#so i don’t have to watch and be stressed i can just check the results later and probably still be stressed! fun!

[remcocoa]

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Brother's Best Friend - Part 9

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

A/N: I just wanted to let y'all know how much your enthusiasm and encouragement means to me. Your support, whether it's in the form of comments, reblogs, or asks, literally inspires me to keep writing and I just wanted to say thank you for your kind words! You guys seriously rock!

Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.

CW: Uhh.. you're gonna love it

WC: ~2500

Part 1 | Masterlist

“What’re you up to tonight?” Jake asks casually, about five minutes after you’ve entered the kitchen.

You glance up from your still steeping tea hesitantly; you haven’t spoken to Jake since the pervious night at the club and you’ve all but resolved never to make eye contact with him again. “Uh,” you begin shakily, the stress of the situation resulting in a minor mental shutdown.

You watch as your brother tries on a third Hawaiian shirt and walks over to the mirror in the front hall to check himself out.

You gulp uneasily, your eyes meeting Jake’s as Bradley leaves the kitchen. “Just studying,” you finish, finally remembering your plans for the evening.

“Studying, huh?” Bradley calls from the foyer. A second later, he reemerges with a smirk on his face. “I know what that means.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and then shoots Jake a knowing grin.

Jake appears, at the very least, unimpressed with Bradley’s insinuation and, quite possibly, even critical of it. He gives him an irked look and proceeds to flip more aggressively through an old National Geographic magazine, one from the stack currently sitting on the living room coffee table. “You look like a douche in that shirt,” Jake grumbles.

Bradley’s eyebrows converge as he stares at his friend with a mixture of shock and disappointment. “Is that true?” he asks, turning to you for support as if you’re there to mediate.

You shrug. “I don’t think the shirt has anything to do with it,” you say.

Jake snorts out a laugh while Bradley’s mouth falls open in outrage. He looks between you and Jake and shakes his head. “That’s how it’s gonna be?”

“Maybe wear a t-shirt,” you suggest. “Borrow one of Jake’s.”

Jake gives you an amused look. “You think I’m just handing out band tees?”

Bradley narrows his eyes. “I feel like I’m missing something.”

“I just finished a load of laundry and I’ve got a Pantera shirt you can wear,” you continue, already smiling in anticipation of Jake’s reaction.

Jake lifts his eyebrows with a grin. “I thought that wasn’t appropriate dating attire. Too many skulls or some shit?”

Bradley places his hands on his hips and tilts his head suspiciously. “I…” he begins. “I have questions,” he concludes, still glancing between you and Jake. His knotted eyebrows indeed confirm just how perplexed he is. “But I’m already late. So, I guess douche shirt’s gonna have to do.” He grabs his jacket off the back of a kitchen chair and heads back out into the hall.

“Have fun!” Jake calls, leaning into the table so that his voice carries through to the front door.

“You sure you don’t want to come?” Bradley calls back. “We’ll be meeting up with her friends later tonight. They’re female.”

You roll your eyes, removing the tea bag from your mug. You look up to see that Jake’s gaze is trained on you.

“I’m good,” Jake calls back, finally breaking eye contact with you. He reverts his attention to the article before him detailing the mating rituals of various species of primates.

“See you tomorrow, then!” Bradley calls, and then the door shuts behind him.

A predictable, but still awkward, silence follows Bradley's departure. You finish preparing your tea while your heart batters relentlessly against your ribcage, daring you to say something – anything­ – about the previous night’s affairs. Naturally, you ignore this sensible impulse, starting for the staircase mutely after shooting Jake a quick, rigid smile.

Jake’s eyes follow you as you cross the room. “You got a date with ‘study group’ guy?” he asks pointedly, using air quotes to emphasize study group as though your evening is sure to consist of anything but that.

You pause, holding your mug close to your chest. “It’s not a date,” you say, although, at this point, you kind of wish that it were.

Jake raises his eyebrows like your response has only served to reinforce his skepticism. “Why do you even need to study?” he says with a cringe. “You’re already smart.”

You purse your lips to suppress a grin. “Funny,” you comment, continuing toward the stairs.

“I could help,” Jake offers.

You glance at him over your shoulder in surprise. “What?”

Jake closes the magazine and straightens his back. “I could help you study.”

You stare at him, trying to imagine how that might go down. “What do you know about psychology?” you ask, having already decided that, despite his noblest intentions, Jake’s assistance would be absolutely useless.

Jake scoffs. “I don’t need to know anything about it to help you cram for a test. You got flash cards?”

You give him a flat look. “It’s an oral exam.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Say what, now?”

You close your eyes and massage your temple irritably. “It’s worth fifty percent of my grade.”

Jake grimaces. “How good are you at oral?”

You let out an indignant cry, wishing you had something in your hands to throw at him other than a ceramic mug full of scalding liquid. “And this is why I’m studying with ‘study group’ guy,” you retort, stomping up the stairs.

“I’m joking!” Jake laughs, getting to his feet. “Come back!”

But you’re already on the second floor and you shut your bedroom door before he can say anything else.

…

Twenty minutes later, you return with your book bag, your empty mug, and a disparaging look on your face as Jake approaches the bottom of the stairs to greet you with a sheepish grin.

“Come on, Baby B,” he says as you set your bag down and glide by him with an eyeroll, heading for the sink. “It was a joke.” He follows you through the kitchen and leans into the counter as you start to wash your mug.

You bite into the inside of your cheek to keep a straight face. It’s not every day that Jake takes responsibility for his actions, and you’re sort of enjoying the groveling. “I’m not mad, I just think you’re an idiot.”

“See? I told you you’re smart,” Jake says.

You sigh, glancing up at him wearily. “Unfortunately, my extensive knowledge of Jake Seresin isn’t going to help me pass my midterm.”

“Shame,” he responds with a slight grin. “’Cause you’d ace that.”

You chuckle. “You think?”

Jake’s smile falters and he leans his back into the refrigerator. His eyes scan your face like he’s searching for something. You wonder if he’s finally going to address the elephant in the room, but he just exhales moodily and drops his gaze. “Well, have fun,” he mumbles to the floor.

You narrow your eyes and let out a somewhat resentful scoff. It’s just like Jake to lead a girl on, and you should have known that – after all, you’re apparently the leading expert on Jake Seresin. “Oh yes,” you say. “Studying’s a blast.”

Jake lifts his eyes solemnly. “Come on, you’re not that naïve.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask, picking your book bag back up.

Jake’s gaze slips briefly to your bare abdomen, framed by the hem of your crop top and the band of your baggy joggers. “This dude only wants one thing,” he says. “And it’s not to help you prepare for midterms.”

You let out a cackle and head out of the kitchen. “Seresin, please!” you exclaim. “Not every guy in the world is a total pig.”

“How many people are you meeting tonight?” he asks, trailing behind you.

You pause at the door before putting on your shoes. “He couldn’t get a hold of anyone else,” you respond innocently, trying not to cringe at the – now that you think about it – ridiculous excuse ‘study group’ guy has given you.

“Right,” Jake mutters, taking the bag off your shoulder when you bend down to put on your sneakers.

You stand back up and your eyes meet his for a moment. He looks like he’s got more to say but you have a feeling he isn’t going to say it. “I can handle myself,” you reassure him.

Jake watches you with a dubious expression. “As long as you know what you’re walking into,” he says.

You laugh, taking a step back to ease some of the tension that’s got your back muscles seizing up. “And even if he does have an ulterior motive – which I seriously doubt – would it really be so terrible?”

Jake doesn’t seem as amused at this prospect as you. “It would be manipulative,” he responds levelly.

You shrug nonchalantly. “I don’t think it’s a big deal.”

He squints slightly and you feel like he’s judging your answer. “I thought you needed to study.”

“I do!” you respond defensively. “And I’m not going with the intention of engaging in any…” you pause, thinking of a way to put what you’re about to say more delicately. “… other activities,” you finish with a minor wince. “But, if an opportunity happens to present itself –”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “An opportunity,” he echoes in the same disapproving tone.

“What, like you’ve never taken advantage of an opportunity.”

Jake juts out his jaw in a sulking manner, pondering over your allegation without disputing it. He looks a fair bit guilty but that may very well be your personal interpretation. Finally, he reaches for the door and opens it resignedly. “Call me if you need me,” he says.

You sigh, standing in front of the open door. “You don’t have any plans?” you ask, almost cautiously because you probably don’t want to know the answer.

Jake purses his lips and shakes his head.

This gives you pause, but you try not to let the defeated look on his face sway you. You aren’t sure what he stands to gain from this particular transaction, but you doubt his motive for offering to help is entirely altruistic.

Perhaps he’s gunning for a clean slate. Trying to be a friend. Trying to eclipse recent, reprehensible behavior with an act of goodwill. Maybe he’s worried that you’re mad, or that he might lose you.

The fact of the matter is, you could speculate till the cows come home, but you won’t know unless you ask. So, in a move not even you could have predicted, you do just that. “Why would you even want to waste your evening studying?” you probe.

Jake tilts his head to the side and squints his eyes at you in confusion. “Just tryin’ to help,” he responds.

You look down at your feet uncomfortably and shrug, but continue prodding, nonetheless. “I mean, you could be out with my brother.” What you really want to say is that he could be hooking up with a new chick within the hour if he feels like it; it wouldn’t even be a challenge.

“Didn’t wanna crash his date.”

You glance up at him sharply, wondering if that is, indeed, the only reason he chose to stay behind. His eyes slide slowly over your face as though he’s trying to guess what you’re going to say next. You gulp uneasily; being scrutinized by the guy of your dreams is hardly an enjoyable pastime. At the same time, it’s wildly thrilling to have his undivided attention. “No other reason?” you ask with a slight break in your voice, your throat decidedly too dry to pose any further questions.

Jake glances pointedly at the open door he's still holding and then back at you. He doesn’t respond, nor does he inquire why you’ve still not left. Instead, he starts to slowly close the door, his eyes boring into yours so intently you think the weight of his gaze might vaporize you.

You feel a warmth wash over you – no; a heat. It’s a distressingly abrupt sensation, like you’ve been shoved into an oven set to broil. But it’s nothing new. You’ve experienced this kind of nauseating high before and you’re just as unamused with this bodily reaction now as you’ve been in the past.

Jake stands very still, his back to the door he’s just shut, stalling. And despite the very persistent voice in the back of your head telling you he can’t possibly be interested in pursuing anything remotely romantic with his best friend’s little sister, the hesitation on his face is telling quite a different tale. Jake is torn.

You can relate. You’ve been simultaneously longing for and avoiding direct contact with him for ages. “You, uh” – you take a shallow breath and nervously lick your lips. “You think I’ll get more studying done if I stay?” you ask faintly.

Jake watches you carefully, as though he’s giving himself a minute to consider your question. He takes a step toward you, lowering his face to maintain eye contact. And, while his expression remains mostly impassive, you swear that you notice a brief flicker of exhilaration pass over his features right before he says, “I can’t promise that.”

You stare at him, frozen in place as he takes your chin in his hand and lifts it ever so slightly, as if he knows that you’re in no condition to elevate it on your own. Then, just as you’re about to say something completely irrelevant to fill the silence, Jake’s lips pass softly over yours.

And that’s when you come entirely apart. Your book bag crashes to the floor as your arm drops limply at your side. Your legs vibrate feebly, fighting to keep you standing. But you ignore the – indeed concerning – widespread weakness sweeping through your body. Because the only matter worth attending to is Jake’s hand as it slides purposely down to your throat, his thumb curling around as though he means to choke you.

Admittedly, you’d let him.

But his fingers don’t commit to a firm grasp by any means, instead, they glide up and down, intermittently applying a gentle pressure to your neck as his tongue curves boldly into your open mouth.

Jake Seresin is kissing you.

In a way that no one’s ever kissed you before. In a way that rattles you. Because it’s hungry and unreserved. Because it’s dangerously intimate. Because it’s Jake Seresin.

He’s kissing you like he already knows just how you like to be kissed. Or… the way you like to be kissed just happens to be the way he kisses. He’s had plenty of practice, after all.

Whatever the case may be, there’s a fire at the tip of every one of his fingers, and it follows the length of your collarbone in their wake. There’s a spark in the friction of every touch, at every point of contact.

It’s in the sweet burn of your bottom lip when he catches it between his teeth. It’s in the way he nudges your face with the tip of his nose in between kisses. It’s in his eyes when he finally releases your lips and meets your gaze; it’s in the silence.

You swallow, looking up at him anxiously, unsure how it’s even possible that you’re still standing. Jake is watching you with an unsettling blend of affection and alarm. He sighs finally and tugs on your elbow, pulling you in to rest his forehead over yours. “Fuck,” he mutters, closing his eyes and releasing a heavy – and noticeably unsteady – breath. “Your brother’s gonna kill me.”

Read Part 10

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[cheolhub]

MEANT TO BE YOURS — JEON WONWOO ࿐

summary. lying to your boyfriend about being sexually experienced has you stressed beyond belief. it’s a good thing your roommate— aka your best friend— is always there to help you out of every sticky situation.

wc. 7.2k+

warnings. [PLEASE READ THESE!] slight yandere themes (tame obsession, possessiveness, mentions of k1lling reader’s bf, etc.), corruption kink, virginity loss, f. masturbation, cheating (don’t do this), perv!wonu, NEEDY, DESPERATE dom!wonwoo, fingering, heavy praise, pet names (a lot ^^), very light degradation, so much dirty talk (literal filth), unprotected sex, size kink (if u blink, u miss it), kinda angsty ending (oops) — MINORS DNI 18+

note. ok so it’s finally here :p a few things— happy birthday wonwoo, my beloved <3 thank u keir @jeonghantis for reading this over for me, always reassuring me and being my literal rock. i luv u so so much ^^ lastly, this contains cheating which i do NOT condone, nor do i want to glamorize it. it’s simply for the sake of the plot. oj that’s all <3 i worked hard so pls enjoy it >< (if u dont, u should just lie to me anyway)

you were perfect. so sweet and so innocent. you were a doll in the eyes of wonwoo, with skin so smooth against his calloused hands and a smile so perfect, he can’t help but melt at the sight of it. 

his adoration for you was obviously in moderation, he’s a sensible man after all. it’s not like he’d stand over you while you sleep and watch the way your barely-clothed chest rises up and falls down so enticingly or fuck his fist and imagine it’s your tight-virgin cunt milking him for all he’s worth or steal a pair of lace panties and absolutely ruin them. you’re his best friend not to mention his roommate. he can’t do things like that— it’s wrong. 

so why does it feel so fucking good to imagine how sweet your moans would sound while he fucks you senseless, “wonwoo! wonwoo!”

wonwoo maintains his cool even in the most unfavorable moments. when you leave your shared bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around your chest, when you walk around in silky night shorts, when you press your tits flush against him every time you give him a hug— it’s too much sometimes. 

he can't be angry, though, it’s not like you know any better. 

just like how you don't know how loud you’re being when you have one dainty little finger shoved inside your sopping pussy. he watches through the tiny crack of your door with his bottom lip lodged between his teeth, just slight of drawing blood. he sees how your eyes are screwed shut and your back is arched as you inconsistently try to fuck a single finger in and out of you. 

the room is filled with desperate huffs and moans, bouncing between the four walls of his old gaming room; it all rushes straight to wonwoo’s cock. 

you sound so needy and he can tell you’re growing frustrated at the lack of results. you’re craving release, he can tell– 

and he wants to help you. so bad.

he has to, right? that’s his job as a dutiful best friend— taking care of his pretty girl. plus, it’s not like he’s really doing anything wrong. he likes to think he’s just doing you a huge favor. 

he steps away from the door before knocking quietly, hearing the halt in moans and jostling of the white bedsheets he’s memorized the scent of. he stifles a laugh, imagining how hot your face must be knowing that you’re easily flustered. 

“just a second!” you pant and he’s so caught up in thought that he almost misses your soft voice, “okay…you can come in.” it’s as if you’re embarrassed, but you have no reason to be. it’s just him, your roommate. your best friend. your wonwoo. 

he finds that he was right. as soon as he walked in, he noticed your embarrassed face and he could almost feel the heat radiating from your body.

“won?”

his cock throbs in his loose plaid pajama pants at the name you had given him ages ago. “Y/N, i-i just wanted to check on you… heard noises when i was passing by your room,” 

“oh…” you mumble, gripping the comforter covering your body. you’re sheepish, shrugging at his concern. “thought you were out with gyu.” 

your words are barely audible. you’re too humiliated to tell him what you were doing and, not to mention, how you were probably, most likely doing it incorrectly. 

“nah,” he shakes his head, reverting the conversation back to the massive elephant in the room. “anything on your mind?” he tries, moving to sit on the bed next to you.

you sigh, cracking the unfazed facade you wore. tears form on your lash line; you’re beyond embarrassed. mortified, if you will. this is probably the worst possible thing to happen in all your years of living. 

no, this is the worst thing to happen to you in all your years of living– nothing will ever beat you getting caught masturbating incorrectly by your best friend. 

“wonwoo…” you sniffle and he immediately stiffens at the unanticipated sound. “i just… my… boyfriend wants to start doing stuff with me and i lied ‘n told him that i’ve done stuff before, but i haven’t ‘n—“

“hey…breathe, Y/N,” he shushes, reaching over to wipe the tears from your eyes. as much as he’s concerned with your feelings, he can’t help but pause—boyfriend? since when did you have a fucking boyfriend? he knew you were going on dates and meeting guys, and of course he didn’t like it, but he thought they were flings that would eventually fizzle out. why wasn’t he aware of this dick? his chest bubbles with newfound jealousy and discontent. without a doubt, he’d kill the first ill-mannered fucker he saw put his hands on you. 

however, he plays dumb to hide the fact. “what type of stuff are we talking about?” 

you bite back a whine, a small pout forming on your face, “you know what stuff, won, don’t make me say it.” 

he chuckles, airily, shaking his head. yes, of course he knows, but he wants to hear you say it. wants to hear you say filthy things with your innocent voice that he simply can’t get enough of. “i don’t know what you’re going on about. for all i know, we could be talking about drugs,” 

you let out a giggle, playfully smacking his shoulder. “no!” you tell him and he gives you an expectant look. one that screams tell me.

your laughter dies down and you fall silent for a few seconds. you inhale sharply, “wonwoo… he… he wants to have sex with me,” you mutter, completely catching him off guard. “and i lied about having experience… i’ve never even touched myself,” you say unwarranted, feeling your cheeks heat up in mortification once again. you hide your face in your hands after exposing yourself to your more-mature, experienced best friend. “god, i’m such a loser,”

“hey, don’t say that. there’s nothing wrong with being inexperienced. none of that’s important if you love someone.” the same way he loves you. “plus, a lot of guys like inexperienced girls.” he murmurs, mostly speaking for himself, though the only inexperienced girl– girl, in general– he likes is you. 

a sigh escapes your lips at his words, “but… i don’t wanna be inexperienced. i wanna know what i’m doing and how to do it right…i wish i was more like you,” you frown, removing your hands to look at him, confusion prevalent on his face. “you seem like you’re so good at everything when it comes to… that…kinda stuff…”

his throat dries, “h-how would you even know that?”

“well, i mean…you’re not exactly the quietest, wonwoo,” 

wonwoo is shocked, honestly. he knew he had a handful of hookups and one night stands, but he never thought you would’ve known that. 

besides, he always imagined them to be you riding him, crying for him. as much as he loves getting his dick wet, he would never see another girl again if it meant even one chance with you. 

it's a stretch. a big one, but if he could give you the earth, he would– in a single heartbeat with no hesitation whatsoever. “well… then do you want me to maybe… show you? what it’s like…? give you a good first experience?”

your body freezes and your eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights. sure, you’ve always found your best friend attractive, but you figured that couldn’t be helped. you knew you never had a chance, not when he had an endless line of girls who would do anything for just one night with him. 

wonwoo is the definition of womanizer, he always has been. for as long as you could remember, girls would throw themselves at him and praise him like he was some kind of god. in some ways, you thought he was.

in all fairness, he was gorgeous and tall and strong. a catch, as some girls would say. he smelled good, too. so good it makes your head spin and your body flood with heat. and he had that rare smile– the one he’d only show the ones he loved– and it was blindingly beautiful. it was a smile that made you feel blessed. a smile that made you feel lucky because you were always on the receiving end– wonwoo always smiled at you.

he never pursued as many girls as you thought he would have. you always figured that’s what guys liked– all of the girls fawning over them– but wonwoo was so different. he didn’t like the attention that much, but, unfortunately for him, that’s what comes with being as handsome as he is. 

you knew he was out of your league. he was everything a girl would want and what were you in a sea of girls? a sea of girls with loads of experience and confidence, for that matter. 

you were just lucky to have him in your life because he really was such a good friend. he’s always been so protective of you since he met you all those years ago through a mandatory math tutoring session. nothing could ruin the image you have of him– not even the ear-splitting moans of the girls he fucks. you want nothing but for him to be your friend forever. 

and maybe you have imagined… once or twice… what it would be like to be one of the obnoxiously loud girls in his bed, but that didn’t mean you wanted it… did it?

you try to play it off to see if he was pulling another one of his typical stunts on you. “wonwoo, this isn’t funny—“

“i‘m being serious,” he says so earnestly, leaning into you, the proximity between the two of you quickly closing. you feel like you should pull back, tell him to stop, kick him out— anything— but you just can’t. “lemme help you, sweetheart… i‘ll show you how to feel good,” his minty breath fans over your face.

your body twitches, feeling a soft pulse in your lower region when the familiar pet name falls from his lips. your pace of breath quickens along with your heartbeat. 

“is…isn’t this wrong?” you ask. you want to scold your brain for wanting to do this with your best friend whom you live with. not to mention the fact that you also have a boyfriend.

yes, you think, this is totally and completely wrong. 

he shakes his head, “it’s not, promise, ‘m just helping a friend out… only if you’ll let me,” his voice hushes to a whisper as his hand pulls the comforter off your body, a large hand moving to take a hold of your waist, the other on your bare thigh extremely close to the thin pink fabric of your absolutely-soiled panties. 

you’re left panting at the little contact, skin itching for even more. “wonwoo…” you whisper and it’s absolutely desperate. “wonwoo, w-what will i tell him?”

he feels his blood boil and he has to keep from snapping at the mere mention of that son of a bitch. he doesn’t even know him and, even still, he wants to bash his head in. “you don’t have to tell him anything,” he responds to you sweetly despite how angry and desperate he is. 

you won’t have to do a thing. he’ll take care of everything for you, especially that boyfriend of yours.

you contemplate your options, but it’s getting harder to have a coherent thought with his warm hand being so incredibly close to your needy pussy. 

wonwoo is just helping you, he even said it himself. if anything, he’s getting you out of the sticky situation you made for yourself. 

and so you nod your head, whimpering out the words. “okay wonwoo… please help me,”

unbeknownst to you, wonwoo was hoping you’d say that. hoping you’d let him help you stretch you out (not for your boyfriend, but for him). help you take his cock. help you cum all over him and corrupt your pretty body. he’ll help you leave your boyfriend and realize that wonwoo is all you’ll need. all you’ll want. all you’ll know. he’ll help you, his best friend, his pretty girl, his fucking dream. 

your words trigger something in his brain and it’s all he needs before closing the gap between the two of you. the way he practically pounces on you and slots your lips together, it’s similar to a predator going after its prey.

it’s apparent you’re not as skilled as him as your lips struggle to keep up, whimpering at how rough he was being. you open your mouth a little bit to tell him to slow down, but instead, he pushes his tongue inside and explores the warmth and wetness of your mouth. 

and he can’t slow down. he can usually keep his composure and control himself, but you don’t even know how long he’s been waiting for this moment. if only you knew the perverted things your best friend had done without your knowledge, there’s no way you’d let him anywhere near you. he can’t stop, tongue inspecting every inch of your mouth until he feels your hands press flat against his chest in an attempt to push him away.

your swollen lips turn into a pout staring into his eyes filled with hunger and desire. “won,” you say, a lilt to your angelic voice. fuck, is all wonwoo can think as he finally realizes how hard and leaky his cock is after all this time. “can’t keep up…”

he almost feels bad, but every time he feels remorse it’s overshadowed by the burning desire to hear you, feel you, see you cum… just for him, not your silly little boyfriend, that fucking asshole. he needs you to be his. 

“‘m sorry, pretty girl,” he pants, hands inching up your upper thigh. “i‘ll slow down, yeah?” his voice drips with desperation and, god, you feel your pussy flooding with more of your warm arousal. 

you nod, leaning into him again, pressing a kiss against his lips. his lips are soft as they mold into yours, nothing like what you’re used to. you couldn’t even compare wonwoo’s lips to anything– not even your boyfriend. 

you feel heat course your veins. everything is so hot, the room feels like it’s on fire. when did it get so hot? you want to hide in his neck, in your pillow, in something, but wonwoo gives you no room to be shy. 

the intrusive thoughts are cut short when you feel his warm hand slide into your panties, a deep gasp escaping your lips. his fingers quickly find your hardened clit, untouched and desperate for attention. the initial touch has shockwaves jolting through your body and you swear you won’t be able to survive anything more than that. 

you part your lips from him as his two fingers rub swift circles into your clit, timid whines and moans erupting from your chest and your eyes practically taped shut as you feel his burning gaze on your face. it’s when your hips unintentionally begin to move, grinding into his hand, softly moaning his name out, “wonwoo!” that he loses it. 

“fuck,” he mutters, removing his hand and watching your face of pleasure turn into complete shock. he ignores your whiny protests, gently pushing you to lay on your back. “shhh, baby, trust me. gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, don’t you worry.”

his hands peel the panties off you, rolling them off your legs and inspecting them– they’re new. you don’t need to know that he knows, though. especially since he is the reason you needed to get more.

nonetheless, he tosses them to the side. you’re sure if your judgment wasn’t clouded by the new overwhelming craving you have for pleasure, your body would burn in humiliation due to being exposed to your best friend. the same best friend who’s always been there for you and seen you at your very worst, yet continues to be there for you when you need him. 

with hearts in his eyes, he stares at your glistening cunt, “jesus christ,” he murmurs, “prettiest fucking pussy in the world, might have to keep you all to myself.” he knows the words are going through one ear and out the other, but the way you moan and arch your back for a single touch eggs him on.

“wonwoo,” you whimper softly. 

“yes, baby, what do you need?” he knows exactly what you need. you need him to rub your clit, press his fingers into your tight pussy and open you up, and you especially need him to tell you how well you’re doing– he fucking knows, but he needs to hear you say it. he needs your pretty little mouth to tell him. 

you pant, pussy getting wetter by the second solely off the pet names and wonwoo’s voice alone. “need you to help me like you promised… please help me…”

and he can’t resist when you sound so needy. he’s 99% sure he could cum untouched just at the sight of you under him with tears in your eyes while you beg for him to touch you. you’re so perfect, so so perfect and he doesn't understand how no one has taken you away from him yet. 

“you want my fingers, sweetheart? want me to help you open up this pretty cunt for my cock?” he asks hotly, leaning in closer to your body. 

you gasp at his words, your leaky hole clenching around nothing. “god, yes, yes, wonwoo, yes,” you nod your head vigorously, shyness fleeing your body as you're taken over by pure need. “please gimme your fingers.”

he smirks at your words and his dick twitches at the request. he knows this moment will replay in his head during every second of the day till he can have you like this again. 

“good girl,” he whispers, pressing a peck to your swollen lips and keens when you chase him for another with a whimper. “brace yourself for me… might sting a little, but it’ll feel really good after a while. tell me if you need me to stop, hmm?” 

you nod your head, stomach swirling with endless amounts of anticipation. the calloused pad of his thumb finds your clit, rubbing into it once more. you figure it’s to distract you from the feeling of his lengthy digit pressing into your hole.

a whine erupts from your throat at the tiny stretch that stings throughout your body. you take a deep breath, trying to relax as wonwoo pushes the finger in and out at a slow and steady pace. 

“doing so well for me, pretty. promise it’ll feel good when you get used to it,” he reassures with a tight-lipped smile as if he’s getting ready to burst at any given moment. 

that’s probably because he is. watching your tight pussy swallow his finger and wrap so nicely around him has him reeling. he thinks about what it’d be like to watch his cock disappear inside of you, for your velvet walls to wrap around him like you were made just for his cock. 

luckily, the sting fades away sooner than you thought it would, just as wonwoo had promised. your tiny whimpers of pain were soon replaced by pleasured moans, and he can tell that you’re ready for more of his fingers. 

he pulls out his middle finger to bring two of them together. you gasp in surprise feeling the pads of his two fingers circle at your entrance before they push their way inside of you. 

it hurts more than the first finger, you have to admit, but you take him in easily with the amount of arousal that pools out of your pussy. you pant, whines dying on your tongue as you feel the burning stretch. you don’t tell him to stop, though, not like you’d want to. 

wonwoo’s close to losing it. he can feel the way you clench around his fingers, almost like you're trying to push him out but suck him in at the same time. you’re so fucking tight and he thinks he must be in heaven. you’re the last thing he deserves, yet here you are, swallowing his big fingers in your pretty, virgin cunt. 

he gradually spreads his fingers, opening you up and the experimental move has you moaning. “that feel alright?” he asks almost breathlessly. 

you give him a broken nod, “feels weird… b-but good.” you attempt to inform. 

you’re sheepish for a few minutes as he’s slowly scissoring his fingers inside of you, but the question comes out before your hazy mind can fully comprehend. “c-can you try three?” it comes out a bit slurred and timid, but wonwoo understands. he completely understands. 

he wants, so badly, to fuck you stupid. to the point where you don’t know how to speak. he wants to call you his greedy slut for wanting more even though it makes him see red. he opts out, though, not wanting your first time to be tainted with degrading words because he knows you’re  good. a good girl just for him. no one else. 

“oh, baby,” he coos, body filling with even more need. he presses his ring finger inside of you and basking in your cry all the while purring, “you’re doing so fucking well for me.”

you involuntarily clench at his words, back slightly arching off the bed as you moan. “wonwoo.”

he lets out a guttural moan at the sound of his name on your tongue. it’s the way he’s heard it in his dreams, the dreams where he’s ruining you for everyone else. 

wonwoo knows he’s crazy, trust, he knows. he understands the way he feels about you is abnormal, but fuck, right now? he feels absolutely, postively insane. 

“god, you’re so gorgeous,” he whispers, his mind slowly drifting. “so fucking pretty taking my fingers like this, taking ‘em like a champ.”

he thrusts his fingers into you with ease, stretching you effectively while being sure to rub at your sweet spot. he watches them disappear and reappear at your opening while also stealing glances at your scrunched up face. you’re such an angel.

after a while, the burning sting leaves and you’re left with an immense pleasure. you didn’t think it would get any better, but there’s an unfamiliar pressure building in your tummy and you feel the need to clamp down on his digits. it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before and you swear you’re on the brink of pure ecstasy. 

“wonwoo… wonwoo,” you gasp, hand blindly searching for his wrist as your eyes screw closed. “f-feels…weird… fuck! wonwoo!”

and wonwoo jus can’t. he can’t let you cum like this for the first time, it would be a crime. when you cum for the first time, he needs it to be on his cock.

he hates himself for doing so, but his movements stop. you gasp loudly, “no, no, no!” you cry out, tears forming in your eyes. you were so close, but it was unfairly taken away from you in a matter of seconds. “no, no, please keep going, please!”

“i want your first time to be on my cock, sweetheart, want you to remember it that way.” he says with his voice low. so low you can hear the beautiful rasp of his voice. “you want that don’t you? you want my cock, yeah?” 

you nod profusely, face heating up at his words and the way he articulates them. “y-yes… i do.” you mumble. 

“that’s a good girl.”

you moan at the praise, hips bucking up again as he stands to slip off his loose pjs. when they fall, his hard cock slaps against his covered abdomen and you feel your heart skip a beat at his size. 

you gasp, sitting up as your sensitive cunt pulses once more. it’s so fucking pretty. you’ve heard your girl friends talk about how ugly and gross dicks were, a conversation that you never had input for, but after seeing wonwoo’s, you know they haven’t been blessed with the sight of one like his. 

he’s huge, for starters. it makes your tummy churn and swirl because you know he won’t be able to fit inside of you— not all at once at least. it’s long with prominent veins running through. the tip is flushed and leaky and he looks so hard it hurts. 

“won’t fit,” you whimper slowly gravitating towards him at the edge of your bed, eyes not leaving the throbbing member. “it’s not gonna fit, won,” you look up at him through your lashes and his entire body twitches as he looks down at your doe eyes. 

“and how do you know that?” he grabs your face with one of his hands, squishing your cheeks with his pointer and thumb finger. “you can take it, baby, don’t worry. i’ll be gentle.”

the tone of his voice drops an octave, and this time, you don’t believe him. there is something predatory about his words that makes you squirm and gush under his gaze. you don’t think he’ll be gentle, the way he looks at you like… it’s like he’s about to have his last meal. 

and, honestly, you find that you love it. you love having him look at you like he’s yours and your his. you love his attention. you love having him like this. 

he pushes you back again, your back hitting the plush bed. you bite your lip as you see him join and tower over you. he flashes a smile and you slowly melt and wither away under him, body squirming a bit. 

he looks in between your bodies and realizes he’s not wearing a condom. his face drains of color at the thought of your cunt taking his cock bare. “sweetheart… wait,”

your eyes widen and your lips form into a small pout, “what is it? what’s wrong?”

“need to get a condom,” he huffs and it’s apparent that he’s not very happy about the idea. he’s always worn one. every time. with every girl he’s ever been with. but every single time he’s imagined taking you, it was without one. he wants nothing in the way between you and him, but, of course, he needs to respect you and think about your safety. no matter how bad he wants it.

you furrow your eyebrows, “...why?” you whisper. 

this time, he mirrors your confused look. you’re a virgin, sure, but you must know what a condom is. “what do you mean why, angel? it’s pro–”

you shake your head, cutting him off. “i mean, why do you need it? are you… not clean?” you ask worriedly. 

“no, of course i am!”

“well, don’t leave me here,” you mumble. “‘m on the pill now, so you should be fine without one… now, please? wanna feel like i did before… wanna feel all of you…”

wonwoo now knows he’s died. he’s died and now he’s in paradise. you, and all your beauty, laying under him with the prettiest pout, begging for him. for his cock. raw. everything he’s dreamed of is about to come true... if he doesn’t cum first.

“god,” he mutters. he takes his length in his hand, stroking himself before lining up with your entrance. “you want my cock then?” he whispers, dragging the tip up and down your messy folds. 

“yeah, please… go slow…” 

he lets out a shaky breath, nodding his head before guiding himself back to your dripping hole. he inhales sharply, pushing himself inside, immediately entranced by the feeling of your warmth enveloping him whole. 

you wince letting out a soft cry of his name. he pushes past the resistance and you feel him taking something that’s been so sacred for as long as you could remember, but if you’re being transparent you couldn’t be happier that it’s him. you wouldn’t want anyone else to be in this position.

“fuck, baby,” he grunts with his raspy, deep voice that makes you clench even tighter around him. “fuck, so fucking tight, baby. so perfect.” he can barely trust his voice. it’s barely been five minutes, but he swears on everything he’s never felt this good before. 

you’re not even sure his fingers helped you enough because the stretch is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. “hurts…” you whimper out, eyes screwed close to keep the pained tears from falling. 

he bites his lip to suppress a moan at the sight of you like this, instead asking, “you good, baby? need me to pull out?” he’ll die if you do, so he hopes you answer against the idea. 

“n-no,” you pant, trying to breathe your way through the pain. “j-just go slow…s’big, feel too full,” you reply, brain unable to give him complete sentences. 

his eyes almost roll at your broken words. “i know, baby, i know. you’re doing so well for me, hm? takin’ it well all for me,” he manages to tell you even though he’s twitching like he might explode within the next 30 seconds. 

his praise makes you gasp as you arch your back, a new gush of arousal coating his hard length. when wonwoo speaks to you like this, it makes your head fog. the validation and praise and the lovingness behind it all makes you want to have him forever. you want him to speak to you like you're his baby forever. 

it almost makes you forget that this is just a favor. that you have a boyfriend and he has a sea of gorgeous women lined up for him. almost. 

after a few more minutes of slowly inching his way inside you, he finally bottoms out. you’re already a bit sore from the stretch, but the pain recedes and he fits like a glove. like he was made to be inside you and you were made to take him and all of his glory. it only riles you up, your pussy tightening around him even more. 

he groans out your name, “fuck, don’t do that or i won’t be able to last, pretty girl.”

“‘m sorry,” you mewl. “can’t help it, feels so good, wonwoo,” you finally open your eyes to look into his. “keep moving please?” you pout, keeping your tears at bay. 

he can’t emphasize how close he is to spontaneously combusting and pumping you full just to fuck you over and over again. he wants to fuck you till your pussy’s raw and you’re begging for mercy. he wants to see your pretty tears, hear your cries, see you dripping in sweat and cum. 

he doesn’t say anything, pulling out slowly and pushing himself back in. you gasp, hands moving to tug on the fabric of his shirt in attempts to pull it off. 

“ah, ah, ah,” wonwoo reprimands. “can’t be the only one without a shirt, baby, you gotta take yours off first.” he smirks at your eagerness. 

you nod quickly as you sit up, still so full of him, peeling your flimsy tank top off. you free your chest and wonwoo groans when he finally sees them. 

“so pretty…” he mumbles, pushing you back down with a bit more force than you were expecting. one of his hands comes to squeeze the fat, fondling it like he’s wanted to for so long. his cock thrusts into you again a bit faster and you cry again at the stimulation. 

“t-take it off!” you beg, reaching for the shirt again. 

he chuckles, pulling his shirt off and tossing it to the pile of clothes on the floor. once you see his skin, your arms immediately wrap around his neck pulling him down for a kiss. you imitate the actions of your first kiss earlier, opening your mouth to let his tongue in. you let him sloppily makeout with your own. 

it’s messy. a newfound experience for you. you’ve never had a kiss like this– never had a kiss where it felt like you were about to get swallowed whole. you’ve never had a kiss filled with so much passion, a kiss so loud where you’re moaning into someone's mouth and they’re moaning into yours so lustily. it’s your first. wonwoo’s your first for many it seems. 

wonwoo can’t say he’s never had a messy kiss because he’s had plenty. maybe a few too many. but, unbeknownst to you, he’s never felt so eager for anyone in all his years of knowing you– lusting after you. he wants this so bad. he wants you so fucking bad it’s making his throat constrict, his abdomen tighten, his dick twitch as it’s surrounded by your warm walls.

his cock fills you up so well and you feel like there’s a big possibility that you may get addicted to the feeling. now that the pain has subsided, you can feel the prominent veins pressing into your velvety walls. you can feel every twitch and his bulbous head rubbing right against that spot that’s turning your brain into mush. 

“fuck, baby, you’re so good,” he moans into your mouth, thrusts increasing in pace. 

“love it when you call me that,” you admit, mindlessly. you pull him in closer, nails digging into his back, imprinting red crescent shapes in the skin. 

he lets out a guttural groan, breaking from the kiss and looking into your teary eyes. “you like being my good little baby, huh?” he asks breathlessly and when you whine and clench around him, he chuckles. “i can tell, angel, pretty pussy is loving my cock– swallowing all of me like such a good slut.”

he didn’t mean to say it, but when the words slip out, your eyes widen. his expression mirrors yours and his speed falters. your pulse thumps erratically and you’re sure your heart is going to lurch out of your chest, teeth catching your bottom lip, biting and digging into the pillowy muscle. 

“i didn’t mean–”

“keep going…” you whisper, hooking your legs around his waist to pull him into you and return to his prior pace. “oh, won, please keep going.” your begs make him reel. 

your pupils are completely blown out now. like you’ve taken some type of drug and you’re feeling the euphoric effects of it all. you can’t wrap your head around why you feel the way you do because of one degrading word. 

jesus christ, he thinks to himself. he has to be in love. you’re so greedy, so much potential to be his gorgeous girl. he thinks you’re perfect for him– no, he knows you’re perfect for him. he’s confident with the way he fits in you and the way you trust him with your body. he can’t even care to think about your stupid boyfriend. you’re his now. his to fuck stupid and pump full of cum. his to punish and praise and pleasure. he’ll turn you into his own little cockhungry slut.

his thoughts get the best of him as he nearly blacks out at the idea of you being his. his hips snap against yours with a particularly harsh thrust and he feels his tip kissing your cervix and you sob out, “fuh-fuck!”

and at the sound of your sobs and pleads and curses, he feels as if he can’t restrain himself any longer. he sits up on his knees, hands grabbing at your waist with a vice-like grip that will likely result in splats of purple bruises the next morning. not like either of you could give a fuck. he relentlessly pounds into you, balls lewdly slapping against your sloppy cunt without a care in the world. 

your cries and his groans plus all the pornographic sounds your bodies make together fill the room, bouncing off your cutely decorated walls. he can tell you’re going to cum soon when your breathing picks up, watching the way your chest rises and falls at an alarming rate.

you suddenly remember how you felt right before he had snatched his fingers from you earlier. you can feel it creeping back up, the fiery knot in your tummy tightening. your hand finds the sensitive bud wonwoo was toying with earlier, gently rubbing circles into it. 

he notices immediately and grunts. “such a greedy girl already, aren’t you? i’ve ruined you.” ruined you for everyone else and it’s been the best thing he’s ever done, he fails to add. 

you nod, tears dripping down the sides of your face. “g-god!”

“not quite, baby.” he chuckles breathily. “gonna cum for me? hmm, baby? gonna soak my cock for the first time like the good little slut you are?” he rambles, his own orgasm– that he’s held back all this time– quickly approaching.

you mewl at the mixed praise and degradation once more, fingers working faster as your brain numbs. “oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” you slur. “oh, ‘m gonna… wonwoo, ‘m gonna–!”

the words die on your tongue– the stimulation on your clit and the stimulation of his cock ramming into your sweet spot has you coming all over him. your back arches and your thighs convulse as you clamp around his cock. a squealing mantra of his name and curses flee your mouth as the tightrope in your tummy snaps.

you don’t think you’ve ever felt anything as euphoric in your life. it feels so good to let go and gush all over his cock while he fucks you through your orgasm so erratically. you can tell he’s close, too. a few more seconds and he’ll be making a mess. 

“ah, fuck– ‘m so close, baby, pretty pussy’s milking me for all i’m worth,” he moans out the warning. “love it so much.” he loves you so much.

you can barely hear a noise, let alone comprehend any of his words, so you just nod frantically as your sensitive body twitches under him sporadically. 

his thrusts go sloppy and before you know it, he pulls out, making you whine at the sudden emptiness. “fuck,” he grunts before he’s overtaken by the immense pleasure your pussy’s given him. he moans and lets out small whimpers as he pumps his cock, painting your sheen skin with his warm seed. he throws his head back as he moans out your name, “Y/N, fuck,”

he wishes so badly he could have came inside of you, but he’s going to make sure there’s another opportunity for that. he’ll be damned if he never fucks your cute pussy again. 

you whimper at the sudden warm substance on your skin. your eyes crack open to see your stomach covered in a sticky, white liquid– or maybe a mix between liquid and solid. your not sure you know how to describe it. 

you look at him as your mind comes to you. his hair disheveled, a few strays sticking to his sweaty forehead and the pace, at which, his chest rises and falls slows till it’s normal once more. 

when you come down, you suddenly remember your boyfriend. you were so sure you wanted him till wonwoo looked at you, made you feel special, took your virginity– now, you’re a mess. the mental image of your boyfriend fogs over in your head with words wonwoo whispered to you while he was fucking you. 

but you shouldn’t think about it anymore, right? everything was going to go back to normal after tonight, wouldn’t it? wonwoo will ever forgot this happened and he would bring some girl over when he thought you were gone and fuck her the same way he fucked you. you’d go back to thinking about your boyfriend trying to push the thoughts of your best friend making you cum over and over out of your head (it won’t work, but a girl can dream). all will be well. for one of you, at least.

“Y/N?” he mumbles. 

you look up at him and give him a small smile, “thanks for your help, won,” you whisper masking the sadness in your voice. “‘m gonna shower…” you don’t wait for his reply before you move off your bed. 

your legs are wobbly and your entirety feels sore. he really did a number on you. you whimper with every step you take and wonwoo quickly finds his pants and slips them on before rushing to your side.

“Y/N, c’mon, lemme take care of you.” he murmurs, his hands finding your waist to ground you and keeping your body from hobbling over. “get back on the bed, baby,” he whispers into your ear. 

you huff, physically unable to fight him on the matter and shuffling back to your bed uncomfortably. the ache between your legs and the nasty feeling of his release drying on your naked body were not a good mix. then you fucking remembered you were naked. you gasp, startling wonwoo, your arms wrapping around your body in attempts to hide yourself as if he hadn’t fucked you five minutes ago. 

“what’s wrong?” he asks, a look of confusion painting his face.

“y-you… i… i’m naked…” you tell him meekly, moving to lay on the bed again. “this… is so weird.”

he smiles softly at your sudden shyness. “back to being shy, are we?” you frown at him and he just laughs heartily, your body filling with even more dread because– god. he’s just perfect and not yours. “‘m only teasing, doll, ‘s okay.”

you don’t reply, awkwardly shifting under his gaze. the pet name sounds so natural. like he’s meant to call you pretty things. like you're meant to be his.

but he’s not yours and you’re not his.

you stutter, words fleeing you in the moment you need them most. “wonwoo… i-i…”

you look like you’re on the brink of tears, guilt wracking your body. wonwoo feels his chest tighten, breath hitching in his dry throat, “Y/N, do you regret it?” he asks, words hushed. he’s anxious. 

“no! no, no, i don’t… i don’t regret it. i trust you more than anyone, wonwoo. i promise.” you say meekly and he feels a weight lift off his shoulders. “i just… can we act like it never happened?”

the weight returns. heavier. it nearly crushes him. he couldn’t forget about this even if he’d wanted to. he’s already tattooed every second of tonight into his fuzzy brain. every reaction, every moan, every single word you gave him is all he’ll think about. 

he clears his throat, a shaky exhale slipping his lips before asking, “if you don’t regret it then why…?” he can’t even get the question out. he knows the answer. (read: the unnamed boyfriend– the one that he swears he’ll kill the second he meets him.)

you avert your eyes, looking anywhere but at him. “you know why.” 

he does. 

“and plus, we’re just friends. and roommates. it’ll just be awkward.” you cringe at your words because, unbeknownst to him, you don’t want to forget it. you know you won’t be able to forget it. not the possessive words that he spat during his sex-crazed haze, not the way his cock felt, not the way he looked at you.  

he waits for you to look at him, but you don’t. you can’t look at him right now. 

“okay.” he says coldly after sitting in deafening silence for over a minute. “consider it forgotten.”

he’ll make you his one of these days. you may not know it yet, but you belong with him. and he’d do anything for you. 

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

[doc-who]

When Green Turns Red

Emily Prentiss/Reader

Rating: Mature 18+

Chapter: 6/?

Words: 2121

Categories: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut

After what has felt like a life-time, your discharge papers are signed and you’re given the all clear to go home. Emily insists on driving you and you don’t have the strength to argue. Truth be told, you’re grateful for the company. She helps you into the passenger seat of the car, her touch gentle but insistent. She checks your seatbelt twice which makes you roll your eyes, then takes her place behind the wheel. She doesn’t start the car straight away, checking you over with worried eyes.

“I’m fine, Em,” you huff. 

Emily gives you a sheepish look and you soften. She’s barely left your side since she had finally come to see you, and while you’re immensely grateful, the juxtaposition of her constant hovering yet emotional distance has been sending you for a tailspin. 

As she starts the car and pulls away from the curb, you close your eyes and let your head fall back against the seat, feeling the warmth of the air conditioning and the gentle vibration of the engine. The painkillers are wearing off and you’re bone-tired, but the unspoken tension between you and Emily keeps you awake. 

As much as you have tried to reassure her, you suspect she still feels guilty about what happened to you. It makes you doubt why she’s really here. Is it because she cares about you, or is she just trying to assuage her perceived guilt? The uncertainty has made you scrutinize every moment with her over these past few weeks. As a result, you’ve started to distance yourself from her, bracing yourself for when you inevitably get your feelings hurt again.

Neither of you have mentioned that night at the bar. More importantly, Emily hasn’t said anything to imply that she didn't mean what she said. It reaffirms your suspicion, that her feelings haven’t changed, that she still thinks what you had together was a mistake. 

Emily pulls up to your apartment building and turns off the engine. You both sit in silence for a moment, before you unbuckle your seatbelt. Emily quickly gets out of the car and rushes to the passenger side to open your door for you. You bite back an exasperated groan as she reaches out to help you out of the seat. 

“Seriously, Emily. I can stand by myself,” you say, swatting her hands away. 

“Sorry,” she stammers, stepping away.

You take a deep breath and step out of the car as Emily avoids your eyes, standing there awkwardly as if she doesn’t know what to do if she’s not allowed to help you. 

“No, I’m sorry,” you apologise, “I know you’re just trying to help.”

Emily grimaces, “I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?”

You shake your head, “You’re not.” 

She frowns, trying to see the truth in your eyes, “Are you sure?” 

“I promise,” you swear. Once Emily visibly relaxes, you give her a smile, “so are you going to carry my bags up, or not?”

Emily laughs, and your heart flutters at the sound.

-

Garcia invites the four of you over for a “girls night” to celebrate your freedom from the sterile walls you had been confined to for the past few weeks. You’re pretty sure it’s just an excuse to drink away the stress the whole ordeal had caused, not that you’re complaining. You’re itching to be back in the real world and have some sense of normalcy again. 

You’re the last to arrive, stepping into the apartment to the sight of your friends. JJ and Garcia are already a bit tipsy, giggling to themselves on the couch. They look up when they hear the door, faces lighting up when they see you.

“You made it!” Garcia squeals, rushing over to greet you.

JJ is right behind her, and they sandwich you in a warm, exuberant hug. You laugh, letting their excitement wash over you. Over their shoulders, you catch a glimpse of Emily who is leaning against the doorway with a soft smile on her face. She lingers back, watching the reunion as if she’s afraid to intrude. Once they release you, you make your way over to her. 

“Hi,” you say quietly, feeling a sudden rush of shyness. It’s only been a week since you last saw her, when she picked you up from the hospital, but it feels like longer. You have been keeping some distance in an attempt to get control of your feelings, but all it takes is one look at her and you know it hasn’t worked.

Emily bites her lip as she steps forward, and your eyes are automatically drawn to the movement. "Hi," she echoes, her voice equally tentative.

You quickly look away from where you had been staring at her lips, heat rising in your cheeks when you meet the knowing look in her eyes. She bites back a smile as she takes in your flustered state, dark eyes glinting with something that makes your pulse race. The ever-present tension that lingers between the two of you, the one you constantly tell yourself that you’re imagining, is especially intense tonight.

Oblivious to the silent exchange, Garcia swoops into the room with a tray of brightly coloured shots and you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding.

"Let's get this party started!" she declares, corralling the two of you into the living room. 

She shoves a shot glass into your hand and you eye the concoction warily before tipping it back. The tequila burns a path down your throat, and you cough a little, your eyes watering. JJ laughs and pats you on the back, before she gently pushes you down onto the couch next to Emily. Resisting the urge to make the most of the close proximity, you tuck your hands under your thighs in an effort to keep them to yourself. You’re hyper aware of how close she is, the heat radiating from her body, the smell of her painfully familiar perfume in the air. Another drink is suddenly shoved towards you and you gladly accept, grateful for the distraction. 

“Drink up, my lovelies!” Garcia exclaims, and you do as you’re told. 

“We better not get called into work,” JJ says as she contemplates her drink.

Garcia puts her hands over her ears, “No! There will be no mention of that word in my house!” 

You all laugh and JJ shrugs, downing her glass in one go. It doesn’t take long before the four of you are well past tipsy, each shot of tequila or sip of wine gradually breaking down the wall you had carefully crafted around yourself. 

As the night progresses, you forget all the reasons you had for keeping your distance from Emily. With every drink you end up sitting closer and closer, until eventually the warmth of her thigh is pressed against yours and your shoulders brush every time you laugh. The shyness you had started the night with has vanished, and you find yourself welcoming the heavy gaze you find in Emily's eyes when she looks at you.

When Garcia brings out another bottle of wine with a waggle of her eyebrows, JJ groans and you agree with the sentiment. 

Excusing yourself to the kitchen, you fill up a glass of water and lean against the sink as you sip it. You set your glass down and turn around to make your way back to the group, but instead walk straight into Emily. Her sudden appearance makes you jump, and you feel Emily’s warm palms on your arms as she steadies you. 

“You okay?”

You don’t realise how close you are until she speaks and you feel the warm puff of air from her lips. Your eyes lower, seeking out the source of the sensation. Her hands tighten around where they rest on your biceps, and remembering she asked you a question you manage a nod, your eyes drifting back up to hers. Your breath catches in your chest when they make contact with her dilated pupils. You’re transfixed at the sight, at the way she’s looking at you. It makes a familiar feeling coil in your gut. 

Her hands slide from your arm up to your shoulders and you shiver at the sensation. Something in her eyes changes then, and suddenly you’re being pressed back against the counter and kissed desperately. You return it instinctively, your body remembering how right it feels to have her pressed up against you, to have her lips on yours. 

For a moment everything else fades into the background. It’s just the two of you, wrapped up in each other they way it used to be. You’re completely lost in her. In the sweet taste of wine on her tongue, the gentle pressure of her fingers as they weave into your hair. Your own hands slide up her back, feeling the warmth of her skin through her shirt, and you pull her closer, deepening the kiss. 

Emily pushes her hips into yours and one of your hands falls back onto the counter to brace yourself, inadvertently knocking over the glass you had set there. The sudden clink of the glass against granite startles you, and instantly the spell you’re under is broken.

You pull back from Emily with a gasp, hands clutching the edge of the counter with a white-knuckle grip. Reality crashes down on you and you squeeze your eyes shut as you try to calm your trembling body. For a moment, you’re not sure if you’ve imagined what just happened. But the taste of her lips lingers on your mouth, and the feeling of her hands burns where they touched you. 

You flinch when Emily reaches out again, your eyes flying open to see the conflicted expression on her face. Her hand hovers over yours and you jerk your arm away from her reach.

“Don’t,” you whisper through gritted teeth.

Emily stumbles backwards in shock, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done-“ 

You cut her off, “No, you shouldn’t have,” your voice is firm and unwavering, despite the turmoil that swirls inside, “What the fuck are you doing, Emily?” 

The kitchen island stops her retreat backwards as you step towards her, hands shaking in anger. Tears well in her eyes as she wraps her arms around herself, but you’re too lost in your anger and heartbreak to notice.

“Is this some sort of game to you?” you demand, voice rising with each word, “You tell me everything between us was a mistake, and now you kiss me? What, are you bored? Or is this just your way of making yourself feel better?"

Emily's eyes widen, and she shakes her head vigorously, "No, no, it's not like that, I swear." 

“Then what is it, Emily?” 

You don’t back down, keeping your eyes on her as you wait for an explanation. Instead she looks at you with pleading eyes, begging you to see what she can’t bring herself to say. Lost in your anguish, all you notice is the silence in place of the answer you’re desperate for. 

You feel like an idiot for letting your guard down, for thinking that maybe, just maybe, she felt the same way you did. You had been so careful not to get your hopes up, to not read into the care she had shown you over the past few weeks. But in that moment, when she kissed you, all those reservations abandoned you. Now, standing here with the echo of your voice ringing in the air, you see how badly you’ve messed up. The realisation breaks your heart all over again.

You swipe a hand through your hair, pushing it out of your face, and notice that your cheeks are wet with tears. You wipe at them angrily, not caring if she sees how much she’s hurt you. 

“You were right,” you say, voice now quiet and defeated, “this was a mistake.” 

You turn and walk away before you see the effect your words have on her.

You're standing at the door when you hear her broken voice utter your name, “Please, don’t leave.”

You freeze with your hand on the handle, holding back the sob that threatens to rip from your throat. You make the mistake of turning around and the pieces of your already broken heart shatter even further. There’s a desperation in her face that’s painfully familiar, but you can’t place from where. It’s all too much to bear, and you force yourself to turn your back on her.

“Goodbye, Emily.” 

As you step out the door, you hear a gut-wrenching sob leave her. It takes everything you have not to fall to your knees and let her break your heart over and over again.

ao3

[the-boy-meets-evil]

maybe something sweet and fluffy with woozi. trying to stay late to surprise him with dinner or something but he finds you asleep on the couch. he's been stressed and working more than usual (insane behavior) and you just wanna help him relax and take the weight off his shoulders

pairing: jihoon x gn!reader genre: est. relationship | fluff, maybe the tiniest bit suggestive rating: e for everyone (but this blog is still 18+) word count: 1440 warnings: mentions of food but nothing else

author's note: thank you for sending this! i am painfully late with this (and wanted to wait to finish all the requests before posting). this is for my baby @effortandmore for her birthday drabbles. ily lauren 💕 divider by @cafekitsune

taglist: @crepecakeu, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizoon, @klecksstorys, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @naajaeminsgf, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @harry-the-pottypus, @pyeonghongrie-main, @nuttywastelandmentality (strikethrough means can’t tag, check your settings!), join my taglist here

You’ve loved Jihoon for a long time. As a friend first and then slowly as something much more. When you first met him, you thought he was hard to read. Difficult to ever really know. As you spent more time around him, that idea morphed into something else as well. He’s not the kind of person to be vocal about what he’s thinking or feeling. If you’re waiting for him to tell you how he feels, then you’re going to be waiting for a while. Unless you know where to look.

That’s probably why it took you time to realize all the ways he was telling you that you were more than a friend to him. Over time, he started inviting you just to be around him when he was working on projects at home. Or inviting you over to do your own work at his place while he did chores around the house. Slowly, you realized that he always had your favorite snacks in the cupboards and favorite drinks in the fridge. Occasionally you would even mention needing something in passing and it would show up delivered to your house a day or two later. Never with a note, but always with the understanding that it was Jihoon taking care of it. Taking care of you. You realized that your heart shifted to caring about him as more than a friend before your brain even caught up. It was like he had been showing you all along that you could depend on him. 

Jihoon isn’t always one to say what he’s feeling, but he likes to hear it from you. It’s cute to watch his face light up when you tell him how much he means to you or why you think about him throughout the day. He’s easy, though, because he’s just as happy to have you around. Sometimes you don’t say anything at all, just curl up on the couch to watch a favorite show. Those are some of your favorites because you know how much space he’s made for you in his home. You know how important that space is to him so that he can recharge. But, he accepts you like you always belonged there with him. 

Lately, work has been a little overwhelming for him. Maybe not overwhelming as much as busy. You know how much he likes to be busy and would prefer that to work being too slow. It’s also clear how much he likes to solve a problem and be the one to find that elusive solution. So, this project has been challenging, often resulting in him staying late, and you know he wouldn’t change it. Even on the nights where he doesn’t get home until it’s nearly time for bed. 

Tonight, you’re trying to do something a little bit nice for him. It’s been days on end, even some weekends, of him busting his ass on this project. And you don’t understand the words he’s using. Haven’t ever really been tech savvy enough to get programming. What you do know, though, is that he’s been surviving on too much caffeine and food delivery. Sometimes he does listen and order from healthier places. Sometimes it’s all he can do to remember to eat at all, so it’s whatever can get to him fastest. But, he seemed pretty confident that he would be out of work at a decent time tonight. You decide to use your key to his place and let yourself in to surprise him with a great home-cooked meal.

For someone that doesn’t really like cooking that much, Jihoon has a pretty well-stocked kitchen. Although, knowing how considerate he is, that’s probably mostly because you liked to cook at his place and complained about all the things he didn’t have. All you need to do is show up with your ingredients. You decide on a menu of comforting foods that also can either keep warm on the stove or be easily warmed up without losing flavor. 

You figure that you should let him know that you’re going to be there when he gets home so it doesn’t surprise him. The food can be the surprise even if he knows you’re there waiting for him. He seems excited to see you when you text him. When the food is all ready, you figure that you can have a glass of wine while you wait. 

Jihoon: i’m so sorry, this is taking longer than i thought to wrap up

You: that’s fine, take your time

It’s not uncommon for Jihoon to send a text like that when he’s in the middle of a project. He hates it and you know he does. But, you also assure him that it’s fine. You didn’t have any actual plans and he doesn’t need to rush through work on your account. 

While you’re waiting, you decide on a little taste test of the food you made, careful not to make it too obvious that you’ve had some. Not that he would care, you just want the presentation to be nice for Jihoon. With some good food and a glass of wine down, you’re a little sleepy. Cooking can do that to you. There’s no harm, you figure, in getting comfortable on the couch while you wait and putting on some background noise. 

You don’t even realize that you drift off until you feel someone’s arms sliding underneath you. Your eyes flitter open and land on Jihoon. He’s got his shaggy hair pulled back into an elastic with strands falling out from the length of the day. His face is soft with nothing more than complete love and adoration. It’s so clear that he doesn’t want to disturb you and that makes your heart constrict further. This man has been working for who knows how many hours and he’s still taking care of you.

“I’m awake, babe,” you say through a slightly groggy voice.

“Sorry, was trying not to wake you up,” he says and pulls his arms back.

You catch one of his hands to pull him back in for a quick kiss. “I’m glad I woke up.”

“The place smells really good,” he comments.

“Yeah, I made dinner,” you say.

His face brightens for a moment and it makes you nearly melt. “I would’ve left sooner if I’d known.” 

“It’s a surprise, you goober,” you say with a smile. You pull yourself into a sitting position.

“Hey, it’s fine, I can get a plate,” he says.

“No, no. You go have a nice shower and by the time you’re out, I’ll have it all ready,” you say and get to your feet.

“You don’t have to…” he starts and you press another kiss to his lips before turning him in the direction of the bathroom.

“Go,” you say.

It takes a minute to shake off the cobwebs from your unexpected nap. By the time you’re in the kitchen and warming everything back up, you can hear the water running in the bathroom and the music audible even over the sound of the shower. It sounds like one of his more upbeat playlists, which is a good thing. Even if he doesn’t say much, you can always tell his mood by what playlist he puts on. Tonight, it seems like he’s in a good mood despite the long day at work. Part of you hopes that you surprising him adds to the good mood. 

The water shuts off, leaving only the playlist as your background and you know you still have a little bit of time before he emerges. So, it’ll be perfect timing as nearly everything is ready again. You’re putting a plate together when he emerges from his bedroom in gym shorts and a t-shirt, wet hair still falling around his face. The smile on your face is instant.

“What?” he asks.

“You’re just beautiful,” you say, smile still bright.

“I must look exhausted,” he brushes off.

“Still beautiful,” you insist and delight in the way blush creeps up his neck. To save him from saying anything, you hand over a plate.

“Can’t believe you did this,” he mumbles softly.

“I thought you deserved a treat,” you say as you grab your own plate. 

“Just having you here is a treat,” he says, unusually sappy with you.

“So you don’t want the rest of the post-dinner treats I planned?” you ask innocently. 

“Didn’t say that,” he says, locking eyes with you.

“How early do you have to be in tomorrow?” you ask. 

“I have the day off,” he says.

“Don’t get too full, then. I’ve got plenty of surprises for you,” you say. 

hope you enjoyed it! let me know 💕

[theorphicangel]

𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬. | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Tags: enemies to lovers, college au, smut, 18+, slow burn,

synopsis: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single, brooding man in possession of a good future in genetics, must be in want of a girlfriend.

Or at least a fake one to get his family off his back.

(college au & fake dating trope ft my favourite grumpy man who doesn't fall first but ends up falling harder. ouch.)

Chapter two: low expectations.

taglist: @oharasfilipinawife @palesatan @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @amelialysm @crimin4llyins4ne

A/N: sorry for the late update, but imma catch you guys up 🫡

previous chapter | next chapter

Over the next few days you manage to get your pre-reading all done and dusted.

You can’t help but already feel exhausted by the amount of things that you have to juggle at university.

Just as soon as you were completed with one task, you groaned at the thought of your long list of remaining errands. Bills, assignments, grocery shopping and your shifts at the cafe were all piled on top of you constantly, not to mention your attempt to attend your lectures and classes, double checking that they were the right ones.

But the most stressful by far was trying to avoid your mother’s calls, which occurs at least twice a day. As of recently, you had thought that you were safe, coming up with excuses left, right and center.

At least that was before you had seen a missed call from your dad this morning.

That’s how you know that you’re really in the shits.

You’re gonna have to come up with something. And in quick timing.

But for now, you’re going to have to sideline your personal dilemmas.

With your new job at the cafe, you have no choice but to remain consistent with your routine, that is of course, if you want your new job to last.

After weeks of rejection or rather, the lack of replies, you had managed to secure a job at your roommate’s favorite cafe spot.

And by secure you mean that you had sort of lied about having experience in a cafe previously.

You didn’t entirely lie…just exaggerated the truth a little bit.

This was one of the only jobs that had replied to you out of a whole stockpile and you weren’t going to let it go to waste. Not under any circumstances.

You did have the experience of watching and observing what your classmate did at her family owned cafe whilst you were on the till for a few minutes.

But nonetheless, what’s so hard about making coffee? Anyone can do this shit. It’s okay if you’re learning on the job, doesn’t everyone? Currently, you succeed in trying to rotate between keeping track of orders and making drinks as well as trying not to get in MJ’s way too much.

But you were handling it to the best of your abilities. Even if that did mean messing up a few of your customers' orders every once in a while. MJ had said nothing about it so far which means that you're in the green light.

For now.

“You really should be getting some sleep, don’t let your first year knock you out before midterms.” She acknowledges, elbowing you slightly.

“I kno–” you barely finish your sentence, another yawn coming out of nowhere.

“See?” She hums, finishing off an order for the previous customer. “You need some beauty sleep.”

She’s referring to your bruised under eye bags that have started to appear. Ultimately, the results of you staying up till midnight yesterday to finish off an assignment. You had only managed to get a few hours of sleep before waking up in time for your 6am shift.

“I also need money, but we can’t have it all can we MJ?” you note, keeping your tone light before you move on to serve another customer.

You’ve only been on shift for a couple of hours but you think you’re coping well so far. MJ forewarned you about the morning lecture rush hour. You guessed that it was soon by glancing at the old clock hung up on the wall, indicating that it was just after 8:30 am. Students continued to spill in and out of the cafe, the bell above the front door continuously ringing in your ears.

A small line had begun to queue up and you swiftly moved through them with ease. As your next customer came up to the counter, your face lit up at the sight of a familiar face.

“Oh hey stranger–” you begin, recognising the same grueling face that you had seen last week bore into you. But you barely get a chance to finish your sentences before he cuts you off sharply.

“Coffee. Black.”

Your mouth forms an ‘o’ as you tap his order into the machine, immediately sensing his disgruntled aura. By the expression on his face, you can tell that he doesn’t seem up for teasing.

He seems…frustrated? Or maybe even upset?

“Name?”

“Miguel.”

You can’t tell whether he’s cranky because it’s 8am in the morning or rather that you failed to notice this the last time you saw him. Either way, it makes you a little dazed. Perhaps he wasn’t a morning person. You understood that because you were the complete same. Taking his name, you brush him off instead hoping that your coffee will cheer him up.

You inform him of the price and he swipes his card without a second glance. He leaves to take a seat in one of the corners of the cafe which just so happens to be the only part of the cafe that wasn’t so overwhelmed with customers.

It’s not long before you head over there yourself with his order.

“Here’s your black coffee.” you say, setting it down in front of him. Hastily, you’re about to run off to prepare your next order before his words stop you.

“I ordered a black coffee. Not a latte.”

You turn around abruptly, realizing your full mistake. “Oh shit, I’m sorry—”

“Are you new here or just incapable of making a simple cup of black coffee?” Miguel interrupts, his tone laced with vexation.

“Who do you think you’re–”

Your outrage comes to a halt by the sound of your name being called by MJ. You glance over your shoulder and notice her point towards an ever growing queue of customers. Shit, you don’t have time to cuss him out.

Taking a deep breath, you make the decision to be the bigger person, after all it’s like what your manager Steve said…

‘ The customer is always right.’

“I’ll bring it over for you, m’sorry.” you apologize again, rubbing at your forehead, suddenly overwhelmed with the pressure. With sweat beading at your brows, you look over to see a small queue beginning in front of the till again.

MJ throws you a hurried glance, a look which you know means ‘hurry the fuck up and make these orders.’

You end up taking longer than five minutes to return back to him, run ragged with the new orders of coffees, teas, lattes, macchiatos and hot chocolates that continue to pile up.

“Here you go, sorry about that.” You place his new and correct drink in front of him.

“No worries.”

You’re almost taken aback by his response. First he snaps at you and now he’s telling you not to worry about it? God, he was so confusing.

“Enjoy.”

You think that you hear a mutter of ‘thanks’ leave his mouth but you don’t turn back to hear his words clearly. Yet… you can’t exactly keep away.

For some reason your brain keeps lingering towards a burning question which has rattled your mind all through the past week. Giving in to your temptations, you end up turning around and prompt Miguel with another question.

“How did you know ‘Pride and Prejudice’ was set in the 19th century?”

“Huh?” He glances up from his phone, his thumb paused in his mindless scrolling.

“Last time, when I saw you in the library. You knew it was set in the 19th century.”

“I didn’t.'' Miguel huffs, and your eyes can help but notice the size of his biceps. You estimate that they’re bigger than your fucking hands. “It was an estimated guess.”

“Really? You don’t seem too-”

“Listen.” Miguel quips, his sharp tone suddenly returning, causing your voice to trail off midway through your sentence. His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose as he speaks. “I’m going to try and say this in the nicest way possible, but I’m really not in the mood for some crap about your literature degree, okay? I really couldn’t care less.”

Ouch.

Your expression drops and you’re immediately aware of the distance between the two of you.

He’s right. You barely know him. He’s just a guy who just so happened to be there at one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. “Right, sorry.”

You’re about to leave his table before he stops you…again.

“Y’know I ought to tell your manager that you messed up my order.” Miguel begins, continuing to scroll on his phone, not bothering to even look up at you. “This is a very reputable cafe and if you start slacking on the job then…”

“Then what?” You question. “Are you trying to threaten me with a bad review?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say threaten is the right word but…now that you say that perhaps I should write one.”

Your stomach drops at his words. “Oh, you fucking wouldn’t.”

He smirks, still peering down at his phone. “Maybe I would.”

“Bet.”

“Don’t start betting on things that you’ll end up regretting, nena.”

Your brow raises at his phrase which you don’t entirely understand but you really don’t have time to question it. Your patience is running out as well as your time to get back on track with the orders.

As you walk away from his table, his words seem to settle into your skin.

He wouldn’t? Would he? No… he hasn’t got the balls to. What kind of person has that amount of free time on their hands to write a bad review? At least he had gotten his coffee in the end, you were in your right mind not to spill it all over him on purpose.

“He’s a dick, he’s a dick, he’s a total dick.” You mutter under your breath, making your way back to your station. But you should’ve guessed that from your conversation with him in the library, recalling his mocking tone of your embarrassment.

You should’ve kept your expectations low if you ever thought that you were going to be friends with him.

“What did you say?” MJ queries, hearing your mumbles as you join her.

You nod towards Miguel, still sitting in the far corner scrolling mindlessly on his phone.

“He’s an evil, brooding…” You fail to think of an appropriate ending.

“Dick?” MJ ends.

“Correct.” you say. You promise to yourself that from this moment onwards you are refraining from looking over at that corner.

You find that time passes quickly during your shift and once the rush hour of students finally dies down, you and MJ get the chance to finally take a break.

“Fucking hell, I never want to do that again.” She murmurs wiping down the surfaces near the coffee machines for any spilt substances.

“Ditto that.” you murmur, grabbing a cloth to wipe down some empty tables.

Learning that MJ was a performing arts student made you more than happy to get along well with her. She was in her second year, yet in a sea of sickening STEM students here you had real proof that you weren’t the only humanities student.

Take that Miguel.

/

Currently eating dinner alone in your apartment, you reminisce on your day in silence, your roommate out at her weekly computer coding club. You think that it was safe to say that it was a good day today, despite all the stresses at work.

Speaking of work, you recall the conversation from this morning.

You don’t want to give this Miguel guy too much credit but you’d be lying if you said that his threat earlier didn’t scare the shit out of you for the remainder of your day.

Even MJ had to ask if you were alright when it got to the end of your shift and you had brushed it off, blaming it on your exhaustion.

He was totally bluffing….right? I mean, he doesn’t even know you.

You bite down on your metallic fork, anxiety rapidly filling you within.

No, you can’t help it. You have to check.

Chewing on your fingernails, you type in the name of the cafe that you work out and head over to the reviews section on Google.

Scrolling down to find the latest reviews, your stomach practically drops at one comment, under the simple username of: @miguelohara20.

‘New barista lacked the ability to do her job. Couldn’t pay attention to even get my order right. Talks way too much unprovoked, to the point where you might as well save some money and make the damn coffee yourself.’

The fucking nerve of this guy causes so much anger within you that your fork practically falls from your other hand as you immediately go to text MJ. You send her a screenshot before typing with fury.

- ‘Did you see this? This was that guy that I was complaining about earlier: the rude, evil, brooding STEM one.’

Sent: 7:34pm

It’s not long before you receive a reply from MJ and it’s one that makes your stomach drop.

- ‘Yeah I did :/ Steve texted me about it actually.

Received: 7:36pm

MJ sends through another text, a few seconds later.

- ‘He wants a meeting with you on ‘customer etiquette’ !!

Received 7:36pm

Dropping your phone on the table, you let out a groan, holding your head in your hands. Now, this day went from ‘good’ to being the second worst day of your life, now with your job on the line.

Yeah…you think you fucking hate Miguel now.

reblogs are much appreciated!

lmk if you would like to join the taglist!

[m3hgumi]

— when you have period cramps pt 2

a/n: check out part 1 to this here!

pairings: yuta okkotsu x f!reader, toge inumaki x f!reader, nanami kento x f!reader

genres: fluff, comfort, so much fluff bye

word count: 729

yuta okkotsu

bro was SO STRESSED 😭

first time you were doubled down in pain clutching onto yourself on the sofa in the common room of the dorm he thought you were dying

“oh my god y/n are you okay? why are you laying down like that? is something hurting you? tell me where it hurts, i swear i’ll beat up whoever tried to hurt yo-“

“babe calm down and just get me a heating pad from maki. please.”

“on it 🫡” HES LITERALLY SO CUTE PLEASEKWKSKS

usually he’d stay by your side bringing you snacks whenever you asked or just talked to distract you from the pain

this later turned into hour long video calls during his downtime when he started training with miguel overseas

he’d talk for as long as he could, sharing the new food he tried, what miguel has been teaching him, and updates on the mission that led him there

because of the time difference and also how busy he was, he wasn’t able to reach you as often as he’d like to

he’d apologize for not being able to physically be there to comfort you, which you would wave off with a laugh because there isn’t really anything that could be done about it

he was trying his best though and that’s all that mattered to you 😪

inumaki toge

like itadori he was also very confused at first as to why you were wincing in pain while walking awkwardly towards him

he’d calmly ask you if you got hurt anywhere, with his hands reaching to you as he thought you were about to fall over

once the two of you got to somewhere more comfortable (like the common room or his dorm), you begin to explain where the pain was coming from

he could only sympathize with you, giving a worrisome and concerning look

but now he also realizes why maki gets snappier than usual on a particular week of the month 🤭

from then on he would be your personal errand boy, grabbing pads, chocolate, or any other good you’re craving from the store whenever you asked

he’d let you lay your head in his lap as you kept the heating pad on your lower stomach

he’d get you to watch youtube videos and tiktoks with him (anything you like)

if your cramps were getting particularly bad, he’d gently take your hand and draw circles on it in an attempt to ease the pain

if you’re comfortable with it he’d also do the same on your stomach (where the pain was really coming from)

though he can’t really endlessly talk to you to distract from the pain, his warming presence was more than enough to lull your mind from the pain

nanami kento

over the years he’s gotten very good at helping you get through shark week

like megumi he also has your period tracker synced to his phone so he can be notified of when he should stock up on supplies (ie. pads, compresses, snacks, pain meds, etc.)

he’ll also try (keyword: try) to not go into overtime at work so he could as much time with you as possible

also like megumi he isn’t fazed by your emotional outbursts or mood swings, as he knows its just the pain getting the better of you at times

if you don’t usually have an appetite while you’re on your period, he’ll cook you a small meal and slowly feed it to you, making sure you actually ate it before going back into the kitchen again

he’ll also try to limit the amount or cravings (chocolate and chips) you eat during the week and replace them with healthier options like fruit (ok health icon nanami 🙄) since he doesn’t want you having a stomachache after eating all of those sweets

also because it mildly reminds him of gojos gross sugar intake

if your feet or shoulders are aching, he’ll gladly give you massages to ease the tension in those areas

if you get bored of the shows on tv then he will read to you until you fall asleep

his reading voice, typically dull and monotone, rings music to your ears as your consciousness begins to slip away, resulting in your eyelids coming closer together to let you fall into a peaceful sleep (i should maybe shut up now)

© m3hgumi 2023. all rights reserved. do not copy, modify, or repost my works anywhere

[cjayius]

ditto — yang jungwon

⭑ i want you so , so say it ditto . bsf!jungwon + bsf!reader , kinda idiots to lovers . wc 1.8k

THE FIRST TIME YOU MET JUNGWON , YOU WERE SEVENTEEN.

headphones blasting the opening bars of the smiths, you lightly skipped to the bus stand, bag in hand. the light drizzle didn’t bother you much as you walked through the light drops of water without an umbrella.

“ shit. “ you muttered to yourself as you checked your watch. five minutes to nine, you barely had five minutes before you were late to your first day of class. the wait for the bus felt like hours, tapping your foot in impatience.

as if things couldn’t get worse, a tall figure ran at you, stopping too late and as a result, crashing into your small frame. along with said boy, you were thrown to the ground, mud splattering your new white lace shirt. you stared at him in surprise as he mumbled several apologies, helping you to your feet.

“ i’m yang jungwon, and im so sorry about your shirt, i can get you a new one if you want- “ he blinked his eyes in confusion when you interrupted him, touching his arm lightly. he thanked you as you handed him his bag, “ don’t worry about it, jungwon. it looks like we’re headed to the same class, do you want to go together ? “

THE FIRST TIME YOU REALIZED YOU MIGHT HAVE A SLIGHT CRUSH ON HIM , YOU WERE EIGHTEEN.

needless to say, both you and jungwon were late to class that day, though the incident made the two of you close. so close that you could call him your bestfriend now.

now eighteen, fresh out of school, all you planned to do was relax for the summer. the exams were more than enough stress, and all you needed was a break. which is why jungwon suggested that you stay over at his house for the week.

you were skeptical, but how could you say no to those big brown eyes ?

that was how you ended up sprawled on the couch, with jungwon’s legs resting atop yours. he was fresh from the shower, hair damp and hanging over his eyes, brown eyes plastered onto the tv screen. you hated how it felt so comfortable, so normal and you hated the fact that you loved moments like this with him.

you turned away as soon as he glanced at you, blush rising to your cheeks as he reached out to pull you closer. “ its coldddd, come closer ! “

maybe you liked him just a tiny bit.

THE FIRST TIME YOU REALIZED IT MIGHT BE MORE THAN JUST A CRUSH, YOU WERE NINETEEN.

second year of college was hectic, but being in the same college as your bestfriend did have its advantages. you smiled as he ran towards you, tackling you in a warm hug. ruffling his hair as you pulled back, you take a good look at him.

three years together, and the two of you really had changed. his hair was longer now, he had dyed it a lighter shade of brown, and he had become way taller than he was the summer of two years ago.

“ hi, won. “ you sounded breathless almost, as jungwon smiled that amazing smile at you. god, you were so in love with this boy, but you would never let him know. so in love with the way his eyes twinkled when he looked at something he loved.

too bad you never looked at him long enough to notice him looking at you that way.

THE FIRST TIME YOU CONSIDERED GIVING UP ON HIM, IT WAS NEW YEARS.

the new years party before the next year of college would start, was a tradition for you and jungwon. usually, the two of you would be in attendance together, dancing and singing by each other’s side.

that was until this year swung by, and he was seated on the other side of the room with your classmate, both of them laughing uncontrollably, minhee placing small touches on his arm, here and there.

you hated the feeling brewing inside of you at the moment. you hated that you didn’t like seeing him with a girl who wasn’t you.

after all these years, you had assumed you were the only one who could make your bestfriend laugh like that, but maybe you were wrong, considering that he hadn’t left minhee’s side the whole night. maybe you weren’t good enough.

the time to dwell on your thoughts was snatched away from you by a boy you were quite familiar with. you raised your eyebrows as nishimura riki pulled you to your feet, grinning. “ dance ? “ he held out his hand for you to take.

when you still looked unconvinced, he chuckled. “ i thought you looked a bit sad staring at jungwon hyung and his date, so i thought i’d distract you for a while. “ you giggled as he smiled at you, accepting his hand.

jungwon loved riki like a younger brother, and you could tell why. the boy certainly did a great job of distracting you from jungwon, entertaining you all night and never leaving your side, except now, to find his phone.

you barely spared jungwon a glance as he walked up to your side, leaning against the drink table. “ fun night, yeah ? “ he frowned, as you nodded, briskly walking away from him.

“ hey, what’s wrong ? “ he stepped closer to you, trying to reach for your hand, but in vain, as you stepped back. “ i’d tell you, but you don’t want to keep your date waiting. you’d better go back. “

“ date ? no i- “ you didn’t give him a chance to question your sudden change in behaviour as you walked out, heading straight to your dorm room.

THE FIRST TIME YOU SPENT A DAY WITHOUT HIM, YOU REALIZED HOW MUCH YOU MISSED HIM.

even a few days after you had stormed out on jungwon, the two of you hadn’t talked. well, jungwon did try, but you brushed him off each time.

he was confused as to why his bestfriend was acting this way; he had an idea, of course, but he didn’t have the courage to actually voice it.

you, on the other hand, knew you had no right to be mad at jungwon. he could date anyone he wanted to , but you wanted that person to be you.

three years of spending every single day with your bestfriend, and you had forgotten what it was like to be alone. it was the night before your twentieth birthday, and you were whiling away time by playing with your cat.

“ i miss won, momo. “ you sighed to yourself as you gently ran your hands through the white cat’s thick fur.

THE FIRST TIME YOU SAW JUNGWON DRUNK, YOU HAD JUST TURNED TWENTY.

thirty minutes past twelve, and you were now twenty. it seemed a scary age to face on your own and you were putting your coat on, about to leave to apologize to jungwon, when your door was flung open.

you stared on in surprise as a half asleep jungwon hung from jay’s shoulders. the older male looked exhausted as he glanced back at you, pleading for help. “ thank you so much, jungwon’s really heavy. “ he sighed as you helped jungwon off, letting the boy lean on you.

“ he’s really tiring, i don’t know how you’ve made it out dating him. “ he laughed lightly, but you were confused. “ d - dating ? me and won ? “ you pointed to yourself in shock.

“ well, yeah. i just assumed after all these years that-“ jay stopped short, tilting his head at you, pausing for a few seconds before breaking out into laughter. “ oh god, you’re both idiots, aren’t you ? i’ll leave you to it, then, take care of won for me. “ to say that you were left even more confused was an understatement.

but it was not the time to get caught up in your thoughts because it looked like jungwon was about throw up, all over your new rug. “ won, no. you are NOT throwing up on this rug, it was expensive as shit. “ you groaned as you dragged him to the bathroom, his hand thrown over your shoulder. god, he really was heavy.

anyone who had seen you would have laughed at how much you struggled to get jungwon to wash his face. three changes of shirts and a whole hour later, you finally got the boy to comply with you, patting a dry towel onto his damp hair.

yet again, his gaze never left you, brown eyes staring up at you in admiration. you absolutely hated when jungwon did this, it made you feel weird. which is why you resorted to looking at anything but the boy before you.

jungwon seemed to be coming to his senses and by now had noticed you avoiding his gaze, which wasn’t something he appreciated. he took ahold of your wrists, halting your motions on his hair. “ why won’t you look at me ? “ he pouted, bottom lip jutting out.

you sighed, throwing the now damp towel on the counter and walking past jungwon. you had barely made it into the living room when his pleading, desperate voice stopped you. “ i love you. “

well, now you felt like laughing. did he think this was a joke ? " jungwon, don't say things you don't mean, alright ? now come with me so i can get you some soup. "

he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back, flush against his chest. " no, i love you. i have since we were seventeen, and i'm sorry it took me so long to tell you. "

you felt like you were in a dream as his arms gently wrapped around your figure, " it's just - riki told me that minjae from business was going to tell you he liked you, and he seemed like a way better option than me, and i was just scared that- "

he paused, confused when he heard the sound of your laugh. turning around you placed a hand on his shoulder. " won, you're so stupid. how have you not realized that i've liked you all this while ? "

jungwon felt like he was going to combust when you stood on your toes to hug him. the girl he had liked for so many years, actually liked him back ? god was real.

he smiled, hugging you back, " we really are idiots, aren't we ? " his grip on your waist tightened when you pulled back to look at him, placing a light kiss on the corner of his lips, " yes, but you're my idiot, so it's okay. "

THE FIRST TIME YOU KNEW WHAT IT WAS LIKE TO BE LOVED BACK, YOU WERE TWENTY.

tags : @gfkims @mellowdyverse @cassie6392 [dm or comment to be added]

[willowsnook]

hey i’ve been loving your bar prompts that you’ve written so far!

could i please get a martini glass of coke and rum?

thank you :)

thank you friend!

oscar piastri x stranger!reader

me and him? that's funny

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

After an especially horrible day at work, you found yourself alone at a quiet bar nursing a glass of wine, half-watching the soccer game on TV. Your mind raced with thoughts of how much longer you could endure your job, given that your boss seemed to believe he was the center of the universe. So caught up in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the man occupying the seat next to you, scrolling through his phone.

“I’m about to clock out. Can I close you guys out before I leave? Together, right?” The bartender’s voice snapped you out of your daze. You glanced at the guy beside you before shaking your head.

“Me and him? That’s funny,” you chuckled, waving off the idea and motioning for separate checks. The guy next to you frowned, looking genuinely confused.

“Why would that be funny?” he asked, his tone light but curious.

You blinked, surprised he even cared. “Aren’t you like... 18?”

He smirked, clearly amused. “I’m 23, actually.”

Your face flushed in embarrassment. “Oh. Sorry about that.”

He gave a slight shrug, clearly enjoying your reaction. “No need to apologize. Though you literally look like you’re my age.”

“Uh, yeah… I’m 22,” you muttered, feeling a little sheepish.

The smirk on his face widened as he leaned back on his stool. “So, what brings you here tonight?”

“Bad day at work,” you said, grateful for the topic change. “What about you?”

“Same,” he admitted, holding up his glass. You clinked yours against his with a small smile.

“Have you lived in Monaco long?” you asked, noting that his accent was definitely from somewhere else.

“A couple of years. Moved here for work,” he replied. “How about you?”

“Same here, but I’m not complaining. It’s a beautiful place, and it’s quiet, which I like.”

“Not a fan of the busy life?”

“Not really into loud noises,” you said with a chuckle. He laughed too, a little too knowingly, as if he found something particularly amusing about that statement.

As the conversation flowed, you found yourself feeling lighter, your stressful day slipping further from your mind. You listened as he shared a bit about work, how he struggled with constantly being compared to a coworker and not knowing exactly how to act. You related to that feeling and appreciated how easily he opened up, especially to someone he’d just met.

Hours passed, and soon the bar was closing down. To your dismay, your new friend insisted on picking up the tab before you could argue.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” you grumbled as you both stepped outside.

“I wanted to,” he said with a smile.

“I don’t even know your name,” you pointed out, realizing how much time you’d spent talking without exchanging formalities.

“Oscar,” he said simply, offering a hand. You introduced yourself in return, your hand meeting his briefly.

“Well, Y/N, I’ve got to head back, but I had a good time tonight. Thanks for the company,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, you too. It was nice talking to you, Oscar.”

He lingered for a moment, a smile tugging at his lips. “Hey, if you ever have another bad day... maybe we’ll bump into each other here again.”

You smiled, feeling a little hopeful at the thought. “Maybe we will.”

He gave a small wave before heading off into the night, and you watched him go, feeling a sense of calm after the stressful day. The conversation had felt so natural, like two strangers simply enjoying each other's company.

When you got home, curiosity got the better of you. A quick search revealed his full name—Oscar Piastri. As you stared at the search results, you realized he was a rising star in Formula 1. The surprise made you laugh to yourself, thinking back on how casual the evening had been. No hints, no bragging, just a genuine, down-to-earth conversation with someone you had unexpectedly clicked with.

Maybe your bad day hadn’t been so bad after all.

[anystalker707]

"Show me how to kiss?"

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x [gender neutral] Reader Summary: Two sets of headcanons: one in which you ask Zoro to show you what it is like to kiss and another one in which he's the one to ask. Tags: Shy Zoro / Fluffy and loving / Also sorta funny Check out (Vinsmoke Sanji's version)

MASTERLIST

If you’re the one to ask him...

• He just. He doesn’t know how to kiss either. I mean, do you think he ever had the time or mindset to do it??

• So, it’s messy. None of you really know what to do.

• Behind it all, Zoro has been kinda hoping he could kiss you and you’d been looking at him in a different way lately, so something like that was sort of bound to happen at some point

• It’s like a switch turns for you two, and it’s impossible to stop after that because, after all, you gotta practice to be perfect, right?

          “...They wouldn’t stop kissing.” You sighed, twisting your mouth a little as you thought back to the couple you saw at a bar when hanging out with the crew at an island. You and Zoro were out on the deck for the night watch; he sat back against the railing while you had your back on the ground, observing the stars above you. Once in a while, a colder breeze would make you shiver, but it wasn’t really that bad. The gentle rocking of the ship would intensify your tiredness, at times, but never enough to make your consciousness slip away into slumber, which resulted in sporadic and pointless talks. “It was obnoxious.”

Zoro hummed in agreement, shaking his head as he kept his gaze far in the horizon.

“What’s so great about it?”

He raised an eyebrow, humming again, and looked at you.

“About kissing,” you explained, sitting up and scooting closer to him with a sigh. “What’s good about it?”

...Why would he know? Zoro blushed a little as he looked away and preferred not to answer it. Maybe you’d give up on the question or talk about something else. Having to deal with always trying to find something other than the annoying couple at the bar was already stressful enough.

“Zoro.” You nudged him. “Can I ask you something?”

He blinked and looked at you for a moment. He nodded. You were a pain in the ass everyday—affectionately—, so he was mostly used to what you could come up with.

“Look, I don’t know how to say it without making it awkward, but like, I trust you, so...” You sighed, your eyes averting away for a moment. “Like, could you show me how to kiss? I never really had any time to think about it because I was always training to be strong out in the sea, y’know?” Was Zoro even paying attention? Even in the dark, you could see his red cheeks. Did you say something wrong?

“I can’t help you with that.” He kept looking forward, eyes narrowed. You knew that serious posture was just a play. It was when Robin and you ran into him taking care of babies.

You pouted. “What? C’mon, I’m just curious. We’ll just never talk about it.”

Zoro didn’t bulge, only groaning when you poked his side, squirming away more than he usually would. “I already said I can’t help you with that!”

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing really ever came from your mouth. Instead, you searched in your mind for some reference, however, you could only remember Zoro always in the corners of bars or celebrations or over the sake. He was never the type to be around hitting on someone like Sanji did nor pay attention to whoever approached him. Maybe...

“I think I get it.” You smirked a little. “You don’t know how to kiss either.”

The flush on Zoro’s face intensified as he gasped and widened his eyes. “Wh—What are you talking about?”

You chuckled. Of course, Zoro, the swordsman with his unbelievable focus on becoming the best ever and his whole damn shyness wouldn’t allow him to be with anyone else either. It was almost relatable.

“It’s obvious Zoro. You can tell me, though,” you continued, ignoring the stuttering mess he was in, “y’know, it all makes sense. And I’m, like, the closest one to you here, you can at least admit it to me, right?” You elbowed his side a little—you didn’t give a fuck about it, to be honest, it was just nice seeing him like that. “I’m up to helping you with it, though, hm? What do you say?” You chuckled again, but made sure to keep a serious hint. It was all a joke until he agreed. If he disagreed, you were just fucking around, right?

Zoro’s face was so red. He could feel it burning and everything felt too much. His heart already felt like it would rip off his chest, and then the way you elbowed his side and that your face was so close to his that he could feel your breath on the side of his face, he was—

“Fine!” He breathed before he could notice it himself.

You raised your eyebrows. Did you hear it right? “Fine,” huh? Your own cheeks warmed up at the thought.

“You really...”

“Don’t make me regret it.” Zoro gulped, and you almost chuckled as he shifted to face you, his eyes still not looking anywhere near yours.

Despite fooling around the whole time, a serious atmosphere fell over both of you simultaneously, having the two of you gradually fall quiet. Zoro took a deep breath while you already looked at his eyes, waiting for his gaze to meet yours, which it did, eventually, even if still a little uncertain. You wanted to smile, laugh and hide all at the same time, but still held the gaze.

The ship had never been that quiet and maybe the wind was a little colder than you thought it to be. It didn’t matter, though, because Zoro’s hand was warm against your cheek, and you held onto his wrist out of reflex, which also felt warm. A quiet exchange of gazes was enough to determine you were ready and he was leaning in.

It was slow and careful, with nervousness lacing it, but still sweet nonetheless.

Zoro’s nose tickled a little when it brushed against your own nose, as if testing the waters before you leaned in properly. The distance was miscalculated and your lips brushed together too soon, making both of you pull away at the same time as if it’d burned. It didn’t burn, no, but there was something.

Your eyes met Zoro’s and he had a similar look on his face—so he felt it too. He mirrored the small smile that showed up across your face before the two of you leaned in again, carefully and slowly letting your lips meet.

Warm. Zoro’s lips were warm, but the kiss also made you feel something inside your chest that stirred up with the “kiss”, and made you lean in for more as you’d seen other people do, which snatched a soft gasp from Zoro, but he still tried to make up for it. If anything, things were just messy. None of you really knew what to do, trying to set your own rhythm but also match with the other’s and put in practice only brief notions you only had so far.

Suddenly, Zoro had his other hand cupping the side of your neck, which made you pause for a moment, but it was more than enough for him to figure out exactly what was missing and make the kiss more of a kiss. You just followed his lead this time, letting his lips guide yours through a gentle and uncertain kiss that maybe awakened more in you that you were aware of.

Cold air replaced Zoro’s lips when he pulled away. Your mind was still a little fuzzy, so you took a moment to open your eyes, already meeting his waiting gaze when you did so.

“That...” You whispered and gulped. The small pause had Zoro holding his breath and tensing up. “Can we do it again?”

Zoro chuckled, closing his eyes as he blushed again. “I hoped you’d say that...”

The new kiss had actual synchrony, even if it was barely present. Your hands actually held onto his shoulders this time as you pressed yourself closer, allowing the kiss to be deeper.

There was a look on Zoro’s face when he pulled away this time, one you couldn’t quite read. “You taste nice.”

“I taste nice?” You chuckled. “What’s it like?”

“It’s...” Zoro sighed, blinking a couple of times as he looked at you. “Sweet. What do I taste like?”

“Sake.” You answered without missing a bit, which made his face fall a little; you chuckled.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

If he asks you...

• Zoro’s been thinking about it for a while now, to be honest, trying to find an excuse to make it happen

• He genuinely didn’t think it would be that good. He had little faith in it—mostly curiosity—, but when you kiss him, he just ends up getting lost and wants more. Just wants you to show him everything. Also uses the excuse he gotta practice to get perfect

          “What’re you so grumpy about?” You raised an eyebrow, seeing Zoro walk in while grumbling under his breath. He usually didn’t come over to the aquarium bar when you were there during the afternoons messing with your own stuff just like the rest of the crew, so he certainly wanted attention that you were more than willing to give.

Zoro took a seat next to you, scowling. “That damn cook.”

“Oh.” You raised your eyebrows and sighed with a nod without looking up from the stuff you messed with. There were a few lists of what each one of the crew needed since you would soon make a stop on another island, so you needed to organize all of those and estimate how much money you’d need, and thinking wasn’t very easy with Zoro there, but it probably wasn’t anything that bad since it was just more fighting with Sanji. Not that he really cared about it, but you supposed it was a way of him gaining your attention despite how shy he tended to be. He wasn’t that shy around you, though. It was even funny when people commented about him being only cold and stoic—he could be, yeah, but he was also too shy for his own good.

“He’s spilling some stuff about kissing today, y’know?” Zoro huffed, crossing his arms. “About how he misses it and how I wouldn’t understand because I’ve never kissed!” He growled.

“Is it true, though?” You mumbled between the numbers of berries. 15 minus 7 resulted in 8, then 2 minus 1 would be 1, so 11 minus 7, so it would be...

Zoro clicked his tongue. “I’m not like him.”

“That doesn’t answer the question,” you hummed. So, 15 minus 7 was 8, then the 2 turned into 1, and 11 minus—

“I don’t have time to waste around like he does, kissing and— and hell knows what.” He looked down with pursed lips then turned to you.

“Right.” You inhaled deeply and scratched out the math you were doing to start it all over again later. “It’s not really a waste of time, I mean. Depends on the person. What, you’re aromantic or something? Or just never kissed? You’re sounding a little too bitter about something so irrelevant.” Now and then, Zoro just needed you to poke him with the raw truth so he would ground himself in reality again a little.

“I—I wouldn’t think about it.” Zoro clicked his tongue, looking away again. “I got better things to do.”

You sighed, putting your pen away and sitting back on the couch. “I mean, you never tried it. I wouldn’t be so secure about it myself, in your position, but you do you, right? I'm no one to judge."

Maybe that rubbed off on Zoro the wrong way. He raised an eyebrow at you for a long moment, but all you could do was shrug and nod at him to say something already. You had work to do, after all.

"If you're so sure about it, then show me."

"What?"

"Show me how to kiss." Zoro's face had a tinge of red despite how confident he tried to seem.

Despite the surprise, a smirk still tugged on your lips as you raised your eyebrows. "Oh? You sure? Wanna give me your first kiss? Am I that special?"

He clicked his tongue and looked away once again. "Don't be annoying about it or else I'm leaving."

A chuckle erupted from your lips as you tugged a little on his haramaki when Zoro started to stand up. The way he put it all made you want to tease him more to humble him down a little, but you knew better than that; things probably wouldn't go the right way if you kept him there grumpier than he already was or even accidentally scared him away, something you absolutely didn’t want before such an opportunity.

“Come on, don’t be like that.” You scooted a little closer to Zoro on the couch, putting an arm over the backrest of the couch, behind him. “Right, seriously. You mean it?”

A little crease was still there between Zoro’s furrowed eyebrows as he glanced you up and down, with his arms still crossed over his chest.

“Okay.” You rolled your eyes. He could be just like that sometimes. Annoying.

“How do you do it? Is there any secret trick or—” Zoro shrugged and raised an eyebrow at you. His shoulders dropped a little from their jagged stance and his arms weren’t crossed so tightly anymore.

“I mean, there’s no secret, but there are a few tips I wish I knew before I did it the first time, y’know?” You shifted a little, trying to push your mind away from annoying numbers to a new setting instead. “Like, it’s not necessarily a continuous thing, and it’s sort of you kissing my upper lip while I kiss your bottom one and then vice versa, but you can also— You’re not listening, are you?”

“I’m not.” Zoro confessed with that grin that made you want to punch it right off his face. “Your lips do look nice while you talk, though.”

“...Shameless bastard.”

“What was that?” He narrowed his eyes at you.

“Nothing!” You mirrored his expression and clicked your tongue, holding back a chuckle. “You’re quite useless sometimes, huh? You listen to nothing.” Your hand cupped Zoro’s face gently, letting your thumb reach the corner of his lips before going down along his lip. “That’s why you’re such an empty head, got nothing but muscles...”

Zoro grinned. “You may complain, but you just never get away from me.”

“I’ll just make you shut up at once.”

His hand held onto your elbow as you leaned in and finally pressed your lips to Zoro’s. It was a simple kiss, just keeping your lips against his for a few seconds before pulling back again. A light blush dusted his cheeks and he still glanced at your lips, so you leaned in once again to give him a kiss that wasn’t just like a prolonged peck, actually moving your lips together.

Zoro wasn’t the best at it—of course not—, but he still tried, his grip against your elbow tightening a little at times while he messily kissed you back, trying to keep it up and mirroring your movements. His lips were clumsy and messy, but still something that you could guide and make the whole thing worth something. You held his cheek as you deepened the kiss a little, which made his breath get caught in his throat and his lips get a little lost for a second before they followed your lead again.

The mere seconds you had to pull away already felt like too long, with you exchanging gazes with Zoro to silently check if everything was alright, before your lips were pressed together again. Your tongue ran against his bottom lip this time, actually snatching a gasp from him.

“Is it okay?” You whispered, furrowing your eyebrows a little. Just a few inches still serpared your faces, having you both feel each other’s out of pace breathing.

Zoro nodded. “I just wasn’t waiting for that.”

“Is it okay, though?” You grinned again, seeing him grow flustered once more.

“...Do it again.”

You did kiss Zoro and lick his bottom lip once again, but this time, he opened his lips and allowed you to slip your tongue past his lips. There was a little taste of sake still, already faint. He still didn’t know what to do, but the way you held onto his jaw did ground him a little so he would calm down.

“Good?” You whispered against his lips, lips still grazing him.

Zoro’s breath hitched as he tried to catch his breath, hazy eyes observing you from close. “Do... Do it again.”

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

[sammysficfactory]

Check That

eren yeager x black!femreader

summary: sometimes when family crosses boundaries, you have to remind them of their place. my excuse to write thanksgiving clapbacks

wc: ~0.5k

tags: fluff, comedy

warnings: mentions of food

notes: happy thanksgiving if you celebrate!, school is whooping me sorry i haven’t been posting often😭, beta read, inspired by those tiktoks, mostly centered around the reader, i feel like i’m just yapping in this👎🏾, feedback is welcome

Every year. You don’t even know why you come to your grandmother’s house every thanksgiving just to deal with your hypocritical family. You wish you would’ve just gone over Eren’s family’s house instead. Your leg bounces and Eren rubs your knee comfortingly.

“Y/N, why do you sneak off on us every other holiday? We are your family, you shouldn’t avoid us like that.” An aunt not-so-secretly judges you, her southern drawl making it all the more demeaning, but this year you came prepared.

“The same reason the repo man snuck off with that busted Nissan of yours.” You reply nonchalantly, causing your boyfriend to choke on his greens before covering it up by taking a sip of his water. Quiet snickers are heard across the large rectangular table as you continue to eat.

“Still ain’t got the car back yet either.” Your mother says under her breath, but loud enough for you and Eren to hear. You smirk, trying to keep yourself from laughing. You appreciate the fact that your parents have always had your back when you needed it.

That seemed to be enough to keep your aunt quiet for a good while. You bask in the warmhearted laughs and conversation now that your shady aunt has nothing more to say. The comfort of family is beginning to melt all the stress of your daily life away. That is until your aunt Jackie’s daughter Destiny decides to chime in on the topic of marriage. She’s been giving Eren bedroom eyes the entire evening.

“So cuz, this is the first time you brought Eren over for a family dinner. Are y’all a serious thing?” She twirls her fork in the spaghetti on her plate, making doe eyes at Eren that causes him to screw his face up slightly.

“Eren and I are just as serious as your fraud charges. Thank you for your concern, can you pass the yams?” You reply, rolling your eyes and feeling annoyed all over again. Your knee bounces a bit more intensely and just like always, Eren is right there to soothe you. He rubs your knee and places a kiss on your cheek for good measure. You exhale heavily, doing your best to keep yourself in check.

A few hours later with no further incidents, you and Eren say your goodbyes and leave out the door. You get in the passenger seat and let out a heavy and exhausted sigh. Eren turns your head towards him gently, just two fingers on your jaw and chin. He places a long, soft, and loving kiss on your lips.

“You did good today, I thought we were gonna have to get it poppin’ on thanksgiving.” He jokes, resulting in a chuckle coming from you. His eyes seem to glow a little when he sees you smile, a satisfied look on his face.

“There she is, there’s my lady.” He almost coos at you, his voice is just as soothing and warm as the smile on his face before he brings you in for another kiss. The two of you pull away slowly, taking some time just to stare at each other and decompress together.

The two of you make it home with plastic bags of takeaway containers in tow, setting them on the table before separating them into what the two of you would eat on your own, and what you would share. Ultimately stuffed, you and Eren lay on the couch tangled in each other’s limbs watching Charlie Brown movies.

[tidbit-fanfic]

A/N: WOW did this take forever. Did you think I’d honestly leave Forever & Always as it was? Here’s your fix-it-fic, part two to Forever & Always, but of course you don’t have to read this if you don’t want to fix things. That’s fine.

TW: 18+ Smut, protected sex (wrap your willy silly), car sex, blood, cannon level violence, angsty angst, the l-word, Micheal, mention of castration, spanking, makeup/angry sex?, fluffy fluff

No one ever said breakups were easy. Months passed before I could even look Dean in the eye again, and more passed until we returned to how we were before the relationship had ever happened. We formed a close bond and worked together on case after case. I accompanied Castiel and Kelly when the Winchesters were arrested, and I became a major support during Kelly’s pregnancy, within the limits set by Cas. When they busted out to raise more hell? I was there to help clean up after them. 

Things became rocky when Dean began lashing out towards Jack. I slammed my fist into his jaw one time. I don’t regret it, and I don’t think I ever will. He left in a huff after, ignoring me, as Sam and I tried to make sense of everything. A whirlwind of catastrophic events later, Dean stepped forward, doing the one thing he promised he never would: let Micheal in. 

“Anyone find anything?” 

“Sam, we’ve been searching for weeks, and every time you ask that question, what’s the answer?”

The younger Winchester pushes his hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving his lungs. “Just hoping for something.”

“I know. You miss him, but we’re working overtime to scrounge up anything on him. Have you even slept in the past twenty-four hours?” I stand from the rickety chair I’d been sitting in for the past hour, looking into Sam’s eyes. His face quickly switched to one of guilt, a shy, school-boyish look taking over his features. My hands found their place on my hips, taking on a motherly stance. “Go. Sleep. Now.”

“But—”

“Now, Samuel.” He runs off to his room to get some sleep, hopefully. I turn back to my small team of five people. They all shake their heads, a couple returning their eyes to the screen sitting before them. With no sign of Dean, Sam and Mary have become overly stressed, constantly checking in on any form of a lead. Meanwhile, Jack and Cas are out doing their own little thing, leaving me to manage this small team, checking sources daily. Micheal must be covering his tracks extremely well because our facial scanners have reported back nothing about Dean, or any unnatural glitching. 

I walk my way into the kitchen, searching for a distraction. These past few weeks, I organized and reorganized the kitchen at least three times. It’s become my solitude after losing Dean yet again. I pulled out some ingredients and began cooking dinner for everyone in the bunker, hoping that by keeping my hands busy, I could distract my mind. 

“So, you’re going to follow this lead alone?” I cross my arms, narrowed eyes sizing up the Winchester standing in front of me, resulting in Sam shaking his head.

“I’m meeting up with mom and Bobby on the way.”

“Fine,” I say, pushing off of the table, watching as he goes to turn. “And Sam?”

“Yes?”

“Bring him back.”

Sam looks at me, a hint of remorse playing in his eyes. He goes to open his mouth before I wave him off, making my way to Jack’s room. I raise my hand and knock, waiting for Jack’s response. The door creaks as I open it, revealing the young male who has been living with us for some time. 

“Hey, buddy. How’s it going?”

“I mean, better now. Cas is finally beginning to see that I can help on hunts.”

I nod, sitting at the foot of his bed. “Did Sam tell you…”

“He did.” 

“Oh,” I state, racking my brain for ways to keep the conversation flowing when the blonde pipes up.

“You still care for him. Don’t you?”

My eyes snap up to Jack’s. “Jack. It’s difficult.”

“It’s not though. You should tell him when he’s back.”

“I can’t do that, he’s…it's…complicated.”

The male tilts his head, eyes searching my face for an explanation. I sigh, “I, well, he was the one who messed up, and I just took it. I accepted he didn’t like me enough to work through it. Then I fell apart, Jack, and I can’t live through that again.” 

“Is that truly how you feel?”

“There is no other way. We can’t, he can’t change what he did. I can’t forgive him for making me a second choice.”

Jack reached forward, resting a hand on mine, the other to wipe away the tears that fell. “But you still love him.”

“Yes,” I whisper. “But I can’t have him.”

“Y/N, I know I may not have been on this earth for long, but I’ve seen enough to say this: if you love him, give Dean a second chance. You never know how things might go this time around.”

I stand, wiping my face. “No Jack, I can’t” 

I leave his room, returning to the main part of the bunker, not before grabbing a glass of alcohol to numb the pain. I join the research team in the library, sitting in one of the few comfy chairs while Jack’s words echo through my head. “Give him a second chance. You never know how things might go this time around.”

 Heavy footsteps resonate through the bunker, Cas re-entering from Jack’s room, a look of shock crossing his features. “Dean?”

I watch as Cas wraps Dean into a hug, setting my glass on a nearby table as Dean’s voice rings out. “Hey, Cas.”

One of the few extra hunters walks up to Sam, running him through the information we collected since his departure. Meanwhile, Dean looks around at all the new bodies occupying the bunker. I turn my head away, beginning to make my way towards my room to avoid interaction with him, but it seems as if fate has other plans, with one of my subordinates stepping into my field of vision. “Cap? We have a couple of updates on that nest you asked about?”

“Show me what you have.” I look down at the tablet, littered with pins displaying the nest’s pattern of migration. I listen as they explain the situation, ignoring the presence creeping in from behind me. 

“Okay, send out a small group, maybe five? Check in with Sam to get it approved and run a couple of facial scans to ensure that they are where you’re predicting. Good work.”

“On it Captain.” 

“Captain? That’s an interesting nickname.” Jumping at the rough voice, I turn to meet a pair of forest green eyes I used to call home. I look him up and down, taking in the state of him, and maybe, just maybe, appreciating the archangel’s fashion taste, paired with Dean’s attempt at making it comfortable. As I meet his eyes, I can't help but force a smile, refusing to reveal my emotions.

“Dean! It’s so great to see you in one piece. Sam had us searching everywhere for you.”

“Sam did? It wasn’t you?” 

“He was driving himself sick.”

He nods, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “Look, Y/N, I know we—”

“Captain?” Another voice cuts through his sentence, and I turn to see Charlie holding out a tablet, nodding to Dean before redirecting her attention to me. 

“The reports you wanted just came back. Our predictions were right. Ketch’s team is nearby, just a couple of miles down the way. We’re sending them the info on the nest right now.” 

“Thank you, Charlie. And it’s really great to see you back, Dean. Especially in one piece.” I turn, heading back to my room, this time without interruptions. I close the door behind me, sliding down against it before rubbing my temples. Breakups aren’t easy, and living in the same space as your ex just makes it worse. 

The next morning, I’m up before everyone else, starting coffee and breakfast for the bunker. A sweaty Sam enters the kitchen, grabs a glass of water, and then presumably leaves to take a shower before the hustle of the bunker begins. I relax into the routine I’ve put myself into since Dean left, mundane tasks I easily get lost in. Breakfast is finished before I return to my room, a notification lighting up my phone’s screen from Sam. I flip my phone over, opting for a couple more hours of sleep before dealing with him. 

The sound of knocking wakes me up, as my door moves slightly with the action. I open it, coming face-to-face with Sam. Taking a step back, I rush to smooth down my hair while Sam lets out a low whistle. “And I thought my bedhead was bad.”

I throw a middle finger at him, glaring as he chuckles. “What do you want?”

“Just got a case in.” He walks in, taking a seat at my desk, opening his laptop to reveal a newspaper article. Man Reported Missing By Girlfriend: Claims A Giant Woman-Bird Took Him. 

“Are we sure she’s not just crazy?”

“Yes, multiple police reports of missing men in the area have a claim of ‘giant woman-birds’ taking them. Seems like an us problem.”

I look over his shoulder at the reports, showing drawn portraits of the attackers. “Jesus, those look like harpies. Tricky little buggers, but should be a ‌simple case. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready.”

“Good, see you then.”

Ten minutes later, I cross the threshold to the garage, eyes scanning it for the younger Winchester. The passenger side window of the Impala rolls down, revealing Dean, sitting in the driver’s seat. “C’mon, we don’t have all day. If Sam’s right about the feeding patterns, they’re gonna strike again tonight.” 

I look over my shoulder to the door of the garage. “Speaking of Sam, where is he? I thought it was just going to be us on this hunt?”

“Nope. Just me and you, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.” I open the door, tossing my bag into the backseat before climbing in, staying as far away from Dean as possible. He grumbles something under his breath, throwing Baby into drive and leaving the bunker. This was going to be a long hunt. 

Blood hit my face as my knife sliced through a harpy’s wing. The creature let out a screech before turning to me, its teeth elongating as it prepared to attack. I raised an arm to push back when a gunshot rang through the air. She fell to the ground, revealing a blood-covered Dean standing behind her. I dropped my arm, huffing and kicking at the dead body of the woman. We had destroyed the nest,and all the harpies within it, leaving only one last step before we could head to a hotel and get cleaned up. I looked at Dean, whose eyes remained locked on me with worry. “You ready to burn these bitches?”

A smirk broke out on his face. “You know it.”

I giggled beneath my breath, grabbing a container of gasoline before returning to the building. I poured it on top of the bodies, as well as the makeshift nests, before returning to Baby. Dean pulled a zippo from his pocket, striking it before throwing it into the door. We both leaned back onto the vehicle, watching as the building went up in flames, the adrenaline slowly beginning to leave our systems. 

I turn, looking at the man beside me. While checking him over for any wounds, noticing his shoulder bleeding. Claw marks from where the harpy attempted to take him. I reach out, pulling the torn fabric from the wound for a closer look. “Crap, Dean, this looks like it hurts.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” He shrugs, tensing as my hands work over his wound. “First aid is in the backseat.”

I nod, going to get it, ready to be done with the hunt. “Alcohol incoming.”

After I ensure he won't get an infection, I thread a fishing line into place, starting the first stitch, causing a hiss to rip from his mouth. Stitch after stitch, I tend to the injury, patching over it with some hydrocolloid bandages before stepping back. 

My eyes flutter open, revealing unfamiliar scenery. Dean looks up from his phone. “All good. Just taking a pit stop. Showers are over there.”

“I thought we were going to a motel?” I rub my eyes, reaching over the seat for my bag. 

“I thought it’d be pretty stupid, considering we’re only five hours from home. I was just gonna clean up and nap a bit before finishing the drive.”

I nod leaving the Impala and making my way to the shower building, clutching my pocket knife in my right hand as a safety precaution. I knew Dean had parked in an area where he could see the entrance, but it never hurt to be a little extra cautious. I entered the station, locking myself into one stall and starting the shower. Peeling my crusty clothes from off, I rinsed them in the water, hoping to remove some of the blood. I climbed into the shower, scrubbing away the gore painted on my body. My mind wandered to our situation. 

I had slept in the Impala with Dean many times, mostly when the motel was out of vacancies, leaving us to find a station similar to this. Sam would stretch out in the backseat while I cuddled up to Dean, safe in his arms. Back when I trusted him with my life. Now, I can’t trust him as far as I could throw him. ‘Give him a second chance.’ If only it were that easy.

I return to the Impala, devoid of monster blood. Dean’s head was lolled back, resting against the seat. I knocked on the window before opening my door, ensuring he wouldn’t shoot me. He opened his eyes, a strained smile covering his features when he saw me. I climbed in and curled up against the door, hoping to catch a little more sleep. Minutes passed before his deep timbre echoed through the car. “I know you’re still up.”

“Not the point Dean. I’m trying to sleep, what you should be doing.”

“I can’t.”

I opened my eyes, turning to him. “Why not?”

“It’s,” he swallowed. “Nothing. Sorry.”

“No, it’s not nothing. What’s wrong?”

He scrubbed his hand down his face, looking out his window. “Micheal fucked with my head.”

“I thought you couldn’t remember anything?”

“I lied somewhat. He was awful Y/N. Showing me the things he would do if I didn’t obey. I—I can’t get the images out of my head.” His voice became tight with emotion.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. He’s gone now.” 

“That’s not the point. Micheal threatened Sam, mom, Cas, Jack, but the worst? He threatened you. God, Y/N, if you saw half of what he was going to do to you, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere near me.”

“Dean. He’s gone. We’ll find him, kill him and you’ll be fine.”

“Damn it Y/N, you don’t get it do you?”

“I don’t get what?”

“I love you! That’s why he threatened you.” I look into his forest-green eyes, studying the pain and anguish hidden behind them. 

“You don’t get to say that.”

“And why not?” 

I rest my back against the door, as far from him as possible. “You dumped me, remember? For a one-month-old? Not to mention how much of an asshole you were during the whole Amara situation.”

“I’m—”

“No Dean. You hurt me. You showed me just how little you care about me. You wouldn’t have even thought about her twice if you actually loved me. When Micheal convinced you to say yes, and you disappeared, I knew there was no fixing this. One day you're gonna find someone else and leave me just like you did the first time. I can’t go through that again. It would kill me.” I look at him, tears threatening to break through. “I love you. But I can’t do this to myself again”

“I won’t do it again, baby. Forever & al—”

“No!” My sob catches in my throat as I hug myself. “Forever doesn’t exist. Always means occasionally to you Dean.”

“Baby—”

“Stop.” I close my eyes, the pain slowly turning into anger. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Silence envelopes the space between us, leaving an awkward feeling between us.  

A sigh echoes from him, his hand running through his hair. “I know I fucked up. The Mark made me an absolute asshole, and I knew you deserved better. I tried real hard to bottle up those emotions I had for Amara, knowing they were only because of some weird mark-magic shit. After the whole demon ordeal, I knew you deserved better, so I quit trying. I had to hurt you to get you to leave me. I couldn’t run the risk of hurting you again.”

“Dean, that's not your discussion to make.”

“Isn’t it? I’m the one who was going to hurt you. It was me who took the Mark.”

“You don’t think I would’ve done the same to save the world? You’re really fucking dense if you can’t see I would’ve done the exact same thing. The only difference between you and me? I wouldn't have pushed you away for some random creature. Especially a baby!”

“Damnit Y/N. You don’t get it.”

“Then help me understand.” 

His eyes flicker from mine to my lips. “I love you so goddamn much, that hurting you would be hell all over again. And this time, not even Chuck could pull me out.”

My breath caught in my chest. “You don’t mean that.”

“Evey fucking word.”

I look out the window, mulling over his words. “Dean. I—”

“Fuck it.” Dean undoes his seatbelt, grabbing my jaw and forcing his lips to mine. Gasping, I open for his tongue, our saliva mixing into an intoxicating elixir. I throw my arms over his shoulders, pulling on the hairs at the nape of his neck. He pulls back exposing his neck, as I kiss along his jawline. I nip and suck beautiful bruises into his skin, pulling at the neckline of his shirt to reveal more of his skin. His hands go to grip my ass, pulling me over to straddle him. I lean back, making contact with his lust-darkened eyes and swollen lips. My hips grind down, a familiar ache developing in my lower stomach. Dean bites his lip, watching my hips as I rock against the zipper of his jeans, his erection pulling the fabric taut. I bring my lips to his again, small pecks while his hand rests around my throat,wringing a whine from me. “Princess, get your ass to the backseat now.”

I climbed into the back of the Impala, Dean following right on my tail, grinding his clothed cock against my ass as the door shut behind us. I went to turn around, stopped only by the sting of his hand meeting the meat of my ass. “Nuh uh, pretty girl, hands and knees.” 

“Asshole.” A crack rings through the air, his hand meeting my butt once again. 

“What was that again? Couldn't hear it over your bratty attitude.”

I lean my head on my arms, biting my lip to keep from saying anything else. Dean played with the waistband of my leggings, pulling the band just to let it snap against my skin. I push back into him, needing him urgently. Finally, he pulls my leggings and panties down, leaving them tangled up in my knees. Hands trace up my thighs, thumbs spreading my lower lips apart. “Jesus. Why’d I give this up? Such a pretty pussy, just begging for attention” 

“Don’t tease.”

“‘M not baby, just enjoying the view.” He trails his fingers through my folds, fingertips catching on my clit with each drag. Returning to my entrance, he slips his ring finger into me, curling it upward before he adds another. Suddenly, he pulls away, the sounds of his belt being undone sending a rush of anticipation through me. Dean slides his cock along my cunt, coating himself in the wetness fund there. “Wait, wait.”

“What’s wrong?” He leans back, removing his hands from my body. 

“Condom?” 

“Right, right, shit.” Dean climbs over the seat, popping open the glove box to get the needed protection. His jeans and boxers sit on his thighs, cock bobbing as he rolls the condom over it. “Good?”

“Good. Now get in here, cowboy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He breaches my entrance, pushing into my heat, causing a whimper to leave my lips, shaped into his name. The cool metal of his belt buckle presses against the back of my thigh when he bottoms out, his groan vibrating against my back. “Dean, move.”

He tucks his head into my shoulder, a deep groan releasing from his chest. “Sweetheart, if I move, I’m gonna cum like a goddamn pre-teen. Give me a second.”

Rocking my hips back onto him, I earn myself another breathy moan. “Please, Dean?”

“Shit. You’re gonna be the death of me, baby.” He pulls back, my pussy encouraging him to return home. His hips snap to mine, balls tapping at my clit. I arch my back, panting as I meet each of his thrusts. He sits back, hands finding their place on my hips, dragging me back. “Look at you, such a perfect slut for me, aren’t ya? All for me.”

I moan as his hips speed up, the tip hitting the spongy spot inside me. Dean lands another slap on my ass, leaning forward to kiss the place under my ear. “You’re dripping, soaking my cock so well. And you said you didn’t miss this.”

He grinds into me, the icy feeling of the buckle pressing deep into the heat of my thigh. Baby’s windows fog up, our breaths intertwining in ecstasy as he speeds up, going harder, faster, deeper. Dean’s hand slides up my back, knotting into my hair, pulling me up to my knees, without slowing down. “God baby, your pussy is the closest thing to heaven I’ve ever felt. Fuck. Such a good girl for, shit, for me.” 

  I clench around his cock, my orgasm within reach. “Dean, I, I need—”

“I know, princess, I know.” His other hand wraps around the front of my waist, slipping between my folds as he finds my clit, circling it with the right amount of pressure. My head falls onto his shoulder, shameless moans exchanged between us as my climax comes closer and closer. “Dean.”

“C’mon babydoll, cum fr’me.” With that, I reach the heavens, Dean following close behind with a couple of thrusts before he spills into the condom. We lay there, breaths intermingling as he tucks his head into my neck again, pressing soft kisses to the skin there. I pull him away, looking into those enchanting green eyes of his. 

“Fuck you, Dean Winchester.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to my lips. “You just did, sweetheart.”

After cleaning up, again, I curl up on his chest in the back seat, satisfied and secure, as Dean traces patterns along my back, his breath evening out. 

“Dean.” He hums. “I meant what I said earlier. I truly love you.”

“I love you too sweet—”

“But if you break my heart this time, I will cut off your dick.”

“Fair. Now can you go to sleep? I fuckin’ exhausted.”

I giggle at his wording, snuggling into his chest again. Breakups are hard, but when you’re hopelessly in love, it’s hard to remember the pain. Unfortunately, I fell in love with Dean Winchester, and by fate’s design, he fell in love with me. 

[justlemmeadoreyou]

Unfulfilled

Ok so this was something I wrote a month ago, a simple idea that just popped up in my head. I kinda wanted to make this a series, and I still have the whole story, but I didn't think you all would like it, so tell me if you do! xoxo

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: fluff, cursing

Pairing: nerd!harry x nerd!reader

YN was stressed.

She had a physics exam tomorrow, and the constant flaunting by Harry wasn’t helping.

“I’ve revised thrice. And I am solving previous years’ papers for like, 2 hours now. I still don’t get this.” He sighed, listing up a plethora of achievements that YN was nowhere near.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. You’ve finished the syllabus and are way ahead of me. I am far behind and you’re solving questions. Happy?” YN replied, head pounding from the strain in her eyes.

“What? No! Who said I was listing all the things I’ve already done? And that you’re way behind?” He smirked, and she wanted to smack his face.

“Shut up” she finally said to him, and he started to pout.

“Hey, I was just teasing. Do you want me to help you?” he asked, now feeling a bit guilty.

“No, I’ll do it myself. I just feel a bit stressed.” you replied, placing a hand over your head.

“Let’s go for some coffee. I’ll get you a muffin too” he offered, and who were you to refuse free coffee?

“Sure” you smiled, and he dragged both of your chairs out, pushing them back in after you got up. You exited the library and he followed behind.

“You know you don’t have to worry so much. You’ve studied. I know you have.” he smiled reassuringly, and you could feel some of the tension slipping away, looking at his ridiculously cute dimples.

“Thank you. You are the only person who would say that and I would actually believe it.”

You entered the small cafe, ordering two decafs. You drank it on the way, and went back to studying at the library.

You and Harry were academic rivals, for as long as you can recall. Since high school to senior year, and then here you were attending the same grad school.

Here too, you fought like children. The competition was a bit tougher now, though, since you both wanted to get good placements, and keeping constant 9+ cgpa was a tough task.

Nevertheless, you had become friends.

Good friends, actually. You both gave the valedictorian speech together, and you had to spend a lot of time with him for it. It was then that you realized that he was not so bad after all.

He was quite caring. He constantly checked in on those around him, making sure they were okay, and letting them know that he was there for them. Even right now, he would make you drink water, shared his food with you, and gave you a head massage. He took you for coffee, so that you would get up from the depressing library and get some fresh air, before going back and diving back in.

He was quite balanced too. He was extremely good at studies, and managed everything else along with it.

Everything, which was almost annoying.

He went for a run every morning around the uni, and was ridiculously fit. He was tall, and had great hair. He played occasional basketball too, and there was a plethora of girls who attended the game just to watch him get hit in the balls with the basketball.

He would go to parties too, unlike you, who preferred to stay in and burn your eyes out on a new movie on your laptop. He drank beers, and looked better than you in the morning.

He was so perfect.

How did he manage to do that?

>>>

The exam day had arrived. You had been biting your nails since morning, and had to stop before you drew out blood and had trouble writing. He sent you texts throughout the morning, wishing you luck and encouraging you.

“Love, you’ll do well”

“Yeah, but not as well as you. How many times have you revised now?”

“Four. But-It dosen’t matter!”

“Yeah. Right.”

As if a stressed-and-not-even-revised-once head could compare to a i-revised-five-times one.

Turns out, it did.

On the day of the result, you had managed to bite through your skin, and drew out blood. Your roommate, Lizzy, had put band-aids on each finger, and scolded you for doing it. She wanted to tie your hands to the side even, so they won’t reach your vampire teeth.

As the professor was handing out the papers, you felt nervous. Everything you had written in the paper was coming back to you like an attack, and making you think you had done everything wrong.

Meanwhile, Harry was relaxed.

So relaxed.

He had his arms behind his head, and was leaning on to the backrest, looking like he owned the world. You did not anticipate the change in expression when he saw his score.

“What-?” you could hear the surprise in his shreik, and he pouted like a baby when the professor shushed him.

He was looking at the paper like it wasn’t his own, and as if he had been somehow betrayed.

You managed to walk down to his sheet while the rpof was distributing them to the last benches, and quickly grabbed his sheet to see his score.

“95. Are you mad?”

“Just 95”

He groaned and frowned, trying to take your sheet and see the score.

“What did you get?”

“Oh. I didn’t see” you were so engrossed in his score that you hadn’t even taken a glance at your own paper.

You pulled out your sheet, and glanced at the big red circle.

98

Holy shit.

“What the-” you stopped mid-sentence, and your expression now matched Harry’s.

“Fuckin’ hell” he snatched the paper from your hands, and frantically started to go through each question. Every question of yours matched his, except one. It was a 3 marker, and you had gotten it right.

“I solved this in like, 30 seconds. It’s ridiculous-” he held the paper up, reading the question, “-Is it easier to pull, or push?” he put it down, and said “ Pull. Obviously.”

“That’s not true. It actually depends on the situation. Plus, you had to give an example.”

“What did you write?”

“It depends on the situation. If you were to move a lawn mover, pull would be easy. If you were moving an almirah, push would be easy.”

“Shit” he looked sad and confused, and to be honest, you felt bad for him.

“I can’t believe you got more than me.”

“Yeah. Suck on it, Styles’”

“Hey! I helped you!”

“Well, you couldn’t even answer a push n’ pull question. Next time, I’ll help you” you couldn’t stop the big smirk that stayed on your face throughout the class.

And honestly, even Harry couldn’t stop the warm glow spreading across his face from seeing you happy.

(next part)

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[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

LET’S TALK ABOUT THE GENIUS OF THE INTRODUCTION! 

So I don’t think I’ve talked about this yet, and shame on me for not doing it in depth if I have. 

The pure beauty of the story telling when it come to character introduction in this show. 

As has been said many times by the writers/directors/Oscar: They originally planned to start with Marc but then realized that the story needed to be about Steven introducing Marc to us. Introducing this world to us. 

And this is a classic approach to storytelling. You typically have someone that doesn’t know anything so that the audience can learn about the world with them on this adventure/journey. 

So why start with Steven? 

Let’s go back to the comics! 

In the comics, we start with Marc. We get Marc’s story. We see Marc’s life, his regrets and mistakes. We see him die and come back and act drastically to change. 

But when we leave all of that behind, our first look at the new established life in New York is with Steven and then immediately into Jake. We don’t officially come back to Marc for some time. But that’s done at a very fast pace and you get to know Steven and Jake’s life very quickly in an introductory blurb before you even see it.

Not exactly something that can be done in a show. So we have to pick someone that the audience can follow. Someone that the audience can fall in love with and trust.

That certainly isn't Marc Spector. (It's interesting that they chose Steven over Jake, considering the personality from the comics... But that's a meta for a different day, as I have a lot to say on that).

So in the show, we first meet Steven. 

(Look at this bundle of perfection) 

We follow Steven and we get to know Steven. We love Steven. We would follow Steven anywhere and do anything for him. 

Then we see something/someone throwing a wrench into Steven’s life and causing him problems and stress and ruining everything for Steven. 

And we get our first look at Marc through Steven’s eyes. 

In fact! We don’t even see Marc at first. We just see the result of Marc. The displaced jaw and people shooting at him. The bloody bodies, the car chase, the gun, the violence, the stress. We see the ruined love life, the lonely life, and the dead fish. 

So we know that whatever this thing is that is causing him problems is dangerous and not to be trusted. We feel Steven’s stress and expect the worst. 

Even when we first hear Marc, it’s a stressed out voice demanding that he stop. We just get to see a ghost of a man. Something dark lurking in the shadows and acting menacing. This is Steven’s view of what’s going on and this is Marc’s view of what he is to Steven at this point. 

(SIDE BONUS META: The first time we hear Marc actually talk to Steven is directly after the phone call with Layla. Marc has been ghosting her and ignoring her and playing dead with her for a while now and suddenly Steven talks to her and in that one brief confusing phone call for Steven and Layla, Marc is triggered out and everything he has been setting up for both of them in what, he views, to be a perfect life without him is going down the grain. He’s stressed, he’s watching everything spiral down the same way he has been spiraling down for months now… In that one moment, of course he lets his frustration out and he yells at Steven to stop. He just wants Steven to cooperate and go back to how things used to be so that Steven can live the normal life and Marc can sit back and watch and pretend that things are okay.) 

NOW we as the audience get our FIRST good look at Marc before Steven does. 

What do we have here? Marc lingering behind Steven. Marc watching Steven run into danger and looking anxious, worried, and like he wants to do anything to take it all back and protect this man. Marc even looks back to check Steven’s 6. Menacing and in the shadows? Or a man that is about to risk everything just to protect Steven? 

Years… YEARS of work put into making sure Steven doesn’t know about him and is happy and safe and secure… And he knows that he has to risk it all. Perhaps at this moment he is contemplating if he should. If Steven will get out of it on his own or if he really needs to find a way to step in and force Steven to black out. But Steven is scared and on to him. He knows he has to talk to Steven. Something he probably hasn’t done since they were just children. 

(BONUS META: If you zoom in real good, that second reflection? The expression is just a little different than the first. The mouth is pulled just a wee bit tighter. Jake easter egg? Probably not, since the show was so careful about only hinting at a ghost of Jake… But I choose to think that we see Jake there behind Marc, much like Marc is behind Steven, looking back to watch their 6 and making sure they are safe.) 

So in classic Marc fashion, he appears as a disaster and Steven sees a disaster. 

Okay. That was a bad day. Marc was stressed and they were in danger. The absolute carnage that happened (Marc you really lost your cool there, buddy. You could have easily finished that jackal off and moved on. You were just angry and you lost your temper. That bathroom did not have to be so trashed.) was not Marc’s best work. 

So let’s meet Marc again from Steven’s eyes now that he isn’t scared and about to die. 

Yeah. Steven does not have a very good view of this man. Funnily enough, he’s seeing him in black and white, which is how he’s being presented to him at this point. He sees a violent man that is stealing his life and ruining it. All he can see is the black and white. He knows nothing else about this man. 

And Marc looks right back from the black and white of himself. A man that wishes he wasn’t there. A man that only knows pain and violence. It’s almost like he’s giving up here. He’s saying “Well, I told you to stop looking and now here we are. Look all you want. You see me. Bet you wish you didn’t. If you keep going, this is what you get.” 

And our previous Steven? He keeps looking. So we get a calmer less dumpster fire Marc. 

No. I take it back. More of a dumpster fire somehow. He’s tired. He’s stressed out beyond reason. He’s watching everything fall apart and he has no control over any of it for the first time in his life. The one thing he thought he could control is now on fire. 

And Steven sees a disheveled (handsome) man that sits alone in his storage room with his illegal things and weapons. Not a good picture. Not to mention the whole Khonshu troll bit that comes along with Marc. 

Steven is not seeing Marc in good light. And the Audience feels for Steven even more. Who is this man that’s ruining this sweet cinnamon roll’s life? 

So let’s give the audience another perspective. 

Would you look at that! An upside down shot to show us that we we are seeing is going to be flipped upside down soon. 

(I would do anything for her.) 

And what cleaver writers... We see Layla instantly from Steven’s point of view. This lonely love starved man meets HER and the audience has no choice but to fall head over heels for her. 

But now we are looking at Steven from Layla’s point of view. 

But she isn’t seeing Steven. She’s seeing Marc being ‘Not Marc’. 

We see her return to the flat and she examines Steven’s life. Before we saw everything from Steven’s point of view, but now we get to see her explore it and not just gloss over things but pick them up and examine them. Question them. Question his life. 

And while she’s looking for Marc in Steven, we see Steven looking at Marc watching Layla. 

She watches the fish, alone and unaware. Marc watches her, alone and mesmerized by her, desperate to see her, wanting everything in the world to be with her but too afraid to get closer. He’s in the tank for a reason here. This isn’t Steven’s fish. This is Marc’s fish. This is the replacement fish. And now, Steven is aware of what’s going on outside of his tank and Marc is the one that’s trapped. 

And as the audience, we find a flicker of sympathy for this intruder. This man that watches her with the look of longing etched across his face. 

But it’s quickly dashed as Marc tries to get rid of her and Steven finds out about the divorce papers. Marc’s a disgrace to try to toss aside someone as lovely as Layla. Steven has no sympathy for him. 

From here we see the rift between them. We see them argue. We see Steven lash out at the images of Marc with insults. He judges Marc and Marc does nothing to try to dissuade him. Marc thinks he deserves it. He just wants to finish the mission. 

But then something changes for just a moment as Steven enters into Marc’s world. 

Sure, there’s the scene with the suit. The scene with the bus where he compliments Steven and acts like the impressed older brother and reasons with Steven to get control. 

What changed? I’ve talked in depth about it before… But here it is again: 

Harrow started talking about killing children and then asked to speak to Marc. And Steven expects Marc to demand the body again. He expects Marc to fight him for it and to be loud and complaintive like he was with Layla or like he was in the car. Clearly he can tell Marc is there and he even sees Marc watching them and Marc is talking to him too. 

Yet the second child murder comes up and Harrow starts going after Marc, Steven watches Marc step back. Maybe he can sense there’s something there. Maybe he can sense that Marc needs him. 

Because suddenly Steven goes on the attack. The tables flip and Steven shows his true strength. He starts to reason and show that he is always thinking things through and always picking up the little things. 

In this one motion of protecting Marc, we see Marc calm down a little. This lets Marc take a minute to let Steven have his time. 

And when Steven gives Marc back control, we take another look at Marc from Layla’s eyes. 

She just watched who she thought was her husband having a break down and then become a different Moon Knight, solidifying that this was NOT her husband, but something ‘different’. 

But suddenly Marc is there before her and she can’t pretend that maybe she really did have the wrong guy. That maybe he’s a doppelganger and Marc is out there somewhere else. Because Marc is right there before her and he’s speechless.

Yeah, that’s the look that lets him know that he fucked up. 

But here we are again, not looking at Marc. We see the man in the suit with powers and control and strength. 

And then he fails his mission. Not only is everything he’s been working on his whole life breaking down, but now the people he cares about are in danger and the whole reason he ran off was to keep this from happening. 

And Steven comes back and the audience gets a full view of not just how Steven sees Marc, but how Marc sees Marc. 

And from here, we get the hand off. The audience is now taking Steven’s perceptions of Marc and stepping over to Marc’s views of himself.

In fact, in the next episode we see the struggle between Marc and Steven, but this time we only see Marc’s side of it. Before we saw Steven and blacked out with him. Now we see Marc and we black out with him. We know Marc is trying to get things done. We see him trying to do things right and Steven is the one getting in the way. 

We see a glimpse of Marc being vulnerable when he goes before the Ennad. We see that he’s a man barely in control of anything in his life. We find him broken and abused. He’s just an open wound but you don’t have the full picture. You wonder what it is about this man that tells us to trust him? 

We see him fail over and over again in everything he’s been doing since we first met him! 

If this was all we had, we would only see the picture of a frustrated, angry, and disaster of a man. 

So what keeps us from finding Marc as despicable as he sees himself? 

She’s looking at him there with new eyes. She doesn’t know what’s going on with him, but now she knows that he’s hiding things and after all his running, she’s finally cornered him and she isn’t about to give up on him. 

Her persistence gives us the need to know who he is. Why does she love him so much after everything he did? She only knows part of this world and we are still going on this journey of discovery with her now. 

And through her, we start to see Marc’s pain. 

And honestly, it’s this scene right here that is the biggest turning point in how we see Marc. 

She loves him and he loves her. You can see how much he loves her. With every fiber of his being he’s radiating such deep pain and longing as he still pushes her away and closes himself off. 

And she doesn’t push back. She’s in pain too. She wants to help him and love him. Perhaps in their relationship they had struggled with this before. Him coming back from a mission with Khonshu and being in pain and pushing her away when she tries to help. She’s fallen into a pattern of letting him pull away because she knows that if she pushes too hard, he shuts down so completely. 

And we go into the next scene with her letting him hold her at a distance. She’s angry at him and confused and hurt. 

We see him walling himself off and she can’t reach him. 

And then Steven starts to fight back again. He wants to help. He wants to prevent the violence he knows Marc can do. He wants to go home. We start to see Steven sticking up for himself, REALLY pushing back, and asserting himself. 

And this next scene is still my most favorite scene there is. The first time she really sees Steven and since we, the audience, are now following Layla, this is our first time seeing Steven from her point of view. And… I would argue that this is the first time that we really see him. 

(I could fall in love with both of them over and over again with this scene)

And now we are seeing Steven new all over again. We see him standing up to take on the mission instead of trying to just run back home. We see him talking to Layla and showing off his knowledge and skills. We see her falling for him and he struggles to understand what she sees in Marc, but he’s happy to be with her. 

We trade off a bit when Marc and Steven continue to argue over the body. Their views of one another start to suffer again. Steven has found his strength and now he’s pushing Marc around a bit. He’s tired of being kept in the dark and pushed away. 

We even get to witness Layla’s strength and that she can kick ass on her own. 

And in that one scene with her and Harrow, we watch her perception of Marc shift and we follow her with new eyes. We see his guilt and regret but we see him not fight back. He is willing to throw it all away and admit to everything that she thinks of him if it means that he finally gets to keep her safe by pushing her away. 

Welcome to the Duat! Or, as I like to think of it: The place where Marc’s walls are ripped away and we get to see unfiltered and pure Marc Spector. (I’ve talked about this before too). 

And our perception as the audience is now playing tug of war. We follow Steven and we follow Marc on his desperate attempts to make Steven stop. He doesn’t want Steven to see him and he tries to prevent Steven, and us, from knowing him. 

The more we follow Marc, the more we see his absolute terror in letting himself be known. 

And at last… At long last…. Steven sees Marc for who he is for the first time. 

Now, we are the audience, can see Marc. We know him. We’ve seen the real him and we know his story. 

And it’s Marc’s turn to let us see Steven. 

Steven the protector. Steven the capable. Steven the mighty. 

And because we now know them, we can see Layla’s love. 

And through them, we see her in her pain and strength. 

Her determination to carry on and finish the mission for them and get a little revenge too. Because as angry and hurt by Marc as she was, she still loves him so deeply. 

We’ve just watched a whole episode of Marc being hated and loathed and denied love and of Steven being lonely and without love, and now we open on Layla showing that love was always there waiting for them.

Hey look! A call back! 

Only this time, she’s right-side up! 

And he isn’t curled up in a little ball! 

And this time, he runs to her, instead of standing at a distance. 

The look on his face. Pure relief. Pure love. 

The absolute desperation on her face. He’s there and the last argument they ever had isn’t the last word. 

And in this moment, we are seeing them all from the same viewpoint. We see Layla the hero, Steven the hero, and Marc the hero. All three of them with their own strengths and their own love. They know the pain of the other and they can see more than what was presented to them and us at the start. 

Oh… And a little bonus. 

The first time Layla saw Jake:

We’ll just keep that one in mind for…you know… season 2…someday… someday… 

So after all that? After all that, the audience is taken back to the start to look at them all over again. To meet them. To hold these characters in their hands so gently. 

They wake up together, confirming that they aren’t alone. We see two people here working together now. (though they are very sleepy). 

But They are still trapped. Two fish now, keeping one another company, but still stuck in the little tank. 

At least they aren’t lonely anymore. And at least now they have love. 

But maybe… Maybe the ending scene wasn’t for them. They are happy in their little tank. They aren’t the man that is lonely in a world without love. 

What about the one that’s stuck outside of the tank? What about the one that is still very much alone….?

And now the audience gets the first time we see Jake: 

We see him so small, framed in a little rectangular mirror watching and waiting. 

We don’t yet know his story. What we do know? 

His name is Jake Lockley and no one hurts his system. 

[thosemotivationalquotes]

Understanding Election Results

I wanted to make this guide for people who are following the upcoming U.S. election, but are unsure of how votes are actually counted, since it’s not just a simple majority vote.

The U.S. uses something called the Electoral College, which is different than a majority vote.

There are 2 kinds of votes that matter when determining who the winner of the presidential election is. The popular vote, and the electoral vote. The popular vote is the simple majority - whoever gets the most votes win. However, the U.S. doesn’t actually use the popular vote to determine the winner.

This brings us to the electoral votes. Each state gets assigned electors, the amount of which is decided by the state’s population (for example, AZ has 11 electors). Each state takes whichever candidate received the most votes, and casts its electoral votes for that person.

For example, if Harris has 55% of the AZ votes, she gets 11 electoral votes. Whichever candidate reaches 270 votes (the majority) will be the next president.

This is why ‘swing states’ are so important. The popular vote for the state might be neck and neck, but whoever has the most votes gets all the electoral votes for the state. It’s also possible for someone to win the popular vote, but lose the election (Clinton in 2016).

So what does that mean for this election? Take a look at the below map from 270towin:

As we can see, Harris is currently at a predicted 226 electoral votes, with 191 being considered safe. It will come down to the leans and toss up states to decide if she will get enough votes to win. Any state can flip with enough votes, so it’s important to vote no matter how “safe” your state appears to be.

It’s important to vote even if you live in the safely blue states, but it’s especially important to vote if you live in a lean or toss up state. I live in AZ and got to see our state go from red to blue in 2020, so it possible IF people show up and vote.

You’ll also see states being “called”. This means that there are enough votes to make the conclusion that one of the candidates has won the electoral votes for that state. States like CA usually get called fairly early since there are usually an overwhelming amount of blue votes. But a swing state like AZ might be “too close to call” until a few days after the election, while they count any last minute mail in ballots and provisional ballots. A state being “called” on election night does not mean they stop counting the votes, just that there is enough confidence to state who has won that state.

Also a final note, your mental health is super important. If you have already voted, or if you are unable to vote, watching the election results will not change the outcome. If you are stressed to the point you are having anxiety, not eating, missing work/school, etc., please don’t feel like you have watch the election results. We probably won’t know the winner until at least the next day, maybe even a few days after that. If Trump wins he won’t take office for a couple months. So if you need to, take a step back and just focus on getting through the day.

Some states have same day registration, so if you didn’t register check here to see if there is still a chance.

I have voting resources here for anyone voting today:

[giuliettagaltieri]

Project: Pandora

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Synthezoid!Reader

Synopsis: You are experiencing things for the first time and you can't wait to explore what the multiverse has to offer, but for now, you'll start with a messy college dorm room.

Warning: Children having made to witness premarital hand holding and flirting of excruciatingly emotionally constipated adults.

Word Count: 2174

2 of 3

“This is…”  Your face twists, trying to find the right word.  “Odd.” 

You lift your arm, the blanket that Miguel draped on you falls from your shoulder and you watch as goosebumps litter your skin.

Avenger Peter, MJ, and Ned simultaneously inhale sharply through their nose.  The ceiling, the cereal box, and fork suddenly looked too interesting.

Miguel clears his throat and reaches to wrap you tightly with the blanket again.

“That’s the result of adrenaline reflex.”  Miguel grumbles, turning his eyes to the carpeted floor, away from you and the lamp that illuminated the living room and dining area.  “And can you be more careful?  Gravity applies to your clothes now.”

“I know, Miguel.”  You glare at him as you sink on the couch beside him.  You don’t need him to discuss physiology and physics with you.  “I just need time to get used to it all.”

He keeps his mouth shut, his eyes softening as he memorizes every curve of your frowning brows.

“So uhm, you feel fine?”  MJ cuts the tension.  “No trouble breathing?  No pain?”

You laugh softly.  “What does pain feel anyway?”

Obviously, you know it in theory and experienced it quite a lot emotionally but you never really felt physical pain.

A sharp pinch on your thigh makes you yelp and jump like a startled cat.

The culprit beside you has his eyes deadpanned but the slight curve on his lips told you he enjoyed it way too much.

“Asshole!”  You gave Miguel a stink eye, rubbing your poor thigh.

“That’s pain.”  Miguel grins at you. 

You throw a playful punch on his shoulder but a strange pop has your eyes doubling in size.

“Did I just break a finger?”  You almost scream but Miguel keeps the shit eating grin and just grabs your hand, he clicks his tongue multiple times and your heart hammers on your chest.  They spent months perfecting your body, the least you could do is take care of it.  You watch Miguel lift your hand to his face and brushes your knuckles on his lips.

“Looks like a serious fracture, we might need to amputate it.”  You hated how he could make you feel stuff by just altering the timbre of his voice despite uttering such baseless barbaric statement.  “You just cracked a knuckle, firefly, stop worrying.  If you feel any discomfort anywhere though, you tell me.”

MJ picks at the loose thread on her sweater as her eyes darted between you and Miguel.  “They definitely need to go get a room.”  She whispers under her breath.

“Agreed.”

“Agreed.”

Whispered back the two teens beside her.

A loud grumble suddenly travels to their ears.  They turn and see you looking at your stomach, your eyes wide, looking absolutely embarrassed.  “Uhm, I’m hungry?”  Rather than say it, you sound like you are asking for confirmation, which is fair.

Peter immediately snatches his phone to order food.

Ned smiles at you understandingly, you must have been hungry the entire time but did not recognize the feeling.  “How about water?  Does your mouth feel dry?”  Checking your electrolyte level slipped their mind due to multiple reasons, they were marveling at you after taking your vital signs and range of motion.

Miguel reaches and pulls you to him.  He brushes his thumb on your lip, his eyes following his movements carefully.  “Yeah, she could use a glass of water.”  He slips his hand under the blanket to pull your arm and you are about to protest when he pinches your skin again but you choose to stay quiet as he did it gently.

“Is it tented?”  Ned asks while rolling a stress ball atop the table.

Miguel meets your eyes and returns your arm inside the blanket.  Your body goes hot when he flashes you his sharp canine as he grins.  “Nah, perfectly supple and elastic.”  The grin gets wider.  “We might need to check her temperature again though.  She’s running a bit warm.”

You are not stupid.  Theoretically, you know how the normal body responds to external stimuli.  Miguel holds back another smart comment when you harshly pull your arm from him, too flushed to even bite a retort back.

Ned and MJ watched the exchange with narrowed judging eyes.  Watching old people flirt made them a bit queasy.

The next minutes were spent with them telling you about the project and how Dr. Strange aligned your neurons.  You wanted to thank the man but they tell you that he has been busy for a week now, trying to ward off an intergalactic entity.  Miguel just had to roll his eyes at the mention of the Doctor’s name.  Him helping Peter almost break the multiverse was not appreciated by Miguel.

You walk around the apartment as you listen to them talk, mainly to Miguel now, as you let your hands wander on every object you can find, taking in every texture that you come across.

The carpet on your feet was a nice feeling and you are glad you refused the slippers that Ned kindly offered for you to wear.

You see a pile of old books on a corner and you bend down to swipe at the thin layer of dust sitting atop it.  You smile so brightly, seeing the mark your finger left.  Then you see the coat of dust on your finger tip, the dirt clinging to your skin didn’t feel pleasant at all.

Just in front of your 3D printer, you refuse to call it casket, lies the messy work table of Peter Parker.  You wander to it and you read the tiny sticky notes that are stuck on the wall in front of the desk.  Some are newly placed, some a bit older, their edges starting to peel off.

You tilt your head to the side as you realize that they’re a bunch of ideas for his suit upgrades. 

“What a clever kid.”  You whisper.  You smile when you see a tiny error on a formula, creating a cascade of errors on the other notes.

You grab a sticky note and you uncap a ballpen, it took you a while to figure out how to hold it and your handwriting was messy but you managed to correct his error.

The bubble wrap in the corner became the next center of your attention.

Miguel was in the middle of telling the teens about your code when you wander on the couch again.  He glances at you for a while and goes back to ignoring you when you place a hand on his enormous arm and rub.  He really bulked up, didn’t he?

“Unstable molecules feel weird.”  You wiggle your fingers right in front of Miguel’s face, cutting his geek talk.  “Feels like this.”

He raises a brow.  “Tingly?”  He retracts the fabric from his fingertips and lets it rest on his suit.  “Huh, guess so.  But it’s quite comfortable inside.”

You nod and make a beeline towards the dining table where the teens are.

“Can I?”  You ask while pointing to MJ’s sleeve.

“Sure.”  She shrugs and offers you her arm as she turns to listen to Miguel trying to explain advanced computer science to them.

You pinch the fabric and smile at the softness of it.

“What’s this material called?  I want to wear it everyday, it feels so cozy.”

“It’s uh, cashmere.  Pe-Peter got it for me last Christmas.”  She briefly points at Peter before using the same hand to cover a cough.

You glance at Peter, who was also listening to Miguel, though his ears looked a bit redder, you can tell despite the dimness of the room.

Ned soon notices you looking at the stress ball resting a couple inches away from his fingers.

“You wanna hold it?”  He offers you the toy.

“That’s a stress ball, right?”  You take it and squeeze hard.  “What’s so relaxing about this?”  You raise a brow as the toy only strained your hand.

“You’re just not stressed enough to need it yet.”  Miguel sighs.  He knows that your muscles would need endurance training but of course he had to taunt you just a bit.

You sassily put a hand on your hip, making a big deal out of everything that Miguel says is almost a habit to you.  “And you probably need a truckload of this judging by how you look.”

The kids near you almost scratched the table cloth with their hands that are resting on it by how hard they were trying to keep a straight face.

They mustn’t laugh.  Peter can’t lose his place in the Society.  Peter can’t lose his place in the Society!

A knock from the front door keeps Miguel from throwing something just as insulting to you.

“I’ll get it!”  Peter volunteers, too happy with the opportunity to get away.

Miguel grumbles to himself, shaking his head.

You smile a little too sweetly at Miguel before turning to Peter who is carrying a bunch of plastic bags that are all hanging on different fingers instead of being all carried by a finger or two, like how they should be?

“Whatever is in those boxes, I want them.”  You laugh.

Ned gets up to grab a clean spoon for you, seeing as you won’t be able to use the chopstick just yet.

“I don’t know if you’d like this but I figured that you’d need the carbs and manageable food for now.”  Peter says, scratching the back of his head and pushes a steaming hot bowl of congee to you. 

“Thank you, Peter.”  It smells divine!  And you appreciate the soft food, you should give your stomach something easy to digest for the meantime.

Your curiosity is piqued and you open a box before you.  “Oh, look at this, Miggy.”  You turn to Miguel who is already heading to where you are standing.  “Fried rice.”  You thank Ned when he hands you a spoon.  “You used to make this when you were particularly lazy.” 

He hums.  “I don’t cook anymore.”

Peter asks you two to join them at the table and you do.

“They didn’t have empanadas- uh…I heard you liked them!”  Peter starts to sweat under Miguel’s stern gaze.  “But uh, they have fried dumplings.  In-in case you wanna try some.”  He pushes the box to Miguel.

You scoop a spoonful of congee to your mouth, after being reminded by Miguel to blow on your food.  You hated how he made you feel like a toddler just now.  But you forget that you were pissed just a second ago when the rice porridge lands on your waiting tongue and you almost melt at the flavor.  In fact, it looks like you actually are.  They all watch you close your eyes, still chewing, and collapse on the chair dramatically.

“It’s so unfair that you all get to eat these for years, especially Miguel.”  You pat Miguel’s shoulder when he curses at you in Spanish.  “It’s okay, Miggy.  You aged like fine wine, don’t get worked up.”

You take another spoonful, ignoring Miguel’s incomprehensible expression.

The night ends with you listening to Peter trying to explain or defend himself from Miguel’s accusations for the whole multiverse disturbance thing. 

You were biased, of course.

It is pretty normal to take his side.  Peter’s side.

But nevertheless, you and Miguel thanked the three of them, even Dr. Strange.  Through a portal.  Made of magic.  Wasn’t weird at all.

When Miguel told them that he’ll be taking you with him to the HQ, they didn’t really go against it, a knowing smile plastered on their faces when Miguel says that the tech there is better in monitoring your state.

“I will definitely visit.”  You say as you release MJ from your embrace and move to hug Ned who is tearing up a bit.  “I’ll come so often that you’ll be sick of me.” 

Lastly, there’s Peter.  You hug the kid tightly.  “Thank you for taking the time to bring me back to him.”

He hugs you back, just as tight.  “I should be the one thanking you.”  He could only wish that Tony was there to witness everything.

“He’s proud of you, I just know it.” 

You return to Miguel’s side and you smile at them one last time before turning to step into the portal.

“Wait!”  Peter yells.

Miguel raises a brow at him, his large hand encasing yours in a gentle hold.

“Uhm.”  Peter’s eyes darted from you to Miguel and back again.

“Spit it out, kid.”  Miguel snaps.

Peter crosses his arms, awkwardly.

“I know you two are-are excited and y-you miss each other so much.”  He stutters out.  “But it’s probably not a good idea to—” He grimaces, as if saying it is physically hurting him.  “—you know.” 

His hands flew everywhere, making you and Miguel look at each other, silently asking if the other is picking up what the hell the kid’s saying. 

Peter sighs, defeated.  “You shouldn’t…test her body’s limitations in one night-”

“Yeah, we get it.”  Miguel says quickly while he pushes your confused ass to the portal.

Project: Galatea • Project: Pandora • Project: Eros