature bear-y grin.

You shift in your stance as Taehyung steps back, his eyes wandering around the dark, empty courtyard. A soft sigh lodges in your chest as the quiet stretches on, Jungkook continuing to stand there, his eyes still resting on you. Unmoving, silent.

After a long minute, Taehyung breaks the silence, his voice light but tinged with curiosity. “Ready to go, Kook?”

He glances at Jungkook, clearly surprised by his stillness, as if he expected him to have said goodbye to you properly by now — maybe with a hug or at least some words.

That makes two of you.

a/n ermm i know that dorms def do nott have seperate bedrooms at uni... 😭 i realized once i was on my final re-read and i was nawtt going back to re-edit it all 👄 so let's use our big imaginations for this one!! lemme know what u think? love youu <3

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