#something about bananas on the counter

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC: obsession ramble

It’s not that I dislike obsessions, but I’d like to actually see them actually used more

The word obsession means: “an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person’s mind”

It has connotations of compulsivity and a loss of control

So if I’m told X character is obsessed with y, then I’m not actually shown the character being obsessed, it just feels… unsatisfying?

And a lot of the time we get told about it and then it’s never addressed again, or it gets treated more akin to a special interest

It’s Chekhov’s gun remaining unfired

Which is a shame because the works that do actually show the obsessive element of an obsession it feels like setup and payoff. It’s really cool and an interesting way to examine a character

And I get that takes extra work and isn’t always the story you want to tell, but it’s significantly less cool when it’s arbitrarily lumped in. It’s not a be all end all if it’s included and nothing is done with it, but it’s a bit like a nail not quite hammered into place: sticks out a bit and occasionally tears a small hole in your sweater(story)

Def not saying not to use it, but just food for thought on ways to use it I guess, or a way. Idk man I’ve definitely been overthinking this but people overthink every aspect of writing and tropes so that don’t make me special just sleep deprived

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

Biggest downside of baking is there is a mess and you have to clean it

[trickphotography2]

Two Lines

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x female!reader

The last thing Jake expected to see first thing in the morning was a pregnancy test in the trash can. And he definitely didn’t expect a debate with his wife about what those two lines meant. 

Word count: 1.5K

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It took a lot to shock Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin.

Not only had he made it through a military academy, he was a combat pilot who’d seen action in two war zones and had medals to back up his claim that he was one of the Navy’s best.

But the sight of the pink-capped test in the bathroom trashcan had him choking on his toothbrush.

Adrenaline shot through him, waking him up from the half-stupor he’d been in. It was still early before your alarm went off. But you’d been restless all night, tossing and turning and grumbling about what a stupid idea it was to get your work-mandated flu shot at the same time as your COVID booster.

“Not sure why you did it,” he’d teased, brushing the hair from your eyes. “You always feel like crap after.”

“I know,” you whined, curling closer to him even as your body ached and your stomach clenched. “I just needed to get it out of the way, and since I don’t have any clients tomorrow, I figured I could call out sick if I needed to.”

But that didn’t explain the pregnancy test in the trash.

After just under a year of marriage, you weren’t actively trying to get pregnant, but neither were you trying to prevent it. Both of you were in agreement that you’d be happy to have kids if it happened, but you were also satisfied with it being just the two of you for a while, or even forever.

Your period being late wasn’t uncommon, especially when you were stressed. And with the clinic officially understaffed and you taking on a larger client panel while trying to balance groups and to promote to a leadership spot, Jake knew you were stressed. For the first time, he’d seen you working on the weekend to catch up on session notes and submit consults, making sure your clients were getting connected to the services they needed.

The test was probably just for peace of mind, he reasoned, forcing himself to finish brushing his teeth while keeping his eyes on the trashcan. It wasn’t the first time you’d taken one, but it was the first time you hadn’t told him about it… that he knew of. And if you’d thrown it away, it had to be negative. You’d stumbled back to bed just an hour ago after using the bathroom, waking him as you collapsed back onto the mattress and declaring that you were calling in sick. When he’d pulled you to his chest and kissed your forehead, he’d felt your low-grade fever.

Just like he’d expected. It was why he’d stopped at the Commissary on the way home from work, grabbing bananas, applesauce, and bread to make sure you had something to eat while wallowing on the couch between naps.

Besides, he knew he’d be joining you on Saturday - he had his appointment to stop at the base hospital and get his mandatory annual flu shot, too. While it didn’t take him out like it did with you, he’d never pass up an excuse to have a lazy weekend.

With a forced nonchalance that he didn’t feel, Jake put away his toothbrush before reaching for the pregnancy test. Turning it, he saw two lines.

Two lines.

Jake stared, mouth dropping open. His eyes darted from the lines to the diagram on the side of the window, explaining how to interpret the results, feeling a strange sensation of excitement and terror at the confirmation.

Pregnant.

You were pregnant.

Confusion tempered his joy as he set the test on the counter and took a step back, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes to scrub away any lingering sleep. But when his vision cleared, there was no denying it.

Two dark lines.

Grabbing the door handle, Jake forced himself to take a deep breath before walking back into the bedroom. You’d dozed off again, breathing even and face half-hidden by your sleep mask. He’d bought you the first one as a joke when you’d moved in after a week of grumbling when he turned on the lights to get ready for work. While you both left the house at the same time - him to head to the base, and you to the hospital - he enjoyed taking his time with his morning routine, while you preferred hitting the snooze button as many times as possible before sprinting to get ready and out of the house on time.

You groaned when he sat at your hip, planting one hand on the mattress and reaching up to nudge the mask to your forehead. Refusing to open your eyes, you slapped at his hand, “Lea’me alone,” you grumbled.

“You got something to tell me, sweetheart?” he asked, forcing his voice to be even. While he was excited about the pregnancy, if you’d thrown the test away, you might not be.

“‘M not goin’ to work,” you sighed, rolling onto your side and hugging your pillow tightly.

“I know. Anything else?”

“Love you, have a goo’day.” Your words slurred as you started to drift again. When he said your name, a hint of exasperation creeping into his tone, you sighed and rolled onto your back. Kissing the tips of your fingers, you held them up for him. “I feel gross and don’t wanna kiss you in case it’s not the shot.”

“Is that why you took the pregnancy test?” One eye cracked open, and you saw your husband smiling down at you, a slightly manic gleam in his sea-green eyes.

Shrugging, you yawned, “Kinda. But it was negative.” Jake was silent for a long moment, and you felt him place a hand on your stomach.

“Darlin’… the test wasn’t negative.”

“It was.”

Jake barked a laugh. “There are two lines!”

“I know.”

“Two lines is pregnant!”

“Two lines is negative.”

“No, it’s not,” Jake argued. Huffing, you opened both eyes to glare at him.

“I read UAs twice a week at work, Jacob. I know what a negative result looks like.” As the person in charge of the Contingency Management program in your clinic, you administered and read urine drug screens, knowing with a quick glance if there were prescription or illicit substances in your client’s sample. If the two lines popped up for a negative result for their targeted substance - meaning they’d been abstinent - they earned the opportunity to draw for a prize. A single line meant that they had traces of the substance in their system, providing a positive result.

“Maybe for drug tests, but obviously not for a pregnancy test.”

“Move,” you grumbled, bumping your legs against him to get out of bed.

“Where are you going?” Jake asked.

“To prove you wrong.” Chuckling, he stood and smirked when you threw your sleep mask onto your pillow and brushed away the hand he offered to help you out of bed. The bathroom light was still on, and he followed behind you as you picked up the test he’d left on the sink, holding it in front of his face. “See? Two lines. Negative.”

Taking the test, Jake put his thumb over the Not Pregnant example and held it in front of your eyes. “See? Two lines. Pregnant.” He could only smile as your gaze shifted from glaring at him to squinting down at the test - you hadn’t put your glasses on yet. He watched your eyes widen with shock, darting from the instructions to the result window. Your lips parted, but no words escaped as your eyes rose to meet his again. “Say somethin’, sweetheart.”

“Why the FUCK are my POC cups the only damn thing that has a single line as positive?” you demanded.

That startled a laugh out of him, and Jake tossed the test back onto the counter and tugged you into his arms. Your fingers dug into his back, and he could feel you shaking. “You alright, darlin’?”

You were silent for a long moment before sighing, “Just realizin’ that I’m gonna be triple-checking results for a while. It’s gonna make my appointments run so much longer.”

Chuckling, Jake pulled away just far enough to meet your watery gaze. “What about this one? You gonna triple-check it?”

“I mean, you’ve pretty much done it.” An embarrassed smile flit across your mouth. “Is this where you say ‘I told you so’?”

“Pretty sure this is where I say I love you,” Jake replied, leaning down to kiss you softly. Carefully, he backed you up until your ass hit the counter and lifted you onto it. Your legs wrapped around his hips, arms draped across his shoulders as his hands slid under your shirt to wrap around your waist.

“Love you too. You ready to be a daddy?”

“Hell yeah. You ready to be a mama?” The question made you pause, but the steady confidence your husband exuded made you smile. Even if you weren’t quite ready, he would be there to help you get there.

“Yeah,” you said after a moment.

It would take you a couple of weeks to feel confident interpreting the UA results with a glance again, but you even chuckled when you started telling people about the pregnancy, and Jake boasted that he was the one telling you that you were pregnant.

After all, how many fathers got the chance to do that?

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Author's Note: This little fic has been on my mind since yesterday when I had to fill in last minute for our CM clinic when a clinician called out sick, and had to administer and interpret 2 UAs in 30 minutes, then do brief counseling with the gentlemen before going. I've laughed with my friends before about how our POC cups (the same ones in the graphic above) are one of the only tests where two lines is negative.

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[skyrigel]

Something bout' Simon being shy and awakard around you and especially not no.1 fan of coffee and cafes, so ofcourse it fell upon Soap to drag him practically while he sulked and brooded, his frown was glaring through his masked face but that was until you stood up from behind the counter, a smile plastered to your face and the way your eyes crinkled oh, Simon wasn't the one for bells ringing and soft music in the background but in that moment he knew what the chaos was all about because damn, he was such a goner, your smile was the most beautiful thing about you, and the twinkle of your eyes and the flutter of your lashes and the scrunching of your neck and...wait—fuck..you were looking at him—oh no, fuck.

“....Sir, What would like to order ?” you said, tilting your head and was it... Simon wasn't blushing or was he ? It was evident with the way Soap groaned next to him that the question has been repeated.

“Oh, he loves chocolate muffin! And—”Soap clicked his tongue, poking Ghost on his arm and un freezing him from the fucking goddamn awakening, because it surely felt like that, his heart never quite paced as it was now and let alone the heat that crept up his whole face, he wasn't about to say anything about the tug down his navel, such effect you had on him, just by the blaze of your eyes and a sprinkle of your smile.

“ —Cappuccino with the heart on !” for a fact, He didn't like coffee and let alone the heart but Simon realised how nothing mattered as long as it made you smile.

“ Thankyou, Please take a seat.” Your eyes flickered to the big man, only his eyes visible that never left yours.

~~~

“ Was that a pathetic attempt at flirting?” John propped on his elbow, nursing his banana pie, a very eccentric taste of his.

“What ?” Simon made no effort to tear his gaze off you while you catered to another customer.

“ fuck, you are staring ! Stop staring bastard.”

“ Drink your bloody coffee.” Simon reluctantly turned to his smirking cheeky face, John pushed forward the Cappuccino cup with a heart that you had served moments ago, resulting a very awakard Simon who knocked off a plate when his fingers brushed yours. Pathetic, yes.

“ So...you like her ?” John shaked his head in a sloppy way. A smile crossed his face, enough to make him bite his lips, he glanced back at you, happily taking out pineapple pastry.

“That's missus you're talking bout'.”

Masterlist

[keeryhours]

me and your mama - rafe cameron

Baby daddy! Rafe x Baby mama! Maybank! Reader

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron Masterlist

More Baby Daddy! Rafe

Summary:

you know that i love you

so let me into your heart

Rafe spends a day with his girls, and maybe confesses some feelings.

Requested

Warnings:

None really, kissing/making out, just fluff and a bit of angst

Word Count: 2,913

A/N:

It is seriously so exciting that you guys are loving baby daddy! Rafe as much as I am. Thank you so much for interacting and requesting!

—

“Dada?”

That had been the soundtrack to the entire morning. Iris had followed you around on her short little legs, the only word she wanted to say today being “dada”. It was driving you crazy, but at the same time you felt guilty, knowing she was missing her dad.

After about the 105th “dada”, you sighed, pulling your cell phone out of your pocket. “Okay, baby girl. Let’s call daddy.”

The phone didn’t ring long before you heard his low voice over the line.

“Hey,” Rafe greeted, sounding bored.

“Hey,” you said back, phone stuck between your ear and shoulder as you cut up a banana for Iris’ snack.

“What’s up?”

“Your daughter misses you,” you said, glancing down at the toddler watching you with her full attention. She reached a chubby hand up and you handed her a banana slice.

“Yeah?” Rafe asked, a chuckle in his voice. “I miss her, too.”

“Do you want to come over?” you asked him. You rinsed the knife you had been using in the sink before dropping it in to properly wash later.

“Yeah, I’ll come over,” he said. You heard him groan as he stood from wherever he’d been sitting.

“Long night?” you asked. Iris trailed after you as you walked to her high chair with her plate in hand. You lifted her and sat her in it, buckling her in.

“Something like that.”

You rolled your eyes, not even wanting to know what he meant by that. Iris giggled up at you with her mouth full of banana, making you laugh.

“I’ll see you in a few.”

By the time Iris finished eating and you got her and her chair all cleaned up, the front door was opening. Those heavy footsteps sounded as he walked down the hall, finding the two of you in the kitchen.

Iris’ whole face lit up when Rafe walked into the room. She squealed as she ran to him, arms up in the air to be picked up.

Rafe laughed as he scooped her into his arms, hugging her close. “Hey, baby girl. I heard you missed me.”

Iris wrapped her tiny hand around Rafe’s nose. “Dada!”

Rafe laughed again. “That’s my nose.” He grabbed at her little one. “And that’s your nose.” Iris laughed like it was the funniest thing he could have done.

You couldn’t help the smile on your face at the sight of Rafe and Iris. They loved each other so much, it was clear to anyone who looked for even a second.

“Did you have plans today?” you asked him, leaning against the counter as you watched.

“No plans,” he said. He turned to look at you then. “Why, did you want to do something?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, I thought it might be nice to get out of the house.”

Rafe looked down at the little girl in his arms. “What do you think, Iris? Do you wanna go to the park?”

“Ark!” she agreed, eyes shining bright.

“I think she likes the idea,” Rafe said, shooting you a smirk.

“Park it is, then,” you said, smiling to yourself as you pushed off the counter. “Let me get changed.”

You changed into something that felt a little cuter to be going out in public, but still casual enough to run around at the park. You settled on a pair of shorts and a crop top.

You came out of your bedroom to see Rafe playing with Iris on the living room floor. You smiled at them, then moved into the kitchen again. You figured you might as well make a whole thing out of it. You grabbed some ingredients and began to make lunches for the three of you.

The sounds of Iris’ wild giggles filled the house as you made sandwiches, cut up fruit, and grabbed some little bags of chips and snacks from the cabinet. You grabbed the small insulated cooler from next to the back door and packed the lunch in it, along with some sodas, juice for Iris, and some beers for Rafe.

You were grateful that Rafe kept a car seat installed in his truck, because moving and reinstalling it was the biggest pain in the ass. He carried Iris out of the house while you carried her diaper bag on your shoulder and the cooler in your hands, along with a blanket. He hooked her into her car seat, talking to her softly and making her giggle the whole time. Usually she just screams in your face when you try to get her in the car seat.

Rafe drove you all to the park on Figure 8. The windows were down in the truck because it was such a beautiful day. The salty wind whipped your hair around your face, but it felt so nice you didn’t care.

Iris began kicking her feet and cheering as Rafe pulled into the parking lot of the park. You both laughed at her excitement and he shut off the truck, both of you hopping out.

Rafe put Iris down as you reached the grass of the park, and she took off as fast as her little legs would carry her. Rafe trailed behind her, laughing.

“Where you going?” he called after her. She only squealed in response, running up to the swing set and reaching for the baby swing. She looked back at her dad expectantly.

Rafe lifted her up and sat her in the swing, pushing her high enough that she was having the time of her life but not so high he was scared of her getting hurt. When she was tired of the swings he let her down and she ran to the slide. You and Rafe each held one of her hands as she slid down, quickly running back to do it again and again.

“Getting hungry?” you asked her after she had been playing for an hour. It was nearing nap time, too.

“Hungy,” she confirmed, and you noticed her wiping her eyes.

Rafe scooped her up in his arms while you grabbed the blanket and cooler and you found a comfortable place in the grass, a good distance away from other families at the park. You spread the blanket and the three of you sat down, making yourselves comfortable.

You opened the cooler and started grabbing Iris’ food. You set it all up for her and she began eating right away, tiny fingers grabbing for a chunk of strawberry first.

You passed Rafe his sandwich and chips, which he took with a grateful look.

“Beer or soda?” you asked him.

“Beer would be good,” he said, predictably. You passed him the bottle and he opened it with ease, taking a few big sips.

You unwrapped your own sandwich and took a bite, taking in the scenery around you as you ate your lunch. It really was a beautiful day, and it had been too long since you just spent time outdoors, in nature. It felt peaceful, the air smelled clean. You sipped your soda, enjoying the breeze on your skin.

The best view of all was right next to you. You took in the image of your daughter, sitting comfortably leaned back against Rafe while she ate her lunch. She was dressed in a little pair of overalls today, a pink shirt underneath.

Your eyes traveled up to Rafe, looking off into the distance as he drank his beer. He must have been thinking the same thing you were, his eyes glancing over the scene surrounding you. You couldn’t help but notice how blue his eyes looked in the light, the way they were slightly squinted in the sun. His big, strong hand wrapped around his beer bottle. The strong muscles of his arms, his chest…

You were getting carried away.

You tried to shake it off, but then he turned at the last moment, eyes meeting yours. He smiled at you, and it made your heart thump harder in your chest. You wondered if he would always have this effect over you.

Iris fell asleep after lunch. She just curled up right on the blanket and passed out before either of you had even realized.

“She’s so beautiful,” Rafe mused, gently brushing some of his daughter’s soft brown hair out of her face without waking her.

“She looks just like you,” you pointed out.

“I know,” he said. “Lucky girl.”

You shoved him in the shoulder hard, and he laughed, nearly falling over into the grass.

“You’re so annoying,” you laughed, shaking your head.

He was still laughing as he plucked another beer from the cooler. He opened it and lifted it to his lips. He reached forward and tucked your hair behind your ear.

“She would have been lucky to look like you, too,” he said, and you laughed lightly. “Seriously. You’re the hottest girl on the island, Maybank.”

You felt your cheeks heating up, looking down at your legs instead of at him. “That is not true.”

“You think I’d lie about that?” Rafe asked. He continued to drink his beer, his eyes never leaving your face.

You shrugged.

You heard Rafe sigh, then you felt his hand on the side of your face, turning it to look at him. He was so much closer than you realized when you turned, and before you could open your lips to speak, he was kissing you.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you kissed him back. His hand landed on the back of your head, pulling you closer to him as he deepened the kiss, tongue slipping into your mouth. His tongue slowly dragged along yours, and you accidentally moaned against him, causing his lips to tilt up in a smirk. He didn’t stop kissing you though, dominating the kiss and exploring your mouth with his tongue.

Your hand rested on his thigh, the other on the blanket as you leaned your weight against it. You tilted your head to kiss him more naturally, his fingers playing with the hair at the back of your neck.

When he finally pulled away he rested his forehead against yours. He said your name, low, nearly pained.

You felt the same pain in your chest. You wanted so badly for things to be different with Rafe, and you knew he wanted that too. But you had both agreed you couldn’t be together.

“Rafe…” you whispered back. His nose brushed against yours, your faces still so close as he just rested there, like he was thinking.

“Why are we doing this?” he finally asked, his voice quiet, nearly a whisper.

“Doing what?” you asked, not sure what exactly he was referring to.

“Pretending we don’t love each other.”

You froze. You felt like all the air had been sucked from your body. Rafe’s hand left your hair and grabbed onto your hand. “Rafe…” you breathed out again. You didn’t know what to say.

“It’s kind of bullshit, isn’t it?” he continued, forehead still pressed against yours. It would take only the slightest movement for your lips to meet again.

You agreed. It was bullshit. You were tired of it, too. But you and Rafe had also mutually agreed that you weren’t right together. Your brief relationship had been toxic, dramatic, exhausting. You didn’t want to go through it again.

“Yeah,” you said simply. His thumb rubbed across the back of your hand.

“I want to be with my daughter every day. I want to be with you every day.” Rafe looked into your eyes then and you’d never seen him look so serious. Well, a couple of times, but it was rare. It was enough to scare you.

“I want that too, but Rafe-“

“Why don’t we just try again?”

You closed your eyes tightly. You thought you might cry if you didn’t. “We can’t.”

Rafe scoffed, looking away, back into the distance of the park in front of you. He ran a hand over his buzz cut, a sign of the stress he was feeling.

“I know,” he said finally. “I know.”

You both sat there in silence for a little while, listening to the sounds of kids screaming at the park, birds in the trees, Iris’ soft breathing as she slept between you.

“I just think…” Rafe began again. “Maybe…it could be different this time.”

You wanted to believe that more than anything. You wanted to take the chance. But you didn’t think you’d survive the heartbreak when it inevitably didn’t work again. You and Rafe were already tied together for the rest of your lives, something that had taken you long enough to come to terms with after the initial breakup. You had never wanted to see him again at the time, and now you had a successful co-parenting relationship. You were terrified to lose the peace you had come to find in your shared lives, returning back to the chaos.

“I want that,” you said. “I really do. But it just feels like a bad idea.”

Rafe nodded. His face didn’t betray any of his emotions, but you could tell they were swirling in his head. He finished off his second beer. “I’m never gonna stop loving you, you know.”

Your heart twisted in your chest at his words. Because you knew exactly how he felt. “I’ll never stop loving you either, Rafe.”

You saw his jaw clench as you spoke the words. The muscles in his arm flexed as he clenched and unclenched his fist. He was holding back. He had more to say.

“We should get her home,” he said instead, and he was packing the cooler and bags before you could say anything else. He gently picked up Iris’ sleeping form as you grabbed the other supplies and the blanket. Iris curled against his chest, not waking from her sleep for even a second. You had been blessed with an amazing sleeper for a baby.

The drive home was more awkward, the carefree joy from earlier suffocated by this tension. You looked at Rafe’s hand on the wheel as his other arm rested on the open window. You looked away, making an effort to stop thinking about how attractive he was when you were trying to get over him.

Maybe you’d be happier getting under him.

You shook that thought away.

Back at the house, Rafe carried Iris inside, taking her to her nursery and laying her down in her crib without waking her while you collapsed on the couch. You were surprised when he joined you a minute later, thinking he’d leave as soon as he got her down.

“I had a good time with you guys. I like when we get to do stuff together.”

“Me too,” you said honestly. Rafe’s hand rested on your bare thigh, and he squeezed once. You looked over at him to find him already staring at you.

He moved closer, slowly, giving you ample time to push him away. You didn’t. When his lips touched yours again he kissed you passionately, hand resting on your waist and pulling you closer. So close that you ended up throwing your leg over his lap, straddling him.

He groaned against your lips as he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close and pulling your hips down against his as you kissed. Your arms rested around his neck, chest pressed against his. His big hands slid down to your ass and he grabbed hard.

You gasped into the kiss, Rafe taking it as an opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth again. His hands were beginning to creep up your shirt when you pulled back. “Rafe…”

“Come on, right here on the couch before JJ gets home from work,” Rafe practically begged, his eyes dark with lust and his hands touching all over you. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back, fighting a battle with your own body.

“Can’t,” you force yourself to say, and the word sounds as pained as you feel. “We can’t.”

Rafe leaned forward, head falling against your chest as he sighed. He placed a few more kisses on the tops of your breasts peeking out of your top before pressing one more to your lips.

“Okay,” he conceded.

You climbed off his lap, although neither of you wanted you to. Rafe’s hand lingered on your thigh as you sat next to him, rubbing your skin affectionately.

“I guess I’ll go then,” he said. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, checking texts and anything else he’s missed since he hadn’t touched the phone while he was with you. Topper’s invited him to some party, which doesn’t sound like a bad way to spend this night. A good way to forget.

You looked at him sadly, wanting to tell him no, stay, and maybe also please fuck me on the couch like you were just about to. But you don’t.

Rafe leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss on your cheek. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” His voice rumbled right against your ear.

You didn’t move as he stood and left the house. You didn’t move when you heard his truck start and the gravel kicking up as he drove off. You fingers itched for your phone, to tell him to please come back no matter how humiliating that would be.

Instead your fingers reach up and touch your lips, still tingling from his kiss like he’d never left.

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Dream Lover (dp x dc)

The alarm on his cellphone rang and Danny groaned as a fumbled blindly to close it again.

“Wha’ izzit?” Came a sleepy voice at his back.

Danny rubbed his eyes as he sat up. Then, he turned towards the other man entangled in the sheets.

“Nothing, go back to sleep,” Danny said before dropping a kiss on the man’s forehead, displacing his white streak. The man muttered some unintelligible words as he wriggled around a bit before settling back down.

Danny gave him a fond look before a yawn forced his eyes closed. He slipped off the bed and padded down to the kitchen. With bleary eyes he put the coffee machine on and got the milk out of the fridge as he waited for the beans be ground.

The machine was way fancier than anything Danny had ever owned but his boyfriend liked good coffee and Danny liked making him happy. The breaker-hammer noise stopped indicating the coffee was done and the halfa sipped at it as he tried to figure out what that niggling feeling in the back of his mind was.

Before he could delve into it very far, he heard his boyfriend coming into their little kitchen.

“Did the noise wake you up?” Danny asked as the man wrapped his arms around the smaller man’s waist and buried his head in his back.

“Was already ‘wake,” the octopus masquerading as a human mumbled.

“Want some coffee?”

“Please.” His boyfriend pressed a kiss to his nape before staggering towards the kitchen chair and sagging into it.

”Good night?” Danny asked as he started the machine again.

“The usual,” the man said as he rubbed the sleep out of his face.

“Why are you up early?”

“Gotta fix up the bike.” The man yawned which made Danny yawn too. “It kept backfiring last night.”

Danny hummed as that niggling feeling came back at the mention of the motorcycle. There was something there…

“What about you?” The man said as he held his face in his palm.

“Nothing much,” Danny said as he refocused on the conversation. “I don’t have to go in today, so I’ll probably just study.”

“I made butternut pasta when I came back. There’s some left for lunch,” his boyfriend said as he grabbed a banana from their fruit bowl.

“You’ll be here for lunch?” Danny asked as the flow of coffee stopped and he took the cup away from the little shelf.

“Thanks,” the man said as he accepted the cup. “Probably.”

Danny nodded and he leaned on the counter as he looked into the distance. His eyes caught on a clock and again, that annoying sensation he was forgetting something tickled him.

Clock meant hours which meant seconds which meant sand trickling in an hourglass which meant time passing and Time meant-

“Everything ok?” Came the low tenor of his boyfriend.

Danny shook away the thought and smiled at him. “Just zoning out.”

Then the smaller man finished his cup before he put it in the sink. “Gonna go brush my teeth,” he said as he walked out of the kitchen

“You didn’t even eat!” Came the voice Corning from the other room.

“Not hungry,” sing-songed Danny as he grabbed his toothbrush.

As he put the paste on the brush his mind wandered a bit. He started brushing, in the back and made his way forward. He was up to his canine and he started on his fangs which had him frown. Fangs? Wait a minute.

And then it all came rushing back. Phantom. Ghosts. This was a dream which meant-

“Nocturn,” Danny said. Sure it had been a while since he dated anyone but this was a whole new level of single if Nocturn had resorted to creating the ideal boyfriend to trap him in a dream.

Danny walked back to the kitchen and stood in the door entrance and stared at his imaginary dream boyfriend. Said boyfriend turned his head around and lifted an inquiring eyebrow.

“You really are perfect,” Danny said.

“You say the sweetest things,” the dream-construct said and the corner of his eyes creased beautifully as he smiled.

Danny sighed wistfully before bending to kiss his cheek. “Until then, dream lover.”

With a snap the dream collapsed and the halfa opened his eyes to the green of the Infinite Realms with the ghost sensation on his lips.

Simultaneously, in one of his safe houses in Gotham, Jason’s eyes snapped open as his hand flew to his cheek.

[bunnys-kisses]

hi bunny can i order banana bread with hard lemonade with max please. make it spicy. make it nasty. make it sloppy. make it fucking filthy😩😩 i fucking love you and all your works and i trust you with baking and cooking

the bakery menu

want to order something? then browse the menu to see what we have! as for this order, i hope that there's enough spice in this for you! i ended up writing this a little stoned, so i hope everything turned out okay!!

banana bread ("i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name.") + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour)

cw: smut/pwp, possessive behavior, recreational drug use (weed), reference to smoking & drinking, dom!max, counter/kitchen sex, high sex

you liked parties. maybe, not all the time. but once in a while there was nothing like being surrounded by people and drinking the night away before you slinked off to bed to nurse the eventual hangover. max didn't mind that you went out partying. he trusted you to not do anything extremely stupid that would hurt you or your relationship.

there was one rule, no hard drugs. neither of you needed the trouble that came with too much of a mind altering substance. even if he let you go out to party, he still worried about you when he couldn't go with you. so for your best interest, no drugs.

but there you were, seated on top of the counter in max's kitchen while he dutifully made you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. you were still in your party clothes with one of his expensive jackets around your shoulders. you claimed that you were cold. you kicked your legs against the cabinets under you.

you giggled a little.

he handed it to you on a plate and said, "eat." before he grabbed a (plastic) cup from the cupboard above the sink and filled it full of water. he handed it to you, "drink. slowly." then rested against the counter, keeping a stern eye on you.

his blue eyes were piercing as he made sure that you did what he said. you already caused enough trouble tonight. from what your friends told him when they brought you home, you had a few too many puffs of a joint. max didn't think that weed was the devil, but he didn't want you doing anything reckless without him.

as a result he had his very stoned girlfriend seated on the counter and happily eat a pb&j sandwich. he then got closer and rubbed your bare knee. he leaned in and licked a speck of jelly on the corner of your mouth.

he said softly, "you have to be a good girl for me. listen and behave. i know it's tempting to want to be like the others, but i need to keep you safe. what would happen if you took too much and someone tried to hurt you?" he kissed you on the lips, tasting the sweetness of your late night snack on your lips.

"i was fine, maxie." you beamed as you felt his kisses pepper your face. you giggled and squirmed, it was cute. you only called him maxie when you were very intoxicated.

he felt a curl of possessiveness in his gut as he touched your arms. you looked so good in his clothes. maybe next time you go out, he'll make you wear a little reminder of him.

"my poor treasure.' he said, "you just have to be the life of the party. now, is there anything else you took?"

you shook your head, "nope. nothing else, i promise. i felt too giggly after the joint and then i ended up back home. but, honestly, maxie... i want you."

he chuckled and ran his fingers through your hair, "oh i bet. i bet you thought about me on the ride home. you thought about my cock inside of you, i bet if left to your own devices you would've made a mess of the seat of your friend's car." he pushed up the skirt of the 'slutty' dress you wore that night.

you blushed and wanted to hide your face, which only made max chuckle. he pushed the skirt up further until your pretty blue underwear was on display for him.

he licked his lips, "tell me when to stop." he wanted to make sure that you weren't too high to know what was going on. he wasn't a monster.

you nodded and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. you said softly, "give it all to me, maxie." and kissed his ear before you fell apart in giggles. you leaned up against the cabinets and let max take off your panties. he left them dangling on your left ankle.

"i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name." he said honestly, he briefly looked to you and licked his lips.

you watched him take his cock out of his sweatpants, he could see you were already so hot all over. he spread your legs further as he got closer in between them.

his cock was decently sized, nothing to be scared of. nothing that would hurt you if he tried to jam it in. you knew the fantasy was a large cock, but you had you heard stories of bruised cervixes that max was just the right fit for you.

he braced his hands on either side of you on the counter as he slid his cock into your sweet pussy. it wasn't a painfully slow insertion, but when he got his cock to the root. he felt a sense of relief at the feeling of you.

he kissed at your face as he thrusted in and out of you. the tip barely out before he slid back in. he groaned through the kisses that he peppered your face with.

"mmm, that's it." he said, "you feel so good, my treasure. how's that head of yours?" he asked as he thrusted up into you harder. it was quick and hard rhythm.

you felt on cloud nine, with the two shots of vodka, all that weed and now the heightened feeling of having sex all made your head race with thoughts of nothing. everything kind of blended together in your mind.

you held onto his shoulders, your fists tied up in the shoulders of his white t-shirt. you were breathing heavily and felt your core throb. you whined, "max, ah. fuck. i couldn't stop thinking about you on the ride home. i was so fuckin' horny." you whined.

you got horny when you smoked, most would devour a pizza. you'd do that with ease but also want to be fucked until you were a fucked out pile of goo on the bed until you reformed into a human in the morning.

"oh yeah, did you look at photos of me?"

"yes, maxie." you purred.

"were they safe photos?" he asked as he leaned even more up against you. letting him get even closer to you. as if he wasn't already in your personal space.

you giggled, "of course! i didn't want to show my friends what you're packing down there." you had an assortment of nudes from him as he did for you.

he kissed at the nape of your neck, your thighs tightened around his waist as he bullied his cock into you. you were perfect like this, submissive like a little lamb. he chuckled, "good, don't want to cause an incident."

he continued to fuck you on top of the granite countertop in the kitchen. his thrusts were fast and it made you moan loudly against him. you felt your heart thump wildly in your chest.

it all felt so good. you clutched onto his t-shirt as he fucked you rapidly, "please, maxie."

"cum for me, treasure. i know you need it." he whispered in your ear as he continued to move.

you kicked out your legs a little as you came, your noise was high pitched but yet so sweet. it was painfully cute when you did it. it made him hot all over. you felt painfully good.

"good girl."

you held onto him tightly as he battered your pussy with a few more heavy thrusts before he finished inside of you. you panted against his shoulder and clung to him tightly.

he said sweet nothings to you both in english and dutch which made you feel like jelly. you leaned up against him as he finished inside of you with a rough groan.

"my treasure." he purred as he slowed down to a stop. he held you for a moment, feeling your heavy breathing against his shoulder.

"maxie." you purred, still hot all over. the weed was still in your system.

he pulled out of you and tucked his cock back into his sweatpants. he admired the bit of cum that leaked out of your poor cunt. it eased any possessiveness in his mind, relaxed him that he was able to make his beloved girlfriend feel good.

"c'mon, finish that water and we'll get you to bed." he patted your thigh before he pulled your pretty panties back up over your hips.

you nodded softly before you carefully got a hold of the cup and finished the rest of the water quickly. you could be good, for once!

-

the following week, max was being nice and helping you put your strappy sandals before you went out for the evening with some of the other partners of drivers.

when he got up from the floor, he reached over down the couch and grabbed a windbreaker jacket with his team, name and number on it. he put it on you before he zipped it up to the top, effectively hiding the suggestive outfit you were wearing.

he patted your shoulders and kissed your forehead before he said, "there, perfect. now remember, no drugs. okay?" he kissed you again, "you're going to be good for me?"

you nodded, "always max. but i am tempted to be bad again. if that means you'll fuck me on the counter again."

max smiled as he tapped your nose, his face close to you, "next time i won't be so generous. if you come home to me high again, i'm not going to be as nice."

you smiled at him, "then i'll be good then." you got up from the couch and embraced your boyfriend. you gave him a kiss on the cheek and felt safe in his arms for a moment, "no weed, no nothing."

"good, that's what i like to hear. now you for have fun, treasure." he kissed your cheek. he walked you to the front door before he saw you out. when he closed the door once you left, he palmed himself through his sweatpants at the thought of you.

he walked to the bedroom and searched in the back of the closet. he pulled out a pair of leather cuffs and a blindfold. he walked back to the bed casually and placed them down softly.

just in case you decided to misbehave again <3

[gay-dorito-dust]

Imagine Bill/Stanford x a clumsy reader who is constantly getting injured or stumbling and bumping into something.

Going on a long hike? Reader falls and busts their fuckin knee. Walking by the fridge after grabbing a snack? Slips over a puddle of water and breaks their wrist.

I'm genuinely curious as to how they would respond separately, constantly having to deal with reader's shit.

Love your content, by the way. Keep up the good work! :D 💗

Bill cipher

Finds it funny, after all pain is hilarious to him but it’s made even more funnier if someone else is doing it to themselves.

Don’t expect him to help you in any way shape or form, he’s like one of those friends who’ll laugh as you fall down the stairs before ever thinking of helping you back up.

But in this instance he just leaves you in pain and gets all bothered when you’re all healed up again, claiming that you’re not as fun as you are when you’re injured. So I’d watch your step for the next couple of days for banana peels or anything that could cause you physical harm.

You’re his very own version of you’ve been framed with how often you managed to end up hurting yourself over near enough everything, so much so that he just develops a sixth sense when you’re about to hurt yourself and appears just in time to whiteness it with some deer teeth.

Needless to say Bill will find your sprained ankles, busted kneecaps and broken arms hilarious and might even record his favourite ones to look back on when he’s bored to reminisce over the good times. (I don’t know what else you expect of me for him. It’s bill cipher, he’s the least helpful dude in existence)

Stanford Pines

Poor guy had gotten more and more grey hairs because of how accident prone you are. He would like you very much in one piece thank you very much.

Also he’s got good reflexes for a man of his age and would most likely be able to catch you by the arm or the waist before you even fall or trip while asking if you were okay with the most concerned look upon his face.

He’ll gladly let you use him as crutch when you’ve tripped and busted your knee or sprained your ankle, anything that he could do to make sure that you were in less pain then you already were, Ford will do it in a heartbeat in hopes that he’d never have to do this again. Only to later come to terms that he was with the most clumsiest person in all of Gravity Falls, and that he would be used as your personal crutch constantly.

After a couple more accidents and Ford is already carrying a makeshift first aid kit and had done intensive research on all he needed to deal with things like bruises, cuts and sprains just for you. However he’ll always try to move you away from any and all potential hazards, only for him to look back at you to see that you’ve somehow managed to trip on thin air and bruise your chin.

You’re lucky this man loves you dearly because you had proven yourself to be a handful at some cases, but Ford knew it wasn’t your fault and would never make it out to be your fault in the slightest. And yet the temptation to baby proof everything -especially the lab- was strong within him, but would rather keep an eye on you himself to make sure you somehow didn’t hurt yourself on the corner of a table or counter.

He only knew you would because you did bump into the corner of a table once and tried to hide it from him, but he knew you better then most and immediately gets an ice pack for your bruise. At this point you being accident prone was about as normal as waking up to being covered in Mabel’s stickers or almost tripping over Waddles because he was sleeping nearby.

Yes you once tripped over waddles because he was sleeping near your bed once, did you hurt yourself? Obviously. Did Ford have to take care of you? Of course he did but he didn’t mind taking care of you now and then as you did the exact same whenever he got himself hurt. You weren’t aloud in certain places without Ford because there was too much where you could hurt yourself on, that and Ford didn’t feel like having a heart attack every five seconds you came even remotely close to injuring yourself. Again.

He kisses your bruises and cuts. Fight me I’m in a soft mood.

[your-highnessmarvel]

Cantankerous

AN: So some of yall ( namely @jana-jaeynneee @delicateblues @blondegirlie )requested a part two to THIS and I mean, I must oblige the populace. So here's another brain rot of Billy Butcher.

This can be read as a sequel to THIS or as a oneshot either way. Y'all ready for some more madness?

WARNINGS: SMUT SMUT SMUT, breath play, kink size, age-gap if you squint.

MINORS DNI BELOW THE CUT

The safehouse was so quiet you could've heard a mouse walk the entire length of the kitchen. But no one was here. It was just you and the silence and the loudly walking mouse that was meandering across the makeshift living room. Oh and Butcher - Billy - whatever. But he was snoring like a cow in heat on the couch, the tiny TV droning and casting a greyish blue glow onto his sleeping features.

When you'd found him there, you'd almost padded back to your little corner and called it a night. But a growl in your tummy made you ache for something to nibble on. And now that the team was basically under government watch and the FBI's Most Wanted list, it's not like Frenchie was stocking the fridge with nutrient dense foods.

It was mostly bread, peanut butter, bananas or avocados (depending on which ones came on special first), and a few cold cuts he could swipe.

But this time, as you pulled the mini fridge open, you wanted to smack Frenchie on the shaved side of his idiot head. There was nothing but one darkening banana and a Doctor Pepper in there.

"Stupid," you mumbled, grasping onto the banana.

"You should have your head checked out, hun."

You rolled your eyes, groaning inwardly as you turned to the man sitting up on the couch like a revenant. He turned his head, snuggled his chin onto the back of the couch, and pouted at you.

"Why?" you asked, closing the fridge door with a bang.

He lifted one dark brow. "Because you're over there calling a 'fridgerator stupid."

You leaned back against the counter and crossed your ankles. "Who says I called the fridge stupid?"

He shrugged. "Who knows why you women do them things that you do." And just as you were about to tell him where he could shove his opinion, he sighed and asked, "Fancy a midnight nibble, yeah?"

You recoiled, swallowing your retort before showing him the banana from across the room. "There's only one thing left to eat before God knows when."

He made a face, more like a grimace, somewhere between pain and resolution. "Have it," he said, waving you away.

Ever since that night at the Seducer's mansion, it's like everything had changed for you while not the slightest thing had shifted for Butcher - Billy.

It's like he hadn't culled two orgasms from you.

It's like he hadn't told you those things that were absolutely not lies.

He'd barely talked to you since, waltzing into the next month as if you were just a decoration hung on the wall that you caught him looking at once in a while, but otherwise, he resorted to silence with you.

He never asked you anything. He never answered your questions. Even when it was just the two of you at the safehouse, like tonight, he'd knock out on the couch after a few beers and lull you to sleep with the sound of his snoring.

This was the first time in 4 weeks he'd spoken a direct word at you.

"I could split it," you said, gesturing to the banana.

He shook his head, raked a hand over the left side of his face. "Did I ever tell you my series of fun facts?" he asked, looking at the TV so all you could see was the back of his head.

You'd heard him have a shower an hour ago, cursing at the cold water and the lack of proper space for his abnormally large body.

Whenever the boys took a shower, in that cramped, open space beside the kitchen, you made it your mission to count how many cracks there were in the wall. Aside from the safehouse having no proper bathroom utilities, the "shower" had no curtain. It was just a shower head off the wall with a handle to open it.

So when you'd heard the shower head squeal to life an hour ago, you'd turned in your little cot and pretended that you weren't jealous of that water. Of the droplets running between his pecks, gliding down his tummy, running along the small hairs on his arms. Of the water that caressed the planes of his face, that rushed into his hair, that tumbled along the hard ridges of his back.

It had been insanely hard not to get lost in those thoughts. You were trying to forget Billy Butcher, to classify him as your leader instead of as the recipient of your antiquated school-girl crush. You knew Billy didn't think that way of you, you were certain. All those things that he told you while he'd been two knuckles deep in your cunt, even if they weren't lies, had to have been in the heat of the moment.

You thought better of Billy Butcher--higher. There was no way a man of his age, his experience, would be as cliché as to want to fuck his twenty-something coworker.

"Your series of fun facts?" you asked back, throwing those thoughts back into your head, in a drawer so deep, locked away, so forgotten you'd never risk finding it again.

He snorted. "Sounds nerdy, I know, you'll love it." He patted the side of the couch next to him, a dull invitation.

Truth is, even if you had tried to ignore him as well, a part of you had missed being close to him. He was a genuinely nice and funny human being, when he wasn't chopping arms off or punching people in the head.

Sometimes, when it was just the two of you - well, before the whole Seducer incident - he could be wholeheartedly nice to you. He'd made you a sandwich once when a pad fell out of your toiletries bag and he so eloquently yelled to everyone in the room that you were on the rag. He'd cut your hair--surprisingly well--when you had the remains of the mailman's brains gathered in chunks in your hair.

So that pat on the couch was like an old reminder of the relationship you'd had with him before...well before everything.

You padded towards him, bare feet on the cold cement. He looked at you over his shoulder, taking in the long pajama pants, the long t-shirt.

When you sat dow beside him, sinking into the couch, you took a glance at him. He was still dressed in his black jeans but he'd switched his open blouse for a long-sleeve black sweater that hugged onto his shoulders like a glove.

"They say," he started, smiling, raising a finger as if he was in deep thought. "That the same bacteria found in yogurt can be found in a blue whale's vagina."

You glazed your eyes. "I don't know why I expected anything less," you groaned.

He chuckled. "Get this, right," he continued, shuffling on the couch to get more comfortable. "Crocodiles mate by like twisting 'round each other, like some sort of licorice, and then the male uncovers his hidden penis like a gun and shoots up the female."

You leaned your head back onto the couch and groaned again. "Are these fun facts going to serve me in real life?"

He leaned forward, as if to tell you a juicy secret, his weight dipping the couch so your shoulder slid an inch closer to him. "Sometimes, male elephants use their giant dicks as a fifth leg."

That made you smile and burst into giggles. "Why would that be of any service to them at all?" you chuckled, raising your head to meet his eyes.

He shrugged, grimaced at you. "Maybe they can run faster," he offered.

"Doubt it."

"Oi, maybe they use it as a weapon of some sorts."

"What, like a sword?"

"Dunno, I'm not the one with a giant fifth leg."

You started laughing, a real laugh that tore at your gut and made you throw your head back. Of everything Butcher was, he was a walking comedian. Sure, it enclosed a multitude of unhealed trauma, but the things he could pull out of his magic hat could be the difference between a dreadful nightmare or a peaceful sleep. And that's always something you'd appreciated from him.

"I wanna ask you somethin', little Truthteller," he asked, suddenly somber, as if the lights in his head had dimmed all at once.

The little nickname, the pet name, drew the breath from your lungs and swiped the smile off your face, bringing you back the that box beneath the floor. The enclosed space where it was just you and him, and you and his breathing, his kisses, his caresses.

The grip you had on the banana tightened.

"First of all," he sighed, cocking his head to look at you. "Are you going to eat that fucking banana or keep teasing me?"

"Here!" you said, smiling, handing him the fruit. "I said take it if you're hungry."

He swiped it from you, grazing his fingers against your knuckles. "Thanks," he mumbled, peeling it and wolfing it down in three bites.

Well, you thought. There goes my midnight snack.

"Are you..." he trailed off, swallowing the last of his banana before dumping the peel on the coffee table. "Are you angry with me or something or the other?"

You frowned, taken aback. If anything, you'd thought he was mad at you for something or the other.

"Don't tell me you're that boomer who assumes every woman is mad at something," you grumbled, crossing your arms.

His eyes dipped to your chest for a fraction of a second, so quickly that you'd have missed it had you blinked. The action of crossing your arms had pushed your breasts together, making it obvious that you weren't wearing a bra.

Something dark and slow, like molasses, stirred in your belly.

"First thing's first, young lady, I'm not a boomer," he corrected, grabbing your wrist, "and secondly, please don't push up those pretty tits in my face unless you're willing to suffer the consequences," and he dropped your arm.

You gulped, feeling heat spread deep in your belly, across your chest, and into your head.

Your heartbeat picked up, like a tiny little drummer boy was kicking to life inside you.

He leaned back, dropping your wrist like nothing happened, and you hated him for it.

"I'm not angry," you answered decidedly. "I'm just... I just don't know how to behave around you."

He huffed, then turned to you and waved you over, making his chest appear like the most comfortable pillow.

You swallowed.

"Come on," he guffawed, gesturing to you again. "I want to tell you somethin' and I'm afraid that cunt Frenchie bugged up this dump."

You blinked, feeling the heat crawl up your cheeks like slow melting butter. But then you found yourself moving forward, crawling and closing the small space between the both of you until you were kneeling beside him.

He laughed silently, the dimples in his cheeks creasing. From up close, you could see the lines beside his eyes, the deep green of his irises, the way his black hair curled at the tip slightly.

He watched you watching him, following your gaze. You'd never seen each other this close before. The last time you'd been close enough to feel his breath on your cheeks, it had been pitch black.

"If you're refferin' to the last time we went on a mission alone," he said, his voice a few octaves lower, graver, raspier--as if he was straining against himself. "I'm not angry."

You nodded, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. You felt his finger press under your chin, dragging your eyes back to his. They were kind, downturned as if he was concerned. "I didn't mean to force you into anythin'," he murmured, watching as you opened your mouth.

"You didn't," you answered quickly. "It was hurting so bad," you continued, pressing your hands together, held like a prayer against your thighs. "I think I would've died without you."

He smiled, pressing his thumb to your bottom lip, like he'd done under the floor.

"Come," he instructed, grabbing you by the biceps and hauling you over his lap, so your bum was pressed right on his crotch, your shoulder nuzzled against his chest. Even sitting, he was so much bigger and taller than you, that you felt like a tiny rock in his hand.

He was so warm, smelling of something woodsy, something smokey--a scent so unique to him it made the volley of butterflies in your tummy take flight across your chest.

He pressed a big, warm hand against one of your thighs and flattened your knees, his breath hitching over your head. Your heart hammered, a deep throb against your throat.

"Did you like it?" he asked slowly, pressing deep circles into the inside of your left thigh.

You pressed your lips together, feeling his other hand cradle you against his chest. "It was..." you swallowed thickly.

He pinched the sensitive skin that he was caressing, the ache swarming your head, even through the layer of your pajama pants. "Don't be embarrassed," he cooed, leaning his nose against your temple.

"Butcher, I-"

"Billy," he interrupted, grabbing your chin and lifting your head up to meet your gaze. You gasped, meeting his eyes with a sweet-sour feeling in your belly. "Love, it's always Billy for you." He looked at your mouth, trailing his finger down the column of your throat before lacing his fingers around your neck like a pretty little necklace.

"You look so tiny like this," he mumbled and you felt him then, hard and warm against your bum, before he leaned over and ravaged your mouth, kissing you like you were the imaginary oasis in a desert and he was a man parched dry.

He groaned against your mouth, grasping at your throat like a lifeline, pressing until air was taken from you and you keened against him, both of your hands reaching for his arm, digging into the chiseled skin.

"Billy," you said, breathless, your lips bruised from his kisses, his teeth nipping at your mouth like a predator.

"Yes, love?" he mumbled, out of his mind, his fingers closing around your neck like a noose until you choked against his mouth. He swallowed your sounds, groaning against you. "Can't breathe?" he mocked, loosening his fingers ever so slightly and giving you just a sliver of air to suck onto as you closed your eyes. The blood rushed out of your head and back into your body, pounding in your chest, sliding slowly down your tummy and settling into your cunt like a heavy, hard drum beat.

"Billy, I'm-"

He cut you off with a kiss, squeezing your neck, letting you choke against his mouth until he gave you a few licks of air. He enjoyed toying with you and you let him, sucking onto the air he gave you, kissing him, feeling as lightheaded as a balloon.

When your lips were red and swollen, your eyes glazed, and your breath hard and fast, he finally took his hands from your neck, kissing your cheeks and your eyelids. "You did so good f'me," he panted, lazily tracing circles on your neck, watching as you heaved in breath after breath.

Somewhere, you knew your panties were slick.

He kissed your temple. "Breathing when I allow you," he groaned, kissing your cheek. "And now look at ya, pretty head empty, eh?" You knew he was taunting you but all you could do was focus on your breathing, getting as much air in as to not pass out on his lap.

"I'm so...tired," you moaned, reaching up to kiss him, but he grabbed onto your face, dwarfing your head in his big hands, and smiled down at your sleepy little eyes.

"But I've got you right where I want you," he cooed, kissing your other cheek. "Get on your knees for me, yeah?" he whispered, and you would do anything for him in that moment, light-headed, dazed, panties wet, soaked as you fell to your knees before him.

You looked up at him from between his spread thighs. "God," he groaned, pressing his thumb to your fat bottom lip. "Look at you."

You swallowed hard when he unbuttoned his jeans, his eyes like magnets to your every movement. He took himself out of his pants, root and stem, groaning and leaning forward to caress your cheek, his eyes serious all of a sudden. "Take your time, little Truthteller, I want to see every second of this."

You looked up at him, brows upturned, nodding. As he leaned back, you got a good look at him; he was big, just like the rest of him, angry red tip leaking precum already.

Your empty little head just wanted to please him, like he'd done to you beneath the floorboards of the Seducer's mansion, but a nervousness kicked at your belly.

Hesitantly, you scooted closer, wrapping your hand around his length, the skin scorching hot, listening to him sigh and melt into the couch.

You leaned forward, giving his tip little kitten licks until you pressed the entire tip of him against your warm tongue, wrapping your lips around him.

"Fuck," he whispered, one hand gathering your hair, lifting it away from your face so he could see you. "I'm not going to last long, little Truthteller."

You wondered, somewhere where your mind wasn't so empty, if he'd been holding out for you, keeping himself from jerking off because he wanted to do it with you. If he'd been thinking of it for so long that just the warmth and wetness of your tongue was enough to rip him asunder.

You took him passed your lips, wetting him with your tongue, then bobbing back up to suckle on his tip until you'd wet him enough to start a slow rhythm.

He helped you speed things up to his desired rhythm by pulling and pushing slightly on your hair. You used one hand for the rest of him you couldn't take and the other on the inside of his jean-clad leg for support.

"God, you feel so fuckin' good, love," he slurred, his accent even thicker as you sucked him, wet him with your tongue, hollowing in your cheeks to treat him like your own little popsicle. "You can take a bit more love," he cooed, pulling on your hair, sliding himself out of your mouth with a wet pop.

You gasped, swallowing thickly, watching him watch you with hungry, deep eyes. At your slick red lips and your heaving chest and the way your eyes were still glazed over.

He leaned him, pressing a hard kiss to your mouth, his free hand caressing your warm cheek. "Yeah, a bit more?" he taunted, kissing and kissing and kissing you until you were drunk on his lips.

He leaned back and you leaned with him, taking him into your mouth again, feeling that sweet-sour wave wash in your belly when he groaned out your name.

You pressed him further in your throat, squeezing your eyes shut, bobbing him into your mouth further and further until your air supply was cut and you gagged on him slightly. Embarrassed, you slipped him out of your mouth, covering your lips as you breathed in much-needed air.

He smiled, leaned forward, and pressed a kiss on your cheek. "Too big for you, love?" he murmured, his voice laced with thick desire, watching your watery eyes widen. He was merciless. He was enjoying the taunt. He was enjoying the way you were so pliable to his demands. "Go slower, yeah, relax your throat." He mumbled those words against your cheek, inhaling you, before returning to his leaned-back position.

You swallowed determinedly, taking him into your mouth again, the hand in your hair squeezing as you started to bob your head again.

"Right there," he encouraged.

You did as he directed, slowly easing down on him, wetting him, sliding him against your tongue and relaxing your throat until the tip of his cock slid in there easily.

"Yes, right there, little Truthteller," he whispered.

Your eyes watered but you kept going, spurred by his praises until you had him almost all the way in your mouth. You kept sliding him in and out, as far as you could, feeling his tip slide down your throat further and further each time you slid your head back down.

"That's a good girl," he continued, breathless, voice lost. "Further, yeah, baby?" You knew he was spurred on by the moment so you tried, gulping him all down until your eyes blurred with tears and your throat spasmed around him. He squeezed your hair, groaning, holding you there until he was cumming inside your mouth, grunting, his hips spasming up, as if to fuck your mouth.

You slid him out slow, swallowing his release, breathing in deeply, wiping your lips with the back of your hand.

When you looked up, he was panting, head slanted back on the couch, chest heaving.

"Gods, little Truthteller," he groaned, leaning forward to wipe the tears from the corners of your eyes with his thumb. "You did so, so good for me, yeah?"

He kissed your numb lips, caressing your cheeks, pulling you back up on the couch. He tucked himself back into his jeans before bringing you close to him, snuggling your empty little dumb head against his chest.

You were cradled in his arms like a baby and when you looked up, you saw how sated he was, content and happy. He pet your hair, soothed the back of his knuckles on your cheek.

Then he smiled and leaned in, whispered in your ear, "Mine."

[snowball-doie]

| pairing: submissive!Haechan x Dom!gn!Reader

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. Handjob. Noona kink. Edging. Praise kink.

| wc: 2.5k

| aurora's note: say goodbye to mine and @hisunflower's sanity!

Haechan took his skin care seriously— Not more so than Mark, truth be told, but certainly more so than other people. It was mesmerizing watching him complete his ritual every morning and every evening. The care he put into it, the time it took, the love he had for doing the same thing over and over again every day just to have some semblance of a routine when things as an idol could get so chaotic on a whim. You liked watching him go about his morning and evening regime.

In the morning, he’d wake up early— More so than you preferred since his alarm also woke you up even though you didn’t have to get ready until hours later; However, waking up to the sound of his alarm always gave you the chance to feel him shifting around next to you to reach for his phone and turn off his alarm before turning back to you to kiss your cheek. You always smiled to yourself when he did that. He didn’t have to go out of his way to kiss you first thing in the morning, but Haechan admitted one time when you asked about it that his favorite thing was waking up every morning next to you, so he always felt like he had to show his appreciation for such a gift.

After shuffling out of bed, Hyuck would trudge to the bathroom where he would start the shower to let it heat up while he stripped off his pajamas and set out all of his skin care on the counter. There was so much of it that he had to keep it organized under the sink or else your bathroom would be overrun by his belongings, leaving no room for your toothbrush and toothpaste. Once he was ready and the steam from the shower was fogging up the mirror, he’d step under the water and begin his shower routine, which wasn’t so simple like the ungodly “3-in-1” bottles at the grocery store. While the water was still hot, he would wash his body with scented soaps— Hyuck took his perfumes seriously. Sometimes he would shave. Most times not. Shaving only happened if he had performances or photo shoots coming up; Other than that, he kept his happy trail just for you since you loved it so much. Then Haechan would cool the water just slightly so that he could begin washing it with a shampoo that helped make it as soft and fluffy as it was, and it prevented hair loss due to all the hair dye and hair gel he had to apply over the years. As he approached the end of his shower, Haechan would force himself to wake up with icy cold water. You could never shower with him because of that. His conditioner protected his hair even more and gave it that silky final touch. But just to make sure, Hyuck used a hair care product meant for hair growth and softness. He really cared about making sure his hair was soft.

By the time he was out of the shower, you were up, starting the coffee pot in the kitchen and pulling out a protein bar and banana for him to eat either on the way to work or once he would arrive. To let the steam out, Haechan would open the bathroom door. You took that as your sign that it was safe to bother him finally.

“Are you getting lunch with Renjun today?” you asked, taking a seat on the counter.

Haechan nodded before applying his shaving cream to his chin and above his upper lip.

“M’kay.”

Usually you and Hyuck got lunch together, but you understood that he had plans, so you’d stay home or get something quick near the apartment.

You watched silently as Haechan began shaving slowly, leaning over the counter to make sure he could see clearly since he didn’t want to bother with glasses or contacts yet. When he was done, he quickly washed his face to get rid of the leftover shaving cream.

“When’s your next team dinner with ilichil?”

Haechan began shaking his skin care bottles to mix up the ingredients. “Next Friday. We’re getting chicken and beer at that place in Gangnam— You know, the one with the cheese and bread chicken?” You nodded. “Yeah, that one. Then we’re gonna drink at Doyoung’s place.”

“What? No one wants to carry him home again from the bar?” you teased.

“Fuck no.”

As the water ran, Haechan leaned over the sink and began washing his face with soap prescribed to him by his dermatologist.

“At least you don’t have to also deal with drunk Taeyong now.”

Haechan gulped. “Yeah…”

It wasn’t as funny as you meant it to be, so you fell silent again while he applied a foam based product also prescribed to him— In fact, everything sitting on the counter was prescribed by one person or another. Idol things.

Bottles and bottles of different skin care were pulled forward for use then pushed back to be set to the side to signal the end of their use. You watched intently the entire time. The way Haechan’s palms made sure his entire face was covered in the products, his fingers brushed his wet hair out of his face whenever it fell forward due to gravity, and the towel on his hips slowly falling down… You were enchanted by him. He was doing mundane morning shit, yet you were so in love with him that you thought he was the prettiest man on Earth. You wished he didn’t feel the need to wear make up— Or that the company wouldn’t make him do it just because he was an idol. He was perfect the way he was. His moles were so cute, you had to kiss them almost every night when you two would cuddle in bed. The pimples on his face were addicting to stare at— You knew that he hated them, of course, but, fuck, you loved them so much. “But the skin care’s supposed to get rid of them,” he’d argue with a pout. “They’ll go away eventually, Hyuck, don’t worry.” And he’d pout some more while you kissed his blemishes.

“Do you wanna get dinner tonight?” he asked, squeezing toothpaste onto his tooth brush.

You swung your feet back and forth in front of you while staring at his cheeks. “Sure. We can go to the market out by Kyung Hee University, get some street food?”

He nodded with a smile.

It’d been a while since the two of you went out for street food. You could really only get away with it in the winters since everyone was so bundled up to fight the cold that no one looked twice at the two of you, wondering if the man hiding under layers of clothes, a hat, and a mask was an idol or not.

Hyuck began brushing his teeth aggressively, his cheeks hollowing out around the brush while trying to prevent any toothpaste from dripping down his freshly shaved chin. His moles… The pimples… His wet hair… His soft stomach… The towel that was barely hiding anything of him now… Fuck, you couldn’t help yourself—

You slid off the counter, catching Haechan’s attention who raised a brow at you as you walked behind him and wrapped your arms around his torso, propping your chin on his shoulder. His continued to watch you with confusion. A kiss to his shoulder that drifted up to his neck, and your hands laying flat on his lower stomach, thumbs pushing into the plushness of it, that gave him more answers than if you would’ve told him straight up, “Sorry, you’re irresistible, let me use you for a few minutes.”

He mumbled while still brushing his teeth, “I gotta leave soon.”

You didn’t entertain him with a reply. Instead, you left a hickey on his neck. Hyuck hissed at the feeling and tried to squirm out of your grasp, but you held true, hands drifting down to finally remove his towel completely. He was already getting hard. It wasn’t difficult to get Haechan worked up, truth be told. Your touch on his body was always so tempting, how could he not give into every single one of his fantasies around you? When you took his length in one of your hands, Haechan hesitated, his mouth agape, threatening to spill some of his toothpaste. He stared at you through the mirror. You were so preoccupied with leaving a hickey that you couldn’t pull away to look back at him completely, but seeing you glance at him through your lashes made his knees weak. His cock pulsed in your hand. He was getting harder. There was no going back.

But he was still going to be late for work. So Hyuck, against his better judgment, continued brushing his teeth, albeit with a lot more caution, like he was waiting for you to make another sudden move that would paralyze him. Of course you did just that. Your hand slowly worked its way along his length, starting down at his base before dragging up to his sensitive tip, which you teased with your thumb, forcing Haechan to abandon the thought of holding his toothbrush so that he could catch himself on the counter before he could completely topple over. He let out a gasp, but his teeth stayed gritted against the plastic handle of his toothbrush.

“You’re too cute, baby,” you cooed in his ear.

Haechan bucked in your hand in an attempt to get away from the brutal stimulation over his tip. You indulged him slightly by transferring your attention to jerking him off fast. His knees buckled under his weight, but thanks to your arms still wrapped around him and his hands pressed against the bathroom counter, he hardly faltered, allowing you to continue pleasuring him.

“Noona,” he croaked into his toothbrush.

You grinned against his skin. Fuck, he smelled so good. And he was so soft after his shower… Fuck, you would keep him trapped in bed all day with you if you could. It killed you to have to let him go eventually.

The sound of your hand pumping the length of his cock echoed throughout the bathroom. The heat of his heavy breath and his skin heating up against yours started fogging the mirror up again. When you looked at him again, he was red, he couldn’t keep his eyes open, and his thighs were trembling while he tried to balance his weight against your body. He looked so cute when he was overwhelmed.

“I just… I just showered… I can’t… We can’t make a mess…” His words were so gargled it was hard to make it out, but you knew what he meant.

“I like making a mess of you, though, pretty boy,” you replied seductively. You grabbed his cheeks, reveling in the way his skin texture felt against the pads of your fingers. “Watch yourself.”

Hyuck gulped.

He looked so pretty with a clean face that was a bit redder than usual, aside from what was caused by sex hormones, because of how much he’d been messing with it during his morning routine. His pimples were a bit irritated. They were angry with him for applying so many counter-measurements that would attack them until they were gone. You savored that moment. Both of you watching his naked body through the mirror as you jerked him off and he struggled in your grasp the closer he got to the edge. Poor thing was already dripping pre-cum which was ultimately to your benefit since it acted as lubricant to ease your quick motions.

Haechan grabbed your wrist with one of his hands, championing for you to go even faster, but you fought him on it, immediately stopping what you were doing. He moaned, the toothbrush falling out of his mouth and onto the counter.

“Please!” he cried out.

“Behave yourself.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry… Please… Let me cum. Please.”

“I will, I will,” you cooed in his ear before kissing behind it.

Slowly, after he released your wrist, you started up again slowly, showing special attention to his dripping tip. You shushed him calmly. Yet Haechan was adamant about chasing his orgasm, so he tried his best to trick you into fisting him faster while making it look like he wasn’t doing a single thing; Although it was clearly obvious to you what he was doing. Still, it was kind of cute watching him struggle… You liked seeing his face contort through the emotions of trying to control himself and feeling an overwhelming amount of pleasure. You could feel his stomach tensing under the hold of your arm.

“So fucking pretty… Smell so good too… And your hair’s gonna be so fluffy today once it dries, I can just tell already…”

Haechan blushed.

“You like that? Being told how perfect you are?”

He tried to hide his face from you, but you continued to make him look in the mirror. Your thumb drifted gently over one of his moles. Ah, fuck, you could’ve cum on the spot…

“Noona,” he mumbled, still trying to hold in the tooth paste sloshing in his mouth.

You teased him with a hum of faux confusion.

“C-c-close—”

With a confident grin, you finally said to him the magic words he had been dying to hear. “Cum for me.”

Haechan stood on his tip-toes in an effort to aim for the sink to avoid making an annoying mess that one of you would have to clean off the cupboards and the tiles. It kind of worked. As he came, the initial shocks were enough to leak straight into the sink while he moaned loudly, his cock twitching in your hand. When coming down from his high, however, it began to pathetically dribble onto the counter, then down his cock. He groaned one last time before settling flat on his feet.

“You made a mess, silly,” you told him, swiping up the toothpaste that had been running down his chin and collecting at the corners of his mouth. Haechan looked up just in time to have you putting your finger in his mouth, forcing him to clean up the toothpaste. “Can’t let any go to waste.” He whined pathetically around your finger. “Good boy.”

Once you released him, Haechan relied on his hold on the counter to keep him upright as he was finally able to spit out everything into the sink while catching his breath. You stole one last kiss from him, aiming directly for the moles on his cheek just so you could see him fluster up one more time before you escaped the bathroom to climb back into bed.

[p0orbaby]

Could you do a blurb for alexia and reader and their daughters first bday? so fluffy it rottens my teeth

-

You’re standing in the kitchen, staring at the cake. It’s a two-tier monstrosity with pink icing and miniature elephants, because apparently, your daughter loves elephants. This is an assumption since she’s only one and her favourite activity seems to be slamming her tiny fists against the table and screaming at the Peppa Pig theme song. You glance over at Alexia, who’s meticulously arranging balloons into some sort of Pinterest-inspired arch. It’s tragic, really, because the balloons are deflating faster than her patience.

“You know she won’t remember any of this, right?” you say, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching her struggle with a particularly rebellious balloon.

Alexia doesn’t look up. “It’s not for her,” she mutters, teeth gritted, “it’s for us. And the photos. For the grandparents. You know”

You do know. The grandparents, who’ll scrutinise every detail, subtly implying that the cake should’ve been homemade and the balloons should’ve been organic or something. You glance at the clock. Two hours until the guests arrive. Two hours until you’re knee-deep in small talk with people you barely tolerate, discussing the milestones of babies that are all the same. They roll over, they laugh, they scream, and then they eat something they shouldn’t.

Speaking of, the baby—your baby—is currently sitting in her high chair, aggressively smearing mashed banana across her face like it’s avant-garde war paint. You sigh. At least she’s quiet for once. There’s a moment of eerie calm, like you’re in the eye of a storm. It won’t last. You sip your coffee, which is lukewarm and bitter, and stare at the pile of gifts in the corner of the room.

“Why do people insist on wrapping things for a one-year-old?” you ask, more to yourself than Alexia. “She’s going to eat the paper. And cry. In that order”

Alexia finally gives up on the balloon arch. “You’re right,” she says, walking over and inspecting the cake like it might explode. “But they want to feel like they contributed something. Everyone’s desperate to be relevant in a baby’s life”

You nod, because that’s exactly it. The party isn’t for the baby, or for you, or even Alexia. It’s for all these people who want to feel like they’ve done something. Like attending a one-year-old’s birthday party is some kind of moral achievement. A gold star for being a functional human.

The doorbell rings, far too early for guests, which means it’s probably your neighbour, Carol, who always shows up with unsolicited advice on baby care, as though she invented parenting. You open the door, and sure enough, it’s Carol, holding a gift bag that screams I bought this on sale at El Corte Inglés.

“Thought I’d come early to help,” she says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. Her eyes scan the room, resting on the cake. “Oh, you didn’t make it yourself?”

“Bought it,” you say, deadpan. “From the shop. With money”

Carol doesn’t laugh, doesn’t even blink. “Ah, well, the important thing is she’ll enjoy it. At this age, it’s all about the memories”

You glance at your daughter, now vigorously attempting to fling the banana off her high chair.

“She won’t remember this,” you say, but Carol’s already unpacking her baby advice, Alexia’s gone back to fighting with the balloons, and you’re suddenly wondering why you didn’t just fake an illness and cancel the entire thing.

“Happy birthday,” you mutter, to no one in particular.

[aestheticaltcow]

Healing

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader

This one went in a different direction than originally planned ngl. There isn't a lot of smut but I like how I ended it... MDNI 18+

The Bear Masterlist

Previous part

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to hide the pleasure you felt when Carmy finally erupted inside of you. Carmy’s whimpered moans filled your ear as he nipped at your jaw the way he knew you loved. You sighed as you let your fingers run down Carmy’s toned back. 

When Carmy pulled out, you felt his ejaculation ooze out of you, and regret washed over you. You should have just walked down the hall to your room and pretended you never saw him jacking off with your underwear while he watched a video of the two of you hooking up. You watched him lay next to you and catch his breath before rolling on his side to face you. You reluctantly copied the move and stared at him. 

Carmy gently pushed your bangs away from your face before planting his hand on your cheek. You bit your lip, trying to hide the soft smile on your face. He grinned and took a shallow breath before admitting, “I’m going to work my ass off every day for the rest of my life to prove how sorry I am.”

You nodded in response and moved closer to him. Carmy’s hand left your face, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you on top of him as he rolled onto his back. “I love you, baby,” he mumbled into your shoulder as he snuggled you as closely as humanly possible. You nervously swallowed, “Carmy… I don’t think I’m there yet…” you felt his body shift below you. “O-okay.” he stuttered, “Can-n you lay with me a little longer?” 

“Of course, Carm.”

~

“Mia, I need you to eat your breakfast,” you sternly explained as Mia threw pieces of egg on the floor. “Baby girl, come on.” You sighed as you crouched in front of her high chair before taking the fork from her hand. She wiggled, trying to get away from you as you stabbed the sliced banana in front of her. “Mia, let’s have a good morning that starts with a good breakfast.” 

“Are you trying to bargain with our ten-month-old?” Carmy laughed as he stood in the kitchen doorway. You rolled your eyes and stood up, “You try. She’s bein’ so fussy this morning.” Carmy shook his head and went up to her. Mia’s hands immediately started grabbing in his direction, “I swear, I carried you for nine months. 22 hours of labor, and a c-section, only for you to love him more than me… you’re lucky you’re cute.” you playfully teased Mia before planting a kiss on her chubby cheek. Her giggles lit up the room as Carmy pulled a chair beside her, “Okay, princess, let’s eat.” 

As you ate your breakfast, you watched Carmy feed Mia. Something was different about him. You leaned back against the counter and really looked at him. He wore one of his slightly too-tight T-shirts and a pair of black jeans with the same gold chain he’d worn every day. As you scanned his body, you saw it: He was wearing his wedding ring. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him wear it. Something about it made you feel uneasy.

~

“Hey, Carmy… when you get home tonight, do you think we can talk about some stuff?” you asked as you adjusted Mia on your hip. Carmy looked at you like a deer in the headlights and hesitantly nodded as he picked up his backpack from the ground. “It’s nothing bad… just about last night and some other stuff,”  you explained, hoping to alleviate some of his anxiety. Carmy nodded again and slung his bag over his shoulder. He stepped forward and kissed Mia’s head before playfully punching your arm, “Bye, girls…” he grinned before ducking out of the house for the day.

Carmy drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel of his car as he sat in traffic on his way to work. What did you want to talk about? Last night was everything he wanted. The two of you had sex for the first time in almost a year, the two of you slept in the same bed for the first time in months, and for a minute, Carmy had everything he’d wanted. He should have deleted Selena’s number when he got in the car that day. You were going to leave him; that’s what it had to be.

Throughout the day, Carmy was distracted. He was thinking about the conversation the two of you were having that night. He should prepare a speech. Should he buy you flowers? If he left early, he could stop at your favorite bakery and pick you up a sweet treat. Prep, family, and dinner service were a blur. He heard people talking to him, but none of what they said made sense; it was like he was back in school. Everything was going in one ear and out the other. He just needed to get home.

When Carmy walked into the house that night, he felt his heart rate accelerate. He quietly pushed his jacket off and stepped out of his shoes before walking back to your bedroom. You sat in bed doing something on your computer. Carmy sighed before making his presence known. He saw you sitting in the middle of the bed with your hair wrapped up in a microfiber towel, your face shiny from skin care products, and your glasses perched on the bridge of your nose. “Hey baby.” he weakly grinned as he approached the bed. You grinned at him and closed your computer, “Hey Carm.”

“Still wanna talk?” Carmy asked as he shoved his hands into his pant pockets. You patted the mattress beside you and watched as Carmy pulled his hands from his pocket and sat on the edge of the mattress. “Carmy, I want-” You were cut off by Carmy standing up and pacing the space between the bed and closet door. He pushed his hands through his hair, took a deep breath, and looked at you with his fingers still tangled in his hair. “Baby. You can’t leave me. I know I fucked up, but please give me a second chance-”

“Carmy! I wanna go to couple’s counseling.”

~

“I understand that you didn’t have sex with that grocery store whore, but you went to her house with the intention to. And that’s what I’m hung up on.” you calmly explained as you watched Carmy sit back on the ugly cranberry couch in the therapist's office. The two of you had been going to therapy for a little over a month at this point, and while a dialogue was created, he just didn’t understand why you couldn’t move past it.

“How does that make you feel, Carmen?” the therapist questioned as they fidgetted with a pen.

“I’m confused. You kicked me out for like two months, contemplated divorcing me, and then you let me come home and sleep with me, but you’re still ‘not there’ when I tell you I love you. We’re spending a lot of time together as a family, but when I try to hang out with just you- you get weird. Like last night, I sat next to you on the couch and you got up because you ‘had to check on a rendering video’; then you didn’t come back. You act like nothings wrong around Mia or family, but when we’re alone, it’s like you’re in a different universe. Look, I know I fucked up. I just want to know what I need to do to make it right between us. I get we can’t go back to exactly what we had, but do you even like me anymore?” Carmy looked at you while on the verge of tears. 

“Y/N, is there anything you want to say?”

“Carmy, I care about you so much and value our relationship, but right now, I’m just frustrated. I would never cheat on you, and the only reason you didn’t cheat on me was because you ‘couldn’t get hard’... I just- I don’t know what I need from you right now. I really appreciate you agreeing to this, and you’re a wonderful father, but I just don’t know.” you explained as you picked at the hole in your jeans. 

~

Carmy opened the passenger’s door for you, and you quickly slipped into his car. He walked around and slipped in the driver’s seat, “We should start planning Mia’s birthday party.” you brought up as he turned on the car. Carmy nodded in agreement as you grabbed your phone from your purse, “I have a couple of Pinterest boards for party inspo. Since she’s not gonna remember it, we don’t have to go all out, but I like the idea of doing ‘My Berry First’ birthday party since my baby shower was also kinda fruity themed-”

“You don’t like me anymore.” Carmy spat, cutting you off midsentence. “What?” Surprised by his statement, you put your phone down and looked at him. He sighed and pulled over into a 7/11 parking lot. You watched as he tilted his head back and stared at the car's roof before slowly blinking. “Baby. Do you like me? Do you actually want to spend time with me? The only thing we do together anymore is go to couples counseling. You never want to go out to dinner or run errands together- the only time I fuckin’ see you is when we’re doing something with Mia. You say you love me and want to reconcile, but you don’t like me.” Carmy rubbed the back of his neck before glancing in your direction. 

You’d turned in your seat, bringing your left leg up to the seat awkwardly sitting on it, “Carmen… I just- I don’t know. I like you, and I love our family, but it’s just hard.” you began to explain. “Listen, Carmen, I don’t want to divorce you. There’s just this tension- I don’t know how to explain it to you. I look at you and see the man I’ve been with for, like, what, seven years? But then I start thinking about you and that fucking whore. I think about how you didn’t tell her you were married. I think about her kissing you and touching you- it makes me wanna fuckin’ puke.” 

You took a deep breath before continuing, “Carmy, I like you. I’m just- not there yet….”

~

“Hey, I’m gonna go to bed,” you said, poking your head into the living room. Carmy nodded without looking up at you, “Night.” he said as he flipped to a different channel on the TV. You stood against the doorway and watched as he stared at the screen lifelessly. With a sigh, you walked into the living room and stood beside Carmy. He was unphased; you needed to up the antics. You stepped closer and swiftly straddled Carmy’s hips, which thankfully got his attention. Carmy swallowed when you put a hand on his collarbone, “Hey.” you halfheartedly grinned. 

Carmy took swallow breaths as he stared up at you. He allowed himself to rest his palms on your hips before fanning his fingers out to grab the fat of your ass, “I’m not really in the mood, baby.”

You rolled your eyes and playfully hit him, “I swear Carmy… I like you. If I didn’t, I woulda never come up to you at that bar. I wouldn’t have agreed to be exclusive. I wouldn’t have moved into that shitty apartment you had. I wouldn’t have given up that job opportunity in California. I wouldn’t have married you or had your baby. I like you as a person, partner, father to my child…. Let’s spend some time together.” 

~

You rubbed your lips together after applying a layer of pink-tinted lip oil. Your hair and makeup were as good as it was going to get. After slipping on a red barely long enough to cover your butt dress and a pair of black platform boots, you stared at yourself in the mirror. You smoothed down the bottom of your dress and grabbed a slightly oversized light-wash denim jacket along with your bag, “Let’s fuckin go.” you said as you walked out of the bedroom.

Carmy was in the kitchen with Mia on his hip. She had a fist full of his tank top in one hand and one of her stuffed animals in the other. When he heard the dryer go off, Carmy gently put her down, “Race ya?” he asked, hoping to tire her out enough for Donna to keep up with her. Mia plopped on the floor and stared up at him, disinterested in doing anything to make his morning easier. Carmy laughed and walked to the laundry room just off the kitchen. He grabbed a short-sleeved button-up shirt and slipped it on before throwing the rest of the clean clothes in a laundry basket. He felt nervous. It was silly, though- it’s not like he’d never had a date with you. He took a deep breath and returned to the kitchen to see Mia playing with Tupperware; he shook his head and swiftly scooped her off the floor. Mia dropped the container on the floor and grabbed at Carmy’s ear.

“You look pretty,” Carmy said as you sat in the passenger’s seat of his car after strapping Mia into her car seat. You smiled and pushed your bangs back, “You noticed…” you teased. Carmy chuckled as started backing out of the driveway. He put his right hand against your seat as he looked over his shoulder. You held your breath when you noticed his jugular bulge from his neck. 

You were looking out the window when you felt Carmy reach over to your lap, you glance down to see him intertwine his fingers with yours. A blush came to your cheeks as he squeezed your hand softly, you bit your lip and rubbed your index finger between his knuckles.

Dropping Mia off at Donna’s always made you nervous; she’d changed since Natalie had started having kids, but you were haunted by her drunken rants criticizing Carmy for being with you and how you must have only been after his money. You laughed to yourself as you watched Carmy walk Mia into the house. She grabbed in your direction, her adorable little smile shining past the shield of her pacifier. You waved back before Carmy entered the house. 

He came back to the car and pulled his phone out of his pocket to connect to the car’s bluetooth, “Where are we going on our date afternoon?” you asked as you nudged his shoulder. Carmy grinned at his phone as he scrolled through his Spotify playlist looking for a song to play, “If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise.” he hit play on his phone and pulled away from the curb.

~

A couple of donuts and a walk through the park led you and Carmy to a secluded bench by a pond. “Have we brought Mia here?” you asked, unsure of the familiarity of your surroundings. Carmy nodded, “Sorta—you were pregnant with her.” 

You smiled and scooted closer to him, snaking an arm around his waist. Carmy smiled and threw an arm over your shoulders. “It’s weird. We have a one-year-old. It feels like I was pregnant with her yesterday.” 

“It is. If you could change anything—aside from the obvious—what would you pick?” Carmy asked into your hair as he kissed the top of your head. You thought momentarily, “Well, besides the obvious, I don’t think I’d change anything. We have a pretty cool kid.”

Carmy rubbed your bicep as the two of you watched ducks swim in the pond. Carmy brought his free hand to your chin, pushed it up with his index finger, and brought his lips down to yours. Before the two of you could kiss, he softly whispered, “Can I kiss you, baby?”

Instead of answering, you pressed your lips to his. He kissed back immediately and pulled you closer to him. You cupped his face in your hands as Carmy pulled you onto his lap; your stomach fluttered as Carmy’s grip tightened. As you separated your lips to allow your tongue to slip into Carmy’s mouth, you felt his phone vibrate against your hip. Carmy wanted to ignore the call and risk getting caught for indecent exposure, but when you reluctantly pulled away, he fished his phone out of his pocket and saw Donna’s name flashing across the screen. “Looks like Grandma Donna is at her Mia limit.” he chuckled and answered to have his assumptions confirmed by an overwhelmed Donna and a crying Mia in the background. 

You got up from Carmy’s lap and smoothed down the back of your dress. He swallowed when he saw a peak of your butt cheek as you stood up. “We’re on our way, Ma.” he quickly said into the phone, cutting Donna off mid-sentence before hanging up.

 “We can pick up where we left off later,” you say, biting your lip. Taking Carmy’s hand in yours, you trek back to the car and retrieve an overstimulated Mia from Grandma Donna’s house. By the time the two of you had gotten her to calm down and eat, the mood was gone, but Carmy had promised to make it up to you the following weekend.

~

“Dam, I thought the view from behind was good, but it’s even better up here.” some Andrew Tate-looking man greeted you. You internally cringed as you noticed how he looked at you like a piece of meat. You rolled your eyes and waited for the bartender to finish the drinks you’d ordered. “Can’t even get a hello?” the man questioned you, stepping forward. You scoffed, “I don’t owe you shit- maybe my husband’ll say hello to you.”

“I don’t see a husband anywhere. Don’t play so hard to get a sexy girl. Why don’t you come back to my booth?” His slimy offer disgusted you. You shook your head and slipped the bartender a $20 before taking your drinks back to the small window table you and Carmy had been sitting at. Carmy was outside on the phone dealing with some issue down at the restaurant; he shot you an apologetic smile.

While Carmy was wrapping up his phone call, the man from the bar strode up to the table to convince you to go back to his booth. You weren’t having any of it. “Where’s that husband of yours?” he questioned, sitting where Carmy had been moments prior. You gestured outside; Carmy had his back to the window as he listened to Richie’s nonsensical problem.

“That guy? The one on the phone who’s not even looking at you? I don’t believe you, sweetheart.” he purred as he relaxed into the chair opposite of you. You rolled your eyes and held your left hand up, you wiggled your ring finger; “Say that to the ring on my finger.”

“Come on, baby girl. I just bought a bottle of 925 Diamante Ley. Do one shot with me, and then you can decide if you want to come back to your ‘husband’ or not.” as he reached out to touch your bicep, Carmy cleared his throat. You looked up at him, immediately relieved. The guy looked over his shoulder, and Carmy glared at him, “Get a fuckin’ clue asshole. This is my wife and the mother of my child. Fuck off before I need to make you fuck off.” 

The man looked Carmy up and down before shifting his attention back to you, “Oh hell fuckin’ no. Don’t need that nasty stretched out-” he was cut off by Carmy shoving the guy out of his chair. “Don’t fuckin’ dare finish that dam sentence. She’s a fuckin’ angel, and you should even be allowed in the same room as her.” Carmy spat as the guy stumbled back to his feet. “Yeah, whatever, man- she’s not even that hot.” he scoffed as he pushed past Carmy. You reached out to grab Carmy’s hand as the man walked out of earshot, “He’s not worth it, Carm.” you spoke softly as you squeezed his hand in yours, “Can we just get out of here?” 

Carmy looked back at you, nodded, and pulled you to his side. As the two of you walked out of the bar, you couldn’t help but notice the scuzzball trying to get another table of girls to come back to his booth. You rolled your eyes and wrapped an arm around Carmy’s waist as he directed the two of you back to the car, “Fuck that dude.” Carmy mumbled as he closed your door after you’d gotten into the passenger’s side.

“You know your pussy isn’t ‘stretched out’ or ‘nasty’ right?” Carmy asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen over the two of you on the drive home. You nodded, “I know Carmy.” 

When Carmy parked in the driveway, he turned his head to look at you. He put a hand on your thigh and squeezed gently. You placed your hand on his and sighed softly before asking, “Do you wanna take a shower with me?” 

Carmy laughed, “Baby, if I ever say no to that question, have me committed.” You rolled your eyes and opened the car door. As you walked to the front door, Carmy was hot on your heels. Before you could open the door, Carmy wrapped his arms around your waist. You put your head back against his shoulder, “Pay the sitter… I’ll start the shower.” 

Carmy nodded and kissed your cheek before dropping his arms, allowing you to open the front door. You quickly walked down the hall, quickly poking your head into Mia’s bedroom before heading back into the master bedroom. Carmy stared at your ass as you walked away. He sucked in a breath and went into the kitchen to see the babysitter sitting at the kitchen island reading out of a beat-up history book, “Hi, Mr.Berzatto. Mia was a little fussy, but I got her down.” she began to explain. Carmy nodded, not really absorbing anything she’d said. He reached into his pocket and pulled his phone out to Venmo her for the night. “Thanks, kid- Y/N or I’ll call you next time we need you.”

You stood in the bathroom in your underwear, waiting for the shower to heat up and for Carmy to join you. Carmy locked the front door and grabbed the baby monitor from the kitchen counter before barreling down the hallway. When he got to the door to the master bedroom, he took a breath and slowed down so he wouldn’t come off as overly desperate. Walking into the bedroom, he put the baby monitor on your dresser before kicking his shoes off and stripping to his underwear. As he walked to the askew bathroom door, he ran his tongue over his teeth when he noticed you looking at your reflection in the mirror. He noticed you pulling at the skin on your stomach with a frown. Carmy huffed and softly opened the door more. You looked over at him as he stepped further into the bathroom. His hands found your hips and lifted you onto the counter, “So fuckin’ sexy, baby…” Carmy muttered as his lips crashed onto yours. You were taken by surprise but allowed Carmy to wedge himself between your thighs as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“Carm- showers on…” you manage to get out after pushing his chest away from you. Begrudgingly, he stepped away and pulled the shower curtain open. “Oh god, you’re trying to boil us alive.” Carmy laughed as he pulled his hand away from the water. You rolled your eyes before hopping off the counter. After removing your bra and underwear you stepped into the shower. Carmy pushed his boxers down and joined you after turning the heat down. 

~

“Can you sleep in here Carmy?” Carmy’s heart stopped as the words left your mouth. He nodded softly trying his hardest to not come off as desperate. You saw through it immediately and playfully nudged his shoulder as you walked past him into the bedroom. Carmy looked in the mirror and pushed his wet hair back with his hands, a goofy grin was plastered on his face at the realization that he’d managed to get back on your good side. 

When Carmy joined you in bed you immediately scooted closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I missed this…” you mumbled into his chest as you snuggled closer to him. Carmy chuckled and kissed the top of your head.

“I missed this more, baby,” he responded as he pulled you onto his hips. “I love you. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but hurting you was the worst,” he said as he held you. “I’m never going to hurt you like that again.” 

You nodded and pushed yourself up into a sitting position. Staring down at him, you saw the Carmy you’d fallen in love with all those years ago. “You’re not gonna get a third chance, Berzatto. Fuck up again. I’m cutting your dick off.” you threatened, much to his amusement. He shook his head, chuckling, “I won’t need a third chance, baby.”

“Good. I love you, Carmen. Don’t make me look like a fool again.”

[3rachasdomesticbanana]

Side Effects II | Bang Chan

• Synopsis: Y/N is dealing with unspoken feelings for Jisung, who suddenly becomes distant while dealing with his own feelings and guilt. Chan, who's stuck in the middle, tries to comfort Y/N while secretly struggling with the side effects of their invisibility elixir. Every night things get harder for both Y/N and Chan.

Can Chan fight through the side effects like he thinks he can?

• Pairing: science nerd Chan x Female Reader

• Content Includes: smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, masturbation (m)

an: as always I'm sure there's something I forgot to add in the "Contents Includes" so if you feel like something should be mentioned please kindly let me know♡

Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌

Part I

It's been a few months since you thought that your and Jisung's apartment was haunted. The random items moving and the dreams just suddenly stopped, and life slowly returned to something resembling normal. You wouldn't quite call it normal though because Jisung has been acting stranger than usual. He avoids you in the mornings and even more so at night. The behavior eats at you, leaving a heavy, sad feeling in your chest. You had hoped the situation would resolve itself and he'd come around but when Jisung practically runs away as you enter the kitchen, it's the last straw.

"Han Jisung! Don't you move another inch without telling me what's going on. Why are you avoiding me?" you demand, staring at his broad, lean back. Even through his lab coat or hoodies, his muscular build is apparent.

"I- I'm not avoiding you, Y/N. Just... uh... busy." he stammers, his voice trembling slightly.

"Yeah? Then why won't you turn around and look at me?" you challenge, frustration seeping into your tone.

You half-expect him to ignore you but when he turns around, it feels like all the air leaves your lungs. His eyes are half-lidded, his cheeks red and he nervously chews on his bottom lip. The water bottle in his hand shakes as he squeezes the clear plastic. What is going on with him?

"Sungie... tell me what's wrong," you whisper, stepping closer.

He visibly gulps and shakes his head. When you're right in front of him, you reach out and brush some hair out of his eyes. His hair has grown so long lately and you wonder if he'll keep it that way. Secretly, you love the length on him. Lost in your thoughts about his hair, you fail to notice the hungry, crazed look in Jisung's eyes or how erratic his breathing has become as his gaze burns into you. You're only pulled out of your daydream when the bottle slips from his hands.

You look away from his hair, "Ji, you-"

Your words are cut short when he grabs your shoulders tightly, backing you up further into the kitchen until your back hits the counter beside the fridge. It's not painful but you whimper in surprise and confusion. Jisung closes his eyes, squeezing them shut with all his might like he's in pain.

"Are you hurt, Ji? What is it? Talk to me." you plead, trying to lift your hands to reach out to him.

He tightens his grip on your arms, keeping you from moving. He looks like he's struggling and with him holding you still, there's nothing you can do, especially since he won't talk. You open your mouth and take a deep breath, ready to call for help, hoping Chan is in the next room. Jisung's left hand quickly covers your mouth.

"Don't scream until I say you can." he orders, his voice dark and sending chills all over your body. "Trust me, you'll be screaming plenty, sweetie. I know that when you've got your fingers inside that sweet cunt of yours, you call out my name."

Your eyes widen, and you mumble behind Jisung's hot hand. He smirks, tilting his head to the side while his eyes search your face. He's not wrong but you've never seen this side of him. Hearing him talk about you fingering yourself to the thought of him makes you wet and you shift your footing. Jisung laughs and leans closer to your ear.

"See, you're wet right now and I haven't even done anything yet. When I'm done with you, you'll be rendered to a liquid. Maybe I'll keep you on my desk in one of my beakers and fuck you every night." he murmurs, biting down hard on your neck and sucking, making you cry out and moan. The sound escapes his palm and he rubs the bulge in his sweats against you. "This is what you wanted, wasn't it? I tried to keep away from you..."

He spins you around suddenly and you gasp, your palms and breasts are pushed onto the cold surface of the counter. You feel Jisung push your shorts down, the cold air hitting your hot skin makes you shiver just as Jisung thrusts up, impaling you with his cock. He's rough, brutal, and quick. Each time he rams into you, your stomach pushes into the edge of the counter, making each of your gasps sound like a breathy, short grunt.

"Does my cock feel as good as you imagined, y/n?" Jisung asks through gritted teeth, grabbing your hair at the nape and snapping his hips up and into you.

You groan loudly in response, eyes rolling back as your orgasm quickly builds. Your moans and breathing grow louder when he starts to fuck you faster. The kitchen fades away from your view and all your senses are consumed by Jisung.

"That's it, baby, scream for me. Scream for Jisung." he growls.

Your body tenses, and your panting sounds like that of a rabid, wounded animal that turns into full blown screaming as you quickly descend into bliss, crying out his name. Your body shakes, knees threatening to buckle and collapse until you wake up with a jolt, gasping and sitting up, dripping with sweat in the darkness of your bedroom.

You hear faint music coming from Jisung's room and sigh. Dreams of Jisung have been so constant lately. Not like the realistic dreams you had before, but those simple fantasies where he's fucking you until you can't stand. With another sigh, you get up and disappear into your bathroom for a cold shower.

Chan takes the opportunity to slip out of your room and carefully shut your door. His heart pounds in his chest, and he closes his eyes, focusing on calming his breathing. He lost track of how long he was under the elixir's effects and that was the whole point of this test. It's not the fact that he failed to keep a mental record that has him stressing right now though.

“Fuck, fuck…” he whispers, removing his glasses and scrubbing a hand down his face.

He can't understand why watching you sleep just now suddenly had him feeling so aroused. After weeks of watching you and studying what you could hear or notice while he was invisible, he never once felt turned on. He was always so fully focused on his study. He sat down in your chair, placed in the corner of your room by the window, and watched you toss and turn in your sleep. The way your facial expressions changed lightly and the soft, almost inaudible sounds you made fascinated him.

“Yeah, it's fascinating, that's all.” Chan mutters in the hall, hearing the water from the shower inside your room.

The happy twitch of his cock begs to differ from what he is trying to convince himself of. He shakes his head as if he can shake out the thoughts of you that try to formalize in his mind's eye. He needs to think about anything other than watching you cum in your sleep. But the more Chan tries to think of something else, the harder he feels his cock get. He pushes up from your door, about to plunge his face into some cold water in the kitchen when he hears a soft orgasmic moan past the sound of splattering water from the door behind him.

Before he can think, his hands are twisting the doorknob and cracking open your bedroom door. He gulps, knowing that if you walk into your bedroom, you'll see him since the elixir has already worn off, making him visible again. That fact is at the back of his mind, though and the only thing on his mind now is hearing the sounds of pleasure from the open door of your bathroom.

His hand slips inside of his black shorts, gripping the thick heaviness of his cock faster than he's ever been. There, half in your room and half out, Chan pumps his cock from inside his shorts. It feels incredible, different even, compared to the many times he's jerked off in the past. The sensation of pleasure feels like it's been heightened.

“Is this a… a side effect?” he whispers to himself and groans when he hears you let out a high-pitched gasp.

His hand slides up and down along his cock fast, the squelching noises coming from him covered up by the music in Jisung's room and the shower running. Precum seeps from the head of his cock, ruining his shorts with every stroke of his hand. He leans his forehead against the doorframe, closing his eyes and giving in completely to the feeling.

“Oh fuck y/n. Make yourself cum for Channie.” he thinks. He doesn't dare make a sound; he doesn't trust himself enough to be quiet if he were to open his mouth.

Still, even with his lips tightly shut, his breathing becomes louder, and he's lost all his control. Faster and faster, his hand moves, and the flapping sound of fabric joins in with the sounds of wet skin. He's trying to hold on, to see if he can cum at the same time as you, but he's too on edge, too needy, and far too desperate for release.

“Oh my gosh, oh fuck! I'm cumming. Fuck, shit.” His voice is just a tad louder than he meant, but he doesn't care. His orgasm is mind-altering, and it only intensifies when he hears your climax shortly after. The long, loud, shuddering exhale is enough confirmation for Chan. He wants to stay there, cock softening in his hand, for a few more minutes but getting caught with a large wet spot on the front of his shorts with his cock in hand wouldn't go over well with you, he thinks.

Your door clicks softly when Chan shuts it again. Before heading back to Jisung, he quickly gets some paper towels from the kitchen and cleans himself up as best as possible to not make Jisung suspicious. He's never confessed it to him, but Chan can see the way Jisung looks at you, like you're the lost city of Atlantis, and he's just discovered the beauty. He knows his buddy has a massive crush on you, so if Jisung knew that he just came to the sound of you, he'd be pissed. Chan couldn't help it, though; he knows that science can explain that he really couldn't control his body's reaction, but it couldn't excuse the way he felt compelled to jerk off to you.

“A side effect maybe? Can't be too sure, and we can't put it down as one without being one hundred percent positive.” he muses, tossing the crumpled-up paper towel into the trash and getting a bottle of water from the fridge.

You walk into the kitchen, hair wet and cheeks slightly rosy. Your face lights up, and you smile when you see Chan in the kitchen taking large gulps of water like he was dying of thirst.

“Oh! Hey, Channie. Needed a break, huh?” you ask brightly.

Chan sputters and stumbles over his words as he tells you that he and Jisung are indeed taking a break and how it's a really good break, just relaxing and doing regular break things. His words, not yours. You giggle and squeeze past him to get a bottle of water. Chan's eyes are glued to you, and thoughts of you moaning find their way back to him. His cock springs to life again with speed. He quickly bends over the counter, looking nonchalant when you stand up and turn around.

“Well, I hope the experiment isn't causing you two too much stress. You're looking a little pale, Channie,” you say, placing your palm on his brow. “No fever but you're a little clammy. Don't overdo it, boys.” You say and leave a very horny and nervous Chan alone in the kitchen.

The way you look after them is something Chan has always admired about you. Sure, you had a tendency to baby them a little bit but it was all out of the goodness of your heart. Your random acts of kindness always put a smile on his face. It never gave him a reaction like this, though. Not even fifteen minutes after cumming, he was hard again. At this rate, he's sure Jisung is getting suspicious of what's taking him so long. And just as he expected, when Chan walks into the room twenty minutes later after another orgasm in the kitchen, he's bombarded with questions.

“What the hell took so long? Did she catch you? Is our secret blown?” Jisung looks up at Chan from his computer chair, wide brown eyes full of curiosity and worry.

Chan shakes his head and flops down onto the air mattress that is his bed while he stays with Jisung. He's supposed to be making sure Jisung doesn't do anything and here he is, no better than his friend.

“I wasn't caught; she just caught me in the kitchen getting a drink. That stuff leaves the weirdest aftertaste, ugh.” He replies with a laugh, hoping that Jisung won't ask too many questions about you.

He doesn't need to get hard in front of his friend while he questions him about the girl he likes. To Chan's surprise, Jisung doesn't bring you up anymore other than that initial question. He does offer to mix some flavoring into the next batch before it comes down to doing more tests. The two work on things a little longer before calling it a night. That night, however, Chan's once peaceful, normal dreams are filled with you. Your face is clear as day, and the feeling of your tongue licking and gliding over his cock feels so real that he wakes up on the verge of cumming again. He shuffles into Jisung's bathroom and takes care of himself to the dream version of you that was on her knees in front of him.

Chan's dreams, desires, and arousal become more and more intense but you and Jisung remain unaware. You've got too much on your mind with how your roommate has been avoiding you like you've got the plague. You're so lost in every scenario and reasoning you come up with that you don't notice the way Chan watches you. You never catch him as he palms his stiff cock, desperate to ease the ache, all while you move around the apartment. He tries his hardest to not do the things that Jisung was doing when it comes to you while being invisible, but it's hard when he's in your room as you grind your hips and circle your clit with two fingers, moaning his best friend's name. It takes all his strength to not cum just from your sounds; it takes even more strength not to bury his face between your thighs and lap up your arousal after you cum.

All in all, Chan likes to think he's been good. He can fight the temptations that Ji gave in to, he's positive. Or so he thought. All day today, you unknowingly enticed him. Even the disappointment on your face when Jisung gave you a curt greeting had him twitching in his jeans. The loud sigh you let out when Jisung shut the door to his bedroom reminds Chan of the exact sound you make when you orgasm. He forces the thought away.

Not now, Chan, damn it. Can't you see she's upset?

“Don't worry about Ji, y/n, he's just stressed,” you hear Chan say.

Your eyes move from where they were fixated on the closed door and over to the curly-haired man with glasses. “Was it that obvious I was worried?” you ask, smiling weakly at him.

He shakes his head, ”Not at all, cutie, I just know you. You're always worrying about us.”

He pulls you in for a hug, and you feel his warmth melt away all your worries. You wrap your arms around his middle, relaxing in his embrace. The sweet vanilla and subtle cedar scent that is uniquely him surrounds you.

"Thanks, Channie," you say softly, sighing with contentment.

Just as quickly as the hug began, it’s over. He steps back, smiling shyly. The tops of his ears are a bright red, and he tugs on the lobe of his right ear, looking away from you.

“No worries. You know what they say—hugs make everything better, yeah?”

You nod and smile at him. He’s adorable when he gets flustered. He’s got to be the shyest extrovert you know. And he’s right—his hug did improve your mood a lot. Standing on your toes, you place a quick, chaste kiss on his cheek and thank him again before leaving the kitchen to change your clothes before you start cooking dinner.

Chan is frozen on the spot. Your lips felt so soft against his skin, and now his cock won't stop pulsating. He can still feel the ghost of your kiss pressing into the side of his face. “Fuck,” he grunts, gripping the counter, staring at the door to your room. His cock bounces wildly in the confines of his jeans and briefs. He hangs his head low, eyes closed, and tries to think of something else.

Ice cream. Yeah. Sweet, delicious, creamy… just like her pussy. Oh fuck, fuck. No!

The knuckles on both his hands turn white as he grips the edge of the counter harder. He tries to think of something else, but it fails too. His hips start moving, thrusting as if you drank the elixir and now you’re invisible, and he’s fucking you. That thought pushes him further into a place of desire he can't escape. Could I see my cock inside her if she drank it? he wonders. Could I watch my cum fill her up?

“Oh gosh, what I would do to see that. Shit,” he whispers, thrusting into the air faster. He knows that at any moment, you or Jisung could come into the kitchen, but he’s so close. “I'm so fucking close, y/n.”

The sound of a door opening makes Chan stop his crazed humping of the air. He sees you walking, eyes looking down as you put your hair into a high ponytail. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He imagines you getting ready to suck him off right there in the kitchen. His cock still bounces in his dark black jeans, the head pushing up into the cotton of his briefs, the friction feeling phenomenal. He can still feel his orgasm building, even as he stands completely still.

“Oh hey, Channie. Didn’t expect to see you still in the kitchen,” you say, walking past him.

The smell of strawberries and cream wafts past Chan, and his eyes close. He feels precum flowing out of his cock steadily now and he can't move. He tries to respond to you, but it comes out raspy and gravelly. He clears his throat and speaks again, trying to sound casual.

“Y-yeah, just giving Ji some time to himself,” he says behind you as you pull out all the ingredients you need to make dinner.

“That’s sweet of you,” you say, and Chan mumbles something that sounds like “Mhm” to you.

Honestly, he tried to say something else to keep the conversation going, but he couldn't stop the moan that made its way out. He mentally curses himself and looks over his shoulder. You’re focused on washing some veggies, the sound of the water hiding his soft, stifled breathing.

“I’m gonna cum. Fuck, her voice. Need to hear her. Need to feel her touching me.” He thinks.

He jumps when he feels a hand on his back. He doesn’t dare look at you. “Whoa, you okay? You’re shaking, Channie, and you’re really red,” worry fills your voice as you rub wide circles on his back.

“Mhm, headache,” he huffs.

Keep going, y/n. Don’t stop. Please don’t fucking stop.

“Do you need anything?” you ask, and he shakes his head slowly.

His cock is bouncing out of control now, and he hunches over, burying his face in his arm.

“Fuck,” he gasps, feeling you move closer to him. Your warmth and sweet scent send him spiraling, and he digs his nails into his arm.

“Chan?” you whisper, and he immediately spills his seed inside his jeans, like you calling his name flipped a switch. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even move or open his eyes; he just stays still, waiting for the aftershocks to subside.

“I’m fine, y/n.” He says finally. “Shit, thank you. I feel a lot better,” he sighs, standing up straight. He’s panting softly and smiling down at you. “I’m sorry if I worried you. Guess I’ve inhaled too many fumes in Ji’s room.” He chuckles, and you give him a relieved smile.

“I’ve got to remember to get you two some face masks or something. You had me worried, sir.” you roll your eyes, smiling, and turn around to start chopping up the vegetables on the cutting board. “You take it easy okay? I’ll let you two know when I’m done… Even if Sungie is ignoring me,” you mutter the last part under your breath bitterly.

You feel Chan’s hand on your shoulder. It’s warm, strong, and comforting, blocking out any negative thoughts. His chest is close to your back, and you stop the meticulous chopping. Very slowly, you feel him bend down and place a soft, gentle kiss on the top of your head.

“He’ll come around. Thanks again, y/n.” Chan says and leaves you to your chopping.

He wanted to stay, to watch you move around the kitchen, but he needed to clean up and get to work. Back in Jisung's room, with fresh clothes and a clearer head, he works on the test beakers full of the elixir. Each container contains a diluted version of the elixir, and they’ve been testing its reaction with different chemicals to prolong the effects. So far, all six beakers show no changes, and they still haven’t noticed any significant side effects caused by the elixir, only the ones they refuse to acknowledge.

An hour passes, and both men are drowning in notes and textbooks when they hear a soft tap on the door and your calm, melodic voice letting them know that the food is done. Typically, they’ll grab some food and scurry back into the bedroom to eat and brainstorm, but as you sit on the barstool on the other side of the kitchen island, you hear them in some hushed conversation. When you look up from your phone, you catch Jisung’s eyes on you, and he quickly looks away. Ignoring them both, you continue to eat and text your friend.

You: Can’t wait for you to finally move closer. These guys are cool but with Ji avoiding me, the place feels heavy.

Bestie: Don’t worry. I’ll be there before you know it. Just try not to get into any weird situations.

You: This is me we’re talking about…

Bestie: Girl, exactly! Lol, stay out of trouble!

You: Lmao aye aye, captain 🫰

You’re laughing softly and smiling at your phone when you feel someone slide into the stool next to you. When you look to your left, you’re surprised to see Jisung sitting beside you. His eyes are glued to his plate of food, and he doesn’t look up in your direction. You catch sight of Chan smiling on Jisung’s other side, and you make a mental note to thank him later. Ji still hasn’t said anything to you for whatever strange reason but you’re thankful to Chan that he’s trying to help. You clear your throat and look at Jisung again. His hair is messy and long; you’re usually the one to give him the occasional trim, so now it’s all over the place.

“Um, Ji, do you want me to cut your hair later? It’s a bit longer than you wear it,” you say, trying to sound upbeat. You reach out and touch his hair just below his ear, and he shoots up out of his chair like he’s been electrocuted.

“No!” he shouts, going to stand on the other side of Chan. “I mean… no.” he softens his tone. “I-it’s okay, y/n. Just please don’t touch me.” and he leaves the room.

“Channie… what did I do?” you sniffle and swallow hard, fighting back tears.

This feeling is exactly what you wanted to avoid by having feelings for him. If things are like this now and you have no idea what you’ve done wrong, then how would it be if you two dated? Maybe he can tell I like him, and he doesn’t like me back? You think to yourself as you stare at Jisung’s closed door. Loud music blares from inside, mimicking the chaos in your mind. Chan gets up from his seat to sit beside you.

“You haven’t done anything, y/n. Ji… is dealing with a lot right now,” he tells you, his eyes soft.

He wants to reach out and touch you, to pull you into his arms again, but he fights the urge. It’s a lot easier now than it was a few hours ago. Still, the sight of you on the verge of tears makes him want to hold you and never let you go. Just being a good friend, yeah? Yeah, yeah, of course. He argues with himself internally, but he doesn’t move. He doesn't fully trust himself after what happened in the kitchen earlier.

“Maybe I could help him, ya know? I mean, if he just talked to me like he used to, I'm sure I could be of some help.” Your voice pulls Chan out of his own thoughts and back to the present.

“Maybe just give him some time and space. It'll all blow over soon, Y/N.” He assures you, picking up his and Jisung's plates before retreating into the loud room.

Tension hangs thick in the apartment, and if it weren't for Chan, you'd feel incredibly alone. He spends more time with you lately than he does with Jisung, and you assume it's because he's giving him space, exactly like he told you to do. But that's not entirely Chan's true motive. After his reaction at dinner, Jisung swears that you're the cause of whatever he felt when he drank the liquid, and Chan is determined to prove or disprove that theory.

“I haven't done anything to her while she's slept the entire two weeks, bro. Maybe you took some over-the-counter stuff that you forgot about and it reacted to that.” Chan whispers in the kitchen.

Jisung looks at you while you sit on the couch with your headphones on, gaming. You know the two of them are there; you even know that Jisung is watching you, but you focus on the game. Well, focus might be a loose term; you keep dying each time you try to see Jisung out of your peripheral vision.

“You mean you don't feel anything when you're near her after drinking that stuff?” Jisung asks, his whisper rising in pitch. Chan shakes his head no, but he knows that's not true. He just feels too guilty to tell his friend. “Okay, then it'll be safe to up your dose tonight. Y/N has to work tomorrow, so she'll be asleep early.”

“Uh, yeah. No problem.”

That night, you say goodnight to Chan and retreat into your bedroom as he does the same, disappearing inside Jisung's room. He swallows double the amount of the pastel teal liquid and makes his way into your room while you’re in the shower. He makes himself comfortable in the same chair as always, his heart pounding with anticipation.

Why the fuck do we have to do these specific tests? Damn it, can't we just go back to scaring her? He thinks, chewing on his thumbnail.

While Chan struggles with his nerves, you step out of the bathroom humming softly. If this were an anime, he'd have a bloody nose right about now. Sure, he's heard you orgasm, but this is the first time he's seen you completely naked. He gulps silently and looks away as you sit on the edge of your bed in front of him. His eyes fixate on the thin slit of the black curtain as he hears you rummaging through your desk. He doesn't look at you until your foot comes between his legs, just missing his cock.

Chan's wide, shocked eyes travel from your foot, slowly making their way up your leg and to the exposed apex of your thighs. You start to rub lotion over your skin. The sweet coffee smell fills the room, making Chan feel lightheaded—or is it because he's been holding his breath the whole time, watching your hands glide over your body? Cock hard, he feels like a snake in a trance, and you, the skilled charmer, continue to hypnotize him. He feels something inside him shift, crack, and crumble. Is it his common sense? His composure? His self-control? There's nothing on his mind other than pure lust and desire.

Before you can put on your blue silk short pajama set, Chan is moving. You hear a thud and gasp, jumping back onto the center of your bed. The bed dips and before you can make another sound, strong, warm hands spread your legs wide as you feel the heat and wet sensation of a tongue pushing inside you.

You fall back into the mattress as pleasure washes over you. “Oh my god,” you whisper. The first touch of his tongue sends a jolt of pleasure through you, making you cry out softly.

He licks and sucks, his tongue working you over with a skill that leaves you breathless. You’re writhing, your hands clutching at your pillows and bedsheets, your hips arching off the bed as you chase the pleasure that's quickly building inside of you. You can feel his breath against your inner thigh, and it makes you shiver. The sensation is almost too much, too unexpected.

Were your hallucinations back because you were so stressed about Jisung? The thought comes and goes. Every touch, every lick, every suck is precise, calculated to drive you wild and your legs begin to shake. You can hear the soft sounds of his mouth working against you, the quiet male hum of pleasure that escapes his throat. His tongue slides over your clit just as you feel two fingers push inside you and your hips buck against him. He holds you down, his strong hands gripping your thighs as he devours you. The pleasure builds and builds until you feel like you're going to explode.

You cover your mouth with your hands to muffle the string of cries and moans as you cum, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. He continues to lick you, drawing out every last bit of pleasure making your body shake from the aftershocks. When you finally come down from the high, you're left panting and trembling, your body spent and your room… empty.

“It's back,” you whisper breathlessly, looking up at the ceiling.

Chan is on the floor at the foot of your bed with cum-soaked shorts and guilt and fear forming in his chest. His chest heaves as he stares at you too stunned by his actions to move. He knows he has to tell Jisung, knows that he had no control and that it was like he was possessed.

Fuck. Jisung is gonna fucking kill me.

But when he gets back to the room, he can't bring himself to tell his friend anything. Not about the feelings he had, the physical and mental changes, and definitely not about eating you out until you came on his tongue. He can still taste you, and it makes him both guilt-ridden and horny as hell.

The taste of you that one time has him feeling like a madman. He's been practically salivating to taste you again ever since. Chan starts to understand Jisung's addiction to the elixir because being in close proximity to you has him wanting to say, “Fuck everything,” and drive his cock deep inside your juicy sweetness every time he's invisible.

His palms are sweaty as he watches you from the barstool in the kitchen, two days later. Your hair is damp after your shower after work, and the long black tee you have on paired with short black shorts makes it look like you're bare from the waist down. How dare you look that enticing in one of his favorite colors? Though the shirt hides your curves, he’s memorized them already. He slips his tongue between his lips and wets them, thinking about his tongue traveling all over your body. There's not an inch of your body that he doesn't want his tongue to explore.

“Did you hear me, Chan?” you say, leaning over the island, getting closer to his face. His eyes look distant and glassy, like he’s had way too many bong hits.

“Um, no? Sorry, beautiful. I spaced out there for a minute. What were you saying?” He blinks a few times and smiles, flashing his dimples.

You stand up and mirror his blinking. “Did he just call me beautiful?” you ask yourself. Chan's never given you a nickname like that. You're usually Minion or, more heartfelt, Cutie. You brush it off, deciding not to read into it and repeat your question.

“I want to know if you wanted some ramen, spaceman,” you say with a laugh, and Chan's cock springs to life at the sound.

“Oh, my bad. No thanks, y/n, I gotta get back to the experiment. You know if I leave Ji alone for too long, he'll blow his room up.” He replies, making you laugh again, which only makes his cock harder.

Fuck, not again. Really don't wanna cum in my pants again. I don't remember Jisung mentioning anything about that. Did that not happen to him? Chan wonders if it's just him. And if so, does that mean that the side effects are different for each person that takes it?

He gets up and tries to hide the obvious large bulge in his pants but with the way your eyes widen, he knows that you noticed. It turns him on even more, especially seeing the soft pink form on your cheeks. He suddenly turns towards you, standing there so you can get a better look.

“Thank you for looking out for us, y/n. Jisung's lucky to have you as his roommate.” He winks, watching the blush deepen, which is exactly what he wanted. You look so soft, so innocent and beautiful, at the moment he could care less about the experiment. More than anything he'd like to watch you come undone by his hands. When he's satisfied in watching you blush, he turns and makes his way to Jisung's room.

You're flustered and stunned, with your bowl of ramen on the counter getting cold. Between the sudden nickname and that sight, you're feeling confused and a bit too hot for ramen. How could he not know? Guess that's a good thing, I don't want him feeling embarrassed for something he can't control. You tell yourself. If you only knew that embarrassment was the last thing Chan was feeling.

Gosh, I'd love to see her blush with my cock in her mouth. “What? No, no… No.” Chan mutters to himself before turning the knob to his friend's bedroom.

That night, Chan would have to drink the liquid, become invisible, and watch you. He really needed to have his head on straight. When he opens the door, he wishes he had stayed in the kitchen with you just a little longer. Jisung is lying back flat on his bed, pants around his ankles and shirt pushed up, exposing his chest as he thrusts up into the air, fucking his fist.

“What the hell, man?!” Chan shouts, looking away as Jisung scrambles to cover up.

The sudden noise snaps you out of your thoughts. When you look around the corner, you see Chan standing half in and half out of Jisung's doorway.

“Shit, fuck, fuck. I thought you'd be longer,” Jisung blurts out, his voice frantic.

“Why couldn't you do that in the bathroom like a normal person, bro?” Chan hisses in a loud whisper, trying to keep his voice down but failing.

“You saw what she's got on—I couldn't help myself. I don't know how you can.” Jisung murmurs, but his voice is so soft that you can barely catch the words.

“Everything okay, Chan?” you ask, stepping closer, your voice startling him. He looks at you, wide-eyed, and you hear Jisung mutter another curse from behind the door.

“Huh?! Y-yeah, y/n. No worries. All's good here. Just, um, um, Ji killed a spider.” Chan glances back at Jisung. “I would've taken it outside, bro. Should've known.” He adds, and you hear Jisung's muffled apology.

“Oh. Ew, okay. Glad you two are good.” You nod, turning away.

As you walk off, the two men let out a collective sigh of relief. Jisung was right, Chan silently agrees. The outfit you had on was far too tantalizing to ignore. Both he and Jisung knew they wouldn't get any work done while being so worked up over you. In fact the little scare you gave them, almost catching a glimpse of the room did them some good. It was a good thing you didn't know what they were up to, for both his and Ji’s sake. You would've put two and two together and figured out everything.

“Especially not before I can feel you,” he thinks, frustration simmering beneath his skin. “No. Absolutely not. Why… Why am I even thinking like that? It's got to be a side effect, right?” Chan questions himself internally, all while Jisung briefs him on what needs to be done. He knows he should bring up how he's been feeling lately, especially how he feels each time he swallows that mysterious liquid on Jisung's desk, but guilt stops him each time.

“All right, let's wait a bit before you take it. We'll up the dose times… four?” Jisung suggests, and Chan just nods. “Cool. I made sure to add some flavoring to it. Should taste like strawberries. I'm curious if it'll change anything, so keep an eye out.”

Jisung's rambling continues, but Chan's thoughts aren't in the room. They're on you. He can still smell your perfume, still taste your lingering sweetness even after so many hours. It should be impossible, but the memory of your scent and taste clings to him. Visions of you cumming in various positions blur Chan’s focus, the images so vivid it's as if they're real. It's only when Jisung throws a rubber glove at the back of his head that he snaps out of his trance.

Okay. I can do this. I can fight it. It's nothing. This is... Nothing. Hmpf, so easy.

He chants the words over and over in his mind as he swallows the elixir. The familiar warm sensation begins, spreading through his body like wildfire. It feels as if all his limbs have fallen asleep, a tingling starting at his toes and working its way up to the top of his head. When the sensation peaks, it’s like being submerged in warm water, and he knows that he's now completely unseen.

As quietly as possible, he leaves Jisung's room and tiptoes into the living room where you're currently sitting. Behind the door, he can hear Jisung begin a recording of the two of them talking, giving the illusion that they're still hard at work. The TV illuminates your features in the dim light. The color of your eyes and hair seem to glow, making you look like some ethereal goddess.

"So beautiful," Chan thinks as he walks closer to you. Closer and closer until he's beside the dark gray couch. He shouldn't be so close, but it feels like his feet won't stop. For a while, he just stands there watching you, the stress and worry etched on your face deepening.

You sit on the couch, staring blankly at the TV. The noise from Jisung’s room filters through the thin walls of the apartment. The tension between you two gnaws at your insides, leaving you restless and on edge even more than before. What did I do wrong? You can’t help but replay the last few weeks in your head again, especially those strange moments when you felt like someone was there, touching you, making you question your sanity. Maybe he really is fed up with all your crazy ideas about the apartment being haunted. It's why you didn't mention what you felt in your room the other night. You didn't want Chan to start avoiding you too.

“I got on his nerves so much, now he wants nothing to do with me,” you whisper to yourself, glancing over your shoulder before looking back at the forgotten anime.

You stretch out, trying to shake off the unease and sigh. Your fingers absently trace the fabric of the couch, the worn material soft and familiar under your touch. You can hear the faint sounds of Jisung and Chan discussing some scientific and complex theories, but you’re too lost in your thoughts to pay much attention. Suddenly, the room feels different—like someone just invaded your space. Like they're right in front of your face. You look around, but nothing seems out of place.

Then, you feel it. A gentle touch on your shoulder, fingers grazing your skin. You freeze, your breath catching. The sensation is familiar yet different. It’s like the past few weeks all over again but this time, it feels... more. You don't know how to explain it but it's like it consumes you. The couch dips between your legs. The air grows warmer, and you feel a presence, an invisible weight pressing against you. Your heart pounds, but you don't move. It doesn't stop, instead, it intensifies, a whisper of a touch ghosting along your arm, sending shivers down your spine.

"Is it really happening again?" you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of your racing heart. You close your eyes, leaning into the touch as a warm hand cups your cheek briefly, letting your imagination take over. It feels so different this time. New yet oddly familiar.

Chan watches you intensely as his hands move, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The elixir courses through his veins, its side effects overpowering all his rational thoughts. He’s driven by an insatiable urge, a need he can't control. He watches as you react to his touch, his heart aching with guilt and confusion. No matter how strong his willpower is, the elixir's effects are stronger and he just can't fight it.

His fingers trace the curve of your neck, and you shiver with pleasure. You can almost imagine it’s Jisung, finally giving in to the tension between you two, putting a stop to his avoidance. You lean back, your head resting against the arm of the couch, giving in to the fantasy in your mind.

Chan’s breath catches in his throat. He’s never seen you like this, so vulnerable, so open. His touch grows bolder, his hands moving to explore the contours of your body. You gasp as his fingers brush against the sensitive skin of your stomach.

“Jisung…” you whisper softly, lost in the sensation.

Chan’s heart twists painfully at the sound of his friend's name on your lips. But he can’t stop. The elixir won’t let him. He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “It’s not Jisung,” he wants to say, but the words die in his throat. Instead, he lets his actions speak for him, letting his hands trail lower, fingers lightly brushing over your cunt through your shorts. The scent of something familiar wafts past you—sweet, with a hint of something woodsy. It’s Chan’s scent, you realize; that's how he always smells, but that doesn’t make any sense. You dismiss the thought as your imagination running wild from stress again.

You moan softly, arching into his touch. The room feels like it’s spinning, the air thick with lust. Your hands reach out, trying to grasp something, anything, to anchor yourself. You expect nothing there, only the invisible force that is Chan’s chest collides with your fingers and you gasp in surprise. Your touch is like electricity to Chan and he's entirely driven by a desire he can’t control.

Chan’s mind is a mess of jumbled up thoughts and feelings. He wants to stop, to pull away but his body won’t listen. He’s lost in the sensation, the feel of your skin under his fingers, the sound of your moans filling the air. It's addicting and he needs it. He leans down, nipping and licking your neck, tasting the salt of your skin. You're soaking, your juices dampening your shorts.

“More,” You beg. Your voice sounds so distant like you're having an out of body experience but you need to be filled, stretched. The light touches are driving you insane.

Your shirt is lifted, and you feel warm breath against your bare skin. The touch is everywhere now, kneading your breasts, tweaking your nipples, making you writhe on the couch. You can’t help but moan, louder this time, the sound louder than what's playing on the TV. If Jisung didn't have music playing in his room he'd have heard you.

What's left of Chan’s resolve crumbles. He moves with a newfound urgency, your shirt is ripped over your head and his hands and lips explore every inch of your body. Sucking and biting your flesh, your chest will be covered in hickies though you'll hardly notice or care. You’re lost in the feeling of his touch, the sounds of his ragged breathing, the feeling of his lips on your skin. It’s overwhelming, heady, consuming, intoxicating and you give in completely, letting yourself be carried away in the moment. Your reactions and the elixir's effects are driving Chan crazy, making him want to claim you, to make you his. He feels a primal need to possess you, to mark you as his own. He's vaguely aware of how insane that is. You're just his friend. Just sweet, sweet, caring, adorable y/n.

“Fuck, why do I want to ruin your pussy so bad?” He thinks looking down at your breast that is now littered with bite marks and red spots. He grits his teeth so hard that the muscle in his jaw flexes.

Fingers slip under the waistband of your shorts, finding you pantyless, teasing you expertly. Your hips buck involuntarily and your hands cling onto arms you can't see. The room is filled with the sound of your ragged breathing, the wet noises of invisible fingers sliding against your arousal. It’s maddening, being touched like this by someone you can’t see, but you don’t want it to stop.

The sensation of lips on yours is sudden, and you kiss back hungrily, feeling the heat and urgency in the invisible kiss. Your pants are pulled down, and you kick them off, desperate for more.

You feel the weight of an invisible body pressing you into the couch, the sensation of a hard, warm presence against your core making you moan again in anticipation. You’re slick, ready, and when you feel the pressure of him entering you, it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced. You've never been stretched this much, never felt this full even just from a couple of inches

“Ji...” you whisper one last time, but deep down, you know it’s not him.

Chan’s mind is a whirlwind of guilt and lust. “I’m sorry, y/n. Oh fuck.” He thinks, wishing he could say the words out loud.

He remains silent though, his actions driven by the liquid's effect. The pleasure, though, is beyond anything he's ever experienced. It's too strong, too addicting.

Did Jisung feel this insane? I feel like I'm not here in my own body. Yet I can feel every single thing.

“So wet.” he thinks. “But not for you.” his conscience adds. “But maybe if she knew it was me… maybe she'd be wetter?” He counters his own thoughts, feeling your cunt take every inch of him perfectly.

Each thrust is rough and quick, accompanied by a chorus of your moans and his low grunts. The room is filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure. The couch creaks beneath you and your moans grow louder and louder, but you don’t care. All that matters is the feeling of being completely devoured. It's like every touch and every thrust lights you on fire.

Chan’s body moves with a mind of its own, fucking fast and hard with no regards to whether he's hurting you or not. He’s mesmerized by the way you respond to him, the way your body feels under his. It's not too late to stop but he can’t. The elixir has taken over and he’s powerless against it. He’s lost in the moment, his own body responding to your every move.

“I’m so sorry.” He thinks again, but the words are swallowed by his overwhelming need. He watches as you move with him, your body arching and writhing in pleasure. He’s never seen you like this, never imagined you’d feel so good, so perfect.

You feel your climax building, the pressure too much. When you finally shatter, you feel it all throughout your body. You cry out, your body trembling from the intensity of your orgasm. Chan feels your muscles contract around him, pushing him over the edge. He releases inside you with a muffled grunt, his legs shaking as your cunt milks him. For a moment, everything is still. The room is thick with the scent of sweat and sex, the air heavy with the sound of your intertwined breathing.

Lying there breathless, your body humming with the remnants of pleasure you feel the presence slip out of you leaving you feeling empty. The only sounds you hear is from the TV and whatever is going on behind Jisung's closed door. The presence is gone, leaving you alone and bewildered. You touch your lips, still feeling the phantom press of his kiss.

“That was real.” you say outloud to yourself, looking down at the red marks all over you.

Chan watches you from the kitchen, his heart heavy with guilt. He knows he can’t let this happen again but the need is still there, simmering beneath the surface waiting to bubble over again. He slips away, retreating to Jisung’s room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You lie back on the couch once fully dressed with your mind racing. What just happened? Who was it? And why does it feel so different this time? You close your eyes, trying to make sense of it all, but the answers elude you. All you know is that something changed, and you’re not sure what it means, but you're determined to find out.

You don’t know what’s going on, but you’re certain now that whatever it is, Jisung and Chan are behind it. It only makes sense, but at the same time, it doesn’t. You smelt Chan's cologne, the same one you bought him last year for Christmas. You felt his muscles when your fingers gripped his arms. You’d know one of Chan’s hugs when you felt it. Why couldn’t you see him though? That sort of thing is only possible in movies like "Harry Potter" or that Kevin Bacon movie "Hollow Man." Right? There's got to be a way to find out if you're actually crazy or part of some weird experiment.

Over the next two days, it's more of the same but you expect it each time and for some reason, you find that you wait for him. When the smell of vanilla surrounds you, you know that you'll feel his hands next and you always do. It doesn’t seem to matter where you are around the house; he always finds you. Always fucks you with unfiltered need. On the balcony, where the cool night air contrasts with the heat of Chan’s body as he lifts you onto the table, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady. You feel the rough texture of the metal beneath you, the slight chill against your bare skin. You feel his heart pounding against your chest, a mirror of your own racing pulse. He leaves you spent, your body still trembling with the aftershocks. It was the same way last night when he took you in the kitchen on the floor.

Your tea was cold by the time you got to it. Still, you have no way to prove your suspicions. With a smirk, an idea forms in your mind. Those two aren’t the only smart ones in the apartment. Whatever is going on, it's clear that it’s not permanent. You chew on your bottom lip in thought, watching Chan and Jisung raid the kitchen for pizza and drinks. Jisung's gaze flicks to you and back to Chan.

Does he know? Is it all just some sort of joke? That’s got to be why he’s been acting so weird towards you, right? Your smirk widens and turns into a full-blown grin that seems to make Jisung nervous and he looks away quickly. When Chan looks at you, you see a flicker of something that gives you a bit more confidence in your theory.

“If you won’t tell me, I’ll make you show me.” you whisper under your breath, never breaking eye contact in a silent challenge.

You shift on the sofa and lay back exactly the way he had you that first night he entered you. When Chan swallows hard and licks his lips, you shiver. He knows that you know something and he's glad. He wants you to find out, he wants to be caught. What will you do once you find out everything though? He has no clue but he's sure it'll change everything between you three.

Part III in the works.

★𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔏𝔦𝔰𝔱★

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[rottenpumpkin13]

Out Of Context Shit Heard On The SOLDIER Floor #7

Genesis: SEPHIROTH, STOP MEOWING AT ME.

Kunsel: Any loser twink can be a fem-boy, but it takes a real badass to be a fem-man.

Sephiroth: Did I "yee-haw" with joy, or did it convey depression?

Zack, holding up Cloud: BEHOLD.

Sephiroth, stealing a fry from Angeal's plate: A most generous offering. You will be spared. Angeal: FROM? Sephiroth: You will be spared.

Genesis, wearing sunglasses and holding a cappuccino: So there I was, gelato on my breasts—

Cloud: Aww, that's such a cute Halloween decoration. *pointing at Genesis sobbing in the corner*

Angeal: Who put a hotdog in the candy bowl?? Zack, in the background: Halloweenie.

Sephiroth: I could've sworn "motherfucker" was a compliment.

Angeal: IF YOU EAT THAT WEEK-OLD SUSHI PLATTER, YOUR INTESTINES WILL BECOME RADIOACTIVE.

Sephiroth: Zack, can I enjoy this steak dinner without you explaining A/B/O to me?

Lazard: I think we ALL need to beat our fathers with shovels, Sephiroth, you're not special.

Zack: NO! THAT'S MY EMOTIONAL SUPPORT BANANA!

Genesis: He manspreads to assert dominance, I manspread to create a barrier between myself and heteronormativity. We are not the same.

Sephiroth: I just sent Angeal an email describing my feelings for him. If he doesn't reply, I'll show up at his apartment and superglue myself to the door.

Zack: Give me a pen, paper, and three Adderall, and I'll write something better than Loveless in one hour.

Kunsel: Everyone is subjected to failure, but at least I'm not Roche, who thought the plural of ninja was ninji.

Sephiroth: I have exactly three crayons on my person right now, and they're all stolen from Zack.

Angeal, chewing with his mouth full: Don't make psycho-sexual comments in front of my cheeseburger.

Zack, narrating what he's seeing: 🎶 Look at Angeal 🎶 beating Sephiroth with a frozen chicken because he forgot to take it out the freezer. 🎶

Sephiroth: Please refrain from analyzing my deep-seated fear of abandonment linked to my mother's absence and its impact on my emotional regulation, it's seven in the morning and I still haven't had coffee.

Cloud: I'm about two mental breakdowns away from resorting to gang affiliation.

Genesis: COUNTER SPELL! *flicks his wrist* TRAUMA!

Roche: I often have nightmares about Sephiroth attacking me with a spork.

Sephiroth, in the presence of a spider: I feel anti-at peace.

Zack: Dear diary, today I committed tax evasion, and felt great. Tomorrow I'll try embezzlement and eventually vandalism!

Sephiroth: Can you read this death threat note and check if my handwriting is recognizable?

Zack and Genesis: *Loudly arguing over who gets to be the ring bearer at Sephiroth and Angeal's wedding*

Angeal, laying on the floor: Good luck trying to find my will to live, gang.

Genesis: I'm flashing you a tit to maintain our friendship.

Sephiroth: If I had a gil for every time someone compared me to a cat, I'd have enough to purchase that expensive human cat bed that has been on my wishlist for ages.

Roche: Is my discount wig a joke to you, Zackary?

Cloud, placing an "I miss you" letter from his mother in Sephiroth's line of view: Yeah, that's right. Fuck you.

Lazard: Someone pinned a death threat on my office door written in glitter gel pen.

Genesis, flirting: I own an air-fryer.

Angeal: T-shirt that says "I survived Zack's power point presentation on aliens that included a photo of Sephiroth on the fourth slide"

Roche: Cloud Strife's evil twin…Grass Peace.

Sephiroth: *Showing Zack pictures of baby cows while Zack sobs into his burger*

Genesis: PUT. MASAMUNE. DOWN. No one is stealing your crayons.

Sephiroth: Genesis, I feel inspired to compliment your ass.

Lazard: Take a good, hard look at Sephiroth wearing flip-flops and tell me I shouldn't be stressed.

Sephiroth: A most efficient weapon to add to my arsenal *wielding an entire streetlamp*

Zack, talking to Angeal: My insecure trooper and faceless info guy, versus your 6'7 cat and walking red flag.

Kunsel: Is the cure to male loneliness *incomprehensible screeching* ?

[beenbaanbuun]

fever w/ kang yeosang

words - an amount 🙂‍↕️

genre - hurt/comfort, sickfic

warnings - food avoidance because of illness, mentions of vomiting, reader is a little bratty but it’s the fever talking, yeosang is tired :((, not proof read

——————————————————————————

“you need to eat something, baby,” yeosang grumbles, arm folded crossly over his half-exposed pecs. you can’t help but focus on the way he’s standing there in nothing but a tank top and some shorts while you’re sat shivering in one of the many hoodies that you’ve stolen from his closet. you’ve been blaming the fever for how cold you seem to be at the minute, but you’ve always ran a little colder than your boyfriend. whenever he needs a sweater, you need a sweater, a coat and a scarf. you’re just a little nesh, you suppose.

your eyes flicker around the kitchen, studying everything that crosses your vision. perhaps you could have some toast, you think as your eyes land on the half-finished loaf of bread on the counter. then you think about how heavy your stomach feels, even when it’s empty, and you realise that perhaps toast isn’t the best option. you turn your nose up and move on to the bowl of fruit that yeosang had just refilled this morning. the scent of the bananas alone is enough to make you feel sick, and perhaps the citrus fruits aren’t the best choice when you’ve been struggling to keep food down.

“i’m only going to throw it up again,” you argue, trying your hardest to make your expression pathetic and sad. you commit to it, bringing out the sad arched brows and the big wet eyes. your bottom lip juts out just a little and for extra effect, you can’t help but wobble it a little. for a moment of two, you’re almost sure it’ll work. yeosang’s eyes soften and his arms go limp and fall back to his sides. you’re almost positive that he’ll let you off with another day of medicine and water, you can practically feel it on your tongue—

“you don’t know until you try.”

your shoulders sink upon hearing your words and your features drop, expressing only apathy and defeat. sure, the puppy dog eyes have never worked on him before, but there’s a first time for everything. you were certain that this would be that time.

“yeosang!” you whine, trying to grab his attention as he turns to face the countertop. he whines your name back in exactly the same nasally tone you used. “please! my throat already hurts from all the acid; i just want one day where i don’t throw up. it’ll make me feel less miserable.”

he ignores you, lifting his phone from the counter and typing a few words into safari. you wish you could see i what it says, but from your position, huddled up on a dining chair—which you would only move from if a hefty bribe was offered your way—you can’t even dream of looking around his oversized torso.

damn him for getting buff.

“google says banana’s are goo—”

“no,” you cut him off, head shaking wildly like a petulant child.

“baby~”

“they smell bad!”

with a sigh, yeosang goes back to looking.

“dry brown rice?” he offers meekly, already foreseeing the outcome of his offer. he doesn’t even have to turn around to see your face screwed up in displeasure; it’s already so clear in his mind. “nevermind, it was a stupid suggestion.”

you hum in agreement, the small sound making him crack a small smile. despite being incredibly difficult, yeosang can admit that you do have your sweet moments while you’re feverish. your mind may be muddled and your body doing everything in its power to make your life a living hell, but you still somehow manage to put a smile on his face.

if he wasn’t desperate to not catch whatever 18th century plague has taken up residence in your body, he’d spin around and kiss you. squish your cheeks together like he always does when he wants to annoy you a little, bring your face up to his, and just kiss you. it’s almost impossible not to when he’s been missing out on the feeling of your lips on his for the past few days, but when he hears the sound of your stomach churning and a pained groan leave your lips, he remembers exactly why he’s doing this to himself.

“how about broth?” he suggests, putting his mind back on the task at hand, “you like broth, baby.”

he’s right, you do like broth. or at least you like it when you’re not feeling like satan himself has put his little tapdancing shoes on specifically to do a jig atop your stomach. instinctively you wrap an arm around your abdomen which after a short period of docility, has began to cramp again. that broth really doesn’t sound appealing right now…

“yeosang…” you say, dejected and miserable. he sighs, understanding exactly what you mean by saying his name in that tone of voice; it’s a disheartened no from you.

and while it pains him to be forceful with you—or anyone for that matter—he can’t just sit and watch you waste away over a poorly stomach. he has to put his foot down for once.

“baby, you need to eat,” he sighs and rubs a hand over his face. he hates being so bossy with you, almost as much as he hears the weary sound pass from your lips just after his soft command. “just a small bowl, okay? just for me; your yeosang?”

and while it’s an obvious guilt trip, a little bribe to make you feel a little bad about refusing to eat, you can’t help but fall for it. you sigh, wrapping your arms around your knees so you can pick at your fingers guiltily. it’s not like you can help being sick, but maybe you have been a little dramatic about the whole refusing to eat thing. sure, your stomach churns at even the thought of food, but yeosang is right; if you don’t try, you won’t know. the idea of throwing up again frightens you, but broth is a liquid; it’ll be easy to come back up.

you resign with a minuscule hum, so quiet it’s almost silent.

“fine,” yeosang hardly believes the word when you say it with so much resignation, “one small bowl of broth…”

[petday]

your art is so so so so inspiring to me which is strange bc my style isnt very similar to yours at all. but it makes me happy to see your art, especially when you make art from things from childhood id forgotten about💫💫💫💫💫🩷🩷🩷🩷

Thanks. Your message and similar messages from others over the years inspired me to try to put into words why I draw 'nostalgic things'. I ended up writing a lot.

There was a period of time when I became cynical about being seen as an 'artist who reminds people of childhood' or a 'nostalgic artist'. I no longer feel that way but I will explain why. Some artists, who I like and respect, will sometimes mention 'nostalgia holding artist's growth back' and 'nostalgia causes learned helplessness.' But I feel differently.

Maybe I perceive time differently. I have lived long enough to witness cycles of 'what is valued, and what is not valued' repeated. For example, I loved what is now called 'Y2K' style, but during mid 2000s, for whatever reason it was derided as something to be left in the past, something embarrassing. "Aren't we glad we optimized things now, and they are 'sleeker' and less complex? Old things were childish, an embarrassing weakness for humans, we must advance and reach our ideal evolution." That became the common attitude. I felt pressure to have the same thoughts. I just couldn't make myself feel that way no matter what, though. Even with the increasing threats about, 'keep up with others or you won't ever develop positive social relationships!' I couldn't change my mind.

(If what is currently valued becomes devalued and then it becomes valuable after that… that's an odd cycle to me. For example, if we like bananas, even when bananas cannot be harvested, we still like them even though they occupy a smaller space in our minds but we don't deride them. Going even further, though, I sometimes wonder if it is possible for humans to eventually remove the 'devaluation' stage, particularly in art 'trends' as I am an artist. Whatever is considered valuable remains valuable. A counter arguement would be, 'no, the devaluation of the previous thing is exactly what causes the next thing to be valued, and then the cycle flows beautifully: X was valued -> Y is valued, X is devalued -> Y is devalued, X becomes valuable again. If you want X to always remain valuable, just develop better patience. Like we cannot pick fruit we like all year, we cannot simply keep adding onto the pile of things we like, something has to be seen as inferior by the majority of humans.' I disagree. I might explain my thoughts against this argument more in the future.)

Anyway, what people call 'Y2K style' or 'art that emulates how things commonly appeared in early years of 2000s' is popular nowadays. Even someone who did not grow up with it can become attracted to it. That 'desire' itself is a communication between past and present. Something can make someone feel 'lighter' [in sense of, "wow, the crushing weight of my circumstance feels not so crushing when I look at this'] -- a similar 'light' to how someone in the past was perceiving it when it was the present and not the past. So, even though two people were born in different eras and may not become friends or even meet, they're still connected by that 'lighthearted' feeling they both like. I know it will be seen as 'lower value' soon, but I truly cannot care because as I mentioned earlier, I might perceive 'time' weirdly.

When I started playing video games, a family member would point out, 'those games were made before you were born, interesting!' but that statement confused me at the time since my perception was, 'well, if these games are from before I was born, I don't understand why she is bringing attention to it. Why is it interesting? It's just regular. They're alive in the present now, because I'm in the present and so are they.' That was when I was a very young child. I subconsciously kept the same feeling even as I was reaching teenage and adult years. The feeling echoed when people liked to ask the question 'why are you still playing games from long ago?' as I got older but still played the same 'old' games. The answer: they are beautiful and will remain beautiful, and something made in the past is still communicating in the present, so are they really truly 'outdated inferior games'...? Just because the cycle of valued and devalued happened to be in a different position and those old things were seen as an embarrassment? (Now there are popular games inspired by the era of games many people ridiculed me for consistently enjoying, lol. Similarly, I was using 'crappy' old versions of programs even through 2017. Now people from wealthy upbringing and background use 'crappy' programs willingly. lol)

The present talks to the past all the time, nostalgia is not a dead end. In that sense I cannot see nostalgia as a death trap but rather a connection made from past to present. A string between the past and present that feelings can crawl across and communicate. Feelings such as 'I wish my life took a different direction. I can't make things like how they were back then, it won't ever be the same again, so I'll do nothing.' The criticism of 'nostalgia' is towards that last sentence. But there are things you can do with those feelings. 'Doing nothing is boring. And I keep thinking of that fun drawing I saw... I kinda wanna try to make something.' Making something while thinking of the past and present at the same time, so there is a communication between past self and present self. Pure bitterness communicating with slightly light-hearted view, the 'end result' is artwork/creation.

*I used light-hearted feeling as example, but nostalgia can exist for any feeling, and not just for people who were nice when they were younger. If someone was cruel as a child/teenager, after the person has been an adult for a while, they can communicate with their younger self about what was it about the cruelty that was enjoyable, and then extract a small part from the cruelty that they wish to bring back into the present -- example, the attraction to 'high speed activities, playful mischievousness' can be extracted from 'hurting people on purpose so they will acknowledge/react to you'. The dialogue could be something like, "'honestly, you and I both know spamming people with bad things felt pretty fun at the time, so let's just keep the 'high energy mischievousness' feeling and leave behind the crap that hurt people deeply, and let's make an animation while thinking of that high energy feeling.

^ I don't answer questions or reply to messages often because of giving answers that aren't too long or too short is tough for me. lol. Thanks for liking my art. I like a lot of art that doesn't resemble mine as well. It's fun! Like appreciating different flavours in the same meal even if you cannot make the meal yourself.