#so this was kinda a learning period again

[the-east-art]

Has anyone OUTSIDE the main cast of family and friends ever figured out Stan can shapeshift? (Oc???? Oc???? Oc for us????? No?????)

I have low key thought since the beginning of the au that early ish on in his grifting years, while trying to find some clothes for his more femme shifts, he kinda stumbled into a small collective of queer folks that were living in an apartment - probably like five of em all squeezed into a place far too small. They all assumed he needed the clothes for cross dressing or drag or gender fluidity (I mean, not entirely wrong).

Stan was probably there for a short period of time, and eventually they learned he could shift. He stuck around, but they all eventually got evicted, a bunch of them got into various troubles, and they all had to scatter and run. They didn’t have cell phones back then, they didn’t have permanent addresses, and most if not all of them went by a name other than their legal name, so Stan never saw them again.

In my headcanon the ‘leader’ of this group is the person he based the Seb shift off of.

[raventrinkets]

Krang Timeline??

Hey y'all, has anyone figured out a timeline for the Krang in ROTTMNT? I've been gathering facts from the show/movie, but I was curious if anyone had already figured this out.

I'm going to include all my notes under the cut, but My QUESTION is:

If the main Krang were sealed away 1000 years ago (as Raph says in the movie) does that mean that there were still Krang around to give Shredder his armour 500 years later? Or was Raph misinformed and the Krang were probably sealed around the same time as the Shredder, 500 or so years ago?

Edit: @pinkjunepeanut made a fantastic point in the comments! Basically she said that the Krang probably were sealed 1000 years ago, but contacted Oroku Saki from the Prison Dimension (likely via the Key). Go check out her comments if you want the full theory!

If you've got thoughts or answers, please share! 

Please note I've made Edits to the original version of this post! I've indicated where :)

At this point I'm pretty sure that:

A Krang ship crashed at some point very early on (now within the Weeping Titan), allowing for Empyrean to create the Yokai. If we're following when Yokai entered our written records, that would have to be before 720 CE (so over 1300 years ago). (I'm specifically referencing the Nihon Shoki or Nihongi here).

A Krang (who kinda looks like Krang 3) gives Oroku Saki the Dark Armour, which eventually corrupts him and turns him into the Shredder. Karai seals them both in the Twilight Realm, but is released by the Turtles 500 years later (that's what she says, anyway). So it would have taken place in the Sengoku Period. Which makes a lot of sense, as this period started with the Ōnin War, and Karai refers to the Krang who gives her father the Dark Armour as an Ōnin. Probably not a coincidence on the writer's part. 

The Krang were sealed within the Prison Dimension “many centuries ago”:

Raph specifically says 1000 years, which I believe would place the invasion in the Heian Period of Japan’s history. Due to the overlap of Yokai and Mystic powers, this probally would have had to have taken place AFTER the Krang in the Weeping Titan died. But I suppose it could be possible that specific Krang died in that battle, creating the Yokai later on, and we can ignore historical accounts of Yokai mythos within the ROTTMNT universe. But then we have the issue of WHO GAVE THE SHREDDER HIS ARMOUR?? Edit: As I mentioned above, Pinkjunepeanut offered a neat solution to this: the Krang were sealed 1000 years ago, later contacting Oroku Saki from the Prison Dimension, probably in a bid to get him to eventually free them.

If Raph was misinformed, and the Krang hadn’t been sealed for 1000 years, that changes things. Considering the Mystic Warriors seem to be wearing armour based more from the Edo period of Japan, 400-500 years would make more sense (I have more notes below). This would probably mean that the Krang were sealed in the Prison Dimension AFTER the Shredder was sealed in the Twilight Realm, so they could be around to give him the Dark Armour in the first place. 

Notes on the Mystic Warriors armour:

So this is the picture we have of the Mystic Warriors that sealed the Krang ^

I THINK they're wearing (from left to right) a Kutsune Mask (mainly seen in the Edo Period, but also, to a lesser extent, in the Heian period), a Dō-maru kabuto (also appeared in the Heian period, but was also common in the Edo Period), a hitai-ate (Edo period) and Chronmage hairstyle (Edo period again), and finally another hitai-ate or maybe a Hachimaki (Sengoku period, but also later on). (Please note that this is all me doing some cursory research online, so I could very well be incorrect or misinformed).

All of this makes me think they were learning towards the Edo Period in the designs (this also could have been influenced by ninja themed anime, like Naruto). However, there is a fair amount of overlap with the Sengoku period, which is when Karai is likely from. This wouldn’t change a lot, just how long it was between Karai’s first interaction with the Krang and them eventually being sealed by the Mystic Warriors. 

Edit: While I believe (again, this is based off my brief research) all their attire overlapped the most during the Edo or Sengoku periods, if we assume they sealed the Krang 1000 years ago (during the Heian Period) then most of this can be chalked up to creative decisions. I mentioned above that it's likely the show took influence from existing media focused around ninja's, so their blend attire from different eras can easily be explained away by that. Pinkjunepeanut's theory also answers a question I didn't bring up: the fact that none of them are wearing a recognizable emblem. If they were a part of the Hamato (or Foot) clan, then those symbols definitely would have been incorporated into the designs.

Anyway, all of this to say, does the timeline look something like this?

Krang scout (?) ship visits earth, crashes, accidentally creates Yokai and probably mystic powers with Empyrean.

500-800ish years later, more Krang appear and basically make the Shredder, forcing Karai to seal herself and her father in the Twilight Realm. This creates the Foot who worship the Krang and the Hamato's who work to prevent the Shredder's return.

Sometime in the next 100 years, the Krang attempt a full invasion of Earth, prompting the four mystic warriors (Hamatos? probably.) to seal them within the Prison Dimension (which appears similar to the Twilight Realm, as @pinkjunepeanut pointed out to me, and can also be accessed by a mystic warrior [Draxum gets them into the Twilight Realm, Mikey to the Prison Dimension]).

400ish years later, the Movie happens.

If this is wrong and the Krang were sealed 1000 years ago, it would mean that a different Krang gave the Shredder his armour. While that could be interesting (as that means there's more Krang kicking about), I think this was more akin to the "Hammer and Anvil" Strategy. Basically, the Krang probably sent a small force to weaken Earth or corrupt it to their ways (as seen with the armour corrupting Oroku Saki and the Shredder's later goals, ie. the conquest of humanity), before attacking with a greater force later on (this could have been a decade to a century later). However, this didn’t go to planned as they were sealed away by the Mystic Warriors (who they likely accidentally created with Empyrean in the first place... LOL). 

Edit: It could also look like this...

Krang scout (?) ship visits earth, crashes, accidentally creates Yokai and probably mystic powers with Empyrean. This would have to be, at minimum, 1300 years ago (but was probably a lot earlier than even that).

1000 year ago, so during the Heian Period, the Krang attempt to invade Earth. They're stopped by the four Mystic Warriors and sealed in the Prison Dimension with the Key.

A little under 500 years later, the Foot Clan, led by Oroku Saki, is under attack and he makes a deal with a mysterious "Ōnin" (the Krang in the Prison Dimension) for the armour that eventually corrupts him and turns him into the Shredder. His daughter, Karai, created the Hamato Clan in response and eventually seals both herself and the Shredder in the Twilight Realm.

500 years later, the Turtles accidentally release the Shredder but then defeat him and reunite a no longer corrupt Oroku Saki with Karai.

3 (ish) years later, the Foot (who still worship the Krang who gave their founder the Dark Armour) release the Krang with the Key, and the Movie happens.

Honestly, I think this timeline fits better than my first, but I decided to keep the original as I don't like doing major revisions to post's after posting them. We show our work here😂

I know I'm probably making this more complicated than it needs to be, as there's no guarantee the writers worried too much about making it historically accurate. But, as I'm currently in the middle of a fic that's dealing with the Krang, I want to finalize my timeline LOL. Also, I'm sure I'm not the only person who's tried to figure this out, so if you have the answers PLEASE SHARE! I could be missing something obvious that answers all my question, and (if it wasn't obvious by this essay of a post) I love finding out more about the show.

If you've read this far, you are amazing.

[brimstoneclone]

give it up to the x-men for being the first fandom to get me actively editing in MONTHS 👏👏👏

... had to make a gambit one specifically cuz the man does not want to leave my headspace

[as-rare-as-trees]

Repost of a Wang Yibo in watercolor I did in 2020 taking ispiration from my favourite photoshoot of his

[vampiremourning]

feeling Pathetique lads

[txjis]

thinking abt toji with a crybaby gf a little extra rn

no one can tell me this man isn’t into the ‘soft’ type. i’m not even trying to project. but i full heartedly believe that he likes the soft girls that have some attitude to them.

cw: MDNI , fem!reader , toji kinda toxic n icky , mention of periods , fake crying , that’s abt it i think.

imagine he’s just spoiled you absolutely rotten, you can count on one hand the amount of times he’s told you “no.” and actually stood his ground on the statement. how could he not give into you? your his sweet little baby, he can’t stand the pout on your face.

but god, when you break out the waterworks?? you could probably have this man doing whatever the fuck you wanted. you knew this too, and you didn’t want him to get used to seeing you cry and whine. so you saved this little trick you’ve learned until there’s something you reaallyyy want, and IF he says no. you know it won’t stay a no.

“c’mon baby, you know i’m saying no because it’s gonna make your stomach hurt.” toji looked over at you, bottom lip jutting out after he just rudely told you no to going back through the drive through to get another ice cream cone after you just practically inhaled yours. and sure, maybe it was immature to cry over ice cream, but you could tell your period was close, you needed that fucking ice cream before you ripped his head off.

“so mean toji.” your lip wobbling a bit while you willed your eyes to start misting over with water. you slammed both of your legs against the passenger side door, shrinking away from him while you sniffled and crossed your arms over your chest. it was dramatic, and you were fully aware of that. but who cares you were his special girl, no one else mattered.

“don’t be like that-“ toji reached out towards your legs, originally trying to place a strong hand on your thigh. he had to lean over the center console the way you tucked yourself against the door so tight. but just before he made contact, you slapped his hand away, turning to glare at him with crocodile tears streaming down your cheeks. “..fuckin’ fine. same flavor?”

you nod as he pulls around to go back through the drive through, he grunts and hands you the cone full of the sweet treat you had just cried over. you take it from him, continuing the pouty act for a few moments until you genuinely start to miss his touch. riding in his car doesn’t feel normal when his hand isn’t in your lap.

toji smirks to himself watching your legs shift closer to him once again through the peaks he was stealing of you occasionally. he places his hand on your thigh and gives it a small squeeze, mumbling a ‘love ya.’

god, he can’t wait until the day he actually wants to tell you no. he can’t wait until he can tell you that he knows what your little ‘trick’ is and how it’s never really worked on him. he can see right through your little head. he wants to watch you stumble over your words and try to explain yourself to him, break you down until you’re begging for his forgiveness. that’s when the real tears come out.

I SAID TOJI LIKES SOFT CRYBABY GIRLS BUT I DIDNT SAY IT WAS FOR A HEALTHY REASON :3 he likes to break them u can’t tell me otherwise

i’d still fuck him icl.

[ovaryacted]

HANDSY

PAIRING: Jackson! Joel Miller x afab! reader || WC: 1.2k

SYNOPSIS: Your cycle is ruining your mood, and what better thing to do than get a free massage.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. Suggestive content. Titty massage. Slight daddy kink. Established relationship. Joel being a little bastard. Ambiguous age gap (Joel is in his 50s, reader is in their 20s). Mentions of menstrual cycle and female characteristics about the chest. Banter and teasing. No use of y/n.

A/N: Alright, I'm kinda on a Joel Miller streak and I was just thinking about getting my tiddies rubbed by a man with strong & rough hands and this happened. Don't look at me like that okay, this is self indulgent and I just had to alright. Hopefully this is relatable for some of y'all lol. Shout out to everyone who has to deal with periods, you are stronger than the marines. Anyways, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Dividers by @saradika-graphics.

➣ TLOU was created by a zionist and is based off of the Israeli occupation of Palestine. Please refer to this link to learn how you can help the Palestinian people.

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

Another month. Another week of unruly irritation, mood swings, and uncomfortable reactions to anything that breathed too hard or moved too fast. In the hecticness that was your current reality, dealing with the devil’s wrath was supposed to be something that slipped past your mind. Yet, in the efforts of your survival, having a menstrual cycle still took you off guard every time it came punching through your gut.

Tossing and turning in bed, you tried to get in the best position to ease your cramps by curling up in a fetal position. You thought it would make things better, but instead, the discomfort you felt all over your body pissed you off even more. A frustrated grumble filled the bedroom, flinging the sheets away and furrowing your eyebrows at the lack of relief.

Where the fuck is he?

Throwing on a pair of slippers you luckily claimed on a supply run, you shuffled down the creaky stairs of your home and wandered about until you reached the living room. Joel was hunched over his seat on the couch, currently messing with his guitar strings, aware of your presence the moment you hit the base of the stairway.

“Somethin’ wrong, sweetheart?” He questioned you as he took in your features and noticed your pout. You were upset; that was obvious when he found you in bed earlier today instead of somewhere else in the house. Simply kissing your forehead and letting you rest as best as he could, he expected you to come down to talk to him eventually when you had the energy to do so.

Joel didn’t say anything as you came closer to him without uttering a word, slipping your legs over his thick thighs and pressing your face into the curve of his neck. He put his guitar to the side and wrapped his strong arms around your waist, hands instinctively digging into your lower back where you felt the most sore. He could tell from the way you clung to him that it was that time of the month, already having gotten used to your changes in demeanor to see the signs.

“Uncomfortable?” Joel asked again, trying to get a better read on your emotions, but he only received an annoyed grunt in response. “Guess we’re just gonna sit here then.”

He ran his fingers up and down your spine, trying his best to lessen the strain you felt. He could snag some herbs to make you tea later if you were in the mood for it, but right now, a massage is what you could handle. His touch made you sigh with alleviation, focusing on the pressure points along your shoulder and backbone. Even with his attempts, the front of your body continued to ache.

“My boobs are fucking killing me.” You declared out loud, a deep rumble of a chuckle escaping from the back of his throat.

“You need me to massage them?” Joel offered, and his intention of doing that was purely to make you feel better. Though, you couldn’t ignore the slight flutter in your belly at the idea of having his hands elsewhere. 

Giving him a nod, you sat straighter on his lap, holding his gaze as he slipped his hands underneath the flannel you wore and made a beeline for your chest. Joel didn’t flinch at the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra, being told once or twice how freeing it was not to have to deal with the constant friction of clothes against your heated skin.

He palmed both of your breasts and squeezed, his grip just strong enough to calm the throbbing of the swelling from your change in hormones. Your eyes closed as you focused on his touch, allowing Joel to do whatever he wanted with you, what he knew best.

“Feelin’ better?” You heard him ask, humming out in reply. He grinned at your reaction, the hum sounding close to a purr as he pawed at your chest.

Taking his hands out from underneath your—his shirt, you whined, a smirk tugging at the corners of Joel’s lips. Lifting the top of the flannel to rest on your collarbone, his attention went back to your breasts, looking at them with a mix of desire and affectionate pity.

“Poor baby. Hormones got my girl all cranky and upset.” He said, placing a soft kiss on the top of each breast before handling your body once more. You don’t know whether or not he was deliberately teasing you when you were the most vulnerable, but just hearing his voice was doing wonders to soothe your nerves.

You’ve always been fascinated with Joel’s hands since you met him, watching how he’d hold the handle of his gun or insert ammo into the magazine before reloading. His palms were rough, and his fingers were rougher, representing a man who’s lived a long life, who’s done unspeakable things to survive and get to this point. To most, they’d dislike the feeling of having so much of a contrast, but to you, the difference of his skin against yours was almost euphoric.

Joel squeezed with more purpose, focusing on tightening his grasp along the sides where the pain was the most prominent. One harsh thumb came to stroke at your sensitive nipple in gentle circles, pulling a breathless moan from between your lips. The smile on his face widened when his ears picked up the sound, moving to do a combination of deliberate squeezes and circles on the exposed nubs.

The warmth of his touch morphed into something else, need coiling in your stomach and clawing up your throat. As discretely as you could, your hips shifted further into his, craving much more than what he was giving you. Joel couldn’t help himself and brought you closer to him, grinding his hips up into yours. That got your attention, looking into his hazel eyes to find his pupils narrowly dilated.

“If you need me to rub somethin’ else, I can.” Despite the years worn on his face, he still had a certain boyish charm that jerked at your heartstrings when he flirted with you. Or, maybe it was just his southern gentleman persona, ever so willing to tend to your needs no matter what they may be.

“You’re annoying.” You mumbled to him, stubbornly refusing to outright beg for his affection, regardless of how badly you craved it.

“And you’re moody.” Joel kissed you tenderly, drawing away and snickering when you leaned forward to chase his lips for another.

“Let daddy make you feel good. Alright, darlin’?” You nodded dumbly at the proposition of getting something more than your tits massaged.

His eyes flashed with lust, making quick work to peel off the flannel and toss it to the ground. Already growing hard at the thought of having his way with you, he tilted towards you, kissing the column of your neck and letting his beard tickle your skin. You released a shaky exhale, fingers running through his graying hair and tipping your head back to grant him more access to your skin.

“Atta girl.”

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[indecisivemuch]

hii first of all luv the username cause as a libra rising, samedt ;-; i'd like to make a request for a luke x f!reader fic pls!! um, so they're best friends, and luke decides to confess to r by giving her gifts, letters, trinkets, etc. with hints about his identity, but she doesn't know who they're from. so she asks for luke's help to find out about the identity of her secret admirer. but what if there's like a mistaken identity and she thinks it's someone from the hermes cabin (maybe chris? or one of the stoll brothers idk) and luke's just all pouty but nonchalant or something, but deep down he's like 'how do i even make her see' or something (while also second guessing that maybe he shouldn't confess it's him) like fluff with tiny angst :>

Message in a Bottle

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: You got a secret admirer and recruited Luke to help you find out who they are...ignoring the most obvious option (Fluff, angst, best friends to lovers, happy ending)

Note: I'm so sorry for the six month hiatus. It wasn't by choice, I swear 😭. So many bad things kept happening that prevented me from writing (is this the writers curse people kept talking about?). Also, the request wanted only a sprinkle of angst, but I kinda got out of hand with it I think 😭 (sorry).

Word count: 4.4k (whoops)

You’ve always thought that too much of something is bad. Yet, ever since the day your life intertwined with Luke Castellan’s, you weren’t very sure about that anymore. 

The two of you arrived at camp around the same time, entering a friendship that felt like hitting the jackpot. Your early days together were something that you both treasured dearly. Every time you thought a certain time period would someday be reminisced as the golden days of your friendships, new things would come, and top it off. 

However, golden skies were soon evaded by clouds of pink hues. You found yourself noticing and appreciating small details you haven’t noticed before about your best friend. Initially, you acknowledged the growing feeling but decided that they better remain as footnotes in chapters of your life. However, fate’s design was different to your plans, because two years later, here you were: you looked at him almost in the same way a fool would look at the world with rose-colored glasses (but then again, maybe it was because you have learned to embrace and adore his flaws).

“Luke!”

The Hermes cabin counselor snapped his head towards the sound of your voice, eyes straying from his duty of the hour. A smile began forming on his face as you came to view, almost like he has always been programmed to do so. There was a certain spring in your steps. Moments like these made Luke feel like he was a minimalist because your happiness was somehow enough to guarantee his own. 

You situated yourself next to Luke on the ground, not minding the dirt.

“Hey now, I’m meant to be watching these kids train, don’t come over and distract me,” the Hermes cabin counselor warned, though he didn’t move his eyes away from you. He simply couldn’t.

Everything about you served as a distraction to him. From the soft smirk gracing your lips to the innocent tilting of your head. Every little detail about you was captivating and was equally capable of drawing his attention away from wherever it was meant to be. 

In fact, his attention issue around you was getting rather shameless because his friends have begun picking up on it and started teasing him for it. Personally, Luke doesn’t think it was his fault. His eyes just happen to draw to you in every room like second nature, while his mind short-circuited every time you were near. 

Maybe, and just maybe being rational and able to function properly has stopped being his forte…at least whenever you were around.

Your eyes moved to the group of kids that were only going to be at camp for the summer. From the looks of it, Luke has just assigned them to practice sword fighting in pairs. You then glanced back at your best friend, discreetly drinking in the sight of him. 

No doubt he did his fair share of demonstration before letting these kids go off on their own, because right now, his face was slightly flushed, veins evident on his forearm while the familiar orange shirt clung onto his body with glistening sweat.

You shook away the non-platonic thoughts and teased him, “Oh, come on, you wouldn’t pass up on talking to me. You adore me too much.” 

Damn right, he does. Luke could feel his cheeks heat up again.

“Fine. What are you here for, firecracker?”

“I got another gift,” you informed, presenting the bracelet in your hand. 

For the past month, you have been receiving small letters and gifts. This time it was a handmade bracelet with beads of your favorite colors, as well as charms that represented some of your hobbies and favorite things. It was clear that your anonymous admirer had put a lot of thought into such a small item. However, as always, there were no identities attached to it, leaving you clueless about the person behind these gestures.

Luke took your hand in his, eying the accessory that perfectly fitted your wrist. He started toying with the beads around your wrist that were shining in your favorite color.

The boy’s gaze flicked from the object to you, catching your soft and warm look. Gods, if you kept looking at him like that, he might just actually stop thinking logically. He could practically feel a confession lingering behind his lips, threatening to spew the second his ropes of restraint died.

“Anyway, I came here with an idea,” you broke the silence. “What if I try to find out who this person is? I mean, some of these gifts are quite specific. They seem to know my favorite color, flowers, and things I like. Surely, it wouldn’t be that hard to narrow it down and figure it out?”

Something shifted in your best friend’s behavior and you could feel it. There was a slight flustering look on Luke’s face as he avoided eye contact with you. It was rather strange to see the Hermes cabin counselor so fidgety. Luke has always been confident and composed, and you’d often be the one to humble down his playful cocky remarks. Half-way through looking at his behavior, you began speaking:

“You…”

Luke could feel the blood draining from his face at your facial expression, his face paling despite how flushed he was seconds ago from demonstrating sword fighting. The boy tried to regain his composure, though his attempt at seeming nonchalant failed as you touched his arm. Did you—

“You can be my inside man, talk to these guys to see if they’d slip up or something like that.” 

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” Luke hastily replied, clearing his throat.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did that come across as a suggestion? I hate to break it to you but being best friends means you sorta have to participate in my schemes,” your lips curled as Luke grunted at your words. 

“Yeah, but—”

“Luke, please…it’ll be fun,” he almost scoffed at your words and unconvincing argument. Clearly, the two of you had different definitions of fun. Just as he opened his mouth to reject your idea again, his eyes caught yours. You were looking at him in such an eager and heart-warming gaze that it made him forget what he was intending to say.

Ah, there was no denying anymore. Being rational and able to function properly has truly stopped being his forte.

“Fine,” Luke uttered, the word pricking his tongue as regret started kicking in as he accepted being your accomplice. This decision could only come back to bite him in the ass. He watched as you quickly celebrated his lack of restraint.

“Ah, you gave in quite quickly,” you jabbed.

“Shut up.”

Oh, you were going to be the death of him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Two days have passed since you got Luke to agree to help you find your secret admirer. Though, the boy must say, the last forty eight hours have been slightly comedic for him, watching you trying to track down your secret admirer…

While the real sender of those gifts was right beside you, nodding along to your every word. 

Luke’s mind trailed to the origin of this “secret admirer” idea. He started it as a way to abate the urge of straight-up blurting out how love-struck he was with his own best friend, while also testing out the waters before finally confessing his feelings for you. 

Though it was slightly amusing how the idea led him to where he was right at that moment. The Hermes cabin counselor zoned out as he pretended to speak to another boy you thought was behind those sweet gifts and letters. 

Luke used to have those feelings under rein, but self-repression only caused it to grow exponentially. Initially, the Hermes cabin counselor dismissed those beyond friendly thoughts, thinking they would eventually fizzle away. However, against his predictions, this fondness towards you became a sort of companion to him for three long years. 

Not only that, years of excessively burying these feelings six feet underground also came back to bite him in the ass because instead of having his feelings under control, they now have the upper hand. 

Sometimes he felt like a puppet, while his feelings plucked the strings. His facial expressions were forever cursed to be sculpted in raw yearning whenever around you, having no choice over how he reacts to everything related to you.

But it didn’t matter, because he was going to finally confess soon.

Luke almost burst out laughing at the way you were standing in anticipation, waiting for his intel on the most recent candidate. It was entertaining, to say the least, pretending to engage in investigative conversation before heading back to you, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. 

However, it didn’t take long before the Hermes cabin counselor started feeling sour.

Just as he made it back to your side, he watched as you started talking again, already discussing the next guy you thought might have done these things that Luke himself came up with. He eyed your in sync footsteps with a heavy heart. Despite the matching movement, he somehow still felt eternally behind. Luke was so close, yet so far away, and never quite able to grasp onto your ever moving attention. 

Did you not consider him as an option at all? Did you truly not see him as anything other than a good friend? It started stinging him knowing you were considering all these other guys as potential candidates — the faces that now haunt him in his sleep, poisoning his mind with an acidic jealousy that was eating away his common senses and fueling immoral thoughts. 

Soon enough, that same jealousy seared his mind with this overwhelming self-doubt. Luke’s foot started feeling cold at the thought of confessing. Gods, he never thought the same security behind anonymity would now make him feel desperate to be seen by you. 

“Maybe I should give up,” you concluded, mindlessly staring ahead. Your attention elsewhere gave Clarisse and Chris an opportunity to send each other knowing looks. The two have been watching you run around in circles on a goose hunt, not knowing to look right behind at the sulking figure that was trailing after you. 

Your distracted state also meant you didn’t notice the moping human situated beside you. However, hearing your declaration of ending your chase, Luke saw a window of opportunity. Maybe now was finally the time to be truthful. After all, if he doesn’t tell you, then how will you know and see him? Luke’s momentary motivation carried him through waves of dejection.

“Y/N, I need to tell you something,” Luke blurted out without much more thought or preparation, and his tone made you fully turn to him. Just as words finally formed and the boy opened his mouth to tell you—

“Hey Y/N, can I talk to you privately?” Somebody interrupted. Your eyes didn’t leave Luke immediately, but when you saw your best friend’s momentum had faltered, you turned to the stranger. It was another Hermes boy, somebody who you’ve seen around. You politely agreed and left with him. 

“So, I heard you’ve been looking for the person who’s been giving you anonymous gifts. And well, it’s your lucky day, 'cause…” the boy stared you up and down while you subconsciously took a small step back when he leaned forward. “...I’ve decided to come forward and reveal myself.”

“Okay…well, prove it” you squinted. Though your skepticism didn’t make the Hermes boy in front of you falter. Clearly, he expected this.

“The first thing you were given was a note, and…the two most recent gifts were a cassette tape and a bracelet — which was made from beads of your favorite color and charms like…” you zoned out as the boy started listing out some of your favorite activities that were indeed the charms on your bracelet. You fiddled with the bracelet that you had purposefully hidden out of his view right behind your back.

There was a pinch in your heart that signaled the last bit of hope dying. 

Oh…so Luke really wasn’t your secret admirer.

You internally scoffed at yourself. You should have known right after he said yes to helping you out with finding your secret admirer — which was originally an idea used as bait to determine if Luke was the sender or not, because if it was really him then he wouldn’t have agreed to help you out with this. However, not only did your best friend agree without much convincing from you, but he had seemed so nonchalant and unaffected as you named all these boys you wanted him to talk to. 

Perhaps this secret admirer thing was something good. Somebody has shown interest and their actions have been nothing but sweet. Those letters contained words that were eternally bound to your memories, even altering the way you view yourself for the better. Maybe you could get to know this person and move on from hopelessly crushing on your best friend.  

Halfway through, you realize you were so engulfed in your thoughts that you have zoned out to half of the things the Hermes boy was saying, and merely caught onto the last bit of his speech:

“...thinking maybe we could go on a date and get to know each other more tonight?”

Your stomach churned again, yet you nodded your head.

Move on. Move on. Move on. Move on. 

Your friends gave you questioning looks when you got back to where they were, clearly curious about what you were pulled away for.

“So…that was my secret admirer, and I’m going on a date with him tonight,” you hoped you sounded more enthusiastic than you were feeling. You tried convincing yourself at least it was good knowing definitely how your best friend actually felt about you. Quickly sitting down, you kept your eyes on Clarisse, knowing if you even looked over at Luke, he’d be able to tell straight away that something was wrong.

Your lack of focus also meant you didn’t think much of the quiet murmur from your best friend: “Sorry, I just remember I need to do something.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time. It was now the afternoon and you just finished getting ready for your date. As you were leaving, you spotted a note at the foot of your cabin. Seeing your name written on the paper, you picked it up while eying it peculiarly.

“You could be the one that I love, 

I could be the one that you dream of,

Message in a bottle is all I can do, 

Standing here hoping it gets to you.”

Your gut feeling stirred, hitting you with waves of higher certainty over suspicions you have previously had and denied.

Those lyrics were directly associated with a memory from summer two years ago. 

Luke and you were sitting by the campfire when he asked what your favorite song was. You told him the name and mentioned you hadn’t listened to it in a while because using technology devices with signals were dangerous for Demigods. The conversation slipped your mind but clearly loitered in your best friend’s mind, because two months later while on your way back to camp from your quest together, he gifted you a tape player along with a cassette of said song along with others that you liked.

You blinked away the image of you leaning on Luke’s shoulder while the two of you listened to the song together on the train back to camp.

You re-read the note again while shaking your head. Perhaps it was a coincidence. Perhaps, that Hermes boy knew the song and it was also one of his favorites. Perhaps—

Your hand started trembling around the paper. Your eyes landed on one small detail in the note: a particular handwriting choice. The rest of it matched with previous notes, but there was one singular scribbling feature you’ve never seen used before. 

Everything came crashing down and your internal eternal cycle of excuses and denial shattered.

You ran. It didn’t matter that it was raining and your attire was getting soaked. It didn’t matter at all because you were frustrated and confused. In other instances, you would have been elated at the possibility of mutual affection, but in that moment, exasperation blinded you from sensibility. 

If what you have concluded was true, then why on Earth would he allow you to go on a date with a person who stole credit for things they didn’t do? This whole time, he made you feel like a fool — for waiting that long and having hope after all that time; for asking the person you were looking for to hunt them down with you; for sulking despite having what you thought was a good opportunity to come along; for borderline going on a date with an imposter; and for not seeing it all along that it was him. 

“It’s you, isn’t it?” you called out.

Despite the rain, you could see your best friend’s figure stiffened before turning around to face you. The boy stood with his hands behind his back, not yet daring to look at you. 

“The “th”. You connected the cross in the ‘t’ directly to the ‘h’,” you presented the note in your hand, pointing specifically at the slip up that Luke had made in the latest note, not caring of the raindrops that were hitting the paper. “It’s how I write it, and you started writing it the same way a year after we got to know each other because you liked the way it looked,” you pressed further.

The expression on Luke’s face painted your theory into the truth of the situation. You felt your hand slightly shaking at the revelation.

“Why? You left anonymous gifts and notes and watched me put on this hunt — which by the way, was for you. And didn’t even say anything when a guy lied and said he was my secret admirer? Is this one big cruel prank?”

“No—”

“Oh! Well then, surely at one point in this whole thing, you felt like you should just tell me?” 

“I was going to.”

“Then where were you when I was just about to head out with that fraud? Maybe if you really liked me and really cared for me, like all those damn notes say, you would have fought for m—”

“I did,” Luke finally raised his voice, his face briefly hardened in an attempt to convey his desperation. His chest heaved, and the way it did almost made you think the anger radiating off every inch of his skin right then was directed towards you. But it wasn’t, and he knew you knew. 

“I confronted him right after he claimed that he was the one who gave you all those things.” 

Invisible ivies rooted your foot to the ground. You gulped, trying to digest the information you were given. However, it finally sunk in when Luke’s hands appeared from behind his back. It was then that you could see the bandage wrapped around his knuckles. Your breath hiccuped in both flattery and worry at the implication of what he had done. The darkness behind those deep hazel-brown orbs reflected a certain side of your best friend that you hadn’t seen before. Although, part of you felt like you wouldn’t mind it.

It made Luke’s blood boil knowing what he dedicated to you from the bottom of his heart was spoiled by ill intentions. Luke should have known better than to carelessly write all the letters and craft those gifts right on his bunk bed, rather than discreetly. 

Once again, the Hermes cabin counselor was pulled back to memories from an hour ago. The way the other boy shot remarks at Luke’s lack of precautions, boasting his wrong-doings like someone incapable of having a guilty conscience. Luke's jaw tightened as the image of the sly smirk on the other Hermes boy's face flashed in his mind, but a wave of satisfaction ran through him as he recalled how quickly that smirk was wiped away by his own fist.

They might be brothers by a fraction, but blood or not, that boy was dead to Luke the second he tried tricking you.

“And no, I wouldn’t have let you go out with a fraudster. Never,” Luke’s eyes softened. “And in case it’s not implied enough: I like you…a lot. I was going to confess but then this guy came along lying,” Luke could feel that tremor returning once more to his fist. He hated that something he built, from scratch, on the foundation of sincerity was momentarily tainted by the hands of a spineless liar. Not only that, he hated witnessing somebody so dear to him getting deceived in such a tasteless manner.

“I also…didn’t want to get hurt. It was starting to seem like you would ever consider me as more than just a friend with the way you were listing out all these other guys. So for a bit there I was considering just keeping quiet…forever” he confessed, eyes now straying away from you and down to his shoes.

You observed your best friend through a new perspective. So your initial suspicions were true. You had thought it was him because all the things you have received hinted to somebody who knew you so well, and who else at camp but Luke knew this many things about you. But ultimately, another part of you — the proclaimed “logical” side — has hyper-analyzed every split second you two have shared and deemed that Luke has not given any true signs of interest in you beyond as a friend. Thus, you dismissed the thought of Luke being your secret admirer.

You know now to trust your gut feelings more.

“Oh, Luke Castellan, you dumb ass…” you spoke softly underneath your breath, but you knew he heard you perfectly clearly from the way he slightly peered up. Your heart almost shattered at the dejected look on your best friend’s face and the thought of him burying his feelings eternally. You sure as hell would not allow that to be this timeline.

“I’ve liked you ever since the day you went out of your way and gave me that first cassette tape,” the marveled look on Luke’s face over your confession made you continue, “I guess I should have known it was you…cause gift giving has always been your love language.” It seemed like the boy was too stunned and struck frozen. However, his shell-shock state didn’t last long, because soon, your best friend’s gaze reverted back to the way he has always looked at you, only slightly more intense.

Your eyes fluttered at the sight of Luke Castellan in front of you at that moment. You were finally able to see the effect you’ve always had on him. The way his lips hung slightly agape, eyes dilated in such a way you were no longer able to see their usual color anymore, chest slightly heaving despite lack of physical reasons for such a reaction. You almost wanted to hit yourself for being such a fool and not spotting these details sooner. 

“Now, Castellan…you have two options,” you stepped closer to him, leaving an appropriate amount of personal space in between. “You either kiss me or—”

Luke grabbed your wrist with his uninjured hand and pulled you in. The same hand-guided your arms around his neck while also effectively eliminating the remaining distance between you two. 

Without hesitation, he kissed you.

Likewise, you returned the action without a second thought. You frankly didn’t care about the rain that was soaking the both of you. Kissing Luke felt like such a natural act that it felt simply like diving home. The way he held you made you feel like you were a national treasure he was so afraid of losing. Gods, you don’t think you mind doing this ever so often.

Though, there was a certain urgency in the way Luke kissed you, as if afraid you’d either vanish or you’d change your mind. You pressed your lips harder against his, hoping he’d understand you didn’t intend on leaving or having a change of heart.

A grunt escaped his throat as you kissed him harder. Oh, Luke Castellan already knew he was in immense trouble. He knew almost immediately that the concerning number of thoughts he had about you each day would only increase tenfold from this day on. He wondered if you could taste all of his unspoken words. If kissing you felt like this, he might as well sign away his heart, body, and mind to you. In fact, he’d sign anything you put in front of him without even considering the fine prints. 

Luke slowly backed you against a tree, giving you a bit of support to lean against whilst shielding the both of you from the heavy rain. He smiled into the kiss as you hummed at his action, feeling it echo against his lips. His heart tugged, almost leaping out of his chest when your hands made their way to both sides of his face, cupping it intently like holding something yours. Yours. Fuck, he loved the sound of that. 

You were the first to break the kiss. The both of you gasped for air while maintaining eye contact. The close-up view of his intense gaze drove your cheeks rosy. You could not help but admire the way his locks of wet curly hair clung onto his forehead, while raindrops fell from his face, some following the length of his eyelashes before falling — Oh, the way he glanced down at your lips at that second made you feel almost like you had the power to convince him into anything at the moment. 

“You’re my best friend…” he broke the silence.

“Mhm.”

“...but what if I want you to be more than that?”

“I can be both,” Luke’s lips broke out into a smile, and you mirrored his facial expression. He leaned his forehead against yours whilst softly rubbing his thumb soothingly against your waist.

“I’m not against that.” 

As a larger grin broke out on your lips, Luke’s eyes further softened. He realized right there and then that anything you wanted, he would not be against it. A breath of relief quietly escaped beneath Luke’s breath. He could not wait for whatever was in store for the both of you in the future.

Good thing his messages in a bottle did get to you.

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

masterlist

join my Luke Castellan taglist (or to remove yourself from)

[james-stark-the-writer]

having tags you used to use for specific posts is honestly so weird to experience bc I do not want to see what the fuck teen me had to say about anything. anything I've said before 2022 does not exist, it's not canon, it never happened.

[strwberri-milk]

Hii could I maybe request the lads boys and sugar daddies 🤭🤭

It's okay if you don't tho I understand it's not something everyone is comfortable with :)

im understanding this as lads AS sugar daddies but also im like. thinking about it and these are gonna be kinda short bc i just dont see anybody really being a sugar daddy so these are. very general. fun fact - xaviers is based off a fic premise i never wrote

Zayne definitely has the capital to be a sugar daddy and he's heard amongst the other doctors that there are some others who have arrangements. He judges them at first, thinking that it's not something he'd really think he's comfortable dealing with. He learns that things don't have to be purely sexual a night or two of him feeling extraordinarily lonely he decides maybe he could just see if he could find someone to spend time with.

Against his better judgement he meets you, someone who invigorates him mentally and enjoys spending his time with you. Your allowance is incredibly generous and you were expecting him to escalate with each nice dinner he takes you to but he's never made a move on you. He's a perfect gentleman and he makes sure you understand that all he wants from you is your time, however much it costs.

The only way Xavier could end up in this situation is by pure accident. He downloads an app, thinking it was just a way to make friends online. He assumes that payments are for some sort of membership, swiping around until he finds your profile and decides to start chatting with you.

The two of you have a lot in common and when you two meet up for the first time you're glad that he looks a lot younger than you anticipated with the blurry profile photo and slightly outdated shorthand in texting. He sort of slips into the role in a similar manner, paying for your dinners and buying you things that remind him of you.

You don't really think he knows what he's become, especially since you don't receive a traditional allowance of money. You don't mind at all thankfully, fully accepting all of his gifts and meals in exchange for his companionship. Honestly, you don't look at him as a sugar daddy because of how casual everything is, cherishing his friendship as you get to know him.

Rafayel totally does it as a whim. He decides to download an app for fun, not really into dating period. He doesn't like the way that people fawn over him, or try to pretend that they don't care he's rich despite insisting meeting at fancy restaurants and looking at him expectantly to foot the bill.

You agree to a date with Rafayel because not only is he famous, he's stupid pretty. You decide that spending time with him would definitely not be an awful thing to do. Your first date is formal and you try to wow him with knowledge of his paintings. He doesn't seem very interested but the two of you seem to get along, thankfully.

Over time the two of you become more friendly, Rafayel letting his walls down more as the two of you become more honest with each other. He's very kind with his money and you're paid very generously. He finally has a sort of friend outside of Thomas and genuinely likes bugging you, you not minding the extra attention he gives you in addition to the money you're paid.

Sylus is constantly fighting off people trying to flirt with him to enter some sort of arrangement. He exudes both wealth and power so of course people are going to be obsessed with him. He usually brushes them all off, not caring, honestly.

He happens to come across you during an evening of drinking. You're trying to flirt with him, not knowing anything about him other than you think he's a very attractive man. He knows that you don't know him with how forward you are, touching and batting your lashes at him flirtatiously.

He ends up deciding to buy you some drinks and the two of you talk well into the night. He gives you his number to talk to him again, telling you that he'd make sure it was worth your time. When you get home that night you find a package addressed to you. A beautiful set of clothes and jewels that fit you perfectly along with an invitation for an event in the week.

This becomes standard for the two of you and you love it. Being on his arm prevents Sylus from getting accosted from people that are desperate for his attention and you're constantly spoiled by his money. You both benefit, growing closer with each other over time.

[monarchberrysblog]

Hmo but

What if Miguel finds out you used to date the Harry Osborn from your world? You and Harry used to date but broke up on friendly terms but then you meet sometime where Miguel’s visiting your world for a date, and then his possessive instinct is like: She’s mine 😏

Then ✨smut✨ and ofc he has a marking kink

INTERLINKED

credit to @r3ds_art_ on Twitter and Instagram!

✭ 🔞 Miguel O’Hara x fem! Reader ✭

✮ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: possessive (adj.) → demanding someone’s total attention and love. having the knowledge that you used to be with someone left a sour taste in miguel’s mouth. especially knowing that you are still in good terms with them to this day.

✭ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: biting kink? (idk what it’s called), cumplay (?), unprotective p-in-v, semi-exhibitionism (y'all get caught), possessive behavior (kinda?)

✭ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: +1.7k words

✭ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: mwehehehe (once again, if there are errors i apologize in advance as i felt like i read this multiple times and don't see any errors) enjoy!

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 | 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃

Harry was your first love. Something so fleeing that if you were to blink or glance at it, it disappeared instantly. It blurred into your life the way acrylic colors blended to create a clash of colors like a summer evening in July. It was all tangy and sweet, with a scalding, sweaty undertone. Beautiful yet uncomfortable to endure.

He was sweet, resembling a sweet syrup in any refresher you would get in a coffee shop. Sweet, yet messy. The sap wasn't noticeable until it became unbearable to have in between your fingers.

Enduring the sappy-like texture on the tip of your fingers, wiping the mess clean from your skin, bonding with Henry became inevitable. You didn't want to let him go, but it was for the better for each other.

But after growing out of each other, things ended with a silver lining—growing and learning within a long distance from each other.

Then, you met Miguel.

Another man from another dimension.

Meeting someone from another world was not on your bucket list, let alone in the span of goals you had for the next few years or so. But Miguel managed to tergiversate his way into your plans (and heart). He fit right into your life like a puzzle piece you didn't know was missing.

And you love it.

/

“Is your dish okay? Because if it isn't, I can send it back and—” You fade his rambles with a gentle touch on his hand. “Yes, it's perfect Migs. Thank you.” The sound of cutlery clicking on the white ceramic plates complimented the ambiance of the warm-lit dining area.

Small chatter created a cozy environment that made anyone lull to sleep. “And please, don't yell at the chef like last time.” You forcefully giggle and can almost imagine the events playing out like a storyboard.

“They didn't give you the grilled chicken fillet.” He grumbles, looking away from his dish and to the side, keeping his gaze on the maroon carpet. “Hey,” You gently cupped his cheek, disregarding your silverware. “It’s okay. Sometimes, we make mistakes on off days. It's nothing new.”

“I know,” He pouts. “I just want you to have a warm meal.”

“And I'm grateful for your well-being. Just don't yell at the chef and make them cry again. Please.” You plead, gently rubbing his cheekbone with the pad of your thumb. “…okay.” He grumbles in defeat, taking your hand away from his face and gently holding your hand with a reassuring squeeze.

“I won’t.”

/

You worked on your dish, taking in pasta forkfuls and grilled chicken. Miguel keeps a close eye while eating his dish, savoring his fillet mignon. You basked in the silence, probably in your little world while with him. But a single greeting broke the mellow silence. “Hey,”

It wasn't just a simple “Hey” to get someone’s attention. Instead, it was an exasperated one. The exhale is a sign of relief—the relief of seeing someone familiar after a long period of time. A sigh that read, “Oh, it's been a while; I missed seeing you..”

Miguel’s head turned for him without his brain enabling his thought process. “Oh, hey, Harry.” You smile, showing off your little dimples to him. “What brings you here?” Harry makes his way over to the two of you, unaware of the daggers that Miguel was throwing at him. “I’m here with Miguel. My boyfriend.”

Harry turns his attention to your aggravated partner, oblivious to the aura Miguel sent. “Already moved on? That was fast.”

Not an amusing joke, even for Harry. He lets out a forced laugh, hoping to drown out the awkward air around them—it only made it more suffocating to be in that bubble. “It's been a couple of years.” You laughed, trying to ease the unsteady environment. But it was laughable beyond that point.

While exchanging words, Harry’s wavering eyes remained on you, taking in every feature about you. “You work here?” You ask as you look up at Harry. “As a server only.”

Your smile, cute dimples, everything caught Harry’s attention. It felt like he was looking at the playing field and wondering if he was about to get to second base. The conversation dragged like a snail, going slowly for Miguel.

“But it was nice seeing you.” The only best solution was stepping on the awkward waters rising as Harry nodded and sighed. “Yes, it was nice seeing you too. But let me know if you guys need anything.” With a simple nod, he walks off almost in a rushed manner.

/

“Jesus.” Miguel was now away from the warm dining area of the restaurant and now in the men’s room. He stood in the handicap stall momentarily, burying his face into his palms. The last thing he needed to happen was for you to lecture him on his behavior, especially now that Harry had dropped by unannounced.

“You’re exaggerating, you're exaggerating.” He repeats the mantra, sounding like a possessed man. If anyone were to walk in, some eye brows would have been raised. But after repeating the phrase a couple more times, he stops and rubs his eyes, much to his doctor's dismay about the habit.

“It's fine.” He thinks, reaching for the stall door to step out. But the sound of a familiar voice and a different voice enter the washroom. “Who was that woman who you greeted earlier?”

“An ex,” Harry states matter of factly.

“You miss her, don't you?” The other voice inquires as if they anticipated drama. “I've seen the way you look at her.” The other voice adds. “Yeah, but just as friends! It's been a while since we last spoke.”

A little, just a little?

“But she's with someone else.” Harry stumbles his words, attempting to redeem his words.

“And you don't seem okay with that.” A lingering silence suffocates space immediately. A sigh from Harry fills the space, shattering the awkwardness.

“I'm okay with it. I just miss her company.”

The corner of Miguel’s lip subtly twitches, a sign of irritation. He waits, waiting for the two men to finish their discussion. It wasn't until ten minutes later that they finally left. Almost as if he were following behind, Miguel steps out of the stall silently, feeling his senses get overwhelmed with his typical possessive return once again.

/

“Keep it down for me, bebe. Can you do that for me?” He bites down on your neck and nibbles on your skin. The flat of his tongue lathers against the bite crevices, soothing the dull, aching pain. “Your canines…” Your comment fell silent before his lips kissed the now red mark against your flesh before his hands worked quickly to raise the hem of your skirt. “Shhh, we don't need to get kicked out, do we?” He whispers. The family bathroom immediately got filled with scuffles and moving around of clothes. His ring and pointer finger ghost at your clothed cunt, dragging the tips of his fingers down your entrance, feeling the dampness.

“I just bit you, and you’re all riled up? Pobrecita.” He pouts to you and slowly moves the gusset of your underwear to the side gently with a tug. “Just keep it down for me, okay? Can you do that for me?” His gentle movements drew out soft whines and moans from your mouth like word vomit while his fingers traced your entrance, drawing out your glistening arousal.

"Just be quiet for me," he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, helping himself to another bite of your soft skin. He follows his fingers, delving into your fluttering wall, eagerly taking his fingers in. "Shhh..." The sound of wet, sticky gushes fills the family room bathroom, with your mess dripping down onto the floor and occasionally on the bathroom wall.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, occasionally feeling his two fingers curl slightly. You bit down on your bottom lip, humming out your pleasure to the rhythm of his finger moving in and out.

"Don't make a mess, I don't want you to ruin my watch."

The soft thrusting of his fingers moved rapidly, pulling his fingers out completely before shoving his fingers back into your needy pussy. The rapid thrusts became too much, releasing your mess along with your cum all over the floor before you. "Ay, ya te dije." He pulls his fingers out, shaking his hand dry and lifting you up on the sink counter. "I told you to not make a mess." He put a resting finger against your fluttering core, lightly pushing down to soothe the stretch.

"Spread for me a bit, nena." He whispers and grasps onto your thighs, helping you. You could already imagine the mess you left behind the counter, leaving a glistening mess on the marble. You open up for him with a meek "Okay." You feel your legs trembling against the cold marble. You watch on as Miguel hurries to take off his pants, shoving the pants down quickly and dragging you close to his aching member.

A soft moan escaped your lips, feeling his length rub against your core and clit, lightly thrusting his length in between your entrance. "Let me just prepare myself," He whispers, slowly collecting your slick against his length. You let out a whine before you let out a moan, feeling his tip occasionally slip in between your folds. He thrusted his tip in a couple more times before he continued to grind his length against your clit.

“There we go. Let’s get you comfortable.” He whispers into your ear before he slowly pushes himself in, earning a loud moan from you. He immediately covered your mouth, muffling your beautiful sounds.

“Shh, be good and keep it down.” He whispers while gently pushing his tip against your cervix, occasionally earning a soft cry in pain. You felt him slowly pull out and keep a gentle pace. “Is that better, nena?” He croons into your ear. He grinds his length into you, trying to keep your moans and mews at a limit.

“So good, cariño.” He whispers. “Come on, hold on for a while.” His fingers trace the soft red marks on your neck, putting pressure to soothe the pain.

“I want us to be in here for a moment.”

/

The two of y'all rushed out of the bathroom, getting chased out of the restaurant by two servers. “And get out of here! Never come back!” They yell out as soon as the two of you scurry out while adjusting your clothes. You exchanged breathy laughs with each other when you felt the cold air nip at your skin.

“I told you to keep it down.”

[beefboyandbabygirl]

Titty-Shirt! (18+)

pairing: pervert!rollercoaster operator!jeonghan x bigtiddie!fem!reader

genre: theme park au??? lmao, coworkers to lovers, kinda enemies to lovers, smut, fluff, lil crack, lil angst

description: you start your new job and your mentor, jeonghan, is the biggest piece of shit you've ever met. you swear you hate him. you swear. he's just also the most gorgeous man you've ever seen.

warnings: whew this requires a lot of warning, first of all a lot of DUBCON BEHAVIOR FROM JEONGHAN INITIALLY (we know she enjoys it to some extent, but he doesnt know), hes a sleazy perverted fuck, tiddie playing, tiddie sucking, tiddie fucking, fingering (f. receiving), dry humping, mirror sex, praise (f. receiving), dirty talk, FINGER SUCKING HNG, a lil degradation (f. receiving), meanie condescending jeonghan turning all soft for ur tiddies :(, V TIDDIE-CENTRIC IF U COULDNT TELL, belinda loves jeonghan, WEED LOTTA WEED, explicit depictions of smoking weed, high sex, this fic sounds rough but it actually has some really soft cute moments, im pretty sure thats it lmk if i forgot smth

quotes from babygirl (@joshibambi): "shove ur cock down my throat treat me like the whore i am", "FUCKING STEP ON ME", "omg hes so disgusting..... im so attracted to him"

wordcount: 13.2k

a/n: the way i raced 2 finish this before im actually moving out... ALSO thinking ab making this a series? like one for each member, the theme being "unusual jobs". like not stuff youd immediately think of like coffee shop or lawyer or ceo or whatever. like. strange jobs. would u guys b on board?

“We’re so excited to have you working with us.” 

She had a mole on her nose that was hard to ignore. It was big and exceptionally round - your thoughts flitted back to your dearest Discovery Channel, and how amazing it was that nature could create such perfect spheres. The thought of your couch and your blanket and your most cherished nature docs brought upon a wave of uncertainty. You could just be lying at home, you thought. 

“Happy to be here,” you smiled tightly. She was your new manager and she was short and stout and had gray hair and a lovely smile and a round mole on her nose. You tried not to make it obvious you were staring at it. 

You were standing in your city’s local theme park under a long path with flower archways. People, kids and parents and ninth graders, swarmed around like bees, standing at booths and in lines to old, janky, rusted roller coasters. It was summer and you were wearing the branded shirt they’d given you, slightly too small, and the matching cap. Insects buzzed past your stray hairs and you looked up at the bright blue sky. 

You needed a job, you had known, and your mom had certainly known it too, so you could only lounge around after graduating for a short while, before you opted to apply. This had been your last choice. You’d tried to become some sort of lobby-worker, tried makeup stores and even regular stores. You used to make fun of the people who worked here. But now that person was you, and standing under the archways in the summer sun slathered in sunscreen, you figured you would make the best of it until the busy season was over. 

“So,” your manager, Belinda, began after a brief pause of polite nods, “new employees such as yourself are required to be trained and surveyed by an existing worker for a two-week period, but after that you get to run the rides all by yourself.” 

She said it like it was something to look forward to. You tried to believe that it was.

“Of course,” you said, and once again the space between you was filled with polite and exaggerated nodding. “Need to learn first before you get to be the master.”

“Exactly!” she said. Her lipstick was barbie-pink and a little overlined on the right side. She smelled faintly of gasoline. “So we’re handing you off to one of our star-employees!”

You hummed and noticed her taking a step backwards, indicating you to follow. She began walking, trudging over the cobbled paths and shuffling awkwardly in between walls of people. You followed behind. “He’s been working here for the past two years, so he knows the place in and out.”

As you walked, passing twisting, gnarly tracks with screams emanating from them and stands with oversized, China-made plushies hanging from them, you tried to imagine what a star-employee at Caratland Theme Park looked like. 

It was probably someone that loved roller coasters, maybe someone like yourself, who strived for approval and perfection, maybe someone that found a certain joy in being a good service experience for guests. Someone who was good with kids? 

“So you’ll be training with him for a bit before we leave you alone with the coasters, of course, but it should be no trouble, he’s a fun guy!” 

You passed by a haunted house, where a group of kids psyched each other up in the queue. Dodging a tree, you finally came up on a certain blue ride where Belinda stopped and put her hands on her hips, power posing in front of the creaky, old machinery. 

The Pirate Swing. That’s what it was called, and it was a big ship attached to a huge, metal pole on each side, and it was currently swooshing up and down with a large, grating sound. You cringed at it. Belinda noticed and frowned, fingers fiddling with the edge of her shirt. “Maybe we should oil that one.” 

Kids and parents were lined up at the stairway leading up to it in a parade of artificial polyester colors, and on the edge of the platform where the ship was shoveling through the air, a little booth was sat. Peeking through the frankly grimy windows, you could see him. He was slumped back in a wooden chair, wearing the same shirt as you and Belinda, and wearing big, blocky, black sunglasses. 

“Jeonghan!” she called, and you saw the figure jolt. He looked briefly dazed, before he snapped his head up to peer through the glass, smiling and waving. The kids in line turned to glare at you. He scrambled up from his seat clumsily and with sporadic movement, and you both watched how he hunched over the door, shaking it in its frame before it finally let open. He took one long step out the door and was finally outside, looking down at you from the platform and leaning on the railing. 

“Belinda! Nice to see you,” he breathed, smiling in a way that seemed to indicate he did not find the prior sequence of events embarrassing. In fact, he seemed to think he had the upper hand - the confidence rolled off of him in waves. You grimaced. 

You could see him much better now that he was outside, not broken up by the greasy glass, and whatever you had envisioned the star-employee to look like, this was not it. He was young, maybe just a little older than you, and he was thin, with long black hair that just kissed his shoulders. About half of his face was hidden away behind the frankly humongous sunglasses on his face, but he had pale pink lips and a pronounced cupid's bow, and even though you were a little skeptical of him, the cockiness in his smile was well-received. 

“This is Y/n!” Belinda said (yelling to overpower the severely loud child glee), gesturing to you, and you almost felt self-conscious when he looked over at you and smiled. “She’s a new employee and you’ll be her mentor during her training period.” 

“Sure thing!” he said simply. Again with the polite nods, you thought, before you felt Belinda’s hand on your shoulder. You glanced over and she squeezed. 

“Good luck, Y/n! You’re in great hands!” Now that you weren’t so sure about. Had the two of you not seen the same thing? 

You mumbled a thanks and she padded away, once more dodging and weaving through huge chains of people, and you squinted after her, before you turned back to Jeonghan. He was already looking at you, a lazy smile on his lips. 

“Welcome to The Pirate Swing, matey! Get up here and let me show you the ropes,” he padded back to the booth, now visibly more relaxed, as his back returned in a hunch. “I should probably stop the ride,” he mumbled to himself, pressing a button on a long controlpanel with a grid of eight buttons. 

You climbed up the stairs unsurely, hand smoothing over the railing as you went. At the top you squeezed in beside Jeonghan. It was a fairly small space, just big enough for the two of you to stand next to each other. Jeonghan smiled a straight smile at you, before brushing past you to let out the dizzy guests. 

“Was it a good ride?!” You heard him ask distantly, while you studied the interior of the booth. 

It was reeking with a sweet herbal stench, and for a moment you might’ve chalked it up to sweat and cologne, but when your gaze danced over the grid, you became aware of a small, open ziploc of weed on the countertop, crumbs of it dotted by the opening. An energy drink, most certainly warm from the sun flowing in, was perched next to it, and you saw more cans by the foot of the wooden chair (it seemed like a chair that had been dragged in from somewhere else - it was almost reminiscent of the one from your grandma’s house).  

You grimaced, looking over to where Jeonghan was waving kids off and shuffling over to let in people from the queue, a big sign for checking heights in his hand. The sunglasses, of course, you thought and frowned at the room. Luckily it seemed pretty straight forward, so maybe you could escape this Jeonghan character earlier than two weeks. 

“Right,” Jeonghan clapped his hands together, pushing past you again. “This is how you turn it on,” he said and pressed one long, skinny finger to a black button that read ‘dispatch’. 

Sure enough, the huge metal set to work again, screeching as it lifted a boat-full of nuclear families through the air. 

“You turn it off with this other one. Usually rides just stop by themselves when they reach the end, but since we got a little shitty one today it’s manual.” 

“Okay,” you said, nodding along and watching when his hand danced and pointed to the set of buttons.

“That’s pretty much it!” he said, collapsing in his chair again, sunglasses sliding halfway down his nose and revealing his bloodshot eyes. 

“What about the other buttons?” you ask pointedly, arms crossed.

“Don’t worry about them, sweet cheeks,” he waved you off. “They don’t do much.”

The empty cans by his chair clattered when he reached down a hand for one, toppling over and hitting the metal flooring. You scrunched your nose in disgust. 

“I like your shirt,” he mumbled, nimble fingers picking up a particular empty can. It was bent on one side, little holes pricked in it - it was a makeshift bong. You scoffed at him. This was the star-employee?

“We have the same shirt,” you deadpanned. 

“Yeah, but I like yours better,” he grinned lazily, can now in hand, when he leaned forward to fetch the ziploc of weed. “Nice and tight.” 

“You’re gross,” you spat, brows furrowed. “This is a kid’s establishment, you know that, right?” 

“Ninth graders fuck here all the time,” he shrugged. You gasped, not only because it was an extremely gross fact, but also because that was not what you were suggesting. “I’m referring to the fucking weed in your hand, jackass!” 

“Woah, calm down!” He shushed you, and you might’ve genuinely scared him, because he looked around each window of the booth, light cascading down his tan skin. He was wearing a pair of shorts, and you saw his knee bounce. When he’d secured the area, he turned to you with a hiss: “That’s a secret, woman! You can’t just throw words like that around.” 

“Then maybe you shouldn’t smoke here!” You snapped, but Jeonghan was doing exactly the opposite. Ducking down so it wasn’t totally visible from the windows, he’d placed a little nugget of weed on the grate, and was now setting it alight with Transformers-print lighter.

“This is your first day, right? Trust, you’re gonna end up being high on the job too,” he ended his sentence by placing his lips around the mouth of the can, sucking in smoke.

“That’s such a safety hazard,” you murmured, looking down at him from where you stood. He pulled away, smoke still in his mouth and you saw a twinkle in his eyes from above his falling sunglasses. Then he lunged forward and blew it into your face, a concentrated stream of weed smoke bouncing off your shiny cheeks. “Hey!”

You sputtered and spat, shoulders tense and straining against the fabric of your shirt. Jeonghan settled back down in his chair, legs spread.

“The kids love me! With or without weed!” he said, voice a little groggy from the smoke. You coughed, discontent. 

“Maybe they love you because you get them contact-high,” you mumbled under your breath. Jeonghan grinned at that. 

Suddenly he leaned back in his chair to study you, one hand on the can, the other taking off his sunglasses. He stared up at you with fire-red eyes and soft, long hair and a bemused grin on his lips. Seeing his full face, you gulped under his intense gaze. He was really pretty. Annoying. More annoying than pretty. But still. 

Distantly, kids screamed and a constant buzz of countless conversations overlapped in each inch of the park. Jeonghan reached out a finger and poked your jean-clad hip once. 

“You’re funny,” was all he said, something resembling curiosity in his eyes. “Yeah. Funny girl with the tight shirt.” 

You were going to retaliate (they truly had run out of your size and had opted for this as a temporary option, it wasn’t your fault!), but Jeonghan coughed suddenly, eyebrows furrowing as he sat back up in his seat. 

“Oh shit, should probably stop the ride now.”  _____________________________

You thought about quitting. 

You could honestly say that Jeonghan made you think about quitting, and maybe you would even have brought the plan into action, had it not been for the fact that you had been rejected from just about every other job that you’d applied to. It seemed you were stuck. 

You showed up the next day in your shirt and it felt even tighter than the day prior, and the cap tightened around your scalp like you were a toy in a claw machine. 

Fortunately for you, the park seemed much less crowded today. It was a Wednesday, parents were still working and apparently no one sought out the thrill of scary, old, decaying rides on such afternoons. You admired how much lovelier it was when it was still, as you walked up to The Pirate Swing. 

“Hey, titty-shirt!” 

The loveliness was ruined. 

Jeongan was standing on the railing with someone else you didn’t recognize, long, black hair swaying out from the rim of his cap. He waved enthusiastically, watching your form slump at his words. 

“Hey, Jeonghan,” you muttered, approaching the steps. The boy beside him looked mildly uncomfortable at the interaction. 

“It’s a good thing you’re here, N/n - can I call you N/n?” he didn’t let you answer, simply continued talking like a telemarketer. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re here. Me and my buddy, Junhui, from the Beetle Bug ride were just discussing something that I think is extremely valuable to learn about this place!” 

“Are you gonna teach me about the rest of the buttons?” you drawled, eyes half closed in feigned boredom (as much as you disliked him, it certainly wasn’t boring). 

“No!” Jeonghan snapped his fingers at you. You noticed he had this way of smiling, that irked you. It was void of sincerity and was instead wolfish and teasing, something genuinely animalistic and mean-spirited. It was distasteful.

“On days like these-” he hovers and outstretched hand to gesture to the mostly bare land of the theme park, “- you can steal food from the restaurants.” 

After just one eight hour shift with Jeonghan, you find yourself not even remotely surprised at this. You cross your arms over your chest (Jeonghan’s eyes briefly flick down to them, and you think you might actually hate him): “I have a packed lunch.” 

“Packed lunches are for geeks and nerds,” he said, unbothered. “You can come along if you want to get some delicious, warm pizza, or you can stay here like a loser and explain to every kid that comes by, that you’re not allowed to give them a ride on the coaster and watch them cry until you get fired. Your choice, babe.” 

“Don’t call me that,” you snarled. Jeonghan shrugged with puckered lips and the Beatle Bug guy - Junhui - scrunched his face in disgust at the two of you. 

“Not gonna lie, I’m gonna go find Seungkwan,” he said, not even attempting to hide his dismay for your dynamic. He brushed past you on the stairs, hands buried in his pockets. “If you guys fuck, do it in the bathroom Chan uses!” he yelled, trudging past the pillars that held up the haunted house. 

“Sure thing, Jun!” Jeonghan smiled, and you could punch him. Again that animalistic, joyful, laughing-at-you-not-laughing-with-you smile.

“What if I snitch on you?” you asked, hoping it would knock some sort of sense into him, but he only shrugged.

“Belinda loves me. Whenever she works on Valentine’s day, she cries in her office and I let her rant about her shitty boyfriends,” the visual was somehow not hard to imagine. Belinda in her office chair (you’d seen it once, and all you could say was the interior looked like something from a log cabin) and Jeonghan, 19, feeding into everything she said. “You can say what you want, but she’ll just fire you for making up rumors.” 

Your brows furrowed. “That’s so concerning.” 

“Nothing about this place works right,” he admitted and it was maybe the only time you’d sensed an ounce of truth in his words. “So, are you coming?” 

You hesitated. You really were working up a real distaste for Jeonghan, but talking to spoiled, crying kids seemed worse than anything else at the moment. You decided you could live through Jeonghan’s lewd comments and maybe make friends with some other park workers. 

“Okay.” 

“I knew you loved me,” he teased, and then grabbed your wrist from the top of the steps, bouncing down and pulling you along with him. “Hey!” you yelped, but Jeonghan was, as always, unbothered. 

He pulled you by a narrow walkway into the toilets, passing by a single, confused family, as you stumbled behind him. There was a fountain with a hen figurine on top, which he steered around, your arm jerking limply, as he went down a flower-walkway. 

“You do this often?” you remarked, out of breath from jogging to match his strides. 

“Oh yeah. Mingyu works there and he’s like 16, he lets me do anything,” Jeonghan giggled evilly, glancing over his shoulder once, and you gulped, and hated the way his eyes were so big and pretty, and the way his hair blowed softly along carvings of his cheeks. 

“It’s great that you have so many people here to enable your bad habits,” you said. Whatever sarcasm you portrayed in your tone, Jeonghan ignored it, still smiling when he said: “Right?” 

When you stopped you were standing on the backside of a blocky building - one of the many offers of food you provided, prices marked up to drain the suburbs of their cash. You felt something underfoot, and looked down on the gravelly, rustic pavement, only to see circa 20 cigarettes jammed in between the rocks. You scrunched your nose. 

“What? You don’t like cigs?” you looked up at Jeonghan’s voice, to see him grinning cheekily at you. His eyes sparkled and for maybe just a second it was kind of attractive. 

“I don’t..” you broke off eye contact. “I don’t mind, it’s just.. Is everyone here like you?” 

“Sweetheart,” he tutted, and you nearly flinched at the feeling of his long fingers tapping your cheek, cool on the warming skin. You looked back up at him and he had tilted his head to the side. Why was he being attractive? Why were you finding him attractive? “There’s no one like me.” 

Before you could respond, Jeonghan pushed open the backdoor, the heat of the kitchen simmering out in one brief wind, before it slammed shut behind him, and you were left, alone and dumbfounded on the stones in a mountain of cigs. 

Then you scoffed.

You stood for a moment, letting the fresh air cool the inevitable warmth on your cheeks, huffing (because you were annoyed, you told yourself, not because he had just done something terribly, horribly attractive!) and puffing with your arms crossed over your too-tight-shirt. 

Then you pushed open the door and stepped inside the tiled kitchen. 

The room was filled with steam and it smelled like canned marinara sauce and fake cheese and most of all it was unbearably hot - so hot and humid, you felt the particles of water sitting on the fabric of your shirt. There was a decidedly oversize pot simmering with sauce on a stovetop, and on a hotplate three untouched pizzas sat; one with potato-topping, one pepperoni and one margarita. 

A very tall boy was running frantically around the kitchen, three different kitchen utensils in his clenched fist like claws. Sweat was dripping down the side of his frowning face and red speckled his shiny cheeks. Jeonghan draped himself against the counter lazily.

“It’s just me today,” the boy, Mingyu, cried, “Thomas sent home the other two because there’s no one in the park, but I can’t do this alone!” 

“Seems real stressful, Gyu,” Jeonghan mumbled, leaning on his hand. 

“Yeah, so if you aren’t too busy, maybe you could stir the marinar-” 

“That’s really great, man. You’re doing God’s work. But hey, we’re just gonna-” While Mingyu’s back was turned, the tall boy hunched over the sauce, Jeonghan limply pushed the pepperoni pizza to the edge of the hotplate with a pair of tongs. He winked at you, scooping the pizza into his open palm. “We’re just gonna head out now.” 

“Jeonghan, please help me out and don’t-” 

Mingyu turned around and his tortured expression dropped into one of shock, his tense limbs falling limp at his sides. Jeonghan stood, hand in the cookie jar and pizza in his palm, frozen in front of him with a sort of cartoonish ‘oopsie’-face. Steam clouded the room while you watched from the doorway.

Mingyu’s eyes narrowed and when he spoke again, his voice was lowered in warning: “Jeonghan. We’ve talked about this. Put. The pizza. Down.” 

There was a moment of indifferent silence. Jeonghan contemplated.

Then he nodded, lips pursed and eyes cast down to the pizza.

“You know… I would.. But. Y/N, OPEN THE DOOR OR KNOCK HIM OUT!”

“WHAT?”

“OPEN THE DOOR.” 

You did. Apparently Mingyu hadn’t seen you, because he jumped at your voice behind him, body twisting to see you just in time for you to open the door and Jeonghan came scrambling out of it like a rat. You cannot believe you just aided this man’s crimes, you think, Mingyu’s expression of horror forever imprinted in your retina, before you followed suit. 

However bad Mingyu’s puppy expression made you feel, the rush of adrenaline as you bolted down the pavement under row after row of flowers and sunbeams brought forth something sinister and mean that had you giggling at your evil-doing. Jeonghan was laughing as well, and his genuine laugh was bright and bubbly and very unlike him. 

Mingyu sprung open the door behind you, yelling over your shoulders: “HOODLUMS! THIEVES! YOU’RE LUCKY I CAN’T LEAVE THIS SAUCE.” 

This made the both of you laugh even harder, disappearing behind another building, leading up to the chicken-fountain. You caught up to him, still holding the pizza in his open palms, now sweating and panting in between bright, heart-thrumming giggles. 

“I thought-” you panted, bending at your knees and warding away the image of the betrayed Mingyu. “I thought you said he let you do whatever he wanted.” 

“Yeah,” Jeonghan heaved, cheeks rosy and shiny, as he gently padded over to a bench with the pizza out like the plate in the hand of Oliver Twist. “That’s my bad. I forget he was 16 two years ago and has since then lost all respect for me.” 

This made you laugh. This had your eyes squinting closed and a deep, ringing laugh bouncing up your ribcage and your throat and exploding into the summertime. Eyes closed, you missed the way Jeonghan’s face lit up at that.

“That made you laugh? Self-deprecation?” he asked incredulously, but somehow amazed. 

“Oh,” you cried, opening your eyes and willing your laughter to calm. “I think it’s just the first time you haven’t been baselessly confident and cocky.” 

“Baseless?” Jeonghan echoed, face screwed in poorly-concealed glee.

“Yeah,” you nodded, face also screwed in poorly-concealed glee.

“What? Am I supposed to collect, like, fuckin’ data?” 

“Yeah, evidence.” 

“EVIDENCE?” 

You and Jeonghan went back to The Pirate Swing, splitting the pizza in the booth and every 45 minutes or so, letting guests on when they came by. He was still annoying and in all fairness he’d dragged you into his crimes against humanity. But. He was also a little funny and sweet. 

And the pizza did taste better than your packed lunch. _____________________________

Two days of normal work followed. 

There were too many people to really fuck around, so you and Jeonghan stayed in the booth, and you even managed to pressure him into telling you about the rest of the buttons, as well as the mechanics of the bigger machines. 

Everytime Jeonghan saw you he greeted you with “Hey titty-shirt!”, equally enthusiastic each time. Everytime the clock hands read 8 PM he pulled out his weed and began smoking. Everytime he began smoking he snaked a hand on the back of your leg where you stood (still no chair!) beside him, rubbing the flesh under his palm. You shooed him away half-heartedly, then felt guilty for not meaning it. Jeonghan was a sleazy piece of shit, but his hand was warm and felt nice on your thigh. You liked to tell yourself you were just lonely or something. 

“TITTY-SHIRT!” 

That Saturday you came walking into work, still wearing your shirt and your cap, and was immediately alerted to the fact that something was off; Jeonghan was ecstatic. 

He always had this front of joy and constant bemusement, but you’d learned to read how he yearned for his shift to end - you saw it sometimes when he gazed out of the windows of the booth, thinking you were surveying the kids. That day, he was happy. Genuinely. 

“TITTY-SHIRT!” he called again, causing a family of blonde children to turn their heads in dismay. He paid them no mind, rushing down the stairs with loud, trampling steps, to meet you at the foot of the platform, before you could even settle down in the booth. He grabbed your forearms in his hands and grinned at you childishly. You couldn’t help the small, bemused smile that parted your lips.

“Great fuckin’ news,” he said, “Belinda is fucking gone. M.I.A.”

“Okay?” you grimaced, unsure of what he was getting at. 

“Okay?! Do you know what this means?” 

“No, not particularly,” you mumbled. 

“This whole fuckin’ area,” he let go of your arms to motion vigorously to your part of the park. "Unsupervised. Unaccounted for.” 

“Okay?” 

“Okay?! This means we’re gonna go shoot the shit at the arcade, come on!” He threw a hand over his shoulder to gesture to the arcade area. You frowned and crossed your arms challengingly. 

“Shouldn’t we go take care of our coaster?” 

“Are you kidding me? If no one is working it, people just assume it’s shut down for maintenance. Come on, this only happens, like, twice a year!” He whined, stomping his worn-down Nike sneakers into the pavement and pouting at you. You hated to admit it made your facade melt like an overpriced ice-cream in the hand of a child. 

“Alright, but-” 

“Yes!” 

Without further nonsense, Jeonghan grabbed your hand in his, and began to once more drag you through the park. As you ran behind him, you looked at your interlocked hands and thought, briefly, that it wasn’t too bad to look at. And it felt kind of good. 

“What happened to Belinda?” 

“God knows, I think it was something with her kids.” 

“She has kids?!” 

You and Jeonghan messed around at the arcade - Jeonghan miraculously had been granted the keys to the arcade by Belinda (something about her trusting him?), and unlocked the machines and you played games with already-used coins. 

First was Whack-A-Mole, then the boxing game, then those motorcycle races, and then you played the basketball game.

“I’m gonna beat you!” you squealed, throwing a miniature basketball through the hoop with a small jump. You grinned in triumph when it landed right, punching the air like a dork and turning to him with victoriously glean. 

Jeonghan wasn’t even played, you realized. You’d been so caught up in actually landing the ball in the hoop that you’d managed to forgo the way Jeonghan leaned against his lane, eyes half lidded and shadowed under his cap. You turned to him, now much more aware that you’d been acting like a dork. 

“Uh, aren’t you gonna play?” you asked sheepishly, blushing. You wished you’d missed how Jeonghan’s lips quirked upwards at the sight. 

“No,” he sang, “I think I’m just gonna stay here and watch you play.” 

You narrowed your eyes, suspiciously, and that was all Jeonghan needed before he sighed and shrugged in defeat, like a criminal caught for his crimes.

“Sorry, I just like watching your tits bounce when you get all excited,” he deadpanned. Your mouth gaped open and crossed your arm over your chest.

“You’re so gross, Jeonghan!” you said, now thoroughly uninterested in playing anymore. Jeonghan only scoffed though, to which you snapped your head back to him with an outraged expression. He smiled at you in that cheeky son-of-a-bitch way. 

“Oh, don’t act like that,” he said cockily.

“Like what?”

He laughed, rolling his eyes, letting a small pause linger in the space between you. You hoped he couldn’t see the way your eyes twinkled with excitement every time he said something like this. As hot as he was, Jeonghan was a cocky, sleazy piece of shit and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

“Like you’re scandalized,” he said simply. You wanted to respond, wanted to defend your honor, but Jeonghan saw right through you, and he took one step forward to speak again: “Like you hate the way I talk to you. You act all innocent and nice and so uptight, but you know what?” 

He took daring steps forward, one after another, until you were half-sat on the basketball machine and he stood, looming over you, surprisingly menacing despite the get-up. The air seemed to suddenly thicken and warm, tasting foul in your mouth. Then he leaned in, eyes glimmering brilliantly with amusement and that evil smile on his lips, breath hitting yours. 

“I think you love being treated like a slut.” 

Fuck.

He was so close to you, body heat rolling into you. You knew he saw the mechanisms of your brain turning behind your eyes, saw the fear when you realized he had seen right through you, and he smiled, and he might as well have had fucking horns.

He tilted his head, and, fuck, if every angle of his face wasn’t perfect. It was unfair. It was so unfair. 

“I-I don’t-” your voice was a meek, half-hearted protest, cut off before you could even begin.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I think you do. You don’t just let any man massage your thigh, hm?” 

At those words, his hand dropped onto your thigh, finger digging into soft flesh. You mewled at the feeling, causing his grin to spread wider. 

“Oh, poor baby,” he pouted in fake-sympathy. “Am I making you wet?” 

“JEONGHAN!” 

Thank God for Kwon Soonyoung with the impeccable timing. 

Soonyoung was “the pool boy” - he did not work at the pools, but he was the victim of a dunking-machine that was set up in the summertime. Kids and adults alike paid to throw balls at a big, red button that would lower a trapdoor and dunk Soonyoung in ice-cold water. You’d seen it in action and it was pretty hilarious. 

At his voice, you and Jeonghan scrambled apart, his hand flying off your thigh and body twisting to back away from you, and you dropping off the machine and landing flat on your feet, blushing wildly and somewhat out of breath. 

Soonyoung, the poor boy, was sprinting through the park, stopping awkwardly where you and Jeonghan had been standing. He was out of breath and had a wild look in his eyes, like he was being chased by some supernatural monster. 

“Belinda is back! Get back to your coasters!” If he’d noticed your philandering he certainly didn’t mention it, breaking into a sprint again the second the words had left his lips. 

“Shit, thank you, Soonyoung!” Jeonghan yelled, receiving only a limp thumbs-up from the trackstar in response. Jeonghan grabbed your hand and the two of you ran back to The Pirate Swing as fast as your legs could take you. 

Your heart fluttered at your interlocked hands again, and you stared at them, focused on them, as the world became a blurred mess around you. His warmth streamed into you.

You couldn’t even look at him the rest of the shift. Something about his confrontation stirred a mimicking phenomenon in you. Did you want to fuck Jeonghan? You did, you realized, and thus you were unable to raise your gaze from the floor, pressing yourself against the wall to be far enough away from him, that he couldn’t touch your thigh again. He didn’t. He just let your cheeks blaze and pressed buttons and talked to kids, and he even waved at Belinda when she walked by, and she smiled wide and waved back. 

You went home at 9 PM, shirt too tight around your chest, and chest too tight around your heart. You simply couldn’t believe it, because not only did you want to fuck Jeonghan;

You had a fucking crush on him. _____________________________

Having a crush on Yoon Jeonghan was maybe the worst revelation you’d had in your life.

You’d kept all the things you admired about him hidden under the veil of your shirt; he was sleazy and gross and he smoked weed at work and had a certain disregard for child safety. But, and there was always a but, you realized, he was also witty and easy to talk to, and it was cute when he was happy or he got excited about something, and he was so damn charismatic, and you realized you would do anything to see him with that childlike joy again. 

The worst part was that Jeonghan did not like you back. In fact, you couldn’t even imagine him liking anyone. He thought you were hot and wanted to fuck and that was the end of it. All the ways you cared about him were unreciprocated. He did not care to see you happy. He did not care for the twinkle in your eyes when you were excited. He liked your tits in your shirt and was working his fingers up, day by day, to touch you. Yoon Jeonghan did not like you back. 

Three days of work passed, three days of being muted and awkward around him. Jeonghan’s shine was not dulled by your lack though. The kids loved him, Belinda loved him, and he didn’t love anyone back - just let himself be showered in admiration. He was greedy like that. He took all the love and gave none out.

On this particular day, all you did was lay in your bed before work, willing time to stop so you wouldn’t have to go. Legs flopped on top of your bedsheets, work shirt on and cap on your bedside. You waited.

You waited with a metal ball in your stomach, rolling around and causing a ruckus. It rested heavy there, rolling to and fro and grazing your heart from time to time, and it hurt. 

Maybe the reason it felt this bad was because you did it to yourself. Of course, Jeonghan wouldn’t like you back. He was Jeonghan. And yet, you’d had your guard down and his effortless charms had worked their way into your brain. You wondered how many girls had been in the same exact position as you; being graced with Jeonghan’s presence, being smitten by it, and now lying in bed, realizing the admiration would never be bounced back to them. 

You went to work. 

In the damn shirt, you walked in through the staff-door and journeyed towards The Pirate Swing. 

There were so many people that day, you could hardly believe your eyes. The queues were mile-long stretches, and every pathway was spotted with body after body, walls of families, crowds swarming like insects. It was enough to induce a slight panic. 

“It’s good that you’re here, Titty-shirt,” Jeonghan said, when you walked into the booth beside him. He had a bit of a wild look in his eye and he was chewing on a banana. You stood by the door of the booth, looking out at the queue - a genuine queue? To The Pirate Swing? - as the boat swung catastrophically behind you. “We’re fucking busy.” 

You hummed, then turned your head to him. He had sat down, seemingly exhausted and pouting a little. 

“You brought a packed lunch?” you asked, nodding towards the banana in his hand and he looked up at you. His cheeky smile made you want to die. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, I stole this from Seungkwan,” he said and you laughed, and you hated that he made you laugh. The walls of the booth muffled the loud, indistinct buzz and shielded you from the chaos. The flimsy, windowed walls had never felt as intimate. 

“It’s gonna be a shitty day,” you declared ceremoniously. He grunted something in agreement, voice strangled by the now finished banana. Forever himself, he discarded the peel on the corner of the control panel, among his ziploc of weed and empty cans. 

It was a shitty day.

The constant swarming of people, crying children, the non-stop screech of rusted roller coaster tracks; everything brewed together into a pounding headache, as you and Jeonghan hunched together in the booth. Beads of sweat collected on your skin, where the unforgiving sun streamed through the windows. 

Around 8 PM you’d had just about enough. Your head was pounding, you were hungry, and most terribly you were sad. You were sad, sitting next to Jeonghan on the dirty, hard floor of the booth, and you could cry every time he said something snarky and lewd to you. He would never like you and you were a fool for ever letting yourself get attached. 

The day was constant work, constant talking to kids and putting on an energetic front. Finally the crowd seemed to thin out. Slowly but surely, the suburban families returned home and only a few people remained, and the night time glowed soft and warm. 

“Dude,” Jeonghan said, neck craned to look at his phone. With most of the guests gone, he’d finally gotten a chance to waste away on his phone, putting his mouth to his makeshift bong and smoking pot. You kept the booth-door open to let the smoke out. “Wanna go see a crowd of teenagers dunk Soonyoung? Junhui just texted me.” 

You were so tired. Every inch of your body yearned to relax where you sat, cross legged on the metal floor. With dark, sunken eyes and no courtesy left, you simply shook your head. 

“You sure?” he asked, eyebrows raised. You were just tired enough to miss the small frown on his lips. 

“I’m tired, you just go.” 

Jeonghan shrugged then and stood up. He left the bong on the floor and stepped over you to exit. 

“I’ll be back ASAP!” he yelled out, and you didn’t even try to look at him, to call something witty back. You just sat. 

And as if it weren’t the last thing you needed today, just thirty minutes before closing, a woman and her son strolled up The Pirate Swing. You saw them, eyes glazing with worry as you flickered your head to Jeonghan’s empty chair.

“We want a ride!” cawed the woman, holding her son by the hand. You scrambled to your feet, stuttering as you dusted off your pants. 

“Uh, I-” hopeful, you looked around, hoping to see Jeonghan and his long, poodle-y hair somewhere near. The pathways were deserted. “I-I actually can’t-” 

Not waiting for an explanation, the woman clucked once more: “You’re still open, aren’t ya?” 

You nodded, tiredness painted thick and greasy on your face. “Yes, we are, um, open, but I-” 

“Well, then give us a ride?!” 

This woman was going to be the death of you. Why were they even here now right before closing? You closed your eyes, collecting yourself and mustering each ounce of patience you had left. 

“I’m not allowed to because I’m new-” 

“Well, where is the operator? Why are you here if you don’t know how it works!” 

“He’s, uh,” your face fell, “He’s using the bathroom right no-” 

You’re not even sure why you lied. 

“Alright,” she huffed, strained and impatient. “Well, you just ruined me and my son’s night!” 

She tugged her blonde kid by the hand and began to turn around, grumbling with a red face. 

“I’m so sorry, but- it’s a matter of safety-” 

“Next time just say you don’t know how to do your job!” she yelled over her shoulder, mean glare coming out over her shapely glasses. Then she was jiggling away with a pouting child. 

Your mouth fell open in shock. A part of you wanted to be angry - a part of you was angry - but you found yourself weighed down and sliding down the wall of the booth with a much heavier feeling; you were exhausted. 

This was the last straw for tonight, you decided, resolve melting like a dropped ice cream. Booth door half-creaked open and weed vapor in the air, you buried your head in your hands and began to cry. It was small. It was not loud and sorrowful, it was small and petty. Nothing grand about crying on the dirty floor at your workplace. Sniffles and single, wet tears and a quivering lip, all dying out in the soft glow of the fairy light decorating the park.

“Y/n?” 

“Shit,” you lifted your head from your hands, wiping hard on your reddened cheeks. Jeonghan was standing in the open door, looking down at you on the floor.

“Sorry, uh-” 

“Why are you crying?” 

You paused, hands fiddling with the collar of your shirt and effectively covering your breasts. Your breath was shaky and snotty, eyelashes coated in tears. Red patches your skin around your puffy eyes, and your lips pressed into a thin line. 

Jeonghan did not look like himself when you looked up at him. It must have been a completely different person, you decided, because his features had  tightened and screwed into an expression you had never even seen a hint of before: concern. 

It looked so utterly foreign on his face - there was always a lightness to his expression, a joking, teasing look, but now he was frowning and his brows were furrowed and his eyes were big and red and round. It made  you feel small and frail. You didn’t like seeing him like that; unwell. But it seemed that feeling was mutual. 

“Um,” you began, voice hoarse and shuddering like a frail old fence-gate, that’s been slammed shut. “I’ve just had a shitty fucking day and- this woman came and wanted to ride and she was just so fucking mean when I told her I couldn’t..” 

Telling it all again made you feel so pathetic, it wracked another sob from you, hurdling past your lips. You caught it in your hand, pressing it to your mouth and squeezing your eyes shut up. 

God, you were pathetic. 

But your heavy, heavy eyelashes blinked open and you looked up to see Jeonghan’s expression softened into something else entirely;

Guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. 

“No, it’s fine-”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, now at your level and up close, so you could see every tensed muscle and every strain on his beautiful face. 

“I’m sorry I left you alone,” he said solemnly and for the first time since you’d met him, Jeonghan was merely expressing his regret, not bartering for some sort of gain. His words were dripping with sincerity and it was so strange, you had to laugh.

“What?” he asked, a small grin growing on his face. That was more familiar. 

“I just- I’ve never seen you so serious, it’s okay, Jeonghan, I forgive you-” 

He broke into a laugh as well, rhythmic clucks dancing through the air from the booth, and it immediately cheered you up: he was beautiful and practically glowing, a small rim of light encapsulating him. 

“I’m very serious, I think,” he said. You rolled your puffy, old eyes. 

There was a significant pause. 

Your head lolled over and your gaze landed once more on the makeshift bong by the chair, now abandoned. It reminded you of how different you were. You tried too hard because you liked when people liked you, you were a hard worker, your shirt was too tight. Your shirt was too tight and that’s what had landed you in this situation. 

“Can I…” you trailed off, daring to look at him again. “Can I smoke some of your weed?” 

Jeonghan’s face was practically split in half the way he was smiling. There was something akin to triumph in his eyes, but it was almost fatally overpowered by sheer, bubbling, striking adoration. It made you blush. 

“Of course, babe, I thought you’d never ask,” he breathed, still smiling when he scrambled forward for the bong and stretched out his arm to finger at the control panel, finally feeling the soft plastic and snatching it down to the floor with you. 

“Just put your mouth to the can, baby, I’ll light it for you,” he giggled giddily, scrambling for the lighter in his pocket. 

“I know how it works,” you tried to sound stern, but you were smiling and your eyes were twinkling. 

Jeonghan messily pinched off a nugget of weed and placed it on the gridded holes in the can (which he had pricked with his work badge; “Hi, my name is Jeonghan!”), and you placed it to your mouth, while he held the lighter to it. 

“You’re so hardcore,” he said sarcastically, face close to yours as he flicked the lighter, sending a warm flame onto the can, so the nugget lit ablaze. 

“Shut up,” you said, and then you inhaled and the flame went out and turned into a glow, and warm, crisp smoke traveled down your throat, leaving it sore and burned. It felt great. 

You held it in for a moment, then exhaled, and Jeonghan watched eagerly as your chest rose and fell under the restricting fabric of your shirt. 

You and Jeonghan sat side by side for the last half hour, smoking together, eyes turning red and breaths turning sour and casting laughs into the night air. There was a warm buzz in your chest, a low drum, and you basked in the proximity to him, in how the heat of his body met yours in a fierce battle, at how he caught your eye when he joked, and how he smiled when you laughed. Your responsibilities melted away; your shirt felt looser. 

“We’re closing now,” you hummed after a while, somehow lighter and heavier at the same time. Your eyelids felt heavy and your cheeks were warm from giggling. Jeonghan placed his hand on your wrist, squeezing and tearing your eyes to his. 

“I have such a good idea right now,” he grinned lazily and you couldn't help but echo it. His eyes were red and half-lidded, and his voice was groggy from the smoke. He had run his hand through his hair one too many times and now it was puffier, poodlier than normal. He looked so handsome, you thought, studying the tan from many days in the sun. You figured he didn’t use sunscreen. 

“What is it?” you breathed.

“Come on, come with me!” 

Then the two of you were sneaking from building to building and giggling indiscreetly, two hunched silhouettes becoming one with the backs of buildings. Jeonghan insisted the two of you go to the toddler playground (Sunshine Dance Club, as it were called), because, in his words: “those dumb prick security guards never bother to actually check it”. He pulled you into the pastel green, red, blue, and yellow dreamscape, pulling you up a wooden tower, where you would be shielded by the railing. 

The two of you sat against the railing and waited while a security guard checked the place before closing. 

The mischief had made the two of you even more giggly, scratchy throats producing choppy snickering, as you leaned into each other on the wood, breathing in each other’s air. You liked being so close to him, you thought, and you were almost high enough to just spit it out. The distant stream of light overhead revealed his pores, but you liked those too. 

“Shut up, shut up,” Jeonghan whispered at one point. “I think he might be coming!”

“You’ve said that three times-” 

His hand clasped over your mouth and he fought not to laugh at the surprise in your eyes. Sure enough, this time he was right, as you heard booted footsteps in the distance, and the beam of a flashlight danced across the sloping and bouncing playground. 

You held your breath, not only because you feared, for the first time that night, getting caught, but also because Jeonghan had leaned so close to you, that you could see every stirred acrylic in his eye, every color of brown, swirly sundae. 

Both of you stopped laughing and stared at each other. 

His hand dropped from your lips. 

“I have cotton mouth,” he whispered, footsteps fading away. You couldn’t tell if it was the weed or what, but the air seemed thicker and you felt heavier, like imaginary hands were tugging you down. Jeonghan was no better - you couldn’t quite place the emotion on his glowing face. He almost seemed vulnerable.

“Me too,” you whispered, breathless. 

A pause.

His eyes flickered down to your lips, pink and plush.

“Can I kiss you?” 

You were almost bristling for a moment in pure surprise, before you recollected yourself and nodded eagerly.

“Yeah.” 

You thought his lips would smash into yours; you thought he would conquer you, because that would simply be the most Jeonghan-thing he could, to take what was his, to be cheeky and horny and sleazy.

To your utmost surprise, his hand was shaking when he lifted it, brushing so softly, so gently across the skin of your neck, resting on the back of it, cold from the icy, night breeze. His hand kissed the tips of your hair, and he gently slid it up, breath shaking, as he stared at your lips. Then he leaned in. 

His lips were soft like the bouncy castle on the edge of the playground, so impossibly gentle and flowing and warm. He breathed out shakily against your skin, eyes squeezed shut. Had you seen it, you would’ve almost believed that the kiss pained him, with the furrowed brows, but you didn’t, and it wasn’t painful at all, it was just that his heart was exploding and so was yours. Tender and slow, that was what it was, and you had never thought you’d use words like that to describe him.

A moment of entangled lips, slow making out and warm air covering your skin, his hand in your hair. The Sunshine Dance Club was filled with the sound of spit.

Then he pulled away, breath still shaking, but now, less vulnerable. His lips curled into a smile, spreading that childlike joy on his face. It made you smile as well. 

“That was-” he shook his head at himself, cringing. Then he restarted: “Can I show you something?” 

You chuckled, cheeks heavily flushed and eyes twinkling. “What is it?” 

The cheekiness returned to his eyes, as he scrambled to his feet: “A surprise.” 

And once again the two of you were giggling through the park, this time hand in hand, looking over your shoulders for the security guard that by this time had definitely gone home. The halted steps over the cobbled paths echoed in the dead, empty park. 

It would’ve been a strange feeling - seeing everything closed and dark and empty, every inch usually crammed with people strangely void - had you not been entirely consumed by Jeonghan’s presence. His hand in yours, his laugh, his starry eyes, his face softening when he looked at you.

Jeonghan led you into Belinda’s office (he had a key because he was her favorite, he said), allowing you to sit on the edge of her desk, while he sauntered off into an attached room. You sat there, overhead light dull and buzzing, and basked in the log cabin aesthetics. Your chest was warm.

Then, from beyond the other room, sounding much further away and thereby being much bigger than you had initially imagined the attached room to be, you heard the mechanical sound of several switches. They sounded heavy and important, having a sort of resonance that continued into your room, where Belinda’s desk chair was spun halfway. 

“Jeonghan?” you called, a twinge of worry in your voice. “What did you do?” 

He came jogging back into the office, all wide grinned and puffy-eyed. 

“You’ll see.” 

Once again he grabbed onto your hand, pulling you off the desk and barging out of the doorway.

The night air enveloped you completely, stealing you away from the warmth of the office, kissing your warm skin, as you stood on the cobble. The feeling was so great, you almost missed what Jeonghan had done.

It was beautiful. 

The switches had turned on the lights everywhere. In every color imaginable, illuminating dramatically sloping tracks in the distance, fairy lights on the pathways, signs re-lit, and the whole park before your eyes seemed to have become a disco-ball, sending faint streaks into the star-spotted sky like aurora borealis. 

You, now red and green and yellow and blue, let out a disbelieving laugh, smiling wide. You squeezed his hand, unable to communicate further. There was something about it that left you entirely speechless. It was an inability to overcome and conquer the lights before you - your eyes feasted on them much too eagerly. 

“What do you think?” 

Jeonghan was looking at you. 

“It’s-” you sucked in a breath, trying to compose a sudden sincerity you felt. You looked over at him. “It’s so pretty, Jeonghan. It’s really beautiful.” 

“I knew you would like it,” he murmured happily, body turned to yours. You turned to him as well. 

There was a moment of silence. The two of you basked in the light and in the gentle glow and the cool night, and in each other. 

“Thank you for cheering me up,” you said and pursed your lips. He smiled in a gentle way. It looked nice on him. 

“It’s nothing,” he said, “we were having fun.” 

The conversation lulled again, and while you turned your head back to the light show, the flickering lights and the ombre, Jeonghan continued looking at you. 

You felt his eyes on you, and you turned to him, shyly: “You should look at the beautiful lights.”

He shook his head, lips twisting upwards: “No.. Not right now…” And that was all he said.

The words left a bit of a void in you, like a black hole sunk in your stomach and you turned to him curiously. Jeonghan sensed your confusion, because he licked his lips and gave you a knowing smile, and then explained. 

“I wanna kiss you again, love.”

And his voice was so angelic, such a grave contrast to the boy you’d come to know, but he’d been so strange tonight. Your first kiss had been so tender, now he was looking at you and his pupils were dilated and a smirk spread across his face, and you needed to know something; just one thing, before you threw yourself at him, and gave to him, something you would not be able to take back. 

“Do you just wanna fuck me?” your voice echoed off the walls of the empty park, resounding accusingly. He laughed.

“Of course, I wanna fuck you, baby,” he laughed a little, shaking his head in disbelief. You stayed staring at him, bristling. “You’re hot as shit.” 

“No, I mean,” you paused, because suddenly your heart was climbing into your throat and it seemed like everything you’d worried about was true, that you were just another girl that was hexed by his charms. “Do you just wanna fuck me?” 

His smirk dropped. There was a moment where all you could hear was wind and the electrical whirring of the many, many lights, draining energy from the earth by the second. 

“Do you honestly think I’d do this for just any girl I wanted to fuck?” 

“I-”

“I thought you were smarter than that, N/n,” his lips spread once more in a smile, but this one seemed more fitting on his face - condescending and confident. Whatever vulnerability had hung in the air was replaced by warmer, thicker danger. Was it the weed making you feel this way? On edge or excited?

“I just-” you stammered, feeling bashful suddenly. Did that mean he liked you? Yes, that meant he liked you. You had truly not even considered the possibility, not really thought it through the way you had the negative outcome, so now you were standing and you didn’t know how to respond. A stuttering, blubbering mess of red cheeks and avoidant eyes. “I just- I thought you just- because you talk so much about my boobs-” 

“Shhhh,” he shushed you. The cocky motherfucker actually shushed you, staring you down in a way that made you feel like prey and taking two steps forward, and closing the gap between you. He was so, so close to you, chest inches away from yours and leaning his face down to tilt his head at you. 

“You’re so cute, baby,” he cooed, eyes dancing around your face. 

You and him watched it, as one lean hand lifted itself to your chest, tightly wrapped in polyester-fabric. You sucked in a breath. His fingers lightly grazed it, trailing over the soft plushness of it. Then he cupped it, experimentally, like feeling the weight of it in his hand. You whimpered pathetically. 

“Hm,” he hummed, ripping his gaze from your tits very briefly at the noise, “you sound so pretty.”

In an effort to steal more noises from your pretty lips, his delicate thumb rubbed over your nipple, watching it harden under the fabric with a bemused smirk. Your breathing became heavy and shaky. 

“Can we– please?” you whined, but he only tutted, watching the fat crook under his finger.

“Hang on, sweetheart, I’m having my fun,” he said, nonchalantly, another hand snaking up to your other tit. “Been waiting for this since the first time I saw you.”

You couldn’t help but whimper quietly, his caresses and his intense gaze sending electricity straight to your core. You fingers wrapped around his forearms where they flexed, as he kneaded your chest eagerly. 

“That’s right,” he whispered and leaned into you, eyes half lidded and lips wet from spit. “Be a good girl and let me play with your pretty titties.” 

Then he kissed you again, groaning into your mouth at the weight of your tits in his hands. His groping became more rough and hurried, as he bit your lip and slipped his tongue in your mouth. 

“Fuck, baby, need to get your shirt off, it’s so tight,” he groaned, licking into your mouth. You whined, back arching into his hand. “Poor baby, shirt so tight it’s strangling your pretty tits.” 

“Jeonghan, please!” You cried, putting one hand on his chest to push him away from you. He pulled away, lips red and swollen and cheeks delightfully flushed. 

“Okay, baby,” he whispered, comfortingly. “Okay, okay, I’ll take care of you, sweetheart.” 

You could cry. The way he was touching you so intimately, but refusing to snake his hand down to your burning core, where you could feel yourself fucking dripping. Your body was on fire and your voice was hoarse from the weed that still coursed through your body. 

“Please, please,” you mumbled, and it was desperate enough that Jeonghan pulled his hands from your chest (which took more willpower than he was willing to admit), sliding them over your back and pulling you into him. You nosed into the crook of his neck, sighing happily. 

“Alright, baby,” He breathed, hand in your hair. You felt his neck crane, looking around. 

“Come with me, baby, I know just where to go.” 

You didn’t even have time to whine that you didn’t want to go anywhere, you wanted him to touch you. Jeonghan grabbed your hand and crossed the pathway, and you saw the yellow, lit-up sign for the funhouse before you disappeared into the entrance. 

The first room had a large circular hallway, and when you stepped onto the red plastic, it rolled a little. You and Jeonghan both stumbled rockily, and you nosedived into his chest. He laughed, steadying you with warm fingers on your waist. “Silly girl,” his voice cooed in your ear. 

“Jeonghan, please touch me-” 

“We’re almost there, baby,” he said, and he was being a little annoying, because he’d just played with your boobs and made you so fucking wet that your panties were sticking to your folds, and now he was trudging you through the hallways of a funhouse. You both skiddered out of the circular hallway with much trouble. 

The next room was slanted, and in your intoxicated mind, this was more than a challenge. The whole room was blue and your knuckles became celeste, as you gripped the slanted railing. 

“Jeonghan, I can’t-” 

Not another word out of your lips, before Jeonghan was scooping you up in his arms, walking with seemingly no problem through the room. “Shit!” you yelped when he did so, but he only smiled at you, a mixture of adoration and teasing. He ran with you, his bride, through a black and white doorway. 

The next room was the mirror maze, and Jeonghan’s face lit up at the sight of it. 

“We’re here!” he panted giddily, gently lowering you. You found your footing and looked around, a little speechless at how quickly he’d constructed this plan. There were at least 20 different angles of you, and you cringed at your own disheveled appearance and how your tiny shirt dug into your skin. A hall of reflection, the roof and flooring was pitch black and only you and him existed in the void, copycats at every corner.

You saw Jeonghan in the mirror, walking up behind you. He was smirking, planting his head on your shoulder and peering up at you, as his hands caressed your waist, riding up your shirt and exposing your stomach 20 times over. You hated to say it, but seeing his veiny, big hands on you made your breath hitch. 

“Was it not worth it, hmm?” he sang innocently, blinking at you with a bunched up cheek on your shoulder. His sleazy hands worked the fabric upwards, just under the impressive bump of your chest. 

His eyes flicked over to the most nearby mirror. Breath becoming shaky, his hands lifted the shirt, finally, over your chest, exposing your simple, black bra and the soft skin of your tits. You could breathe easier, without the fabric digging into your chest. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, soft hands immediately dipping inwards to touch over the skin. “Shit, you’re so perfect,” his voice was strangled, all composure gone as he looked at your chest with something akin to wonder. 

You moaned, feeling his dick, fully fucking hard from just playing with your soft mounds, grinding into your ass. Like a horny teenage boy, he moaned shakily, big hands covering your boobs and squeezing, and rutting into you from behind. As much as you wanted him to touch you, you couldn’t help but enjoy the sight of Jeonghan so utterly fucked out, using your body to pleasure himself. It was so erotic, the way his pretty face twisted in place and his fingers dug into the fat of your chest, panting into your neck. Then the sight untangled itself from your body.

“Sorry, sorry,” he was out of breath, removing his hips from your ass. “I got too caught up.” 

“It’s okay-”

He spun you around, pushing your body against the mirror. You stood back to back with your reflection. 

“No, it’s not,” he breathed, working your shirt the rest of the way off hastily. You lifted your arms to help the fabric off. 

You very barely registered Jeonghan snaking your pants off, and then his own clothes. You leaned your head on the mirror and you could finally breathe without the tight shirt, and you somehow felt stronger, not vulnerable like you would have expected. And when your eyes flicked to another mirror and you saw Jeonghan shirtless too, you realized the two of you were much more similar now. 

Jeonghan was standing in his boxers now, and you in your panties. 

“You know, I always thought you’d be more composed during sex,” you mused, returning your focus to him and smiling teasingly, because even now he was transfixed on your bare chest, heaving for air. Jeonghan scoffed, seemingly genuinely offended by this. 

“It’s not my fault your fat fucking rack has been staring at me through that tiny fucking shirt every day,” he spat, and in a sort of retaliation he cupped your pussy through your panties. 

Finally, he touched your cunt, and God, was it worth the wait, because it shot straight through your stomach, even the slightest touch on the cold, wet fabric. Jeonghan grinned cockily at the state of your underwear. 

“You’re one to talk,” he teased. “Your pussy is fucking weeping for me.” 

You moaned and your back twisted against the cold surface of the mirror, as Jeonghan slipped his finger upwards to circle your clit slowly. 

“N-ngh, fuck..” 

“There you go,” he said in fake sympathy, pouting, and even with his hand on your clit, you could almost believe it, because he just looked that angelic and pure. “Finally your greedy cunt has my hand, hm? Bet you’ve been thinking about this since we met.” 

He couldn’t help himself. He trailed his free up to your chest again. It just looked so delectable, unblemished skin, jiggling at every twitch and shake from you, and nipples hardened to pebbles. “I’ve been thinking about you since we met,” he sighed happily, pinching the nipples between his fingers and relishing in your strangled whine. 

Jeonghan slipped his hand in your panties, scoffing to himself at just how fucking wet you were, leaking from your hole like a slut, when his finger prodded at it. 

“P-Please, Jeonghan, please, fuck-” 

Your plea was cut off by Jeonghan’s hand gripping your throat. He smirked at your tortured expression, one hand circling your hole and the other wrapped around your neck, thumb climbing up your chin to rest on your lip.

“What do you want?” he tilted his head challengingly. You gulped, face flushed and baby hairs sticking to your sweat-gleamy face. 

“I-I want you to finger me,” you mustered, building up all the courage you could to hold eye contact with him and his lopsided grin. He raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise. 

“Really?” he sang, “you want gross, sleazy, perverted Jeonghan’s fingers up your tight, pink pussy?” 

You squeezed your eyes shut. Of course, all those moments of shaming him for thirsting over you. Now you were basically fucking naked, tits perked up from your arched back and writhing under him for just a single finger in your glistening hole. 

“Jeonghan, I’m sorry-” 

His thumb on your lip tugged downwards, effectively muffling your words and shushing you. He watched your pretty lip bend to the will of his thumb, humming. 

“Then say it,” he shrugged.

“Wha?” your speech was slurred by his heavy thumb.

“Say you want gross, sleazy, perverted Jeonghan’s fingers up your tight, pink pussy,” he repeated, acting exasperated, like it was your fault for not being able to keep up. Legs spread and utterly naked, you flushed and felt dumb, and you felt even dumber when you began to speak, and his thumb stayed where it was, weighing down your lip.

“I-I wan’ gross, sleazy, perverted Jeonghan’s fingers up my tight, pink pussy,” you slurred. Somehow the embarrassment translated into a wave of slick exciting your hole and landing on Jeonghan’s hand. He grinned at your obedience, hand pushing up so his thumb entered your mouth, pressing down on your tongue and the rest of his hand cradled your face. 

“Good girl,” he purred, head craned down to look at you, suckling his thumb with wide eyes. He finally heeded your request, two fingers pushing into your sopping heat. “Now suck on my thumb like the good, big-titted girl you fucking are while I make you cum.” 

He was immediately bullying his fingers in and out of you, curling them. Drool escaped where your lips wrapped around his thumb, as you moaned on it, feeling him poke and prod at your tongue with an evil smirk on his pretty face. You saw his dick print straining against his boxers in the corner of your vision.

“Been waiting for this pussy to be mine,” hummed Jeonghan, long eyelashes coming over his eyes when he looked down at you. “You know, if you’d been a little more cooperative I could’ve had my cock in you everyday for the past week.” 

You sobbed around his thumb, panting for air through your nose. His fingers felt so good, pistoning into you and so thin you could feel the bulge of each crooking knuckle churning in and out. His thumb sneaked back up to rub your clit again, and you clawed at his shoulders, trying to stabilize your suddenly shaking legs. 

Jeonghan let out the most erotic, guttural moan you’d ever heard, when he watched drool slip from your swollen, red lips and languidly ooze on your trembling chest. His face twisted in pleasure at the sight of them, becoming all shiny and slicked up from your own spit. 

“Fuck, you’re so pathetic. Can’t believe you’re fucking drooling all over your tits,” he spat, cheeks flushed as he leaned back to look at them, all pretty and slick and glowing under the maze’s fluorescent tubes. He slipped his thumb from your mouth to begin smearing the spit all over your skin. 

Your cunt pulsed around his fingers, clenching and unclenching as something in your belly tightened. You heaved for air, moaning loudly into the maze and practically crying. 

“F-Fuck, Hannie, f-feels s’ good!” you whined, chest thrashing under his needy hands. He lifted his gaze to smile at you, where he was crooked over to look closely at your spit-slick boobs. 

“I know, baby, I know. Cum on my fingers, now, m’kay?” He smiled cheekily, pressing especially hard on your clit. You saw white, orgasm so potent, you almost didn’t even register how Jeonghan dived into your chest, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples 

The wet, smacking of his lips and his pleased humming into the soft skin only spurred on your orgasm, as your cum coated Jeonghan’s fingers. His nose, buried in the flesh of your tit, breathed out a dam of warm air into it. 

His fingers stilled within you, slowly pulling out, while he continued to lap at your chest, warm tongue on your areola. You tried to catch your breath, but it was hard with how he moaned around your fucking tit, sucking and smacking his lips, while holding you to him. You cried out softly when he nibbled at it, to which he finally pulled away, smiling teasingly. 

There was something about the way he was so shameless about it, that almost made you feel even more ashamed, especially when you saw your form in the mirror, and how wet and red your boob was from his insistent sucking. You blushed deeply. 

“You gettin’ shy on me now?” he tapped your cheek, eyes twinkling. 

“Not used to seeing myself,” you mumbled sheepishly. Jeonghan’s ever lust-filled gaze was overtaken with a very deep, fundamental adoration. His smile became genuine - not teasing nor in feigned sympathy. Despite being the sexiest person he’d ever met, Jeonghan found you so severely cute in that moment, all heaved breaths and glossy lips and rosy cheeks.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, tapping your nose. The action would’ve been annoying were not entirely too fond of him at this moment. His eyes wandered, trailing down your collarbones and back to your cleavage. Then returned the lust: “Beautiful, pretty, gorgeous girl with big, bouncing fuckin’ tits.” 

His fascination with them was genuinely insane, but you thought he was pretty and sweet, so you let him marvel.

As if he could never get enough, he reached out one hand and cupped your tit again. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl and let me fuck your pretty tits?” Jeonghan asked, experimentally pressing the mounds together and licking his lips at the sight. He had to swallow (and he would never admit this) because the idea actually had him salivating. 

“Yes, Hannie,” you said sweetly, because although you really wanted his dick inside you, he had that twinkle in his eye that made your heart burst, and, indeed, you would do anything to keep the starlight blazing in his pupils. Jeonghan looked up with raised brows - this time, the surprise was not feigned. Swiftly, he grabbed your head and kissed you, deeply and appreciatively licking into your mouth. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, rowing the two of you away from the mirror-wall with his tongue down your throat. “Good fucking girl.” 

He pulled away from you, frantically looking around, and you simply waited for his command. He began to crawl onto the floor, lying down on the hard, sleek black flooring, resting on his elbows. 

“C’mere,” was all he said, and you sat down on top of him, confused. He wantonly pushed you by your shoulder so you rested further down, while he lifted his hip to free his cock. 

It was long and right by your fucking face. 

Impossibly pretty and pink near the tip, it oozed sticky, white liquid, dripping down the veiny side, and now you were salivating, because you almost wanted to take it in your mouth and suck his soul out. 

“Shit,” he groaned, studying your face next to his hard, heavy dick with a tortured expression on his face. It seemed his thoughts had traveled the same road as yours, because when he spoke, he said: “There’s so much I wanna do to you, doll. Give me another couple shifts, I’ll have your cum all over the fucking park.” 

Without another word, he leaned forward and grabbed each of your tits, hovering just below where his dick extended out, proud and tall like a gothic church. You helped by crawling further over his tan body, lying down on your stomach with your chest raised up. 

Jeonghan enclosed your tits around his dick, breath shaking and eyes blinking shut. The sounds he released were angelic, wetting and rewetting his fiery lips, and he struggled to keep his eyes open from the pleasure. He didn’t want to close them though, because the sight of you was insane. 

You were so pretty, smiling in adoration where you laid between his legs. Prettiest girl in the world, he thought, just letting him bounce your fat tits up and down his shaft like a good, obedient girl. Your rack was like a fucking cloud around him, jerking him off and spurting pre-cum on the already slick skin. 

“S-Shit, you’re so fucking- pretty-” he stuttered, breath trembling and face flushed. From every angle he saw you, perfect, pretty, cute and sweet you. Every version of you in the mirror was perfect, he realized, every copycat a perfect picture. 

“You’re pretty,” you mused, wrapping your hand around the lower part of his shaft where your tits didn’t quite reach and squeezing it. Jeonghan moaned, stammering the breathy noise. He gulped then. 

“I-I’m gonna cum, shit-” he sucked in a harsh breath. He could not believe how lovely you were, how witty and funny and sweet and how big your fucking tits were bouncing up and down around his cock. “C-Can I cum on them, baby?” 

“Of course, Hannie,” you obeyed sweetly, watching how he desperately bucked his hips upwards. Squeezing your hand around the base of his cock, you let out a final admission to help him cum: “Want you to cum on my tits, Hannie, want it so bad.”

Sure enough, it was that easy, because without warning long ropes of thick, white cum spurted into the valley of your breasts and climbed up to your collarbones and neck. Jeonghan cried out when he came, eyes finally squeezing totally shut and hips stuttering into your chest. He sounded angelic, even with his voice hoarse from the weed and grunting. 

You let him calm down, waited until his pants turned into soft, regular breaths, and released his now flaccid cock from your cleavage. 

“Oh shit, baby,” he sighed happily. “Come up here.” 

You crawled up to his chest, curling into his open arms and feeling him under your cheek. Your legs entangled on the funhouse floor, mirrors a little foggy from the sweat and the sex. It was perfect, lying in his chest, having him, knowing he wanted you and liked you. Perfectly timeless, you draped over each other limply. 

Or almost perfect. 

You wiggled your hips away from his body, hoping then he wouldn’t notice how you were still leaking from your poor, puffy hole. Jeonghan frowned when you did so, though, both hands grabbing your waist and tilting his head down to look at you. 

“What is it, baby?” he asked.

You looked away bashfully, shaking your head, but Jeonghan gripped your face in one hand, just as condescending as his thumb had been earlier: “You’re covered in my cum, baby. You’re not getting shy on me now. Tell Hannie what’s troubling you.” 

His voice was stern. You tightened your lips the best you could with his hand squeezing your cheeks together.

“I just..” you were embarrassed again, with how your words became muffled and slurred by his flexed hand. He paid it no mind though, looking at you intently to continue. 

“YouweresoprettyearlierIgotwetagain.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut. From beyond the dark void, you heard Jeonghan laughing. You opened your eyes and he removed his hand from your face, instead brushing it through your hair lovingly. 

You were gonna get whiplash with how lovingly he looked at you, how sweetly and with so much wonder and adoration; and how it stood in such a stark contrast to the words that left his mouth: 

“Baby, you just get up and bounce your fat tiddies around a little bit, I promise you, I’ll get hard in the next five fucking minutes. Then you can get my cock in your cute, greedy pussy. How’s that sound?”

Really fucking good.

[gutsby]

Wingman

Pairing: Himbo!Joel x Reader

Summary: Your bestie braves the tampon aisle for you.

Warnings: 18+. Period crackfic starring Himbo!Joel—don’t take it too seriously. R has a uterus that hates her. Mentions of blood, cramps, & hangover-induced puking. Dirty talk, f!masturbation. One (1) Mean Girls reference.

Word count: 1.7k

You were fucked ten ways to Wednesday if you didn’t get your hands on some soap, a steamer, and a supersized box of maxi-pads in the span of the next eleven minutes.

Joel Miller moved like molasses on a flat slab of granite.

“WILL YOU HURRY— THE FUCK— UP?”

Your cheeks were hot. The night air was cold.

Every other word that managed to claw out of your throat was punctuated by a breath—your stomach clenched, and the sex organ below it was in hysterics.

Joel continued to lace up his loafer, clumsy as ever.

“O-kay, okay,” he hummed, “Steamer, soap, and, uh…”

“Pads!”

“Uh-huh. Right. So what kinda…blood stuff is it, again?”

The words were like an aspersion on his tongue. At the ripe old age of forty-seven, Joel still hadn’t quite learned to jibe with the menstrual product lingo, and it showed.

“Heavy flow. Any brand. With wings,” you hissed.

“Boneless or traditional?”

And if he hadn’t been standing outside the truck, foot propped up against the driver’s seat while he tied his shoe, you likely would’ve smacked him upside the head. The glare you gave him was sufficiently vicious to extinguish the smirk, though. Your hand made a fist in the front of your dress, and you groaned, leaning inward.

Joel got the picture and finished his bunny ears quick.

“Sorry.”

Then, a little more sheepish as he straightened up,

“I’m goin’. Be just a minute.”

And he was off.

Your body curled into a ball as soon as he left. It cried in pain, to nothing and no one around but that fugly slut, the nastiest skank bitch you’d ever met, your uterus.

There was no way you and Joel were making it to this rehearsal dinner. You needed to be at the venue by 7:00, the clock on the dash read 6:11, and you were, currently, twenty miles shy of Fredericksburg with a rag between your legs and your best friend scouring the local H-E-B.

That afternoon you’d been running late, so of course you’d thrown on your thin, satin, pre-wedding-ready dress before you left—and forgotten a change of clothes. Joel had been hungover from all the batshit bachelor party antics, so of course you’d had to stop three times along the way just so he could throw up on the side of the road. And, though your friend was many, many things, discreet was not one of them, so of course he’d told you, point-blank, when he saw you reaching for something in the backseat with your butt sticking up:

“You been pissin’ tomato juice or somethin’?”

And you’d looked back in abject horror.

Of course your period had come a week early and made you bleed straight through your bright yellow dress.

Maria was your best friend. You were her maid of honor. Tommy’s groomsmen happened to be the most fuckable bunch you’d ever seen—save for Joel—so there was no way you’d be caught dead at that dinner with the flag of Japan on your ass. And Maria had bought the dress just for you, so you felt like you had to get this bloodstain out.

You lifted your head to peer out the window. Even with the help of a fistful of ibuprofen, you could barely move.

6:29

“Dude, where are you?!”

It was like your phone and the FaceTime call to Joel had just materialized on their own. The man on the screen was blinking slow. Ogling something in front of him.

“So ‘L’ stands for…long?” he said after a beat.

“No, that’s light, Joel, I need a heavy one.”

“This one’s got cardboard in it, I think.”

“That’s a tampon applicator, dipshit.”

In a blink, Joel’s eyes flitted to his phone. His nostrils flared, and he met your gaze with a scowl of his own.

“Well how the hell am I supposed to know that? Only stuck two— three things in a pussy before and it sure as fuck wasn’t cotton,” he griped, and if he were any less mature he likely would’ve rolled his eyes. Drama king.

You winced as another cramp rolled through you. You shook your head and tried to regain your composure.

“Just find a heavy-flow. pad. with wings. for me. Please.”

Joel sighed and turned back to the shelf, eyes searching.

It shouldn’t have been this hard, but it was. You had no doubt Joel had never willingly touched a pussy product before in his life, so the road ahead was treacherous. Silently, you felt the urge to tell him he had no business being in pussy at all if he didn’t bother to learn what came out of one every month, but you let him cook.

His dark, greyish brows drew together in concentration. He leaned forward and reached for a box. Then stopped.

Went low to grab another, before pausing to show you.

“Very close, Joel. That’s a pantyliner.”

You felt somewhat like a mother showing a headstrong four-year-old how to copy shapes onto paper. No, darling, that’s a diva cup—and be careful with that crayon. Joel stood and he stewed and, by the look in his eyes, you’d already resigned yourself to another ten minutes of this back-and-forth rummaging at least.

Then you shifted in your seat, pushing your legs down a bit. They rubbed, of course. In spite of the pain that had seized your whole lower half, you felt a sweet, dull pulse.

You stared hard at Joel’s face on-screen to make sure he hadn’t seen it in yours, but damn that friction felt nice.

Sensitivity elevated with the influx of hormones, no doubt, you sat tight and tried to enjoy the feeling on purpose for a moment. You slowly sucked in a breath.

“Aw, hell, there’s just too many’a these damn boxes.”

You flexed your thigh muscles and let out a sigh.

“I don’t know how y’all do it,” Joel grumbled.

Keep looking, Miller. Just keep looking.

Slowly, your hips began to stir, and one small grain of pleasure gave way to a jolt—a twist in the pit of your belly that made the pain less grating. You leaned into it more.

Holding your phone, you could feel when Joel let out a frustrated groan. The sound low and almost enticing.

Wait.

Wait.

“Gross,” you said out loud, half-whispered.

You couldn’t help it. Joel was one of your closest friends; a man who loved beer die, Pall Malls, and Keith Whitley like nobody’s business and gave suffocating bear hugs whenever he was sweaty just to gross you out. You weren’t supposed to find men like that attractive.

But when the grit of his voice was just so nice…

“What?” Joel stopped to look down again.

“What?” you shot back, instantly.

A frown tugged at his lips.

“What’s ‘gross’? Me?”

Not…exactly, no.

More disgusted with yourself than anyone else, you clamped your legs together and shook your head. You tried to swallow, as if the action might suck the pleasure down with it, but the hot, throbbing sensation only grew.

You were practically grinding into the towel that had been stuffed between your thighs when you heard:

“Wings!”

An exceptionally proud Joel displayed a box of extra heavy-duty maxi-pads, with wings. He was grinning.

You weren’t sure if you thanked him next, congratulated the man, or what. You probably strung some words together and tried to return the smile as best you could, but who knew? The next thing you saw was that the line had gone dead, the truck was silent, and all that could be heard above the hum of the engine were your moans.

You braced yourself against the seat and rolled your hips even harder. Out of habit, you caught your lip between your teeth to prevent a louder sound from escaping, but then you remembered there was no one to hear you but you—for now. Your palm pressed flat on the dashboard, your knees squeezed even closer, and your vision flooded with soft, minuscule pinpricks of an all-too-familiar hue.

The only thing new to you here was Joel—the thought of him had never crossed your mind in moments like these.

But now you were closing your eyes, humping the seat with nothing between your body and the old, weathered upholstery but a scrap of fabric. And you were moaning his name. Imagining a face that was littered with coarse, grey stubble—you might’ve teased him for that once or twice before—and lips that were soft. So soft against your own that you wouldn’t think twice if he tried to slip his tongue inside and hold the sides of your face as he filled your cunt to the brim. In fact, Joel’s mouth would be a welcome distraction. Knowing how foul he was in even friendly confab, he’d undoubtedly be whispering the most vile things in your ear while he fucked you.

Reminding you, quietly, that you made such a pretty cocksleeve for him—why didn’t we try this sooner?— and how you’d be the sweetest thing if you just gave his cock another squeeze and made yourself cum all over it.

The mental image of that alone was inducement enough.

You felt a hot, euphoric band of something start to give way inside you. It tightened up, twisted—then snapped. Your mouth fell open and your thighs clenched tighter, grinding desperately in tandem with a pace you’d hoped Joel might’ve set if he were laying there underneath you. You clung to one last thought of him gripping your hips and bruising your walls with the force of his cock driving in and out, over and over again until, eventually, his cum was leaking out through each fluid thrusting movement. It was all your body could take, conjuring thoughts of his load spilling into you and onto him in warm, wet, sticky—

Whistling.

Someone was whistling outside. Walking up to the truck.

You were still coming down from the staggering heights of your climax when the driver’s side door swung open. You blinked furiously, as though to drive all the filth and depravity and need from your eyes before he could see.

It didn’t matter.

Joel was too amped up off a white plastic baggy to be concerned with much else as he plopped down beside you and smiled—beamed, really. Completely oblivious.

Your extremities were still twitching with the residuum of bliss when he reached for your hand. His eyes somehow warmer than they’d been all that day, they sparkled and shone and crinkled at the corners in a way that seemed to say the words before his mouth had uttered a sound.

“I got three boxes to be safe…”

Joel was really too sweet.

“…and some chocolate for your cramps…”

Always so considerate.

“…and you look real pretty when you cum, by the way.”

This motherfucker.

[starry-nights-garden]

Ateez and their wordless "I love you"s

✧ Ateez all members x gn!reader ✧ genre: fluff, comfort ✧ warnings: none

Hongjoong:

makes time for you

of course, everyone saw it coming - he's living a busy life and no matter how tight his schedule gets, he'll make time to meet you or to at least talk to you on the phone in between

but that's not everything

he'll also take care of you (or try his best to)

we all know he's clumsy, but he still wants to do things for you, you know?

whether that's talking you through a rough period in your life or just offering an open ear and a shoulder for you to lean on

or if it's him actually trying to make something for you!!

without realizing he'll be picking up a new skill as he's making you some accessory he thinks you'll like or maybe he'll even be brave enough to try baking you a cake

even if he doesn't succeed, he knows he can always try again together with you, but even then he won't be able to focus on the task at hand because of how lost he gets in the image of you

Seonghwa:

takes care of you

in every way - but especially in an acts of service kinda way

will definitely nag you a bit if you're the type to be unorganized and chaotic, because he knows neat surroundings simply make you feel better than clutter everywhere!

reminds you to eat three meals a day, to get enough sleep, etcetc, and yes it gets annoying at times

but he also understands that maybe it's hard for you to stay organized, or maybe you're going through a stressful time in your life where you're too busy to prepare yourself proper meals every day

then he will simply do those tasks for you, and never ask for anything in return

your health and wellbeing are the most important things to him, so he will support you in upkeeping them in whatever way he can!

Yunho:

cheers for you, no matter what

we all know he's the one who does the most to keep a positive energy and to cheer the people around him up

and he'll do the same for you

no matter if you have an important exam coming up, and important interview, or if it's just another day - he'll always be there to have your back and to wish you good luck

you know that no matter how seemingly small or insignificant, you can always tell him about even the tiniest worries you have and he'll take you seriously, calming you down and motivating you at the same time

he's also very social, but another thing that will both make him feel loved and be a way to convey to you how comfortable he is with you is to just sit together in silence

each doing their own thing while still being together so you won't ever feel lonely is another way for him to silently tell you he loves you

Yeosang:

learns about you

and I mean not just a few obvious details

I'm talking everything - he picks up on even the smalles of your habits or preferences that even your close friends don't know about

he's very observant and even more so when he loves someone

gives you small gifts that really aren't a big deal for him, but it might just bring you to tears from how thoughtful they are

it takes him a while to warm up to people and to develop trust, so it will also take him a long time to come to properly love you

but in those moments where he realizes just how safe you make him feel, it's like his emotions overwhelm him

might manage to hold back just until after he asks you whether he can kiss you

but as soon as his arms are wrapped around you and his lips brush against yours, he'll sweep you off your feet from how many feelings he pours into just that one kiss

blushes a lot afterwards, and needs you to not let go of his hands to feel reassured that what he's doing is just right

San:

tells you synonyms of "I love you"

tells you that he appreciates you, that he's thankful to you, tells you you have a beautiful heart

of course he's also one who's big on physical affection, but in moments where he realizes once again just how much he loves you, he knows no words and no gesture in the world would be enough to convey his feelings to you

so he makes it a habit to tell you what he feels frequently

tells you you have a pretty smile when he catches you grinning by yourself, or that he admires how diligent you are when you're working on something late at night

it always comes as a surprise when he does this, but this makes it feel just that much more sincere

Mingi:

gives you a space to be sad

no matter how many good times you two have, nothing screams "I love you" quite as much to him as sitting together in silence and giving you a place to go through a hard time safely

will offer you advice or his perspective on things if you want him to, and he will certainly remind you to slow down a bit time and time again

he's actually very good at sensing when you're having a hard time, even when you do everything in your might to hide it

will be the anchor that grounds you at times like those

but even when times aren't as dire, he's like an open book when it comes to showing that he loves you

the way he looks at you alone gives it away, the way he plays with your fingers when he holds your hand or the way he melts against your touch with every single embrace you share

Wooyoung:

gets protective

he just can't help it okay?

he knows you're an adult and you don't need him to guard you 24/7, but even just not having his arm around you at all times feels off to him

he wants to be there for you at all times - the type to pick up his phone if you call him at 3 in the morning because you have trouble sleeping and you feel like it'd help you to hear his voice

might go a bit overboard at times, it does happen that his urge to protect you and to motivate you to become a better version of yourself ends in a fight

but even then he'll realize rather quickly that he went too far and ought to apologize

your nr 1 hype man, but at the end of the day you know you have a safe place to rest in his arms, and that he'll always accept you exactly as you are

Jongho:

listens

even if you've been complaining about the same thing for weeks, he won't get tired of lending you an open ear and he won't tell you off for it

he knows that sometimes you need to think about the same thing a hundred times until you find a solution for it, and if voicing your thoughts helps he'll be more than happy to listen

sits with you even through the most uncomfortable of feelings and will make sure you know he's not leaving your side even when things get difficult

but he'll also show you his playful side

him joking around with you just really shows how comfortable he is being around you, and you can be sure that your bickering will always end with bright smiles on your faces and sweet kisses as he realizes just how grateful he is to have you in his life

[jockwrites]

LUST - p.b

warnings: smut, (over 20 asks for smut.) cursing, drinking, straight people

part: 3 (last part)

a/n: this prob bad and i didn’t proof read so lmk ok bye im gonna go ahead and post this

two months. that’s how long it’s been since the last time you’ve spoken to paige.

since she left that night, you can’t say it’s been better, but you’re definitely learning how to prioritize yourself.

the way she hurt you did enough damage, and the guilt she left within you made your blood boil.

but you can’t deny you miss her, because you do.

besides that, you’ve seemed to find yourself within the time period between the breakup.

you dyed your hair blonde, got the belly piercing you’ve been wanting, & you’ve started to get your nails & hair done more often.

to you, life has been great.

but the only thing that’s missing is your girl.

the girl who made you feel special, loved, prioritized.

but you have to accept the fact that she’s gone, and you’ve been coping with it.

besides all of that, tonight you’re going to a “night out” event at a local bar. sounds risky, but you need it after everything you’ve been through these last few months.

as you shower, washing out the dirt that’s been accumulating in your hair, you hear an incoming call from your best friend.

you open the shower door, water dripping from your arms as you go to answer it.

“i’m in the shower lilly what do you want.” you speak, annoyed.

“who the hell pissed in your cereal,” she asks, giggling, “but anyway what’re you wearing honey bun”

“well if you would’ve let me shower and actually figure out what i wanna wear then i could’ve given you a proper answer.”

“chill outtt jeez but ok. also paige is going”

“and how do you know this creep?”

“welll.. it was kinda on my for you page..?”

“why is she on your for you page to begin with?”

“ok not the point. but supposedly she’s going because of her brand deal with madison reed to celebrate something.. like i actually have no idea but look your best and make the bitch jealous ok byeee enjoy your shower,” she rambled.

after she hangs up, you immediately turn off the shower & get out to dry off.

you have to look perfect tonight.

you dry yourself, looking in the mirror as you wonder how you’ll pull this off. you know damn well you wanna see her.

you walk out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around you as you go to check your closet for outfits.

you grab your phone, calling your best friend to find opinions on what to wear.

“heyyyy girl are you in a good mood now?” she grinned over the phone.

“ok so not funny, also can you help me with what im gonna wear?”

“of course i’m literally like a fashion designer.”

“ok so, maybe not that but whatever helps you sleep at night!” you giggled.

“ok anyway, try on the outfits bitch i wanna see them.” she squealed.

“okok, give me a second.”

you proceed to look through your closet, finding a orange, short dress.

“is this cute?” you ask your friend, showing it to your friend over the phone.

“omg yes!! try it on now.”

you let out a laugh, taking your towel off to try on the dress.

you step into it, pulling it up as you fondle with the straps.

“okay, how do i look?” you smiled.

“so. fucking. good.” she complimented.

“okay don’t make my ego high, but wanna see the other dress?” you giggle.

“yes!! please.”

“okay girl okay” you replied.

you find another dress, purple, short, tight, & lacy.

again, you mimic your actions earlier and show it to your friend over the phone.

“ok, how’s this?”

“GORGEOUS. try it on. now.”

“okay creep.” you insulted.

you try on the dress, not really liking it. but of course, you let your friend put her 2 cents in on it.

“i don’t really like it but what do you-”

“yes. wear that. NOW. wear. it.” she nagged.

“holy shit, okay. but are you sure it looks good?”

“i said wear the damn dress!”

────────────────────────

you sit down to do your makeup, going for a sleek, not too much look.

“i know you wanna see paige tonight.” says your friend over the phone.

you grab your concealer out of your makeup bag, rolling your eyes at her idiotic but true statement.

“and if i did? who would it hurt?” you asked groggily as you pat the concealer on your under-eye.

“well, not saying it’d hurt me, but might hurt you. but what do i know, you know?” she says sarcastically.

“okay lilly.” you sass, adding your final touches to your makeup with powder and mascara.

“should i wear pearls or diamonds?”

“diamonds.”

“gold or silver?”

“silver duh.”

“kk thanks pookie, im gonna go though, text me when you’re ready! bye honey.” you hang up.

after you hang up the phone, you grab your curling iron to add extras touches to your hair. you wanna look perfect tonight.

after you’re all finished getting ready, you grab your keys and head out.

you get in your car and get a notification from your phone.

“Paige💕 just added a new post to their story!”

ironic.

it’s a picture of her and brittany, her fashion designer or whatever.

you roll your eyes, turning on your car. as you pull out, you get ready for whatever’s in store tonight.

────────────────────────

you pull into the parking lot of the bar, noticing a familiar car. it’s her car.

you walk in and the first thing you notice is your best friend, lilly.

she runs over to you, giddy and grinning.

“oh my gosh you made it finally! i was like so bored and also i seen paige and she looked at me weird like bitch-” she rambled, under the influence.

“lilly, calm down. where is she?” you ask, grinning.

“she’s over there i think, she was talking to some girl. it wasn’t her cousin,” she air quoted, “some other girl. i don’t know her though.. but how are you pookie,” she giggled.

“some other girl,” you ask, genuinely confused.

“girl enough about her! can we grab some drinks please??” she pouts.

“i guess lillian,” you laugh.

“yay!” she cheered as she grabbed you by your arm to get drinks.

you walk with her to the bar, asking the bartender for a dirty shirley. paige’s favorite.

she technically put you on, they’re so good.

“thank you,” you gesture to the bartender after receiving your drink.

“so you gonna talk to paige?” lilly asks, slurring every word.

“i won’t talk to her unless she talks to me,” you roll your eyes.

“well, speak of the devil she’s walking over here!” she bursts.

you turn your head, seeing paige walking over.

“ok im going to find a boyfriend or something ill leave you two to whatever this is bye!” she squealed.

as your friend leaves, paige approaches.

“hey.. how you been? you look.. hella different,” paige tells you, looking you up and down.

“is that a compliment?” you roll your eyes.

“yeah, you look good as fuck.” she licks her lips, her eyes locked on your figure in your dress.

“why are you over here again?” you sassed.

“i just wanted to know wassup with you. i miss you man, i know i fucked up.” she looked down, ashamed.

“so why’d you do it?” you ask, sipping your drink.

“listen, it was a mistake. ion know if you’d be able to forgive me but im dead serious, i- i didn’t mean it. i was speaking out of anger.” she stuttered.

she seems so genuine, there’s no way you won’t be able to forgive her.

“we all make mistakes. i just don’t understand why you’d do me like that, seriously. after everything? really?” you asked, perplexed.

“i know, i know. but im for real, you the only girl i want. do you know how many times i’ve thought about you today? yesterday? last week? i can’t get you off my mind.” she expressed.

“i met a girl about a week ago,” you admitted, “nothing like you. they’ll never be like you paige, no matter who i meet.” you let out a breathy laugh, knowing there’s 100% truth to your words.

paige grabs you up from your seat, pulling you by your waist to her chest.

“everything’s okay, im here now. and if it’s okay with you, i wanna be here tomorrow to. i wanna be here everyday, with you and only you.” she promised.

you wanna kiss her, but with the fame she has itll be on tiktok in 30 minutes.

shes thinking exactly what you’re thinking, and with the thoughts you two are sharing, she pulls you toward the bathroom.

just like when you two first met.

when she pulls you into the bathroom, she locks the door behind you two.

you bite back a moan as she pushes you against the wall, sucking on the soft spot of your neck.

“i missed this. fuck, i missed you.” she spoke hungrily against your neck, her voice raspy.

“fuck, paige i missed you too. so much,” you breathed, needy for her touch.

“you want me to fuck you in this bathroom?” she huffed as she pulled up the hem of your dress.

“fuck. of course i do,” you gasped. the sudden gesture catching you off guard.

“mm, i know you do.” she groans as she sinks to her knees, pulling down your panties.

she looks up at you before placing her tongue flat against your clit.

no warning, just getting straight into it.

you throw your head back into the wall, the ecstasy of her tongue arousing you.

“oh fuck paige, just like that, shit,” you whimpered loudly, raking through her hair as she works her magic below you.

your hips buck against her face, her tongue swirling around your clit. you’re starting to get dizzy from all the overstimulation.

she sucks on your clit, lapping her tongue in your folds.

her tongue flicks against your clitoris, making your breath hitch.

she grabs your calves, holding your legs in place while she eats you out driving you senseless.

“stay still,” she whispered against your pussy, the vibration driving you insane.

she dips her tongue inside you, gripping your thighs desperately.

“fuck, paige i’m trying-” she slides her tongue up your pussy, leaving a line of spit as she inserts two fingers inside you, cutting you off.

“holy shit, i’m gonna cum,” you grunted.

“do it, right here,” she rasped out, sucking on your clit eagerly.

she speeds up the motion of her fingers inside you, curling them as she hits the exact spot to make you cum.

she continues to lap at your pussy, sucking on your clit constantly.

“shit baby, you taste so good,” she moans against you.

as you clench against her fingers, she removes them.

she continues to pleasure you with her tongue, making up for the loss of her fingers.

“paige, fuck! i’m gonna cum,” you cried out, your knees going limp.

you finally reach your climax, your body coated in a thin sheen of sweat. the time slows down for you, your pulse beating faster and faster as your vision goes static.

paige looks dead in your eyes, pulling herself back up.

“i don’t wanna lose you again, i love you,” she whispers against your neck, pushing your hair behind your left ear.

“paige,” you breathe, your chest heaving. “i don’t wanna lose you again either. i love you,” you profess.

“good,” she kisses you, cupping your cheeks as you taste yourself in her mouth.

after the intense sex and encounter, you try to freshen yourself up by fixing your dress & hair.

“stop, you look perfect,” she calmed you.

“we can go back out now? how long have we been in here?” you giggle.

“it’s alright baby, i got it.”

as you two walk out, you realized the party kinda died down.

paige looks down at you, smirk apparent on her face.

“you tryna go home so i can show you something?” she grins.

“that’s a crazy question, duh.”

a/n: i finally finished this holy crap. anyway hope you guys enjoyed i can’t write long smut so this is all you get until i learn how to properly write it 😞 ok bye thanks for waiting bc my asks are horrid and you guys rushed me to finish this :-| also not proof read i don’t feel like it ahahah…………

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Pressure reader finding a gun and now can and will defend themself from monster or execute other people for doing something dumb

I'm sorry but I saw this and decided to run with how finding a gun might actually go for a Prisoner!Reader /lh

..................

"Wow...guess somebody forgot to pick this up. Or maybe Sebastian got tired of me dying to those monsters all the time.."

Staring down at the weapon that was just laying on the floor, you looked around to see if any cameras were currently watching you. Of course, there was a singular one with a red light in the corner above the next door, aimed directly at your position.

They were always watching.

From the comfort and safety of their headquarters, they watched you get maimed by the creatures here over and over again. Whether it's a Wall Dweller sneaking up on you or Pandemonium ramming into the locker you're hiding in nonstop....they've seen it all.

So at this point, you didn't care that they could see your clear interest in the object on the ground.

One you were forbidden to take.

But to hell with them and their rules.

After all you've suffered through down here, you deserved to have some kind of self-defense tool that wasn't just a light source you had to conserve.

Why shouldn't you be allowed to protect yourself? They were going to kill all the creatures who escaped containment, anyways, so if you could kill them now, why not?

Unfortunately, HQ begged to differ, as the moment you crouched down to pick up the pistol, a familiar voice came onto the intercom:

"Do not touch the weapon. Leave it alone and it will be collected by authorized personnel later."

"...figures." You glared at the camera, standing up. "Why don't you tell your "authorized personnel" to put down those sea monsters instead?! I think I'm allowed to defend myself if-"

*pop*

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Back here again, are we?"

"Yeah..I guess.." Grumbling, you rubbed your neck as you looked up at the familiar trio of glowing blue eyes and angler lure. Even now, you still had a killer headache from the PDG detonation.

Then again, that was your own fault.

You didn't need to read the same document twice.

"I don't recommend defying them again. At least..not until you find a way to scramble their connection." Sebastian advised, sighing as he shook his head. "You gotta remember you have no rights down here. Neither of us do. It sucks but, we gotta deal with it."

"The IDS has gone haywire..but they're worried about me shooting through a glass window.." You huffed. "What if it wasn't even loaded?"

"Well I'm not sure if you know this, but prisoners and guns don't exactly go together. Just use what you've learned in the past to avoid the threats. It doesn't matter to them how "badly" you think you needed a firearm. You'll never get your hands on one, and I'm certainly not gonna sell any to you. Period."

"....I guess that pistol would've been useless if it didn't any rounds..."

"Anyway, here's what your overseer had to say on the matter. It's..kinda funny." Sebastian showed you another file, documenting your time and cause of death, along with a comment.

"The EXR-P stumbled across a small firearm that was left behind during the lockdown and defied direct orders to drop it, thinking they were an exception to the rule. This cannot happen again."

"Okay, that's bullshit. They're making it sound like I was an entitled asshole." You pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I can see why. Backtalking them is funny and all until your head pops. If you want them to take you seriously, you'll have to reach that crystal."

"Fine. I'll be a good little expendable and just focus on that." Putting a ferryman token on the table, you looked up at Sebastian. "Tell the guy downstairs I wanna continue where I was."

"Alright. Better not waste it." He swiped the coin, fading back into the darkness.

In the blink of an eye, you returned to the Blacksite, in the same room that you died in. It was clear of any blood that was left behind after your PDG went off, and of course..the pistol wasn't anywhere to be found.

It would have been useless anyways.

On the bright side, you did find a blacklight and some batteries in the drawers that you didn't check before, and you realized it's wiser to just use them to protect yourself.

'Okay. Let's just play it safe and keep going.'