#thank you for giving in to my guilt trip I appreciate it

[jungkoode]

Strings Attached (to my heart) #2

→ PAIRING : Spider-Man!Jungkook x F!Reader

→ RATING: Explicit, 18+.

→ DATE POSTED: February 13th, 2025.

→ SUMMARY : You were a journalist at Yonsei University when you started noticing the strange coincidences between your favorite bumbling freshman and Seoul's newest superhero. The way Spider-Man's voice cracks on 'noona' exactly like Jungkook's does. The way they both bring you the same snacks, have the same nervous energy, the same tendency to ramble when flustered. You tell yourself it's just a coincidence, because the alternative means admitting something you're absolutely not ready to deal with.

→ TAGS : second person perspective used, female pronouns used, college au, spider-man au, noona kink, slight age gap (he’s 21, she’s 24ish),, virgin jungkook, first time, inexperienced jk, sexual content, explicit content, breast play, praise kink, crying during sex, crying after sex, embarrassment kink, humiliation kink, slight dom reader x sub jungkook, pining, jungkook has a big fat crush on you, secret identity, touch starved, desperate jungkook, gentle domming, aftercare, emotional intimacy, fluff and smut, Korean setting, university setting, oral sex, oral receiving, cunnilingus, fingering, multiple orgasms, face sitting, sexually inexperienced jungkook, post-coital confession, afterglow, blowjobs, swallowing, sexual education, jungkook has supportive friends, explicit sexual content, friends giving sex advice, being walked through sex, spidey stamina, tender sex, first time giving oral, first time receiving oral, learning sex, being taught sex, breast worship, nipple play, handjobs, naked cuddling, confessions, jungkook is a shy baby, soft smut, explicit nsfw, comfort and reassurance during sex, superhero secret identity reveal, bathing/washing, caretaking.

→ PLAYLIST: set the vibes.

→ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 13.5k

→ A/N: Welcome back to part 2 of our Spidey!JK saga, where things get even steamier and somehow even more emotional?? 😭 Y'all's response to part 1 absolutely blew me away, so I had to deliver on that promise of exploring certain... scenarios... with those spider powers 👀 This part really dives into the tender dynamic between our confident noona and her adorably earnest hoobae as they navigate his first time(s) together. Fair warning: this is probably the softest explicit content I've ever written?? Like, I didn't mean to make it this emotional but here we are, sobbing over Jungkook being the most precious baby while getting railed walked through his first experiences. Special shoutout to Jimin and Taehyung for being the real MVPs with their mortifying but ultimately helpful "sex ed lesson" 😭 . Also can we talk about how Spiderkook thought he was being subtle this whole time?? Sir, you're about as subtle as a brick through a window, but it's okay because you're cute. As always, enormous thanks to my cat who encouraged me to finish this through my 7th cup of cofffee of day 6. Your enabling is appreciated 🫶 Hope you enjoy part 2 of this wholesome filth! 🕸️

→ PREVIOUS

He's trailing behind you again.

You don't even have to turn around to know it's him—his footsteps are too eager, too bouncy, like a puppy who hasn't quite figured out how to walk without tripping over its own paws. Something in your chest tightens at the familiar sound, a mix of fondness and guilt that you try to squash down.

"Noona!"

You sigh, but it's the kind of sigh that's more amused than annoyed, even if you'd never admit it. You should shut this down. You really should. After what happened in the library closet, you shouldn't be encouraging whatever this is.

"Jungkook," you say without looking back, your voice flat. "We've talked about this."

"About what?" he asks, his tone all wide-eyed innocence, like he doesn't already know.

Like he hasn't been following you around campus with those doe eyes and nervous energy ever since that day.

"About you following me around like a lost duckling," you reply dryly, finally glancing over your shoulder.

The moment you do, you regret it.

Because there he is: Jeon Jungkook, Yonsei University's most persistent freshman, clutching yet another plastic convenience store bag like it's a peace offering. His hair is a mess—floppy and windswept from the autumn breeze—and his big doe eyes are practically sparkling with excitement. He looks so young, so earnest, that it makes your stomach twist with guilt.

You're his sunbae. You should be setting boundaries, not letting yourself get caught up in the way he looks at you like you hung the moon.

"I'm not following you!" he protests immediately, though the way he trips over his own feet as he rushes to catch up kind of undermines his argument. "I just… happened to be walking this way! Totally normal! Not weird at all!"

You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Right. And the snacks?"

"Oh! These?" He holds up the bag like it's Exhibit A in a court case. "They're for you!"

"Jungkook," you groan, stopping in your tracks so you can turn to face him fully. "You keep giving me snacks, and I'm gonna get fat."

The gasp he lets out is so dramatic it actually makes you laugh, the sound escaping before you can stop it. This is the problem—he's too endearing for his own good, making it impossible to maintain the professional distance you should.

"Noona!" he exclaims, looking genuinely horrified by the very idea. "Your weight is literally perfect! And even if you gained weight—which you're not just because I bring you snacks sometimes—"

"Every day," you interject pointedly, trying to ignore how your heart flutters at his earnest defense.

You shouldn't find it charming. You're supposed to be the mature one here.

"—you'd still be beautiful and—uh—you—it'd be okay!" he stammers, his words tumbling over each other in his rush to reassure you. His cheeks are already turning pink, and it only gets worse when he realizes what he just said out loud. "I mean—you're already—uh—"

You should stop this. Should remind him that you're his sunbae, that this kind of attention isn't appropriate.

Instead, something reckless and wanting unfurls in your chest as you watch him flounder.

"Well," you interrupt with a smirk, deciding to mess with him despite the voice in your head screaming that this is a bad idea, "if I gain weight, maybe my boobs will grow."

The way his eyes widen is almost comical.

His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water as he struggles to find something—anything—to say that won't make this worse for him. You know you shouldn't enjoy his flustered state this much, shouldn't feel this rush of power at how easily you can reduce him to a stammering mess, but...

"Your boobs are already per—uh—ah—" He cuts himself off with a strangled noise, his face going beet red as he realizes what almost slipped out. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean—I wasn't trying to—I mean—"

The library closet flashes through your mind—his desperate sounds, the way he trembled against you, how beautifully he fell apart. You should feel worse about that than you do. Should regret taking advantage of his obvious crush.

Instead, you find yourself saying: "Jungkook."

"Yep?" His voice cracks on the word, and his big doe eyes dart between yours like he's waiting for some kind of divine punishment to rain down on him. He looks ridiculous—and ridiculously cute—and it takes everything in you not to let your fondness show too much.

You roll your eyes and snort softly, warring with yourself. The responsible thing would be to send him away, to maintain appropriate boundaries.

Instead, you hear yourself saying: "Come by my apartment tonight."

His eyes somehow get even wider. "Your… apartment?" he echoes weakly, like he can't quite believe what he just heard.

The pure shock in his expression should be a wake-up call—a reminder that you're his sunbae, that you shouldn't be inviting him into your personal space like this.

"At eight," you add anyway, watching as his brain visibly short-circuits trying to process this information. "Yeah?"

"Y-y-y-yeah," he stammers, choking on his own spit in the process because of course he does. "Your apartment? At night?"

You nod slowly, biting back a smile as his face flushes an even deeper shade of red.

There's a voice in the back of your head reminding you that this is dangerous territory—that after the library incident, you should be putting distance between you, not drawing him closer.

"Okay," he says quickly, nodding along with you like some kind of bobblehead doll. "Yeah! Okay! I can—I can do that." He swallows hard, his voice strangled as he adds, "Eight o'clock. Your apartment."

He looks so flustered—so completely overwhelmed by the mere idea of being invited into your personal space—that something mischievous sparks in your chest, drowning out the guilt.

You shouldn't tease him any more than you already have today—you really shouldn't—but the way he looks at you, all eager desperation and nervous energy, makes you want to see just how far you can push him.

"Bring condoms," you say offhandedly as you turn back around and start walking again, even as your conscience screams at you that this is crossing a line.

The sound Jungkook makes is somewhere between a gasp and a choke—a strangled little noise that has you biting your lip to keep from laughing outright.

You don't have to look back to know exactly what expression he's wearing: wide-eyed panic mixed with sheer disbelief and just a hint of something else... something darker that reminds you too much of how he looked in that closet.

You should feel worse about this. Should feel guilty for teasing your hoobae like this, for playing with his obvious feelings. Instead, you find yourself turning back, unable to resist watching him fall apart.

"I—I—what?!" His voice cracks so hard on the word that it echoes slightly down the street.

He's standing there frozen in place, clutching the snack bag like it's the only thing keeping him upright.

His mouth opens and closes uselessly for several seconds before he finally manages to croak out: "Condoms?"

"You don't want to?" You tilt your head innocently, watching as his entire body stiffens at the question.

There's a twisted satisfaction in seeing how easily you can affect him, even as a small voice in your head reminds you that you're supposed to be the responsible one here.

"I want to!"

The words burst out of him so fast they practically trip over each other on their way out of his mouth—and then his eyes widen in horror as he realizes how eager that sounded.

“I mean—I—uh—yeah? Yes? I really—I really want to." He bites his lip nervously before adding in a much quieter voice: "...Please."

The way he looks at you then—like some kind of kicked puppy who just admitted all its secrets—makes heat pool in your stomach. You shouldn't want this. Shouldn't want him. He's your hoobae, for fuck's sake, barely out of his military service and looking at you like you're everything he's ever wanted.

But instead of letting him off the hook (because where's the fun in that?), you raise an eyebrow and say simply: "Good."

He nods frantically at that—as if agreeing with you might somehow save him from further embarrassment—but then hesitates when something seems to occur to him.

The guilt starts creeping back in as you watch him fidget, so obviously inexperienced and eager to please.

"Noona?" His voice is soft now—almost shy—as if whatever he's about to ask might actually kill him.

"Yes?" You stop walking again and turn fully toward him, trying to ignore how your heart clenches at his nervous expression.

"Where... where can I... uh..." He trails off awkwardly before finally blurting out: "...Buy them?"

This time, you choke on your spit.

Because fuck—the reminder of just how unversed he is hits you like a punch to the gut.

You're terrible for this, for teasing him when he's so clearly out of his depth. For wanting to see him fall apart again, even knowing you should be protecting him instead of corrupting him.

"Jungkook," you say after a long moment of stunned silence, your voice softer than intended.

"Yes?" He looks at you hopefully, and god, you're going straight to hell for the things you want to do to him when he looks at you like that.

"I was joking."

The look on his face when those words sink in is priceless—a mix of disappointment and relief so intense it almost makes you feel bad for teasing him this much.

Almost.

Because underneath that relief, you can see it—the way his eyes darken slightly, the subtle shift in his posture that tells you he wanted it to be real.

"...Oh," he says softly after another long pause, and something in his tone makes your chest flutter.

"But not about coming over tonight!" You call back as you start walking again, before you can do something stupid like take it back. Before you can give in to the urge to tell him you weren't entirely joking after all. "Bring me jajjangmyeon!"

Behind you comes another strangled noise—and then hurried footsteps as Jungkook scrambles after you once again.

"Noona!"

You keep walking, trying to ignore the way your heart races.

Jungkook bangs his head against the wall of Taehyung's apartment, each thud punctuating his words: "I. Hate. My. Self."

"Why?" Taehyung doesn't even look up from his game controller, thumbs moving rapidly as he dodges an attack on screen. "You're gonna get laid."

"Finally," Jimin adds helpfully from his spot on the floor, leaning back against the couch as he mashes buttons. "About time someone popped that cherry—"

"It's NOT like that!" Jungkook's voice cracks embarrassingly, and he seriously considers webbing both their mouths shut. Why does he have friends? Who allowed this? "She just wants to hang out!"

"At night?" Taehyung snorts, still focused on the game. "In her apartment?"

"Alone?" Jimin adds, grinning as his character lands a critical hit. "Just the two of you?"

"She literally said she was joking!" Jungkook protests, sliding down the wall until he's sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest like some kind of oversized puppy. "About the... you know."

"The condoms?" Taehyung supplies helpfully.

"Shut up!"

"Maybe," Jimin says thoughtfully, pausing the game to turn and look at Jungkook properly, "she was joking about joking."

Jungkook freezes. "No way."

"Yes way."

"...You think so?" And god, he hates how hopeful his voice sounds. How pathetically eager.

"Bro," Taehyung says, finally setting down his controller to fix Jungkook with a look. "You already nutted in your pants grinding against her in a library closet."

"DIE." Jungkook buries his face in his hands, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole. "I hate you. I hate both of you. So much."

"I mean," Jimin continues, completely unbothered by Jungkook's death threats, "she obviously knows you want her. Like, it's not exactly a secret."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jungkook peeks through his fingers, suspicious.

"Dude." Taehyung gives him a flat look. "You follow her around like a lost puppy."

"I do not—"

"You bring her snacks every day—"

"That's just being nice!"

"You literally stalk her as Spider-Man—"

"I'm PROTECTING her!"

"From what?" Jimin snorts. "Paper cuts? Bad coffee? The dangers of journalism?"

Jungkook makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. "I hate this conversation. Can we go back to you two failing at Mario Kart?"

"Nope," Taehyung says cheerfully, turning to face him fully now. "This is way more entertaining. So, what are you gonna wear?"

"What?" Jungkook blinks. "What do you mean, what am I gonna wear? Clothes?"

Jimin and Taehyung exchange a look that makes Jungkook's stomach drop.

"Oh no," Jimin says slowly. "No, no, no. You are not showing up to your potential deflowering wearing your usual disaster outfit."

"My WHAT—"

"The oversized hoodie and ripped jeans combo," Taehyung clarifies. "It's cute for class, but for this? Absolutely not."

"I'm not getting deflowered!" Jungkook protests, his voice reaching a pitch that probably only dogs can hear. "She just wants jajjangmyeon!"

"Right," Jimin drawls. "Because girls always invite guys over at night for noodles."

"Some do!"

"Name one time—"

"I don't have to name anything! This isn't—she's not—we're not—" Jungkook makes a frustrated noise, running his hands through his hair until it's sticking up in all directions. "She probably just wants to talk about Spider-Man again."

Another loaded look passes between his friends.

"What?" Jungkook asks suspiciously.

"Nothing," they say in unison, which is never a good sign.

"What?!"

"It's just..." Taehyung starts carefully. "Maybe she wants to... confirm her suspicions?"

Jungkook's blood runs cold. "What suspicions?"

"You know..." Jimin waves his hand vaguely. "About your... nighttime activities?"

"My what—OH." Jungkook's eyes widen in horror. "Oh no. Oh fuck. Oh god. You think she's gonna—"

"Interrogate you?" Taehyung supplies helpfully. "Probably."

"While you're vulnerable?" Jimin adds with a grin. "Most likely."

"Post-orgasm?" Taehyung continues. "When your guard is down?"

"I'm going to throw up," Jungkook announces, pulling his knees tighter to his chest. "I'm actually going to be sick."

"Relax," Jimin says, reaching over to pat his knee sympathetically. "Maybe she just wants to fuck you."

"That's not relaxing!" Jungkook squeaks. "That's the opposite of relaxing! That's—that's—"

"Hot?" Taehyung suggests.

"Exciting?" Jimin adds.

"Terrifying," Jungkook corrects weakly. "What if I... what if I'm bad at it?"

Another loaded silence fills the room.

"Well," Taehyung says slowly, "you've already set the bar pretty low with the closet incident—"

"I'm leaving." Jungkook starts to stand up, but Jimin grabs his arm and yanks him back down.

"No, you're not," Jimin says firmly. "You're going to sit here and let us help you not completely fuck this up."

"I don't need help!"

"You came in your pants from some light grinding."

"That was—it wasn't—she said it was cute!"

"And that's great," Taehyung says patiently. "But maybe this time we aim for something a little more... impressive?"

Jungkook groans, letting his head fall back against the wall with a thud. "I hate this. I hate all of this. Why couldn't I just be normal?"

"Normal is overrated," Jimin says sagely. "Now, about those clothes..."

"We're not having this conversation."

"We absolutely are," Taehyung declares, standing up. "Come on, let's raid my closet. You're not showing up looking like a freshman who just rolled out of bed."

"But I am a freshman who just rolled out of bed!"

"Not tonight, you're not," Jimin says, grabbing Jungkook's other arm to haul him up. "Tonight, you're going to look like someone who might actually know what to do with a woman."

"But I don't know what to do with a woman!"

"That's what we're here for," Taehyung says cheerfully, already heading toward his bedroom. "Sex Ed with Taehyung and Jimin, now in session!"

"Kill me," Jungkook mutters, but he lets himself be dragged along anyway. "Just... someone please kill me."

"After you get laid," Jimin promises. "Now, let's talk about foreplay..."

The noise Jungkook makes is probably audible from space.

But then he’s sitting cross-legged on Taehyung's bed, face buried in his hands as his friends settle on either side of him.

The game controllers lie abandoned on the floor, forgotten in favor of what Taehyung has dubbed "Operation: Don't Let Jungkook Embarrass Himself (Again)."

"Okay," Jimin says, his tone shifting from teasing to something more serious. "First rule: stop overthinking."

"I'm not—"

"You are," Taehyung cuts in gently. "We can literally see you spiraling. Your whole face does this thing when you're in your head too much."

"What thing?" Jungkook peeks through his fingers suspiciously.

"Like you're trying to solve quantum physics while having an existential crisis," Jimin explains. "It's not cute."

Jungkook groans. "How am I supposed to not overthink? She's—she's her, and I'm just—"

"A superhero?" Taehyung supplies helpfully.

"That's different! That's not—I mean—" Jungkook makes a frustrated noise. "Spider-Man is cool. I'm not cool. I'm just... me."

"And she likes you," Jimin says firmly. "Not Spider-Man. Well, maybe Spider-Man too, but she doesn't know that yet. She likes awkward, rambling, snack-bringing you."

"How do you know?"

"Because," Taehyung says patiently, "girls don't usually let guys they're not into grind against them in library closets."

"Can we please stop bringing that up?"

"No, because it's important," Jimin insists. "She initiated that. She guided your hands. She told you it was okay. That means she's attracted to you."

Jungkook swallows hard, his face heating up at the memory. "But what if... what if she expects me to know what I'm doing now?"

"Then be honest," Taehyung says simply. "Tell her you're nervous. Tell her you want her to show you what she likes."

"Girls love that shit," Jimin adds. "Being all vulnerable and asking for guidance? That's hot."

"Really?" Jungkook looks between them skeptically.

"Really," they say in unison.

"Plus," Taehyung continues, "she already knows you're inexperienced. And she still wants you there. That means something."

Jungkook chews on his bottom lip nervously. "Okay, but... what if... what if I..." He trails off, face burning.

"What if you what?"

"What if I... finish too fast again?" The last words come out as barely a whisper.

"Then you use your mouth," Jimin says matter-of-factly.

Jungkook chokes on air. "My what?"

"Your mouth," Taehyung repeats calmly. "Seriously, learn to eat pussy. It's like, the number one life skill."

"Oh my god." Jungkook falls backward onto the bed, covering his face with both hands. "I can't believe we're having this conversation."

"Better us than you figuring it out on your own," Jimin points out. "Now sit up. This is important."

"I don't want to."

"Jungkook."

"No."

"Fine," Taehyung sighs. "Then we'll just let you go in blind and probably accidentally bite her cl—"

"OKAY!" Jungkook bolts upright. "Okay, I'm listening. Just... please be less graphic."

"No can do," Jimin says cheerfully. "This is detailed instruction time. Now, the most important thing to remember is—"

What follows is possibly the most mortifying yet educational thirty minutes of Jungkook's life. His friends, for all their teasing, are actually... helpful. They explain things clearly, answer his (extremely embarrassing) questions without judgment, and even draw diagrams that make him want to die but also kind of make sense.

"And remember," Taehyung says finally, "it's okay to laugh if something awkward happens. Sex isn't like porn. It's messy and weird sometimes."

"And communication is key," Jimin adds. "If you're not sure about something, ask. If something feels good, say so. If something doesn't, speak up."

Jungkook nods slowly, processing everything. "Okay. Yeah. I can... I can do that."

"And for fuck's sake," Taehyung says, "breathe. You look like you're about to pass out."

"I might," Jungkook admits weakly. "This is... a lot."

"It is," Jimin agrees, patting his knee. "But you've got this. And hey, maybe nothing will happen tonight. Maybe she really does just want to eat jajjangmyeon and talk."

"Right," Jungkook says, though his voice wavers slightly. "Just... normal hanging out."

"But if something does happen," Taehyung adds with a grin, "at least now you know where the clit is."

"I hate you both so much."

"You love us," Jimin corrects. "Now, about those clothes..."

Jungkook flops back onto the bed with another groan, but this time, it's less panicked and more resigned. Because yeah, okay, maybe his friends are right. Maybe this won't be a complete disaster.

Maybe.

Probably.

Oh god, he's going to throw up.

"Stop spiraling," Taehyung says immediately. "I can see you doing it."

"I'm not spiraling!" Jungkook protests. "I'm just... mentally preparing."

"For what? The worst possible scenario?"

"Yes!"

"Which is?" Jimin prompts.

"I don't know! Everything? What if I trip and break her lamp? What if I say something stupid? What if I accidentally web her ceiling fan? What if—"

"Okay, new rule," Taehyung interrupts. "No spider powers in the bedroom unless explicitly discussed beforehand."

"Oh my god."

"He's right though," Jimin says thoughtfully. "Save the web-shooting for later. That's like, advanced kink territory."

"I'm leaving," Jungkook announces for the hundredth time. "I'm actually leaving this time."

"No, you're not," they say in unison, each grabbing one of his arms to keep him in place.

"We still haven't picked out your outfit," Taehyung reminds him.

"Or talked about protection," Jimin adds.

"Or—"

"Fine!" Jungkook throws his hands up in defeat. "Fine. Just... please stop saying 'web-shooting' in relation to... that."

His friends exchange matching grins that make him immediately regret everything.

"No promises," they say together.

Jungkook screams into a pillow.

The doorbell rings, loud and obnoxious, startling you out of your focus.

You pause mid-sentence, fingers hovering over your laptop's keyboard as you glance toward the door. When did the bell get so loud? It's like it's mocking you for forgetting—or pretending to forget—that you invited him over.

You sigh, pulling off your headphones and letting them rest around your neck as you shuffle toward the door.

Your bunny slippers scuff softly against the floor, and you tug at the hem of your tank top absentmindedly. You're not exactly dressed to impress—grey sweats, a loose tank top, hair probably a mess—but whatever. It's your apartment. Comfort trumps everything else.

(Though a small voice in your head reminds you that maybe you should've put on something less... revealing. Something that doesn't show quite so much skin, doesn't blur the lines between sunbae and…)

You open the door, and there he is.

Jeon Jungkook, standing in the hallway in his own grey sweats and an oversized hoodie, looking like he just stepped out of a cozy loungewear ad. His hair is slightly damp, curling at the ends like he'd rushed to shower before coming over. He's holding a plastic bag in one hand, and his other is shoved awkwardly into his pocket. For some reason, he's staring off to the side, like he's too nervous to look directly at the door.

But then his gaze shifts—quickly, immediately—and lands on you. And just like that, it's like all the tension in his body melts away. His shoulders drop slightly, and there's this soft little exhale that escapes him as his lips curve into a sheepish smile. The pure relief in his expression makes your stomach twist with guilt.

"Brought jajjangmyon as you requested, noona," he says, holding up the bag like it's some kind of peace offering.

The way he says "noona," all shy and reverent like it's some sacred title only meant for you—it shouldn't make your chest feel warm, but it does. It really shouldn't.

You bite back both a smile and the urge to tell him to go home, to forget about whatever this thing between you is becoming. Instead, you step aside to let him in, watching as he hesitates for half a second before shuffling past you into the apartment, his sneakers squeaking softly against the floor.

You close the door behind him and turn to find him standing awkwardly near the entrance, clutching the bag like it's a lifeline. His eyes dart around your apartment—taking in the cluttered desk with your laptop still open, the half-empty mug of coffee on the table, the blanket draped over the back of your couch—but they always seem to come back to you.

Like he can't help himself, like you're some kind of magnet he can't resist.

And then there's this moment—a brief flicker—where his gaze lowers slightly, catching on your tank top and sweats. It's subtle, almost imperceptible, but you notice it anyway. The way his jaw tightens just a fraction before he quickly looks away again, like he's afraid of being caught staring.

It reminds you too much of how he looked in that closet, all desperate want and nervous energy.

He clears his throat. "Uh... nice place."

You snort softly, trying to ignore the way your skin prickles under his gaze. "It's a mess."

"It's cozy," he says earnestly, and when he looks at you again, there's something warm in his eyes.

Something that makes you want to push him away before you do something stupid like pull him closer.

You shake off the feeling and motion for him to follow you further inside.

"C'mon," you say over your shoulder as you walk toward your desk, needing distance. "I need some help with something."

"With what?" he asks immediately, trailing after you like an obedient puppy.

Always so eager to please, so ready to do anything you ask. It would be easier if he wasn't so genuine about it.

You glance back at him briefly and smirk, falling back on teasing because it's safer than acknowledging whatever happened. "Carrying all this food to my desk."

His lips twitch upward into another sheepish smile as he holds up the bag again. "I can do that."

Of course he can.

You roll your eyes but don't say anything else as you plop back down into your chair and gesture for him to set everything on the table beside your laptop. You need to focus on something—anything—other than how domestic this feels, how naturally he fits into your space.

As he unpacks the containers of jajjangmyon with meticulous care—like each one is some kind of precious artifact—you can't help but watch him out of the corner of your eye. There's something about seeing him here—in your space—that feels... different.

Dangerous.

Like this is some kind of alternate universe where Jeon Jungkook isn't just that awkward freshman who follows you around campus with snacks and stammered compliments but someone who actually belongs here.

It's stupid. You know it is. But still.

"You didn't have to bring all this," you say finally, breaking the silence as he sets down a pair of chopsticks beside one of the containers. Your voice comes out sharper than intended, an edge of defensiveness creeping in.

"You asked for it," he replies simply, glancing up at you with those wide doe eyes of his.

Always so earnest, so sincere. It makes something in your chest ache.

"I was joking."

"I know." He smiles softly—just barely—but there's something about it that makes your guilt surge.

“Then why’d you bring it?”

“Because…” He hesitates for half a second before shrugging lightly. “Because I wanted to.”

There's something so simple—so pure—about his answer that it catches you off guard for a moment. You don't know what to say to that, so instead, you just grab one of the containers and pop it open with a quiet "thanks," trying to ignore how your hands shake slightly.

He sits down across from you without being asked—like this is normal now—and starts unpacking his own food while sneaking occasional glances at you when he thinks you're not looking. Each glance feels like a weight on your conscience, reminding you how badly you're handling this whole situation.

The silence stretches between you as you both eat, broken only by the soft clicking of chopsticks against containers.

Something’s... off.

Jungkook's usually endless chatter is conspicuously absent, replaced by this heavy quiet that makes your skin crawl.

You glance up from your food to find him staring intently at his container, his fingers fidgeting with the chopsticks like he's trying to work up the courage to say something.

There's a tension in his shoulders that wasn't there before, a nervousness that reminds you too much of how he looked in that closet, and—

Oh.

Oh.

The guilt hits you like a slap on the fucking face.

Because what kind of sunbae are you? Getting off on making your hoobae squirm? Letting him grind against you until he came in his pants? Who even are you? Was it worth the power trip?

God, you’re insane. You are out of your depth. You are disgusting.

And now he's sitting here, all quiet and nervous, probably thinking about it too, probably wondering if you're going to acknowledge it or pretend it never happened and—

Something ugly and defensive rises in your chest, a need to push him away before he gets too close. Before you can fuck this up any more than you already have.

"So," you start, your voice deliberately casual as you type random nonsense just to look busy. Your fingers move across the keyboard without purpose, just needing something to focus on besides the way he keeps sneaking glances at you. "Did you tell your friends about our little encounter?"

Jungkook chokes on his noodles, face immediately flushing red. "I—what?"

"You know," you continue, still not looking at him because you can't handle those doe eyes right now. "The closet thing. Did you brag about it? Tell all your freshman friends how you got felt up by a senior?"

God, you sound cruel even to your own ears. But it's better this way, right? Better to push him away now before this gets even more complicated. Before you let yourself get used to having him in your space, all soft smiles and eager eyes.

"N-no!" he stammers, sounding horrified. "I wouldn't—I mean, I did tell Jimin-hyung and Tae-hyung, but—"

"Of course you did," you cut him off with a sharp laugh that doesn't sound like you at all. "Bet they were impressed, huh? Their baby Jungkookie getting action in the library?"

His breath hitches audibly, and you hate how the sound makes your chest tight. You're doing this for his own good, you remind yourself. He deserves better than some senior who gets off on making him cry.

"It wasn't like that," he says quietly, and you can hear the hurt in his voice. "I just... I needed advice—"

"Advice?" You finally look at him, raising an eyebrow even as your nails dig into your palms. "What kind of advice? How to last longer than three minutes?"

The moment the words leave your mouth, you see him physically flinch. His eyes go wide, glassy with unshed tears, and something in your chest fractures.

You're the worst. The absolute worst.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, voice cracking. "I didn't mean to—I know I was pathetic—"

"Stop," you say immediately, panic rising in your throat because you can see it coming—the way his lips tremble, the way he's looking at you with such raw emotion.

Don't say it. Please don't say it.

But he's already spiraling, words tumbling out between hiccupping breaths: "I know I'm inexperienced and awkward and probably really bad at everything, but I—I really like you, noona, and I—"

"What's next?" You spit out, desperate to stop the confession you don't deserve, nails drawing blood from your palms now. "Gonna cry? Beg? Whimper noona until I take pity on you?" A harsh laugh scrapes your throat. "What would you even do if I told you to get on your knees right now?"

Silence.

You snort, turning back to your laptop, relief flooding through you because finally, finally he's going to realize what a terrible person you are and—

Fabric rustles. The soft thud of denim hitting floorboards. Your fingers freeze over the keyboard.

He kneels between your spread legs, palms on his thighs. The overhead light catches the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

"Okay."

Your pulse thunders. "Okay what?"

"However you want me." His voice quivers but doesn't break. "However you need."

The cursor blinks mockingly on screen. You suddenly can't remember your Wi-Fi password. Your thesis topic. Your own name.

"What are you doing?" Your voice comes out strangled.

"You asked," he whispers, voice trembling but determined. "If I would get on my knees for you, noona."

"I was being cruel," you say quickly, but your mouth feels dry. "I was trying to hurt you."

"I know." His hands shake where they rest on his thighs, tears tracking down his cheeks. "But I'd still... I'd still do anything. Even if you're just being mean. Even if you're trying to push me away."

Your breath catches. "Jungkook—"

"I bought them," he blurts out suddenly, face burning red. "The condoms. Even though—even though you said you were joking. I just... just in case. Because I wanted—I wanted to be ready if you..." He hiccups, more tears spilling over. "If you ever actually wanted me."

The guilt chokes you. "Stop it."

"Please don't push me away," he begs, voice cracking as he shifts closer, forehead pressing against your knee. "I know I'm pathetic. I know I'm just some stupid freshman who came in his pants the first time you touched him, but I—I can't stop thinking about you. About how good you made me feel. About how much I want to make you feel good too."

You stare at him, caught off guard by his desperate honesty. "You don't know what you want."

"I do," he insists, looking up at you through wet lashes. "I think about you all the time. When I'm alone, I—" He cuts himself off with a hiccup, shame coloring his cheeks. "I touch myself thinking about your hands. Your voice. How you said I was good for you."

A broken noise escapes you—something between a laugh and a sob. "Jungkook, we can't—"

"I'll be better," he promises frantically, hands hovering near your thighs like he's afraid to touch. "I'll last longer. I'll learn how to... how to please you properly. Just please don't—don't regret what happened. Don't hate me for wanting you so much."

You drop your head into your hands, overwhelmed by his raw honesty. He's still crying, shoulders shaking with barely suppressed sobs as he kneels before you like some kind of devoted supplicant.

"I practiced," he confesses in a broken whisper, and you can hear how much it costs him to admit this. "After... after the closet. Trying to—to last longer. Because I was so embarrassed about... about how fast I..." He hiccups, pressing his burning face against your knee. "Jimin-hyung and Tae-hyung, they tried to help. Gave me advice. Told me how to... how to be good for you."

"Jesus, Jungkook," you breathe, because what are you supposed to say to that?

"I know it's stupid," he rushes out, words tumbling over each other between hiccups. "I know you probably think I'm just some dumb kid with a crush, but it's more than that. You make me feel... you make me feel like I could be good enough. Like maybe being inexperienced isn't... isn't the worst thing in the world."

Your fingers find their way into his hair without permission, and the broken sound he makes at the contact nearly kills you. He leans into your touch like he's starving for it, tears still flowing freely.

"When you touched me," he continues, voice barely above a whisper, "in the closet... it was the first time anyone ever... and you were so gentle. So patient. Even though I was pathetic and came too fast and probably squeezed your breast too hard—"

"Stop calling yourself pathetic," you interrupt, tugging gently at his hair until he looks up at you. His face is a mess of tears and vulnerability, and something in your chest breaks. "God, Jungkook. You weren't pathetic. You were adorable."

He makes this wounded sound, like your words physically hurt him. "But I—I ruined it. Made it weird. Got too desperate and needy and—"

"That's what made it beautiful," you admit softly, thumbs brushing away his tears. "How honest you were. How much you wanted it. Wanted me."

His breath hitches, fresh tears spilling over. "I still do," he whispers. "Want you. So much it hurts sometimes. Even if you're being mean, even if you're trying to push me away... I just want to be close to you."

Your hands tremble slightly as you cup his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. His skin is feverish under your palms, tears still flowing freely as he looks up at you with those devastating doe eyes.

"I'm sorry," you murmur, watching as he blinks in confusion. "For being cruel earlier. I just... I felt so guilty. About taking advantage of you. About wanting you when I shouldn't."

"You weren't," he says immediately, desperately. "Taking advantage. I wanted it so bad, noona. Still want it. Want anything you'll give me." His voice cracks on another hiccup. "Even if—even if it's just this. Just letting me be close to you."

"Jungkook..." Your thumbs brush away fresh tears, but they're quickly replaced by more.

"I know I'm not good enough," words spilling out between quiet sobs. "Know I should probably be with someone my own age. Someone who won't have to teach me everything. But I—I want it to be you. Want you to show me how to... how to make you feel good. How to be what you need."

Your heart clenches at his words, at how earnestly he offers himself up to you.

“Baby," the endearment slips out again, making him shudder. "You don't have to try so hard."

"I want to," he insists, hands finally settling on your thighs, grip trembling but determined. "Want to learn everything. How to touch you. How to... how to use my mouth. How to make you cum. Please, noona."

His voice breaks on the honorific, more tears spilling down his cheeks.

"I like you so much. So—so much it hurts. Can't focus in class because I keep thinking about you. Can't sleep because I keep remembering how you touched me, how you looked at me like I wasn't just some stupid freshman."

"Jungkook—"

"Please don't tell me to stay away," he chokes out, panic clear in his voice. "I know I should. Know it's wrong because you're my sunbae and I'm just—just me, but I can't. I can't." His fingers dig into your thighs desperately. "I'll do anything. Be anything you want. Just please don't push me away."

Your heart aches at how broken he sounds, at the raw desperation in his voice. "Baby..."

"I dream about you," he confesses in a rush, like he's afraid you'll stop him. "About—about your hands. Your voice. The way you said I was good for you. Nobody's ever—nobody's made me feel like that before. Like I’m good enough. Just Jungkook.”

He's rambling now, words tumbling out between hiccups and sobs. "I know I'm probably terrible at everything. Know I should've lasted longer, should've touched you better, should've—should've been more in control but I couldn't. Can't think straight when you look at me like that. When you call me 'baby' and touch my hair and—"

You can't take it anymore. Can't handle how earnest he is, how desperately he's trying to convince you not to reject him. Your hands slide from his tear-stained cheeks into his hair, and he makes this broken little sound that goes straight to your heart.

"Noona," he whimpers, looking up at you through wet lashes. "Please."

You lean down, your heart thundering in your chest as you press your lips to his.

It's soft at first—tender, careful, like you're afraid he might shatter if you push too hard. His lips are warm and slightly salty from tears, trembling against yours as he makes this tiny, desperate sound in the back of his throat.

When his mouth parts on a shaky exhale, you can't help but deepen the kiss. Your tongue slides against his, and the way he gasps—soft and surprised, like he can't believe this is happening—makes heat pool in your stomach. His hands clench against your thighs, fingers trembling with nervous energy as he tries to match your rhythm.

God, he's so fucking precious. So earnest in the way he responds, letting you guide him with gentle pressure and encouraging hums. When you thread your fingers through his hair, he whimpers into your mouth, tears still tracking down his cheeks even as he kisses you back with clumsy enthusiasm.

You press harder, something possessive and hungry unfurling in your chest at how pliant he is, how desperately he tries to please you. Your other hand cups his jaw, tilting his head to deepen the kiss further, and he just melts for you. His mouth is sweet and eager, and you want to fucking devour him—want to swallow every little hiccupping sob and breathy moan he makes.

You shouldn't want this. Shouldn't want him. He's your hoobae, for fuck's sake—this eager, crying freshman who looks at you like you hung the moon. But the way he trembles under your touch, the way he gives himself over so completely... it makes you want to wreck him. To take him apart piece by piece until he's sobbing for an entirely different reason.

When you finally pull back, he chases your lips with a broken whine that goes straight to your core. His eyes flutter open, glazed and desperate, tears still clinging to his lashes like diamonds.

"Noona," he breathes, and his voice is wrecked—all raw and pleading in a way that makes you want to kiss him stupid again.

You shouldn't.

You really, really shouldn't.

But god help you, you do.

Jungkook's brain is absolutely short-circuiting.

Like, full system failure, blue screen of death, please-restart-your-computer levels of malfunction.

Because this? This can't be real. This has to be some kind of fever dream or maybe he hit his head on the way over here because there's no way—absolutely no fucking way—that you just kissed him.

But you did. You actually did. Your lips were on his, soft and warm and real, and now he's kneeling here like an idiot, staring up at you with what he's sure is the most pathetic expression ever because holy fuck.

He hadn't expected any of this. Really. After the whole teasing thing earlier (and the mortifying sex ed session with Taehyung and Jimin), he'd convinced himself nothing would happen. That's why he wore his comfy clothes—his safe clothes—even though yeah, okay, maybe he did buy condoms. Just in case. Because he's pathetic and hopeful and maybe a tiny part of him wanted to believe...

But no. He was fine with just bringing jajjangmyon. More than fine. He would've been happy just sitting here, watching you work, existing in the same space as you. That would've been enough.

Then you started pushing him away, and he just... broke. Started crying like some kind of oversized baby because apparently that's who he is now—someone who sobs at the first sign of rejection.

God, he's such a mess. Such an absolute disaster of a human being.

He apologized (between hiccups and tears because of course he did), but then you apologized too, and then—and then—you kissed him. You actually kissed him. With your mouth. On his mouth. While he was crying. Which should be embarrassing (it is embarrassing), but he can't even care because holy shit, you kissed him.

And now you're looking at him with this expression he can't quite read, your hands cradling his face like he's something precious instead of just some awkward freshman who can't keep his emotions in check.

"Stand up," you murmur, thumbs brushing away the remnants of his tears.

He scrambles to obey, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process because apparently his body has forgotten how legs work. His knees protest after kneeling for so long, and he sways slightly, hands hovering awkwardly at his sides because he doesn't know what to do with them.

Should he touch you? Is he allowed to touch you? What are the rules here? Is there a manual for this? Why didn't Taehyung and Jimin cover proper post-crying makeout etiquette in their weird sex ed lesson?

"Breathe," you remind him softly, and oh—right. That's a thing he should probably be doing.

He takes a shaky breath, then another, trying to calm his racing heart as you look up at him with those eyes that make him feel like he's simultaneously floating and drowning.

This is real. This is actually happening. Somehow, his pathetic, crying, disaster self has achieved... something. He's not sure what exactly, but something.

And he really, really hopes he doesn't fuck it up.

His tears haven't quite stopped—because of course they haven't, he's a walking emotional disaster—when you look up at him from your chair. His breath catches in his throat, expecting... well, he doesn't know what he's expecting. More kissing maybe? You to stand up? To tell him to stop being such a crybaby?

What he's definitely not expecting is for you to slide out of your chair and onto your knees in front of him.

His brain short-circuits completely when your hands find his hips, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his sweats. A gasp escapes him—embarrassingly high-pitched and needy—because holy fuck, are you—is this—what is happening?

You look up at him through your lashes, and his heart actually stops. "Is this okay?" you ask softly, thumbs rubbing circles against his hipbones through the fabric.

He nods so fast he probably gives himself whiplash, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks because he can't seem to get his body under control. Words fail him entirely—his vocabulary reduced to a series of choked sounds as you hook your fingers into the waistband of both his sweats and boxers.

Oh god.

Oh fuck.

This is actually happening. This is—

The fabric slides down his thighs, and Jungkook wants to die immediately because his dick is already hard. Like, embarrassingly hard. Because apparently his body is determined to humiliate him at every possible opportunity today.

A strangled whimper escapes him as cool air hits his exposed skin. His hands flutter uselessly at his sides, trembling with the effort not to cover himself as more tears track down his burning cheeks.

He's never felt more exposed in his life—standing here with his pants around his thighs, dick straining eagerly toward you like some kind of desperate compass pointing true north.

God, could he be any more obvious? Any more pathetic?

"I'm sorry," he chokes out, voice cracking. "I—it just—you just—"

“You’re okay.”

Your words are so gentle, so soothing, that it only makes Jungkook cry harder. Because how can you be this understanding? This tender with someone like him who can't even stop sobbing long enough to form coherent sentences?

But then—oh god—your thumb brushes against the underside of his cock, a slow, deliberate stroke from tip to base that makes his entire body shudder. And when you squeeze softly, testing, exploring? His knees nearly buckle.

He watches, transfixed, as your hand glides up and down his length with careful precision. Slow, so, so slow. The movement is hypnotic, making his breath catch on every upstroke, forcing tiny whimpers past his lips that he tries desperately to muffle behind his hand.

"Eyes on me," you command softly, and his gaze snaps to yours immediately.

His chest heaves with hiccupping sobs, tears still falling freely as he tries to process that this is real—that you're actually touching him, that this isn't just another fevered fantasy. His free hand hovers awkwardly in the air, unsure where it's allowed to land.

You chuckle—a warm, tender sound that makes his heart flip—and murmur, "Don't hold back those pretty sounds, baby. And here..." You guide his hovering hand to your hair. "Hold onto me if you need support."

The permission—both to touch and to be vocal—makes him whimper pathetically. His fingers thread shakily through your hair, careful and reverent, like he still can't quite believe he's allowed this.

"That's it," you encourage softly. "Just like that."

He can barely breathe as you maintain eye contact, your hand working him in slow, deliberate strokes that make his thighs tremble. Every touch feels electric—too much and not enough all at once.

"I'm s-sorry," he chokes out between sobs, fingers tightening reflexively in your hair. "For the—hic—crying, I can't—hic—stop—"

"Shh," you soothe, your free hand stroking his hip. "You're being so good for me."

The praise makes him whimper, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. His cock twitches in your grip, already leaking precum, and he feels his face burn hotter with embarrassment.

"Noona," he whines, voice cracking. "I'm—hic—I'm already so—"

"I know, baby," you murmur, and then your tongue flicks out to taste the bead of precum at his tip.

The noise he makes is absolutely wrecked—somewhere between a sob and a moan. His hips jerk forward instinctively before he catches himself, mortified.

"S-sorry! I didn't mean to—hic—to—"

"It's okay," you assure him, looking up through your lashes. "You can move if you need to."

He shakes his head frantically, still hiccupping. "Don't wanna—hic—hurt you—"

Your response is to take him into your mouth properly, and Jungkook's entire world narrows to the welcoming heat of your tongue sliding against his length. His legs shake so hard he has to grip your hair tighter just to stay upright.

"Oh god," he sobs, watching through tear-blurred vision as you take him deeper. "Oh fuck, noona, I can't—hic—it's too much—"

You hum around him in response, and the vibration makes his whole body shudder. He's babbling now, unable to stop the stream of desperate praise and broken pleas falling from his lips between hiccups.

"So good," he whimpers, "you're so—hic—perfect, I can't—please—hic—noona—"

Jungkook’s brain is mush. Absolute, scrambled, incoherent mush.

Because he’s seen porn—obviously he’s seen porn, military barracks aren’t exactly monasteries—but nothing could’ve prepared him for the reality of your mouth on him. The heat, the suction, the way your tongue swirls just beneath his tip every time you pull back—it’s obscene.

He’s pretty sure he’s hallucinating. Or dying. Or both.

His hips jerk forward involuntarily, a choked sob tearing from his throat as you take him deeper.

“N-noona—hic—’m sorry, I can’t—hic—can’t hold—”

You pull off with a filthy pop, and he nearly collapses right there.

But then you’re looking up at him, lips glistening, and saying the words that unravel him completely: “It’s okay, Jungkook-ah. Noona wants to taste you.”

His vision whites out for a second. You want to taste him. Want him. His pathetic, trembling, overeager self. 

The thought alone makes his cock twitch desperately, more precum beading at the tip as he fights the urge to just—

"Please," he chokes out between hiccups, his filter completely gone. "Can I—hic—down your throat? Please, noona, I've wanted—hic—for so long—"

Oh god. Oh fuck. Did he really just say that out loud?

Taehyung and Jimin's voices echo in his head—focus on her comfort, ask what she wants, don't be selfish—but his horny brain has completely taken over, reducing him to this desperate, begging mess.

"I'm s-sorry," he stammers immediately, mortified tears streaming down his face. "That was—hic—so stupid, I shouldn't have—you don't have to—"

Then you swallow him back down, all the way to the hilt, and his brain restarts completely.

"F-fuck—hic—noona—" His voice breaks as his orgasm builds, violent and overwhelming. His grip on your hair tightens, probably painful (god, he's the worst, he's so fucking inconsiderate, he should let go, should—). "I'm c-cumming—hic—'m so sorry, I'm—hic—ah—!"

He tries to pull back, he really does, but you hold him in place, humming around him like this is exactly what you wanted.

His vision blurs with tears as he comes harder than he ever has in his life, a broken groan tearing from his throat that would normally send him into a spiral of embarrassment.

Stupid stupid stupid, his brain chants as he shakes through the aftershocks. So fucking selfish. So desperate. She probably thinks you're disgusting. Probably hates you now. Probably—

But then you're looking up at him through your lashes, swallowing deliberately, and his spiral breaks at the soft, approving sound you make. Like this is good.

Like he's good.

Your laugh—warm and tender—cuts through his panic as you pull off to press a gentle kiss to his sensitive tip.

"That's exactly what I wanted," you murmur, and his heart stops completely.

God help him.

Jungkook wipes at his tears with the back of his wrist, sniffling softly as he tries to gather what's left of his courage. His voice is still shaky, still thick with tears, but there's a determination in it that surprises even him:

"Please let me—hic—eat you out," he manages, his face burning but his gaze steady. "Want to make you feel good too. You've done it twice for me now, it's not—it's not fair."

"Jungkook," you start gently, "I'm fine, you don't owe me—"

"It's not about owing," he interrupts, surprising himself with his boldness. His hands tremble, but his voice stays firm despite the lingering hiccups. "It's not fair that—hic—that you get to taste me and I don't get to taste you."

The words come out needier than he intended, more desperate, and he feels his face heat further. But he doesn't take them back. Can't take them back. Not when he's wanted this for so long—wanted to know what you taste like, what sounds you'd make, if you'd guide him with your hands in his hair like you did in the closet.

"Please, noona," he whispers, eyes wide and earnest despite the tears still clinging to his lashes. "Let me try? I—hic—I'll do whatever you tell me to. I'll be good, I promise."

Your eyebrows shoot up, surprise evident on your face, and Jungkook realizes you'd misunderstood—thought he meant it wasn't fair to you, when really... god, how could he explain that getting to taste you would be the biggest privilege of his life?

A soft chuckle escapes you, warm and amused. "Since when are you so bold, young mister?"

His face burns hotter, but he doesn't back down. Can't back down. Not when the thought of tasting you is making his head spin with want.

"Since—hic—since you let me have something I never thought I'd get," he admits, voice wavering but sincere. "And now I just... want more."

The last word comes out embarrassingly needy, but he's beyond caring at this point.

"More?" you echo, that amused smile still playing at your lips.

"Everything," he breathes, the word tumbling out before he can stop it. "Anything you'll give me. Please, noona. I just—I want to know what you taste like. Want to make you feel good like you made me feel good. Want to—hic—learn how to please you properly."

Your expression softens at his earnestness, at how desperately he's trying to convey just how much he wants this—wants you.

"You really want to taste me that badly?" you ask, standing up and pushing back the strands of hair falling in front of his eyes.

He nods frantically, leaning into your touch like a touch-starved kitten. "More than—hic—anything. Please?"

The way he says 'please'—all breathy and desperate—makes something in your expression shift. Your thumb brushes across his bottom lip, and he parts them instinctively, wanting to show you just how eager he is to learn.

"Such a good boy," you murmur, and his whole body shudders at the praise. "Always so polite when you beg."

Your words go straight to his dick, which—obviously—twitches back to life because apparently it has absolutely no shame when it comes to you. Zero self-control. None. Especially when you say things like "good boy" in that voice that makes his whole body feel like it's on fire.

"Oh, hi again," you chuckle, glancing down at his rapidly hardening length.

Something possesses him then—maybe it's the lingering high from his orgasm, or maybe it's just the way you're looking at him like he's actually worthy of your attention—but his hands move on their own, fingers trembling slightly as they cradle your jaw. He guides your face back up, wanting to see your eyes, needing to see them.

Then he's leaning down, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss so soft it makes his chest ache.

When he pulls back, just enough to meet your gaze, his voice comes out as barely more than a whisper:

"Can I please, then?"

You nod with a smirk, and Jungkook's entire nervous system goes into overdrive.

Okay. Stay calm. Everyone stay fucking calm. His brain is firing signals in every direction like a broken switchboard—hey blood cells, maybe focus on making his tongue work instead of rushing to his dick again? Thanks.

You help him pull his sweats and briefs back up (and he tries very hard not to combust at how domestic that feels), then grab his wrist. His heart leaps into his throat as you lead him through your apartment, past the living room and—oh.

Oh.

That's... that's definitely your bedroom.

His eyes dart everywhere at once, trying to memorize every detail like he's studying for the most important test of his life.

There's a small plant on your windowsill (note to self: you like greenery), some photos on the wall (maybe he could get you a nice frame?), books scattered on your nightstand (he should ask what genres you—)

His mental catalog screeches to a halt as you sit on the edge of your bed, leaning back on your palms and looking up at him with that expression that makes his knees weak. Your eyes flick meaningfully to your sweats, and then:

"Take them off for me, Jungkook-ah?"

He actually chokes on his own spit, because what the fuck. How do you do that? How do you make simple requests sound like commands that make him want to drop to his knees and pledge eternal devotion?

Jungkook crouches down in front of you, his fingers trembling as they find the waistband of your sweats.

Oh god. Oh god. Is this happening? This is happening. He feels like he’s going to be sick. Or pass out. Or maybe combust entirely. His dick is already twitching against his thigh, and he’s genuinely terrified he might actually cum just from looking at you.

He swallows hard, trying to steady himself as he pushes the fabric down, watching with wide, reverent eyes as your sweats slide over your hips and down your legs. It feels surreal—like he’s in some kind of dream sequence or shooting a luxury lingerie ad. The way the fabric clings to your skin, catching briefly on your foot before sliding free under his careful fingers—it’s too much.

Too elegant. Too perfect.

And then they’re off, and he’s back on his knees, staring at you like you’re a goddess descended from the heavens. His gaze trails up your legs, over the soft curve of your thighs, until it lands on the black panties that cling to you in a way that makes his mouth salivate.

Oh god oh god oh god. He’s going to die. He’s going to die right here on your bedroom floor because there’s no way his body can handle this level of perfection.

But then—your fingertip touches his chin, tilting his face upward until he meets your gaze. His breath catches as you make a small beckoning motion with your finger, and he stumbles forward without hesitation, letting you guide him.

"You should start with kisses," you murmur softly, your voice low and inviting. "Come here."

His breath hitches audibly as you part your lips slightly, leaning back just enough to wait for him. He scrambles up a little higher, hands planting themselves awkwardly beside your thighs for balance as he leans in.

His lips meet yours again—soft at first, hesitant—but then you hum against his mouth, and it’s like something inside him snaps. His hands grip the bedspread tightly as he kisses you deeper, pouring every ounce of devotion and desperation into the press of his lips against yours.

Because this? This is everything. You’re everything. And he wants—no, needs—to show you just how much he means that.

Your lips move against his, slow and deliberate, guiding him like you’re teaching him a language he’s desperate to learn. Jungkook tries to follow your lead, tries to match the way your mouth parts just slightly, the way your tongue brushes against his bottom lip before retreating. He’s clumsy—he knows he is—but you don’t seem to mind. Every time he falters, you hum softly, tilting your head to show him how to angle his better, how to deepen the kiss without rushing.

It’s intoxicating. The way you taste, the way you feel—like you’re pouring all your patience and care into this one moment. He can barely keep up, his breaths coming in short, shaky bursts as his hands grip the bedspread tighter, knuckles white with the effort of not touching you anywhere else.

“Slower,” you murmur against his lips, and he nods frantically, trying to remember how to breathe as he adjusts his pace. Your tongue slides against his again—not too much, just enough—and it sends a shiver down his spine so intense he nearly collapses onto you.

He pulls back slightly, gasping for air as his chest heaves. His gaze flickers up to meet yours for a split second before snapping downward—and that’s when he sees it.

Your tank top has shifted slightly in all the movement, and now your nipples are peaked against the fabric, straining in a way that makes his brain completely shut down.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

He’s going to cum in five seconds if he doesn’t look away—if he doesn’t—

“Jungkook,” your voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts like a lifeline, and then your hands are cradling his face again, forcing him to look back up at you. Your thumbs brush gently over his cheeks as you smile softly.

“Take it off for me,” you say simply, nodding toward your tank top.

His breath catches audibly as his hands twitch at his sides.

"I—I—” Words fail him entirely because what the fuck is happening? Is this real? Are you actually asking him to—

“Go on,” you encourage gently, your voice steady and patient in a way that makes him melt. “You can do it.”

He swallows hard and nods shakily, his trembling hands moving toward the hem of your tank top like it’s some sacred artifact.

He almost fumbles the hem of your tank top. He swallows hard, his throat dry as he grips the fabric and starts to lift it, moving slowly, reverently, like he’s unwrapping the most precious gift in existence. The soft material slides up over your stomach, then your ribs, and then—oh god—your breasts.

He freezes for a moment, tank top bunched awkwardly in his hands as his gaze locks onto you.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

They’re perfect.

Absolutely fucking perfect.

Round and soft and exactly how he remembers them from the closet incident—how they felt in his hands, how they fit so perfectly against his palms like they were made for him. He’s revisited that moment in his head a hundred times since it happened, but seeing them now? Bare and right in front of him? It’s so much better than anything his imagination could’ve conjured.

His mouth goes dry as his eyes trace every curve, every detail. The way your nipples are peaked just slightly, the way your chest rises and falls with each breath—it’s mesmerizing. He feels like he should say something, do something, but all he can do is stare like a fucking idiot.

“Jungkook,” you chuckle softly, breaking the silence after what feels like an eternity. “Go on.”

Your voice snaps him out of his trance, and he realizes with a jolt that he’s still holding your tank top halfway up your body like some kind of moron. His face flushes bright red as he scrambles to pull it the rest of the way off, nearly tangling it in your hair before finally tossing it aside.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out immediately, his voice cracking as he looks back at you with wide, panicked eyes. “I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t trying to—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt gently, reaching out to cup his cheek again. “It’s okay.”

He nods frantically, still blushing furiously as his gaze flickers downward again—just for a second—before snapping back up to meet yours.

“You’re just—you’re so—” He cuts himself off with a strangled noise because there aren’t words for what you are.

Perfect doesn’t even begin to cover it.

You tap one of his hands where it's gripping the bedspread, and his gaze follows the movement before understanding clicks.

Oh.

You want his hand.

You're reaching for his hand and—oh fuck—pressing it against your breast.

He swallows thickly as his palm makes contact with soft, warm skin. It's exactly as perfect as he remembers from the closet, maybe even better because now he can actually see what he's touching.

His hand twitches automatically, squeezing slightly, and you hiss.

"Sorry!" he yelps immediately, trying to pull back, but you just chuckle and hold his hand in place.

"It's okay," you murmur, your voice gentle but firm. "Don't grab. You need to knead." Your fingers guide his, showing him how to massage properly. "And brush your thumb... here." You move his thumb to your nipple, and the soft sigh that escapes your lips makes his cock twitch violently against his thigh.

Fuck, that was hot. That was so fucking hot he might actually die.

"Roll it between your thumb and forefinger," you instruct softly, "and do the same with the other one."

Okay. Okay, he can do this. This is fine. This is totally fine. He's just touching the most perfect breasts in existence while trying not to cum in his pants. Again. No pressure.

His other hand moves up hesitantly to mirror the first, and when you make another pleased sound, his nonexistent tail practically wags. Each soft sigh that falls from your lips feels like a reward, like proof that he's doing something right for once.

He can't help himself—he leans in to kiss you again, unable to resist the way your mouth parts slightly with each breath. His hands work in tandem now, one kneading gently while the other plays with your nipple, and the moan you let out against his lips?

Yeah, that's getting filed away in his brain forever. Right next to his most precious memories, ready to be replayed approximately ten thousand times when he's alone.

Because holy fuck, the sounds you make. The way you feel. The fact that you're letting him touch you like this, teaching him how to please you—it's almost too much. Almost overwhelming in how perfect it is.

But he wants more. Wants to earn more of those sounds, more of those sighs, more of everything you're willing to give him.

"Noona, I'm gonna cum," Jungkook stammers against your lips when you finally let him breathe.

He doesn't even know why he says it—except that it's absolutely true. His cock is twitching violently against his thigh, ready to explode at any second because apparently that's just what his body does around you now.

You chuckle warmly, and he almost starts crying again because god, he's so fucking embarrassing. But then your hand is in his hair, stroking gently, and your voice is so soft when you ask:

"Is this your first time? With breasts?"

He looks away, cheeks burning as he nods shyly. He can't bring himself to meet your eyes, too afraid of what he might see there.

"That's normal then," you assure him, fingers still carding through his hair. "Everything feels more intense the first time."

He glances back at you, heart stuttering at the gentle understanding in your expression. There's no judgment there, no mockery—just warmth and something that makes his chest ache.

"You can cum while sucking and playing with my tits if you want," you murmur, and the eager moan that escapes him should be mortifying but somehow isn't. Not when you're looking at him like that, like his enthusiasm is endearing rather than pathetic.

You lean back onto the bed, and his mouth goes dry as he watches you position yourself. He follows eagerly, hovering over you before leaning down to take one nipple between his lips. The moment his mouth makes contact, your back arches slightly and your fingers find his hair again.

Oh fuck.

The sound you make—this soft, breathy thing—nearly sends him over the edge right there.

His hand finds your other breast, kneading and rolling the nipple between his fingers like you taught him, while his free hand fumbles desperately with his sweats, shoving them down just enough to wrap around his leaking cock.

He's so close already, pre-cum making his fingers slide easily as he strokes himself. Every little gasp and sigh you make sends sparks down his spine, making his hips buck into his own grip as he sucks and licks at your nipple like his life depends on it.

"Can I—" Jungkook chokes out between desperate pants, "Can I cum on your—your tits? Please?"

You nod softly, and he almost sobs with relief as he positions himself, straddling your waist. His hand works frantically over his length as he stares down at your perfect breasts, and then he's cumming with a broken moan, painting white stripes across your skin.

"I'm sorry," he stammers immediately, mortified at the mess he's made. But you just shake your head, reaching for some wipes from your nightstand.

"Stop apologizing," you murmur, but before you can clean yourself, he's already grabbing the wipes from your hand.

"Let me," he insists softly, carefully wiping his traces from your skin with reverent attention.

Once you're clean, he can't help himself—he leans down to press soft kisses against your breasts again. And again. And then he's back to sucking and kissing your nipples because how could he not? The content hum you make only encourages him further.

But then you're tugging gently at his hair, making him look up at you. "You can start kissing your way down," you tell him, and his face flushes crimson even as his cock twitches with renewed interest.

Yes. Fuck yes. Thank you god and jesus and buddha and whoever else is listening.

He starts trailing kisses down your stomach, each press of his lips deliberate and worshipful. When he reaches the edge of your panties, he pauses, moving to kneel between your thighs at the foot of the bed. His hands shake as he hooks his fingers in the waistband, and you lift your hips to help him slide them off.

Then you spread your legs, and holy fuck. The sight of your pussy—bare and glistening and so fucking perfect—draws a deep groan from his chest. You're so wet, so ready for his tongue, and he's pretty sure he's actually died and gone to heaven.

"Fuck," he breathes, staring at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Because you are. You absolutely are.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers up, and his breath catches when he sees you propped up on your elbows, watching him with a soft, almost amused look. Your fingers slide into his messy hair, carding through it gently, and his heart stutters in his chest. He swallows hard, his voice barely above a whisper as he asks,

“Can I…?”

You nod, your lips curving into a small smile. “Yes.”

Okay. Okay. He can do this. He just has to remember what Taehyung and Jimin told him—don’t overthink it, listen to her cues, focus on what she likes—but oh god, he really doesn’t need to think about Taehyung and Jimin right now. What the fuck, brain? Not helpful.

He shakes his head quickly, trying to clear the intrusive thoughts as he refocuses on you—glistening and beautiful and so fucking damp it makes his heart race. He did that. He got you like that. The realization sends a fresh wave of heat through him, and he feels his cock twitch against his thigh.

“Start slow,” you murmur softly, your fingers still threading through his hair. “Use your tongue first. Just… explore.”

He nods eagerly, leaning in closer until he can feel the heat radiating off you. His tongue flicks out tentatively, tracing a slow line up your folds, and the quiet sigh you let out makes him shiver.

“Good,” you hum encouragingly, and he nearly preens at the praise. “Now try circling around my clit—gently.”

He follows your instructions immediately, his tongue moving in slow circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. The way your hips shift slightly in response sends a thrill through him, and he presses in just a little harder.

“Not too much pressure,” you warn gently, your hand tightening slightly in his hair to guide him. “Keep it soft for now.”

“Okay,” he mumbles against you, adjusting his movements until your soft hum of approval tells him he’s doing it right.

“Now try flicking your tongue,” you instruct softly. “Just there—yes, like that.”

The sound you make when he obeys is enough to make him moan into you, his hands gripping your thighs for support as he loses himself in the taste of you. Each little noise of pleasure that escapes your lips feels like a reward, spurring him on as he tries to remember everything you’re teaching him.

“Good boy,” you murmur again, and fuck—he’s pretty sure he could cum just from hearing those words alone.

Jungkook’s tongue moves with trembling focus, every flick and stroke guided by your soft instructions. The taste of you is overwhelming—sweet and musky and perfect—and he can’t get enough. His nose brushes against your clit as he laps at you, and the way your thighs tighten around his head makes him dizzy with pride.

“Slower,” you breathe, your fingers tightening in his hair.

He obeys immediately, easing the pressure as he circles your clit with featherlight strokes. The whimper you let out sends a bolt of heat straight to his cock, which is already leaking against his thigh again. God, he’s so fucking sensitive right now.

“Use your fingers,” you murmur, your voice strained. “Just one… inside me. Slowly.”

His breath hitches as he pulls back slightly, his lips glistening. He’s shaking so badly he can barely coordinate his hands, but he manages to press a single finger against your entrance, sliding it in with painstaking care. The way you clench around him makes his head spin.

“Good,” you gasp, hips lifting off the bed. “Now curl it—there—”

He obeys, crooking his finger upward, and the choked moan you release is the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. His cock throbs, but he ignores it, too focused on watching your face—the way your brows knit together, the way your lips part as you pant.

“Add another,” you say, your nails scraping gently against his scalp.

He slides a second finger in, marveling at how you stretch around him, how impossibly hot you feel. Your hips grind down against his hand, and he scrambles to keep up, curling and scissoring his fingers the way Jimin had described during their mortifying “lesson.”

“Fuck—Jungkook—” Your voice cracks, and he looks up to see your back arching off the bed, your free hand fisting the sheets. “Don’t stop, don’t you dare stop—”

He doesn’t. Couldn’t if he tried. Not when you’re falling apart above him, your thighs trembling as he works you closer. Your clit is swollen under his tongue, and he flicks it faster, matching the rhythm of his fingers.

“I’m close,” you warn, your voice pitching higher. “Keep going, just like that—”

He moans against you, the vibration making you cry out. Your hips stutter, and then you’re clenching around his fingers so tightly he can barely move them. The sound you make—a raw, unfiltered gasp—echoes in his bones as you shudder through your release.

He keeps licking, keeps fingering you through it until your hand yanks his hair back gently.

“Enough, baby,” you pant, chest heaving. “You’ll overstimulate me.”

He pulls back immediately, fingers slipping free as he stares up at you in awe. Your skin is flushed, your hair fanned out around you like a halo, and he’s pretty sure he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Come here,” you murmur, patting the bed beside you.

He scrambles up, still trembling, his sweats clinging to his hips. You reach for him the moment he’s within reach, pulling him into a searing kiss that tastes like you. His hips jerk forward instinctively, his cock grinding against your thigh, and he breaks the kiss with a whine.

“Shh,” you soothe, your hand sliding down to palm him through his sweats. “You did so well. Let noona take care of you now.”

He nods frantically, his breath hitching as you tug his sweats down. Your hand wraps around him, and he nearly sobs at the contact.

“Look at me,” you command softly, and his teary eyes snap to yours. “You can let go. I’ve got you.”

It takes three strokes. Three strokes and the way you’re looking at him—proud, affectionate, hungry—and he’s coming with a broken cry, stripes of white painting your stomach.

He collapses against you, boneless and spent, his face buried in your neck as you stroke his hair.

“Good boy,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his temple. “So good for me.”

He doesn’t have the energy to respond, but he nuzzles closer, his heart swelling so big it threatens to burst.

Twenty minutes later, after cleaning you both up with trembling hands and bringing you water, he's curled around you in bed, his nose buried in your hair. His cock is already stirring against your thigh because apparently his body has absolutely no chill when it comes to you.

"Noona?" he whispers, fingers tracing idle patterns on your hip.

"Hmm?"

He swallows hard, gathering his courage. "I need to tell you something."

You shift slightly to look at him, and his heart stutters at how soft your expression is. "What is it?"

"I'm..." He takes a shaky breath. "I'm Spider-Man."

There's a pause, and then you... laugh? Not mockingly—just this warm, gentle sound that makes his chest tight.

"I know," you say simply, reaching up to brush his hair from his forehead.

His eyes widen comically. "You—what? How long have you—?"

"Jungkook-ah," you interrupt softly, "you pulled me away from a bus from five meters away. And you're literally always wherever I am. And you bring me the exact snacks I mention wanting, even when you weren't there when I said it."

"Oh." He flushes, ducking his head. "Was I that obvious?"

"Extremely." Your fingers card through his hair, and he melts into the touch. "But it's cute that you finally told me."

He peeks up at you through his lashes. "You're not... mad?"

"That you're Spider-Man? No." You smile. "That you stalked me? Maybe a little."

"I wasn't stalking!" he protests immediately. "I was... protecting!"

"Uh-huh." Your tone is teasing, and he pouts until you lean in to kiss him softly. "Sure you were."

When you pull back, his expression has shifted to something more... heated. His cock twitches against your thigh, and you raise an eyebrow.

“So… since you’re not mad…”

“Yes?”

“Can we… go again?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Again?”

“Yeah,” he blurts. “I’ve got—uh—stamina. Like, a lot. Super… stamina. From the… you know.” He gestures vaguely at nothing. “Spider… stuff.”

You snort, clearly fighting a laugh. “Is that so?”

“Yes!” He nods frantically, hands flailing as he tries to explain. “I can go for hours! Days! Well, not days, but—I mean, I could eat you out again right now if you let me. Please? You don’t even have to touch me! I’ll just—I’ll jerk off while I do it. I can cum three or four more times, easy. Maybe five? Let’s try five.”

You stare at him.

He wilts slightly. “Or… two? Two’s good. Two’s cool.”

“Jungkook.”

“Yes?”

“Come here.”

He scrambles up immediately, eyes bright and hopeful. You cup his face, your thumb brushing over his pouty bottom lip. “You want to taste me that badly?”

He nods so fast it’s a miracle he doesn’t give himself whiplash. “Please.”

“Okay,” you say, flopping back onto the pillows. “But slowly this time. I’m not a superhero.”

He’s already scrambling down the bed, eyes gleaming. “Yes. Yes, okay, slowly. Got it. Thank you. Thank you.”

You snort as his lips find your inner thigh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously grateful,” he mumbles against your skin, and the vibration makes you laugh again.

Not done, he thinks, and this time, he’s grinning.

© jungkoode 2025

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

TAGLIST:

@cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @stuti2904 @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @rpwprpwprpwprw @jimineepaboya @ahgasegotarmy116 @chloepiccoliniii

[saturnstrays]

😘 for ask gam

"Character you would give a lil kiss to"

MY GRATITUDE UPON THEE 🙏 my yap time has come 🥹. (I'm gonna be mainly going off of G1 in this becaue I've been watching it lately and it's the og, but some of this generally applies along continuities anyways)

OKAY the first one that comes to mind, the tf character that I would give a Lil kiss to for every reason, his design, his personality, his voice, his gimmick, everything, SSOUNDWAVEE HES MY FAVORITE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH!!! His G1 design is definitely one of my favorites, and I also love him in tfp.

He looks so flipping awesome, and I love his quieter more mellow/mysterious personality (but also he is silly sometimes, a staple for any great character if you ask me). I feel like that makes me find him more relatable,,, and also badass (believe it or not I am not this yapful irl unless I'm with friends or close family) ALSO HES GOT LIL GUYS!!

I love a guy with some lil guys. Makes me want to give him a lil kiss. I'm a pet owner, I've got my babies, hes got his babies: oh my heart. Also his tfone design is awesome and he looks like a kitty..

Look..whiskers an ears.. is a kitty cat.. who wouldn't want to give a little kissy to a kitty?

ALSO I'd definitely give a lil kiss to Jetfire. I love characters who are strong and big but gentle oh how I love it. I deeply appreciate and respect those who use their strength to look out for others, and boy does he do that. He's a big and powerful guy who literally threw the Megs himself in G1 likeee you go bro. But he's also gentle to those around him, yet can exert force when it's necessary to protect others, and I admire that in a character so much. And he's a scientist!! How cool!!

Also him and Starscream should kiss I mean whaaat who said that whaaat!!!

Speaking of Starscream, he is so cute. Oh my lird. His little face is so damn cute. I love his design so much his personality is ridiculousl and he's such a joy to watch every time. He's got so much sass and attitude and I will never get tired of it.

Look at his grumpy face. He is so ridiculous and I love him to bits. I am going to eat him and crunch on him like that video of that cat eating treats.. Luna I think is her name.

also some honorable mentions,

-Thundercracker is a goat. He's often like your typical decepticon but seeing him try to break up a fight between Rumble and Frenzy and Skywarp instead of joining in or letting them duke it out stood out to me. He's not even very high in authority, so it's not like he's specifically tasked with keeping order among the decepticons.. I think. It shows he isn't one for unnecessary violence and I like him for that, it gives him a deeper character even though he's a 'bad guy'. Plus the way this is expanded on in the Skybound comics really makes me love him. One lil kiss.

-Obviously Optimus Prime, "be strong enough to be gentle" will always stick with me, and I really feel like he embodies that. A kiss for thee!

-TFP Ratchet. Just to see his reaction. 🤭 I can envision him sputtering in disbelief

-I know little to nothing about Whirl from MTMTE because I'm still reading my way up to him but he seems really cool and silly and he looks like V1. You get a kiss.

[navybrat817]

Deep in the Woods: Part 2

Pairing: Soft!Dark Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: A relaxing getaway in the woods may become your permanent home when you catch the eye of a lumberjack.

Part 1 | Series Masterlist | Part 3

Chapter Summary: You chat with a friend about the grumpy lumberjack and pay him a visit.

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.5k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, bits of MCU canon, cheating mentioned (reader's ex), grumpy x sunshine trope, invasive behavior, bits of insecurity, tension, reader is too trusting, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: Next part of our lumberjack is here! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t make small talk when he came back to the table with his second helping. You sat for maybe a minute before you went to clean out your bowl. As pretty as he was to look at, it felt rude to sit there and watch him eat and you weren’t going to force him to chat. Standing at the sink, you felt him staring at you. He didn’t look away either when you snuck a glance at him. He looked fascinated and you couldn't imagine why.

“Do I have food on my face?” you asked, swiping at your cheek when he continued to stare.

“No.” He swallowed his last bite and licked his lips, making your cheeks warm as you looked away. “Was just looking at you.”

You glanced down at yourself, a nervous giggle bubbling up. “Not much to look at,” you mumbled, going back to get his empty bowl. “So, you said early afternoon tomorrow to go to your place. Will 1 o’clock work?”

He leaned back in his chair, nodding. “Should be fine,” he said, observing you in continued curiosity as you finished cleaning up. You weren't used to someone observing you the way he did, and you couldn't pinpoint if the feeling in your stomach was nerves or butterflies. “You trying to kick me out?”

“No,” you said, your brows pinched as you sat back down. “Does it seem like I am?”

“Just cleaning up quickly and asking about tomorrow. Seemed like you were trying to get me out of here.” He lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “I could be wrong.”

“I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.” You hadn’t exactly planned for his company, but you didn’t mind, and you weren’t trying to be a bad hostess. You almost reached across the table to touch his hand but opted to give him a soft smile instead. “It’s nice having you here.”

His gaze softened, his lips inching upward before he cleared his throat. “Any plans for the rest of the day?”

“Not really. I do have to get on my laptop for just a few minutes, but that’s it,” you answered. Since the trip was meant to be a romantic getaway and you were alone now, you didn't have much of anything planned besides relaxing. “You?”

“No,” he said, tilting his head. “Why did you say that earlier?”

“Why did I say what?” you asked.

“That you aren't much to look at,” he said, tilting his head with another tiny smile that made your knees go weak. “You’re beautiful.”

Your eyes widened, your cheeks hot. “That’s…” You thought for a second that he was joking, but his eyes were serious. The compliment was also completely unexpected, especially from a man who wasn't too welcoming a short time ago. “Thank you, Bucky, but I’m not-”

“Don’t do that. If I made you uncomfortable, just say so.” His cheek twitched and guilt churned in your stomach at the thought of upsetting him. “You don't need to brush off the compliment by trying to put yourself down.”

You looked in your lap, not wanting him to see the sadness in your eyes. Your ex should've called you beautiful, should've made you feel that way, too. And what happened? He strayed. You couldn't hold onto him. As much as you wanted to think there wasn't anything wrong with you, there was still that voice of doubt that said you weren't good enough or pretty enough. Insecurities had a tendency to seep in like poison. What was the remedy for that?

“I wasn't trying to brush off your compliment,” you promised, lifting your gaze. He didn’t look convinced and that made you feel worse. He was only being nice. “It’s just… My confidence is a little shaken and self-deprecating is a defense mechanism, I guess.”

You wanted to run to the bedroom and hide when he regarded you. Why did you tell him that? Why did you tell him anything? He wasn’t your friend or confidant, and it wasn’t fair to unload anything like that onto him.

“I’m sorry. I-”

“Don’t apologize. I understand what it's like,” he said, glancing at his metal hand. “To have your confidence shaken.”

After what he had been through, you could only imagine. “How did you pull yourself out of it?”

“Still working on that,” he replied, his eyes distant as he pushed himself up from his chair. “I should get going.”

“Oh, okay,” you smiled politely and got up to follow him to the door. While it wasn’t your intention to push him out, you may have inadvertently driven him away. “Thanks again for chopping the firewood.” It saved you a lot of trouble.

“Thanks for the meal.” He swept his eyes over you once his boots were on. “Guess we took care of each other, huh?”

“I guess we did,” you said. And you really appreciated his compliment. It felt nice after everything.

You were reminded once again just how large he was when he straightened up, your heart racing when he stood directly in front of you. That close you could smell the forest on his shirt. “Don’t touch that axe again,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding. “If you need anything, you come to me.”

Your throat went dry. He was so dominant in his stance, something in his tone sending a delightful shiver down your spine. There was also a predatory shadow in his eyes that gave you pause. He could eat you alive.

Out here, all alone, he could do anything.

“Say it,” he whispered.

“If I need anything.” You had to clear your throat. “I’ll come to you.”

Bucky stepped back and took some of the warmth with him. “Lock the door tonight. I need you safe,” he said, leaving without another word.

The silence in the cabin was deafening as you were left alone. Bucky was… something. Curt at times, a bit defensive, and didn’t have regard for your personal space bubble, but you weren’t going to judge his social skills when yours were nowhere near perfect. He also seemed to like your company at least a little and was oddly protective of you.

“Probably thinks I’m just a damsel in distress,” you muttered, going to get your laptop.

You thought back to the conversation you had with Bucky. He was out here for nine months now and had a cat. And you… your stomach sank when you realized you told him you lived alone and worked from home. He already knew you were out there by yourself and you basically implied that no one would realize if you were gone. At least, not right away.

“It’s fine,” you said, pushing the weird feeling away. Bucky Barnes was a hero, and you were a stranger in his territory. It was natural that he’d have questions. You had nothing to worry about.

You decided to sit out on the porch so you could look at the picturesque view again. Part of you wondered what it would be like to live out here full time. To walk outside on a cool morning and inhale the fresh air. To see the sun rise through the trees. You wouldn’t have to worry about the bustling sounds of the city but could instead take in the quiet.

Which was interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing.

You smiled when you saw Kenna’s name pop up. She was one of your oldest friends. “Hey,” you answered, putting the phone on speaker so you could continue to type. “What’s up?”

“Hey, girl. Work sucked. I’m seriously considering getting a sugar daddy.” You scoffed. She would never. She hated relying on others. “How about you? How are the woods?”

“Gorgeous,” you smiled, stopping to look around. “Sorry work sucked.”

“It’s whatever. You actually get reception out there in the woods? Nice.”

“So far, so good,” you said. You expected it to be a bit spotty, but it was fine for now.

“And you're feeling okay?” she asked with a hint of concern. “That cabin was supposed to be for-”

“I’m fine. Really.” You didn't want her to worry about that. “But I may have done something kind of stupid.”

“God, you didn't call him, did you?”

“No! No way.” You blocked his number and all social media accounts. You wanted nothing to do with him.

“Then what did you do?” she asked curiously.

“Well, there’s this kind of grumpy, really hot lumberjack who lives near the cabin I’m staying in,” you said, looking around to make sure Bucky wasn’t nearby. It looked like you were all alone. “He wasn’t exactly nice to me when we met earlier today, and I may have snapped at him a little bit.”

“You snapped at a guy who was rude to you? That doesn't sound stupid. Sounds like he deserved it.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t the stupid part,” you said, taking a breath. “I may have told him that I am here all alone for the next couple of weeks,” you blurted out, leaving out that he knew you lived alone, too, and that the grump in question was Bucky Barnes.

Your face scrunched up when you waited for Kenna’s response. “Oh, sweetie…” There it was, the condescending tone complete with a “sweetie” on top. “Why would you tell him that?”

“I don't know!” you exclaimed, lowering your voice with a sigh, “Because I’m an idiot.”

“You're not an idiot.” There was a pause on the other end. “I mean, you did kind of shine a beacon over yourself that says ‘hey, take advantage of me!’ because your self preservation skills aren’t the sharpest, but I know that wasn't your intention.”

You made a face at the phone, your fingers taping the keys harder than you needed to. “Wow. So, I am an idiot and anything that happens to me is my fault?” you asked. You were being defensive when Kenna was only being honest, which you appreciated. But being in the woods, the only thing you should have to worry about was bears, not people with bad intentions.

“No! That’s not what I meant. You just see the world in a much brighter light than most of us do, you know? You feel like you can trust people to have your best interest at heart when you open up to them because you choose to see the good. But the reality is, the world isn't that bright, and most look out for themselves first.”

“Rose colored glasses, I know,” you said, softer this time.

“Listen, I shouldn't have said you put a beacon on yourself. People who do bad things are the ones at fault, not the people they take advantage of.” There was another pause. “Maybe you won’t have to worry about this guy but try to be careful.”

“I will,” you said. You had to look out for yourself.

“And before you say more, let me guess. You were nice to the grump after you snapped at him?”

“You know me too well,” you smiled sheepishly. “I fed him.”

“Oh, God, he tasted your cooking? Yeah, you’re in danger,” Kenna teased. She always praised your cooking skills. “He’ll probably be on the doorstep every day asking for a meal and you’ll give him one.”

You giggled. “Because I’m a pushover?”

“It’s because you’re a good person, so stop with the self-deprecating,” she said. First Bucky, now Kenna. “If I could just give you some of my pessimism and you give me some of your optimism, we’d be perfect.”

“The perfect blend,” you said, though you didn't think Kenna was that pessimistic. She was just realistic.

“Also in your defense, a hot grumpy lumberjack is like something out of a romance novel. I probably would've jumped his bones.”

“Trust me, you would,” you said. Bucky was drop-dead gorgeous, and he would probably have fun with Kenna. Why did that thought make you feel sick? “He has a cat. And he said I was beautiful,” you said, your heart skipping a beat from the memory.

“Oh, he did, did he? Okay, I know I just told you to be careful, but… maybe this guy can blow your back out.” You looked around again and debated taking her off speakerphone when you thought you heard a twig snap in the distance. “I mean, you deserve multiple orgasms after what he who shall not be named put you through.”

“Kenna…” you sighed, not in the mood to discuss your ex. She never liked him but tried to tolerate him for you while you dated. You were grateful she didn’t say “told you so” when you broke up. “I just met this guy.”

“And? People go to bars and leave with people all the time. And all I’m saying is that your ex is out of the picture, and you have some wounds exposed,” she said carefully, not wanting to upset you. “So let this guy lick them clean if he offers. Let him lick something. I mean, he’s a lumberjack. He’s probably pent up and a beast in bed.”

Heat spread between your thighs before you mentally dumped a bucket of cold water on yourself. No way did Bucky want you. “So, I’m no longer supposed to be careful. I’m supposed to let him, what, fuck me?” you asked.

“Be careful and let him fuck you. Establish boundaries but have fun over the next couple of weeks. Go see his cat and then show him yours.”

You burst out laughing and covered your mouth so the sound wouldn’t echo. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m also the best,” she stated. She really was. “And who knows? This could be the start of something new.”

“I don’t think…” You sat up when another twig snapped, this one closer. You couldn’t see anything when you did a quick scan from your seat. “Hey, what would you think about coming out here for a couple of days so I’m not alone the whole time?”

There was a beat of silence on the other end. She was probably looking at her calendar. “Hmm. I’ll try to swing it with work, but no promises. I’ll keep you posted,” she said.

“Yeah, just call or text me,” you said, shutting your laptop. If she couldn’t, maybe one of your other friends wouldn’t mind spending some time away from the city. “I gotta go.”

“Me, too. Take care. Carry pepper spray. Be safe,” she said, hanging up.

You slowly went to the edge of the porch and looked around the side of the cabin. There was a good chance the sounds came from an animal nearby, maybe a deer. You could blame the chill that ran through your body on the breeze. It was getting darker though and not being able to see much beyond the nearby trees didn’t soothe your sudden nerves.

With a shake of your head, you went back inside. No one was there. You were just being paranoid.

Locking the door like Bucky instructed, you breathed a bit easier and wondered what you’d cook for him tomorrow. Something not too heavy since it was for lunch, but tasty. It was nice to have someone to cook for since the plan was to cook for two for the next two weeks.

You also thought about what Kenna said. Would there be any harm if anything transpired between you and Bucky? It would be nice to have some fun, but that wasn’t really your style. You were always a relationship kind of person. And Bucky, well, you had no clue what he wanted.

“Forget it,” you muttered.

Curling up on the sofa, your heart ached as you stared between the board games on the shelf and the small fireplace. There really wasn’t much to do by your lonesome, but there was reading. Television. And you wouldn’t put stock in Bucky spending lots of time with you while you were there. He wasn’t responsible for you.

Sniffling, you curled into yourself more. The cabin was meant to be filled with laughter, sounds of pleasure, and more. Not silence. But you’d still have a nice time. You owed it to yourself. And if anything, maybe you’d end the trip with a new friend.

You were in much better spirits when you headed to Bucky’s cabin the next day. The spring in your step was partially thanks to the good night's sleep you had after reading. The bed was extra comfortable, and you woke up bright and refreshed. You could get used to that feeling.

The other spring in your step was, well, because you were having lunch with Bucky. You didn’t want to admit how long you took to pick out an outfit in between making lunch and baking cookies. It wasn’t like you were trying to get his attention or impress him, but you still wanted to look nice and presentable. And you wouldn't allow the thought of loneliness to dampen your mood.

“Wow,” you whispered when his cabin came into sight. It was larger than the one you were in, simplistic and beautiful in design, and had a wraparound porch. You wondered how often he sat on the porch swing and if he brought Alpine out with him.

Taking a breath as you walked up the stairs, you gently knocked on the door. You didn’t know why you were nervous. It was just lunch with Bucky. A handsome, brooding-

You didn’t realize that Bucky had opened the door until you blinked, his blue eyes locked with yours. How many people cowered under his stare? He took up almost the entire door frame and a tiny sound escaped your lips when you noticed he was shirtless. The man had no shirt on.

You bit your lip involuntarily, trying your damnedest not to leer. Were you supposed to look at his massive chest? The scars on his left shoulder? The metal arm? Or was your gaze supposed to dip down past his torso to his jeans and… No. No. You weren’t supposed to stare at all.

“Right on time.” His voice was gruff, holding a hand out to take your bag. “Did you have a good night?”

“Um, yeah. Did a bit of reading and went to bed early.” His fingers touched yours when you handed the bag over and you let it linger longer than you should’ve. It wasn't like there was any tension between you two, right? “You?”

“Yeah. Uneventful,” he said before he deadpanned, “You staring at me?”

Your mouth fell open as he raised an eyebrow. Saying yes would make you look like a creep and saying no might hurt his feelings. “Well, you’re shirtless,” you answered, making a point to look away when you gestured to him. You felt kind of bad looking, but it also felt wrong to not look. As if that was an excuse. “You’re not cold?”

“It’s warm in here and I run warm as it is.” He didn’t look at all embarrassed when you snuck another glance at him. “It’s also more comfortable with the arm sometimes to go shirtless,” he explained, giving you just enough room to squeeze past him. You couldn’t stop your body from pressing against his since he didn’t provide much room and you hoped he didn’t notice the hitch in your breath. “If it bothers you-”

“This is your home and I want you comfortable,” you said, putting some distance between you once he shut the door. If he wanted to go shirtless, you wouldn’t stop him. You could deal with him and his sexiness for a short time and get through a meal.

“I appreciate that,” he said, taking your coat and purse. “Make yourself at home.”

You lingered in the living room. Rustic with the exposed wood beams, but cozy and inviting with the plush sofa and chairs. The large stone fireplace drew your attention, along with the rug in front of it. The perfect place to sit and gaze into a fire on a cold night.

You moved close to the mantle to look at the three photos that rested there. One was of the sun shining on a large body of water with trees on each side. It looked warm and peaceful.

The second was Bucky with two other men, all three of them in leather jackets. You recognized them after taking a closer look: Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson, heroes just like Bucky. While they looked relaxed and happy, Bucky wasn’t smiling at all.

Was that photo taken before or after the tough mission?

But the third photo wasn’t a photo at all. It was an empty picture frame. Where was the picture?

“Wakanda.”

You jumped and spun around, nearly bumping the mantle with Bucky so close. Your racing heart didn’t go back to normal immediately. How did he move around so quietly? “Wakanda?” you repeated.

He nodded to the first picture frame. “Where that photo was taken. It was right outside of my hut, sometime after I started healing. I didn’t have any nightmares that day.” His smile was soft as he reminisced. “It was a peaceful time.”

You smiled softly, too. He deserved peace. “It’s a beautiful view,” you said. The view he had there was beautiful and peaceful, too.

“I assume you know who Steve and Sam are?” You nodded in confirmation. “That was Sam’s birthday. He made us take a picture together and insisted on framing it.” He rolled his eyes, but there was affection there that he couldn’t hide. “I only have it up here because Steve said it would hurt his feelings if I threw it out.”

You looked at the photo again. Bucky’s hair wasn’t as long as it was now and his stance wasn’t as stiff, but the brooding expression was there. “I think that’s nice,” you smiled. It was good that he had friends. “And what about that frame?”

His jaw clenched, his fingers grazing the glass. “It’ll be a family photo,” he whispered longingly. “One day.”

Your heart broke for him and the urge to soothe him skyrocketed. Before you could stop yourself you put a hand on his arm. His muscles tensed under your touch and you pulled away, regretting your action immediately. “I’m sorry I touched you.” You felt terrible. You should’ve asked. “I’m sure it’ll be a beautiful photo. A beautiful family photo for your beautiful home,” you assured him as he let out a breath. He’d have that one day like he wanted.

He leaned in close, his lips close to skimming your ear. “Your touch doesn’t bother me,” he whispered like it was a secret between you before he pulled away. If he caught you quivering, he didn’t say so. “If you think this room is beautiful, wait ‘til you see the rest of the place,” he said, leading you away and not mentioning the family photo again.

You gasped when he brought you to the kitchen, your eyes bright as you took in the room. The rustic and cozy theme continued and you wondered if Bucky built the cabinets. You envied the open concept and counterspace and you wanted to weep over the large stove. The kitchen was the heart of a home and it was very much true for Bucky’s place.

“You like it?” he asked.

“Are you kidding? I love it,” you said, running a hand along one of the counters. You didn’t miss the way his chest puffed out with pride. “My kitchen is so small, but a space like this…”

He unpacked the bag of food you brought, giving you a sideways glance. “Maybe you can cook here,” he casually stated.

Your eyes lit up. “Really?” you smiled, nearly throwing yourself into his arms. You refrained. “I can cook here?”

“Yeah, really,” he said, tucking his hair back. Standing in front of the counter, shirtless, his hair down, he looked like a wet dream. “Like I said, I’m not as good of a cook as you. It’ll be nice to get some better use out of it.”

You clapped your hands giddily and he actually smiled a full blown smile. “Thank you, Bucky. Really,” you said. You’d make something extra special. “I hope you like the sliders. I made cookies, too.”

He turned to face you, his muscles rippling as he stepped a little closer. This man really didn’t understand personal space, did he? “How did you know I wanted dessert?” he asked, that husky tone back in his voice. Was he implying… No.

It was like Kenna was both the angel and devil on your shoulders, one telling you to flirt a little, and the other telling you to play it safe. “Just a guess,” you said lightly, going for something in the middle.

You didn't feel like you could breathe properly until he stepped back. “I almost forgot…” he trailed off, sauntering from the room.

You swallowed as you stayed rooted to the spot. What did he forget about? That he was still walking around without a shirt on?

Bucky came back with a beautiful cat in his arms, and you were close to swooning. It was quite the sight seeing a shirtless Bucky Barnes holding a cat, who looked at you with a curious stare. You didn't blame her for staring. You were a stranger in her home.

“Al, this is the woman I was telling you about,” he said, making your heart flutter when he said your name. He actually talked about you to her? It didn't mean anything special. He probably told her that a new visitor was stopping by. “Can you say hi?”

Alpine gently meowed, bringing a smile to your face. Bucky smiled, too. They made quite the pair.

“You can hold out your hand for her,” he said.

You did so gently, not wanting to startle her. “Hey, Alpine,” you smiled.

Her nose tickled your fingers before she nuzzled it, urging you to pet her. You did so, which earned you a purr in response. It was nice to get her seal of approval since Bucky said she was particular with people.

“Wanna hold her?” Bucky offered.

“If she’ll let me,” you said.

As soon as you held out your arms, Alpine crawled into them. Bucky looked pleased when she got comfortable and continued to purr. “She really likes you.”

“I like her, too,” you smiled down at the feline. She was a sweetheart.

“Perfect…”

You glanced up to find Bucky holding up his phone. “Sorry. Just thought it would be a nice photo,” he said, his expression not at all apologetic as he showed you the picture he took of you holding Alpine. “You don't mind, do you?”

“Oh, no. That’s fine,” you said. Maybe he didn't have pictures of others holding her.

He glanced at the photo again and nodded. “I might have to frame this one,” he said, tucking his phone away.

Your smile wavered as he grabbed a couple of plates. That wasn't weird, was it? No. It was just a guy wanting a sweet photo of his cat.

“Let’s eat,” he said, rubbing his chiseled stomach. “I’m starving.”

We deserve a shirtless Bucky, don't we? Is that photo going in that empty frame? What do we think will happen next? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[daisynik7]

[M4F] Husband Catches You Listening to Audio P*rn, Teaches You a Lesson [Soft Mdom] [Established Relationship] [Mild Degradation] [Praise] [Overstimulation] [Multiple Orgasms] [Creampie]

Pairing: husband!Nanami x f!reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

cw: established relationship, p*rn no plot, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl), sex toys, mutual masturbation, fingering, cunnilingus, sex without a condom, creampie, overstimulation, soft dom!Nanami, breeding kink, mild degradation (use of slut and whore), praise, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, pet names (honey, sweetie, sweetheart, princess, baby)

Summary: Nanami comes home early from his business trip and catches you doing something naughty in your bedroom. Author’s Note: Inspired by all the audio porn VAs that I listen to! Special shoutout to @mrsackermannx for raving about AugustInTheWinter with me. If you have not listened to him yet, PLEASE check him out, he’s incredible. Also, I’m clearly very delulu for Nanami currently, considering this is the third piece I’ve written for him within a week, but hey, this is my outlet! So I hope you enjoy! MDNI divider created by @/cafekitsune. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading!

Your skin is sweltering against the sheets, sweat damp on your forehead and neck. Thighs are apart, vibrator buzzing on your clit, sleek with lube and arousal. You’re home alone; Nanami doesn’t return until tomorrow morning. Still, the thought of the audio porn playing on speaker makes you shy, so you have both earbuds in, listening to the sultry tones of your favorite voice actor moaning expletives directly into your ear. Such a good girl, oh fuck. You feel so good, sweetheart. Take that cock for me. You are so fucking tight, holy shit. The added sound effects of thwapping and wet squelches in the background immerse you into a state of erotic bliss, gushing for the second time tonight from the sensation of the toy pulsing on your throbbing bud.

“What do we have here?”

You jolt up when you hear your husband’s voice from the doorway, startled to see him standing there, leaning against the frame with a serious look on his face. His spectacles are on, covering his eyes, which you can tell are boring into you in this lewd position. 

Popping your headphones off, you hide the vibrator under the pillow, as if he hasn’t already caught you red-handed. Closing your legs, you bat your eyelashes, feigning an innocent expression. “Honey! What are you doing here?” More heat rushes into your cheeks, scorching hot from your recent orgasm and current embarrassment.  

He steps forward, sitting at the far edge of the bed, avoiding your gaze by staring at the floor, acting disappointed. “I managed to catch an earlier flight. Wanted to surprise you.” Dramatic, he turns to face you, eyes narrowed through his tinted lenses. “It appears that I am the one being surprised.” 

Biting your lip to hold back your laughter, you crawl towards him, naked from the waist down, your panties discarded on the floor near his feet. He’s not actually upset; having been together long enough and in tune with each other’s emotions, you can tell that he isn’t seriously mad at you. This is a role he indulges in occasionally: stoic, strict husband with a mean streak when things don’t go his way. And you know exactly where this will lead to, so naturally, you play along. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t think you would be coming home tonight. I just thought I’d have a little bit of fun.” You massage his shoulders, nuzzling your face to his nape, giving him a loud smooch. 

He shifts around in the bed, confronting you. “What were you listening to?” There’s legitimate curiosity in his voice, and now genuine guilt builds in your chest upon his question. 

You swallow hard, anxious to admit the truth, too ashamed to lie to him. “Um, I was listening to porn. Audio porn.”

He raises a brow at you, confused. Then, he says, “Let me hear it.”

Reluctantly, you reach for your phone on the nightstand, resuming from where you paused. Wet slaps blare through the speaker, then a man’s voice, moaning, “Ah fuck, let me hear you. Let me hear you moan on my cock. Let me hear you take this cock. Yeah, like that baby, take it just like that.” 

You bury your head in your hands, absolutely mortified as the pornographic dialogue continues. The audio comes to a halt when Nanami stops it, silently tapping at the screen. You’re still hiding in disgrace, squeezing your legs together tightly to conceal the evidence of your supposed sin. The tension is palpable, with neither of you speaking or making any sudden movements. You’re dying to know what he’s thinking, simultaneously terrified of his judgement. 

He clears his throat; you peek through your fingers to catch him loosening his tie around his collar, removing the glasses from his face. He’s blushing, brows tight with contemplation. “Did you come to this?” he asks, almost breathless. 

You lower your hands, fisting them into the sheets beneath you, nodding. Anticipating. 

“Show me,” he demands, eyes at your lap. Too eagerly do you spread your legs, displaying your sopping cunt to him, staring at his lips part slightly, a barely audible growl resounding within his throat. Your uneasiness gradually slips into arousal, aching to be touched, even punished, by your formidable husband. He bows, licking his mouth, inspecting you like prey he’s about to devour. Flicking his eyes to yours, he mutters, “You’re a dirty slut for listening to this filth. Have you no shame?” He kneels before you, unbuttoning his dress shirt, exposing the white tee underneath. Chiseled chest and abs carved into the fabric like fucking marble. 

Losing composure, you blurt out, “No shame, absolutely none. I’m fucking filthy.” Your pussy aches, toes clenched, thrilled. 

“I can’t stand you listening to another man’s voice while you get off. It makes me sick thinking about it. Makes my blood fucking boil.” His tone is menacing in way that titillates every inch of your skin, has you shuddering from the low growl at the end of each sentence. 

“Are you going to punish me?” you goad, saliva collecting on your tongue, heavy with lust.

“I can think of something better.” Reaching for your phone, he navigates through it, finding your voice recorder app. He taps on the big red button, setting it beside you. “From now on, you only come to my voice. Got it?”

You swallow hard, almost chocking on your spit when you respond, “Yes. Yes, baby.”

He grins, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he cups your cheek tenderly. “Good girl.” His thumb traces the outline of your parted lips, your mouth inviting him in. But he doesn’t, leaning back on his wrists, observing you with the obvious bulge protruding from his slacks. “Get that vibrator. Show me how you do it.”

Obeying, you search for it under the pillow, retrieving it to rub the tip up and down your folds, finger on the trigger. “There you go,” he encourages, a cocky smirk on his face, slowly unbuckling the belt around his waist, sliding it from the loops and tossing it aside. “Tease it a little before you turn it on. Make sure it’s exactly where you want it.” 

You tap the toy on your swollen bud, already sensitive from your earlier climax. You meet his gaze, waiting for a signal. He slides out of his pants and briefs, revealing his erection sprung against his belly. Before he does anything else, he grabs your phone and sets it on the bed between you. Palming his length, he grins. “Go ahead.” 

What a fucking menace he can be.

Pushing the button, the vibrator immediately pulsates on you, causing you to twitch from the intense sensation. He watches, fingers wrapped around his shaft, stroking himself, thumb grazing the slit. “Look at you. My gorgeous girl,” he purrs. “My perfect angel with the prettiest pussy. Can’t wait to stretch you open with this cock. Bury myself deep inside you. Fill you up with my cum.”

“Fuck, Kento,” you whimper, pressing the fluttering tip firmer, sweat beginning to bead on your forehead. You’ve always loved his hands; how pristine they are with his knuckles tight on his skin. Large, strong, then rough on the pads of his fingers from hard work and constant use. They’re even prettier in a fist surrounding his cock, wrist jerking hastily, precum glistening at the tip. Your entire focus is on him touching himself while he watches you do the same, the toy’s low hum enhanced when it’s snugly nestled to your clit. 

“You like it when I talk nasty to you, huh?” he huffs, readjusting himself nearer to you. He’s so close, you can practically feel the tip of his cock at your quivering pussy. “Is it better than listening to your ridiculous pornography?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whine, jutting your hips out, attempting to close the gap. 

“Unlike them, I can actually touch you,” he muses, his tip teasing your entrance. “I can do whatever I want, whatever you want. They don’t get to fuck this sweet cunt like I get to. They don’t get to taste you the way I do.” 

Suddenly, he grabs the vibrator from your grasp, shutting it off and setting it back under the pillow. He shifts down the bed, positioning his head between your thighs, diving in tongue first onto your puffy clit. Pleasure resonates from your core throughout your limbs, legs shaky and mind hazy as he slobbers all over you, covering your bud in his frothy spit. It’s sloppy, salacious, straight up nasty. After only a few strokes of his tongue, it’s already enough to send you into your third orgasm of the night, more powerful than the first two combined when you were alone. 

You’d be a fool to expect him to let up after coming once with him; still, it shocks you when he doesn’t stop. He latches to you harder, suckling on your sensitive clit until it’s plump between his glossy lips and you’re crying out, “Too much!” overstimulated and spasming above him. Sometimes, when he’s in one of these moods, he forgets his own virility, always so keen on making you orgasm multiple times in one go. Tonight, he forgets that you had already been prepping yourself since earlier. With a gentle kiss, he relents, indulging in his work by running his tongue along your gushing pussy, drinking up your cum. He reaches for his cock, stiff between his stomach and the bedsheets under him. On his knees, he returns to his spot from earlier, stroking his cock with the tip just barely in your entrance. 

You’re absolutely spent, but you yearn for him inside you, desperate to be filled with his load. “Come in me, baby,” you beg, gripping his wrist to pull him closer. “Fuck me.” 

He lets out a disapproving tsk, shaking his head. “Not yet, princess. You have to be patient. We’re just getting started,” he smirks, stroking himself faster. “Are you just so fucking needy for my cum?” You nod erratically, tempted to thrust yourself onto him. 

“Then beg for it,” he orders, sliding his cock the slightest bit further inside you. “Convince me that you deserve it.”

Understanding what he wants, you retrieve your little toy again, rubbing small circles with it on your bud, smearing whatever is left of your orgasm around it. “Please, Kento. Please. I need it. I need it.”

The sight of you like this has him dangling on the very edge, so close to climax. “Turn it on,” he demands. You do, the buzz electrifying all the nerves in your body yet again. You chant his name over and over until he shoots insides you, spurts of opaque cum flooding your pussy. “Yes, yes. Good girl. Take that fucking cum. Take all of it. Fuck.” His voice is hushed, breathy and trembling from the high. 

You stop the vibrator, tossing it to the floor carelessly. Nanami crawls next to you, cradling you in his arms. With a kiss to your forehead, he whispers, “Are you okay?” 

You smile, turning to face him, nuzzling his chest. “Of course.”

He caresses your face, trailing down your body to rest his hand at your waist. He glances at your phone beside you. “We’re still recording, you know.”

You giggle. “And…?”

He kisses you softly, tongue flitting past your lips, guiding you flat on your back, spreading your legs apart. “I’m not done with you yet.” His hand glides to your loins, toying with your swollen clit before teasing your entrance, brimming with his creampie. “Can you still take it, sweetheart?”

You nod, breath hitching, cuddling closer to him. Smiling sweetly at you, he eases a finger in, cum overflowing your pussy and trickling out from your slit. He slides in another easily, stretching you open, a whine escaping you. His mouth is hot on your ear. “You love this, don’t you? Me finger fucking my cum deeper inside you. Taking it like an obedient whore.” He picks up the pace, your cunt clenching his digits. “I’m going to get you pregnant tonight. Breed you, make you mine. You want that, sweetie?” His fingers writhe inside you, hitting that sweet spot repeatedly until you’re tight around him, ready for another orgasm. At this point, you’ve stopped keeping count, lost in a sex-fueled craze instigated by your husband. 

“Yes, Kento. Give it to me. I want it. I want it so bad.” You notice he’s hard again, his erection stiffening against your leg. Reaching for him, you rub your hand on his length, feeling it twitch from your touch.

“Fuck,” he groans, pulling out from you. He sits up, back to the headboard, beckoning. “Get on my lap. Hurry,” he urges, hoisting you towards him. You straddle him, guiding his cock to your entrance. “Sink down on it. There we go,” he instructs, eyes wide, desperation etched in his tone. He needs this just as much as you do, and it drives you wild. You follow his command, lowering yourself onto him, his dick sliding in smoothly, bottoming out. “That’s my good girl. Fuck. You’re so good to me. So fucking good to me.”

You start riding him the way he likes, your ass slapping loudly on his thighs. He’s moaning endlessly, throwing in the occasional fuck and pet name as he grips your hips, bouncing you on his cock. You wrap your arms around his neck to keep steady, holding him tightly. “Want your cum,” you manage to utter, enraptured in the scorching pleasure he surrounds you in. 

He's fucking up into you, feet planted at the end of the bed. The mattress creaks with every thrust of his cock. In a huffy breath, he says, “Milk it out of me, honey. Milk me fucking dry. You can do it sweetheart; I know you can.” The praise encourages you to ride him faster, rougher, your bodies in tandem, springing on the bed, moaning into each other’s mouth with a passionate kiss. 

Soon, he pulsates inside you, stuffing you even fuller with his cum. You climax once more, gripping his cock with your fluttering pussy. He cradles you in a cozy embrace, catching his breath, nuzzling his nose to your chest. You giggle, running you fingers through his hair, smooching the top of his head. “You okay?” you ask, wiping the perspiration from his forehead.

He nods, exhaling deeply. “Just let me hold you. Need to calm down.”

You laugh, amused by his current state of post-coital euphoria. Fetching the phone teetering precariously at the edge of the bed now, you tap on the red button to stop the recording. Seeing this, he mentions, “You know I don’t actually mind you listening to that kind of stuff, right?” 

You smile, noticing the guilt in his voice, massaging his back. “I know, honey. I know you don’t.”

He squeezes you, taking a deep breath. “Okay, good. Just want to make that clear.”

You cup his cheek, thumb caressing the stress lines along his face, gradually relaxing to your touch. “If it makes you feel any better, I’d much rather listen to this than some stranger on the Internet.”

Chuckling, he replies. “Maybe it makes me feel a little bit better.” He snuggles closer to you, hugging you tight, reluctant to let you go. Eventually, the two of you slip beneath the covers, getting comfortable with Nanami spooning you from behind.  

You glance at the screen, showing the several minute long recording and the play button adjacent to it, ready to be tapped. “So,” you start, craning your neck to smirk at him. “Should we give it a listen?”

He returns your grin, shifting beside you, cock growing hard between your ass cheeks. “Absolutely.”

[clitorphosis]

DOLL PARTS

Death Island Leon S. Kennedy x reader | 18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, KIDNAPPING, DUB CON SEX, SMUT, female reader, age gap, abusive relationship, guilt tripping, Stockholm syndrome, dumbification ig, rough sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, choking, creampie, finger sucking, bruises, implied physical violence, internal conflict, teasing, guilt, implied obsessive behavior(Leon) i think, dirty talk, pet names, degradation.

Summary: There is a deep desire to hold onto his past, on the part he is close to lose after every birthday date. And you are perfect for this. For him, to kidnap you is to save that part. Cause life goes on and without him, but yours can’t go on without him now. Of course you don't understand.

notes: this is a mess I fear, but I had a blast writing this tho so idc LOL!!! Also thanks @writingwisterias for letting me bother you with my rambling and my indecisiveness with kidnapper leon（╹◡╹）I don’t condone anything here in real life. :3 uhm, reblogs, asks or comments and any kind of feedback are really appreciated!

tags: @melanchol1cs

Clocks are ticking, not only in real time but in his mind - a disturbing reminder of how at his age Leon wasn’t even able to settle down. Tick - tock. Of course, men can always find a young woman, and two or three times of unprotected sex would be enough to impregnate one. Still, Leon doesn’t believe that applies to him - alcohol is not only a boner killer but also of fertility. Neither does he crave babies, he can be considered a dad to Sherry, also they would only show how time flies. She is enough of a reminder, no need for more.

He found you on the dating app - Sherry suggested he try, as a joke, probably not expecting him to follow the advice.

For him, you looked like a doll. Almost a godsend. Pretty, young, and easy to manhandle. Almost drooled at the prospect of having your legs wrapped around his waist. He should feel guilty or disgusted at the idea to fuck you… at the images of the material of your panties clinging to your hips, wrinkling up with every movement before his fingers would curl under it to tug them down. Right? No-no, he is only 38 years old - at his age men are already bald, Leon is having an easy time here. He has a chance, always had.

While he was unsure what to do, was a simple ‘hello, how are you’ enough for you? Or would it be too simple? Or repulsive? Why is he even worried about that, you probably matched him on accident.

You texted him first, something he didn’t expect from a young woman - even women of his age don’t text him first, they are dry and uninterested. Like sex with them.

“hiii ^^” This forces a smile out of him. Again, three dots appear. “You didn’t swipe me as a mistake, right?:3”

He hesitates, his thumb floats on the digital keyboard for a moment. No, it wasn’t a mistake, still, he needs to gratify his ego. “If it was, would it get you sad?”

“yep, actually, very big big sad!”

That was it. Easy and quick to get closer to you. He expected more obstacles, maybe times changed indeed or you are into older guys. All he needed to do was to open his wallet, be nice enough, and show how a ‘real man’ should treat a woman.

Leon knows a lot about you. He knows too much information - where you live, your college, and where you work. Not in a creep-like way, no-no. You were the one asking him to drive you there. Maybe your youth is the only problem to blame on - you were a chatting box endlessly and easily sharing anything with him, maybe things you should not have to. Somewhat, this only attached him to you.

There are always some subtle hints and hidden alarms, no one usually gives a shit about. Also, understandable, to ask anyone who knows him - hard to find someone with a bad opinion of Leon.

“He is okay”

“A hero. Not everyone is capable of saving the president’s daughter” or a simple shrug.

Outside his work, Leon is… just a guy most of the time. Yes, of course, not the luckiest one with the ladies, but it is unlikely someone would describe him as the type to kidnap a girl. No one understands how middle age crisis is going to be hard to handle, he is pushing 40, surely enough it is already waiting for him at the edge of the doorstep - and Leon had enough of bullshit in his life, a pretty and young woman is the panacea for this. The godsend pill to erase his problems.

And finally.

Finally, the tremendous loneliness will disappear, leaving it behind him like a bad dream. The feeling that everybody in the world is doing something without Leon. He can’t stand this ever-consuming loneliness to spread anymore, today IS the day.

He can let himself be selfish just once. Right?

To reach his goal, there is a small step though, a sacrifice to make. That’s why he set a date, in a good and expensive restaurant too.

And today is the day. This shouldn’t be forgotten. The biggest day. The most important one. No, doesn’t do the justice. The absolutely, positively biggest day, may be the right choice of words for Leon.

On the spot already, waiting for you. This time he isn’t late. That bad habit since 1998, but for once he didn’t struggle with his punctuality - too petulant about what will happen, checking clocks every second. Almost like a goddamn teenager, shifting the weight from one foot to the other on the spot. Nothing can go wrong, he tries to calm himself, there are so many ways to cover your disappearance. Perks of the job.

He didn’t notice how you arrived here too until your perfume brought him to senses. Your face is soft, your eyelashes flutter and you are so untainted. Your younger frame reminds him of himself your age. 21 years old, 1998. When he was at your age he had already witnessed horrors, you don’t realize they still exist. Leon shakes his head, that memory never brings anything good, but today his mood is not ruined and the memory has only strengthened the urge to keep you close.

Leon needs you, untouched by horrors and he knows much better how life can be terrifying.

“You ready?” He flashes a smile, his mood is more upturned than it has ever been - you can’t help yourself, a grin spread across your face too. It is infectious.

“Mmm, I am” you nod, curling your hand around his elbow, to keep yourself closer to him. And he is ready too, god, he has never been so fucking ready in his life.

“Not late this time,” His heart clenches at your words, and he looks into your eyes with a cocked eyebrow - awaiting whatever you came up with. “not like you at all, should I expect a surprise?”

“Maybe, maybe not” He brushes off with a shrug, a smile is still on his lips as you get closer to the car, but he can feel your excitement.

“A ring maybe?” You giggle. He opens the car door for you to get in, you don’t want to let go of his arm.

“A ring? Already?” He says and shakes his head. No, not a ring, but a different surprise. He kisses your lips in a chaste way, hoping you will not try to harp on this topic. “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart, wait for it”

…

After dinner was different. A drop of temperatures and an easy flow of the air, dull lights of the street lamp illuminating your figures, inhaling the air in your lungs for the last time. The street is empty; no drivers, no smell of cigarettes, just you and him. And… silence fell upon you both.

Until his hand presses a tissue around your nose. It is suffocating; your nails dig into the arm, trying to worm out.

“Shhh, sweetheart, easy there” His voice brushes against your ear, soothing and intimate. The one he used when he fucked you. “Don’t make it worse for yourself...”

The warm body pressed against your back and kept you close until your body became pliant in Leon’s embrace on the silent night.

Tied up and unconscious. He is considerate enough to not let you experience the narrow space of the car trunk. With heaviness in his chest and like a scaredy cat, driving to his apartment - guilt shifts to euphoria in no time. You wanted this, no? Why would you stay with him after all? It doesn’t matter anymore. He was successful, finally. It worked. Today is his luckiest day, it should be highlighted on the calendar.

While this is the uncomfortable memory of your last date.

…

Every time you are alone, there are little things to do - you could have done some projects for college, maybe talk to friends and go to clubs. To catch a pretty guy, to have sex in the bathroom of the said club. Or fall in love with a guy of your age. It fills you with love and excitement like your hypothetical phone is going to ring as if you aren’t forced to be in Leon’s apartment.

Leon says you are a doll. Not those plastic bimbo dolls you see on social media with plastic acrylics that are longer than their eyelashes. Those reeks of cheapness by trying to be expensive, Leon has explained the difference to you. You are not Barbie or Bratz, those are ones you’d probably played with in your childhood, for Leon, you are another kind of a doll.

He is the one controlling you, making those dumb rules you’ve never memorized and you aren’t really going to. His grip around you is tight and your skin blooms with darker colors after playing with you.

Pretty, that word lives rent-free in his mind, almost becoming the most used of his. Favorite word. Your presence urges him to dress you up. A glance into the closet, most of it contains dresses and other items he has bought you. To take care of you, Leon almost emptied his wallet entirely for you a lot after getting you. It excites him. Admiring outfits he put you in and the same night, he is the one raising the fabric of your dress - two fingers or a dick inside you are enough to make you busy with moans and squirm.

He loves it, oh, he adores it. And your pussy is the best. It calms him, centers him - being someone’s center of the world is delightful, the only one time of the day in which he doesn’t feel insane. You make him feel sane, on the days when your mouth doesn’t run free.

From your point of view, he looks like he is trying to play house with you. In a wrong way. Playing house didn’t include tears or forced silence. Or forced participation. It should be fun, usually, it had been, at least in your childhood. Leon acts like this is normal like he didn’t just kidnap you during your date and force you to be here. He is still sweet, still spending his money on you (even though he doesn’t care about your preferences now), there is food on the table too. During the dinner, the silence is filled with stories from his work - names of people you don’t know. They don’t know you either, you aren’t the most famous captive girl on the planet after all. This is the bare minimum.

What’s more to ask for? Freedom, you are full of his shit actually, you would have preferred ignorance to be bliss cause his farce makes you feel insane. More unanswered questions flood your mind, they stick to your mind like a leech on the skin after a fresh swim on the summer day. You need to wash away this feeling, the only way is to question him. Right. First, you played nicely, still pitying him and holding him dear to your heart.

“What are you talking about, sweetie?” And a confused expression was his answer. He doesn’t even process what you said, just moves on. This didn’t work. Nothing fucking works here.

Now you prefer to poke those facts at him - like a harsh whiplash, a cold water against his face to bring him back to reality. You shouldn’t live like this alone.

Under your flesh there is a hidden hole filled with turbulent waters, almost tearing you apart - suffocating you with confusion. You wish hatred was the only reason to keep you sane, but the deep affection towards him still emerges like a bad dream. His tired eyes with loving and sweet nothing words come from his mouth, peppering your body and face with kisses when everything is right. The memories of nights with him flash in your mind: he is nice enough not to break you, while your body reacts in natural ways. You get wet, you feel pleasure, and his fingers know just the right spot to make your back arch.

This tears you apart, it confuses you too. Maybe there is something you don’t catch on, something missing. Conditioning? You aren’t a mindless idiot, nor a Pavlovian dog, but your body reacts like one. Maybe that’s a lie to reassure yourself. Still, you can’t drive yourself close to orgasm when he is not home. Your fingers aren’t enough anymore, almost with tears trying to get yourself off. To feel like your own person without him.

But something. Is. Always. Missing. You are incomplete.

…

It is already late, really late. Leon is a busy man, at least his job seems to be really important - so important, that he has always refused to tell you, avoiding the topic like the plague and switching to that honeyed tone, talking to you like a dumb puppy. Maybe it is some government shit job, something dirty - suitable for him.

But when he is late, many hopeful scenarios emerge, the most common is his car crushing to death. Good girls get gifts, their wishes get accomplished also, and they end up in heaven too - Leon told you that and to him, you are a good girl. Corny shit. Could he be right though? What if your wish was heard finally? Then remained trouble in your life would be to get out.

And the same dreams are crushed every time the sound of the car engine goes off, the jiggle of keys reaches your ears. You know it too well, you can recognize these little details and they fill you with dread. The sound of his steps, they are so different from others. The sound of his car doesn’t sound like those outside his house. Maybe you are insane, but everything he does is so recognizable it makes you sick.

And Leon is back.

His face is the only one you see, even in your dreams. There is nothing changeable in it. Light stubble, but still him. Shaved and it is still him. Different cologne. And still him. Leon sickens you, this little play often pushes your buttons, urging you to break this act and get yourself into trouble. Maybe the remains of hope are to blame, maybe Leon would change his mind and stop this.

He plops down on the couch, drawing your attention to him - impossible to ignore, if you did, you wouldn’t stop hearing the end of his complaints. His black shirt strains across his muscular body, the fabric is not shy to outline his big chest. Black suits him, but Leon looks good in everything forcing more dread stir in your chest.

“Finally, home” Leon sighs, his hand creeping up to pull you into his lap, acting unbothered. Your legs straddle his hips, facing him. Don’t forget, you are captive. And this is the part of the routine. He is going to watch those old movies from his childhood, or work silently(maybe he will nudge his cock inside you, to keep himself warm) and then he will fuck you. A tearful routine.

“…yay..!” You try to smile, forcing it to please him. Ignoring conflicting feelings in your body, anticipation to feel his dick mixed with dread. A yearning for change. Leon kisses your forehead.

His blue eyes feel heavy on your face, making you feel so little. “I missed you” Leon cooed with a honeyed tone, pulling you even closer. That light smell of beer coming from him forces your skin to crawl. His fingers pinch your cheek, tugging it briefly too. “My doll felt lonely today, right? Without me?”

Again, that mocking sweetness. The one you’d use for puppies. You nod with a hum “Mmm”

“I had a bad bad day today, those reports dried my eyes, god” he groans, his head tipped back, rubbing his eyes as to emphasize his words. But still gripping your waist. You don’t have the mood to be nice to him, his smile and relaxed expression stir dread and hate towards him. And yourself.

“You look like you had a bad day and not me” Leon comments, raising an eyebrow before his thumb tugs on the corner of your lips - smile. You had a bad day forever, your day can’t be compared to whatever he had today. His voice is sweet, but condescending, like he knows what is better for you. Leon doesn’t know shit.

“I don’t think you have reasons to be upset, huh? Your life is easy, baby” He snaps his fingers. Like an order. “pretty smile for me, no one likes grumpy girls”

“You are fucking sick… you know that?” Words spill out quickly and mindlessly, ignoring his distorted expression - you just want him to be in pain. Like you are. There is a hint of fear in your voice, subconsciously aware of what is going to happen after your words. “… you KIDNAPPED ME and you want me to play along with this act?…” A bittersweet pause. Adrenaline rushes through your blood, like after a good shot of vodka. “That’s fucking smart… asshole”

A hard swallow, trying to ignore the growing lump in your throat. Anxiety. This time, your voice is much quieter, you feel so small. Involuntarily shrinking away to shield yourself from what is coming. “I hate you”

There is an uncomfortable silence and his face is not blurry anymore - it is the only thing you can see right now. There is no slap, which is worse, silence is much scarier than a reaction cause you need to know what is going on in his head. You should have stayed silent instead, maybe Leon was right - you can’t stop but back talk and try to get yourself into trouble. You got yourself into this, not him.

Maybe an apology… wouldn’t it be late? Would it save? God, you MESSED this up. There is no way back.

His eyebrows furrowed, looking down at you with a clear discontent painting on his face, his fingers digging into the flesh of your cheeks - uncomfortably keeping you still. This time being pretty and batting your eyelashes like a dumb doll is not going to save you.

“You are so spoiled. No one likes ungrateful bitches like you” Leon shakes his head, not giving a space to you to talk back again. “I buy you pretty things, I spend my time and money on you… and you repay me like that?”

He tilts your head, the grip is bruising, almost. Leon doesn’t give you flowers, but bruises look like them quite enough. His words hit you like a slap, making you feel like there is something tremendously wrong with you, not with him.

“Is it so hard to play nice and stay pretty for me?” He adds with a raised eyebrow. His thumb caresses your lower lip, playing and tugging it down, before pushing the digit past your soft and tender lips.

“And quiet.” He tsked, feeling warm saliva clinging to his thumb as it pressed down onto your tongue. Lucky for Leon, one of his wishes is accomplished - you can’t really talk, only muffled words, while your mouth is occupied with his digit. He keeps the grip on your jaw, before replacing it with two fingers. Pointer and middle finger. You are so pretty when you keep your mouth shut or around his fingers. Or dick. The latter is much preferable.

Your mouth is always warm, inviting, and wet. Hard to hide how such act affects you, your breathing catches in your chest, as his fingers keep rubbing the front of your tongue - messy and slick, not wetter than your cunt right now. Your mouth can not be compared to your pussy though, it has much more pros than disadvantages, the only con is the lack of wetness sometimes. Not something unfixable at the end of the day, a spit or lube (if he is in a good mood) can fix anything.

Your eyes are closed, feeling his other hand keeping your head pointed up where he can see you. To be honest, you don’t really know if you are just trying to illude yourself and hide from the truth - both options are useless, they bring you back to him. Every time his fingers are in your mouth, keeping you quiet and forcing you to suck on them - your pussy gets wet quickly like it is connected to your throat. His fingers delve deeper, moving in and out slowly. You can’t help yourself. Your clit throbs uncomfortably, urging you to do something about this, and your inner walls flutter around nothing - your mind reminds you of how good his dick feels. You probably look so pitiful to him, your eyes reflect well what your body begs for while drooling around his fingers.

Your thighs try to snap close, to rub them together and get that sweet-sweet stimulation, but they end up straddling his hips tighter - feeling the outline of his hard cock press against the damp and thin material of your underwear. It isn’t a big obstacle right now, the burning heat can be felt easily. A choked whine escapes from your mouth, realizing that his pants are still on him.

“Uh-huh, you want my attention?” Leon asks, not trying to be subtle with his tone, laced with mocking sweetness. His fingers leave your mouth with a wet pop, leaving a trail of droll connecting you both. It is so empty without him filling your senses. His eyebrows curl up, glaring down on you like at kicked puppy. He mocks you, another squirming heat crawls in your cunt. Embarrassingly wet, dripping, and staining his jeans with your slick. God, you ARE getting off when he is being patronizing with you. “You ruined my day, baby. Do you really think you deserve anything right now?”

Your mind is screaming at you to do something, you need that relief. His cock. Anything that will fill the emptiness inside you with pleasure. You shiver when his fingers brush across the hem of your underwear, clearly amused by how wet you are. They push aside the fabric, already wet by your saliva - slowly stroking your drenching folds. So warm and puffy, even the light touch of his fingers on your clit makes your body jolt like you are in pain.

“Leon…” Your voice sounds cloying, it goes straight to his hard dick, as you look under your eyelashes at his face - it makes you feel dumb. Any sentences or words are thrown away into the bin under his glare, he doesn’t even try hard to make you feel like that, there is no need cause you are dumb. And you ache for his cock, ignoring alarms in your head. You are just a dumb, aching doll.

And his. He told you that.

“What?” Leon pressed, already withdrew his fingers from your cunt, wanting to see you more desperate. Your hips try to grind against his hard cock, to get a light stimulation. You stay silent, words aren’t enough to formulate what swirls in your mind. Somewhat, his presence and words are always tied to that deep feeling of owing him something. What? Not clear, but it is still here, even if his cock empties your mind.

You are still his after the dramatics you pulled, right?

You swallow hard, the sight of his unmoving hand on the belt makes your cunt painfully ache, ignoring your mind screaming at you to hit him. You don’t deserve this, it whispers. The guilty part of your brain won a long time ago, it overwhelms that soothing reminder - canceling it completely - you need to hurry up him. You are at fault, it whispers. “…Please…” Forgive me, I need you.

You gasp as in rasp motion he changes your position, shoving you and you end up with your back pressed down flatly on the soft material of the couch, while Leon hovers over you. And he kisses your forehead, with the same tenderness and affection he has given you before - like a couple, married couple on honeymoon. Your mind misses the bullseye with this conclusion, but whatever helps, right? The spot burns hot, as a reminder that you have to please him.

Clink-clink! It snaps you out of your thoughts. The sound of his belt makes your skin crawl, and more slick pools in between your thighs like at the unvoiced command. You try to buck your hips up, only to end up restrained by his hand - it grips tightly your flesh, in a bruising hold, and the signs will bloom into another purplish collection in the morning. His hand pins your hips down, - silently denying the control over your pleasure. Couldn’t be even wetter at this point.

It isn’t really visible, but his breathless sigh signaled you that his hand is, probably, wrapped around his cock. You squirm, to prop yourself to look down and maybe get comfier - again, he pushes you down with a head shake.

Your legs shake when his cock presses up in between your drenching folds, the slick clings to the skin, and his cock head nudges against your aching clit. And this hits so good too, his hard cock slides across your cunt. You can’t help but let your hips buck up back, again - to get your own control on the pleasure. Tsk. Your attempt gets easily interrupted again, as his hand pushes your hips down. His cock gets harder after every slow and agonizing rut, the wet sounds of your slick pressing and smearing his cock is like music to his ears. No wonder it is so easy to get lost, thank god your attempts to worm out of his grip snap him out of that pleasure.

You are so impatient. But for Leon, sex is so much simpler, cause he is a simple man. With age many things change, they get uncomplicated. Of course, Leon likes good stuff; tasty good, keeping you pretty, watching how your tits bounce with every thrust and feeling your flesh under his hands, how you react to him. But the sex isn’t the lovemaking or a way to satisfy you, for him, it would be useless to keep you here then. There is a deep desire to hold onto his past, on the part he is so close to lose touch with after every birthday date. And you are perfect for this. Life goes on and without him, but yours can’t go on without him now. Every time he sees you so confused, depending on him - he can’t lie, it makes his cock jolt. He wants to see every little expression on your face, - desperation, affection, confusion, misery, everything - to etch the sight into his memory.

“Baby, you don’t know what’s good for you..” Leon says, there is no answer from you and he doesn’t really need one. His eyes are focused on his cock nudging your hole before slowly pressing in - now watching your spasming and drenching hole swallows his cock. And you gasp.

Without fingers, without any preparation, but wet as hell, you still feel tight as sin. It is easier to get through though. The velvet softness of your fluttering cunt is addicting as your walls clench around him in a vice grip with every inch pushed inside.

It is dizzying how your mind empties together with your body, any remains of conflict regarding this situation is gone. Focusing on how his cock stretches your walls, leaving you breathless and trembling at the slow-filling sensation in your cunt. Your hands creep to rest on his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

His cock pushes through, until its tip presses against your cervix - he is deep inside, his hips nestled right against your ass - and your pussy is so overwhelmingly full, for a moment you forgot how to breathe.

“That’s okay” Leon cooed again. His hand brushes across the skin of your collarbone, caressing it. Burns and you are hot, to the point his touch felt cold. You shiver, his hand is always pleasant to feel, but at the same, the feeling of it is accompanied by something else, you can’t ever catch it. It is brief but always gives you awareness.

Your chest rises up and down unsteadily, looking probably pathetic right now as his hips start moving. Already overwhelmed without a way out.

“Awww, you are just a dumb thing, not knowing anything better” Leon drawls with an amused smirk.

The pace is set, rhythmically rocking against you, using your cunt like a toy. You want to roll your own hips back, to do something but today isn’t your day. You already forgot about your earlier lash-out, as the only sounds reaching your ears are flesh-hitting ones mixed with your moans. His lips are parted on a soft stream of pants.

“N-no..” This attempt of protest slips out easily from your mouth, without giving too much thought into what may happen. Your nails dig into the flesh of his shoulders. His hand creeps higher, to rest on your neck in a loose grip, a silent warning perhaps. Pretty faces don’t need to do anything other than being pretty, but tonight you let your mouth slip out too often.

The hand on your hip pushes it down again, the grip hurts actually. Feels like there are already bruises forming and he is clearly not pleased with you. He isn’t at all, your comments ruin his fun. They distract him from your tight pussy, how hot it is, and engulf him, begging him to thrust ruthlessly and fill you.

Unspoken rule, you should be silent and let him use your cunt without other noises than incoherent moans.

“Oh, no-no” Leon mocks you, a sharp, unexpected thrust, his cock head grinds against your cervix. To punctuate his words his grip on your throat tightens. Or you are imagining this? Another thrust, snapping you out of your thoughts. His hips start dragging his cock out of you, then he pushes it back deep inside. “I know what’s better for you.”

Every deep thrust into your spasming cunt, your thighs shake, and muscles in your body flex every time your hips connect. And his hand squeezes your throat, you can clearly feel the outlines of his fingers on the skin of your throat. God, is the grip getting tighter? Is he trying to cut the air? This fills your body with panic; it writhes even more, ignoring the painful grip on your hip and becoming more aware of the one that’s getting tighter around your neck.

Yeah, he is angry at you.

“Doll, you brought this… on yourself” Leon whispers breathlessly, watching your expression twist with a mix of pleasure and fear. Your hands travel from his shoulders to his wrist, nails dig into its flesh. “don’t resist”

His hand angles your hip better, losing the rhythm of the pace as his cock pounds into you in quick and deep thrusts. It hits your g-spot too, but the lack of air is the biggest of your worries right now. Your cunt flutters, getting tighter with the less air incoming, and more tingly wave of sensation rides over your body. The tips of your fingers feel weird, and your entire body starts to drown in numbness. It is weirdly pleasant but at the same time scary. Deep down you like it, not realizing it.

“Come on,” Leon grunts, his grip on your neck doesn’t lessen, and you try to focus on something else other than the possibility of passing out. Your walls clench around his dick tighter, and your mouth opens uselessly as a dumb fish trying to speak, but the only sound coming out is a muffled one.

“If you are so smart… fuck…” He moans, you feel so good, your walls clenched tight around his dragging cock and your body is so easily letting him use your pussy. He can get drunk on it. “…use your big mouth”

His grip tightens, and another choked moan tries to drawl out of your mouth. Nothing comes out other than a quiet, pathetic mewl. It feels like you are going to die.

“Use your filthy and smart mouth” He taunts again, the corner of his mouth curls into a smirk. His hips thrust into you in rough and hard movements. It feels like just his presence is overfilling you. Maybe the lack of oxygen is to blame. “or you can only use it for my dick.. huh? Like a whore, not a doll”

“A…m, S-s” I am sorry. You try your best, but it is hard to do multitasking when your head is so lightheaded and his dick inside you feels so good. Your body feels numb like it doesn’t belong to you anymore, writhing and squirming every time his cockhead hit your cervix - a pang of tingling mixture, something so new and pleasurable, but at the same time foreign, with the hint of pain. But it is a delicious kind of hurt, toe-curling one.

You are going to pass out, trying to swallow down the saliva pooling in your mouth and your nails dig into the skin of his bicep - begging, unawarely your eyes sprinkle with tears. “S-..sor-r—” This is your best attempt.

Orgasm has always been different with him, it is warm, still keeping your turmoil. This time it is crushing, but feels shorter than it was actually. It hits your body unexpectedly, filling to the brim with the feeling of his cock spouting cum inside you, while every patch of your skin is numb and burning hot.

Confusing your mind more when his hand slipped away, so close to pass out and the quick rush of air fills your lungs almost choking you, overwhelming the pleasure of your own orgasm. You are so sensitive, at the brink of tears - not having any strength to keep them in, they easily well in your eyes, blurring even more the vision before rolling down. It doesn’t hit like it should cause you are too focused on the fading numbness and shaking while inhaling the air - unreasonably afraid(to Leon) that he is going to take it away again. Breathing feels much better than sex, right now at least.

He pulls out his dick, and his cum slowly oozes out of your hole, while you are still recovering. Not hiding where his gaze is directed. It is hypnotizing, urging him to shove it back into you with his fingers and keep his cum inside you for a little bit longer. You snap him out of this trance with your sobbing and incoherent words.

“I am so—sorry!” You sob, tugging onto the fabric of his black shirt to pull him closer to you. Seeking comfort in him, you don’t have any other options. He can’t deny this to you, his arm wraps around your shoulders. And even if you had other choices, still you would crawl back to Leon. “I was mistaken… I am so-so sorry. It was a mistake!”

God, you shake like a leaf right now. He huffs as if your words were the most obvious thing. Like the sky is blue or two plus two is four. It is hard to push you away, the trembling and teared-up mess. Leon enjoys that.

“There you are, baby. I got it” Leon sighs, the crease in between his eyebrows deepens. His hand brushes away your hair from your face, to get a better glance of your state. Mistake. Everything is a mistake here - your presence, getting off only of him, texting him first, and letting him take you on dates. Leon can’t help, but chuckle. “Of course. Indeed a mistake, doll”

[just-jordie-things]

headcanon request: how would the jjk guys react if someone's trying to flirt with them but they're already in a relationship with their s/o?

YES i love some light jealousy teehee ___

GOJO SATORU

has no chill if someone's flirting with him. or worse, he thinks someone's flirting with him, but they're just taking his order, or letting him know his shoe is untied.

he's literally "I'M MARRIED"

(for the untied shoe one, he definitely trips when he runs off)

he's so annoying abt it fr. always throwing "i have a wife" (even long before you're married) around even when unnecessary

and ppl do flirt with him, he's gojo, but sometimes... he's just a lot.

even if someone looks at him too long, he's wrapping his arm around you and loudly announcing "in front of my wife? you're lucky i'm holding her back!"

and you're just standing there bewildered with the box of cereal you were about to toss into the cart and wondering who the hell he's talking to- and when the hell did he propose??

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

for the most part he doesn't really notice when someone's flirting with him. i think it would take some very obvious hints.

so say someone is really trying to get him to catch on, pulling all the stops- fluttering eyelashes, unnecessary touching, one too many comments about his eyes, and finally, slipping a piece of paper into his hand with their phone number.

megumi can accidentally be a little cold.

he scowls at the phone number before crumpling the paper and dropping it.

"i don't want that," he's completely expressionless when he speaks, and honestly, the flirt-er is lucky he said anything at all rather than straight up walking away. "i have a girlfriend"

and then he walks away.

and when he meets up with you again he's a little more affectionate than usual, holding you a little longer, pulling you closer when you settle on the couch or bed or wherever, kissing you a few extra times for good measure.

don't get him wrong, it's not out of guilt or anything. he just wants you to know that he thinks of you when you're apart, and that he appreciates and loves you to death. nothing could ever change that.

ITADORI YUUJI

i don't often add him to my brainrot posts but i SHOULD and i had the most brilliant thought for him specifically

if he's getting hit on, he'll shut it down casually enough, and just blatantly tell them they're not his type.

and then he'll just start listing everything about you. and lover boy is BABBLING ok, no one could shut him up

he's describing your hair your eyes your nose your hands your style- and once he gets thru the physical stuff, it gets random

he's talking about your hobbies, your weird interests or collections, how sometimes you're a bad driver but you try your best lmfao he gets on such a tangent i don't think he'd even realize his tactic for defusing the flirting is just confusing the other person to the point of no longer wanting to give him their number

and once he's done with his dreamy little speech, he just goes "like my partner!!" all excited and bubbly

he's always rushing off to meet up with you then, having got himself so eager to be around you some more

OKKOTSU YUUTA

he's polite, but firm. he can also be a little quick to say he's taken, but it's only because he wants to let people down easy!

he's very kind when urning down phone numbers or flirty advances, always giving a gentle smile and saying no thank you, or actually i have a girlfriend. and he never apologizes when he says the second one, but that doesn't mean he's cruel! he's just thoughtful and respectful of you!

yuuta's a total gentleman.

but. god forbid. if he gets one of those nasty ppl that pull the "your girlfriend doesn't have to know" bullshit. oh boy. he does not handle that well.

toxic!yuuta jumps out a little!!

for as polite as he can be, he can get nasty when provoked just right, and someone disrespecting you? his beloved?

first it's a lecture- how dare you suggest such a thing? do you often try to break up people's perfect love lives?

then it's standing up for your honor- do you know how wonderful and lovely my partner is? you couldn't even understand the lengths that their radiance extends to. this part usually gets a little messy. he can get carried away when talking about you.

and lastly, he gets personal. deeply. personal. if they're having a not-so-great hair day, or if their attempts at slipping him their number were particularly weak, he's pouncing on that. he sniffs out weakness like a goddamn Chivalrous Boyfriend Bloodhound and sinking his claws in. i think yuuta could be really mean if he wanted to.

but that's kinda hot tho

INUMAKI TOGE

definitely the funniest of all of them. bcuz if he's getting hit on, he kinda just... stands there.

._.

CAUSE HE LITERALLY CANT SAY ANYTHING ???

sure, he could play it off like he doesn't understand what they're saying, or even type a little note in his phone saying he has a partner... but...

toge definitely prefers to stand there, completely blank faced, and stretch out the discomfort as long as possible.

sometimes people just scowl and walk away, finding it rude

one time tho someone actually started tearing up and completely ran away

(you came back just as it happened, an ice cream cone in each hand and a confused look on your face. but there's no way your sweet, mute boyfriend made a person cry, right?)

[decojellyfish]

Whimper

Hi everypony! This is the official part 2 of Bite!

You guys have no idea how much I appreciate all the love I've been getting for my past fics! Thank you all so much :)

------ Hybrid AU! TF141

Retired Fight Dog! Ghost, Soap, and Gaz x Retired Fight Dog! GN! Reader x Owner! Price Reader is only addressed as ‘you’

SFW ~ Angst to fluff

Warnings: Very brief/occasional swearing, mentions of self-hatred and depression

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴: "Come Wander with Me - Jeff Alexander" 0:09 ━●────────── 2:47 ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷

───♡───────────── Beginning It had been a week since you’d run away from the Price household. You couldn’t bring yourself to ever turn around, to ever look back at the house. You temporarily returned to your old lifestyle, hiding in the shadowy alleyways, dumpster diving for food, etc. But as the days passed, the guilt and shame would eat away at you. Your portions of garbage food would grow smaller and smaller before you gave up on eating altogether.

Any kind of food, no matter how clean or rotten it was, never felt like it was deserved. You would rot away in a pool of disgrace, staring up at the sky. Whether it was the middle of the day or two in the morning, you were lying in a dirty alley and gazing at the never-ending sky. You couldn’t even retreat to your happy place, it was corrupted now. Whenever you tried to run into escapism, you were abruptly snatched back into reality as images of your attack flashed across your mind.

You weren’t deserving of your happy place anyway. You were given a chance to live in a warm home, warm fresh food whenever you wanted it, clean clothes, and even a bath. And you threw it all away because you were too scared, you couldn’t escape the past. You would rather stay willfully trapped in the past than lean into the future’s welcoming arms. You had practically slapped the future in the face. Spit in its face, even.

You couldn’t go back there, not after what you did.

The boys had been looking for you, any chance they had. You knew this because you had close run-ins with them before you would run as far away as you could from your current alleyway. You were right back where you started—square one. You hated square one, but now, you felt like you deserved to be permanently chained to it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The Price household was barely holding it together. That faithful afternoon, when Price and Gaz returned from their trip to the grocery store. Price had worried he left the door open, then seeing Soap’s patched-up state and Ghost residing on the couch, his head in his hands. Until that is when Ghost and Soap retold what happened. Albeit, Soap interrupting constantly with tears in his eyes.

He felt that it was all his fault. He was the one who reached out to you, violating your comfort zone without even realizing it. Soap just wanted to scoop you up in a tight bear hug, with your consent, and apologize to you over and over again. None of them knew where you were. Your scent was hard to track down, even for Soap or Ghost. Nevertheless, they would all look for you whenever they were out. Sometimes even Gaz would stay up late, ruining his sleep routine as he stared out the window, hoping he could see you in the distance.

He never did, but that didn’t make him give up. When he came back home from the grocery store that day, Gaz was so excited to share his favorite treats with you. The box of treats remained on the countertop, waiting to be opened. Gaz was waiting for you to come home to open it, like a welcome (back) home surprise.

Even Price would lay awake at night, wondering where you were. Which alley you were in, what you had found to eat. Sometimes he would wonder if you were even alive at this point. The first place he thought to check was the pound, maybe you’d turn yourself in. Next, he checked the shelter, maybe you were brought there. But alas, you were nowhere to be found.

Ghost was even starting to sneak out at night, patrolling the area for any sign of you. Soap would often tag along with him, he felt that since he was responsible for your departure, he was equally responsible for seeking you out and bringing you back.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The sun was beginning to rise. The sky, hour by hour, gradually brightened up from dark indigo to light blue. It had been nearly two weeks since your sudden escape. You were sure that you were far away from the Price household, maybe even a town away from them. Waiting for the day to pass again like it had the other ones, your monotonous schedule was interrupted by a little sound. A little ‘clink’.

Looking over, you saw an ivory plate with four treats on it. You looked up, finding the perpetrator who dared to give you food. It was a woman, she looked kind. But you felt that her kindness was deserved elsewhere, maybe for another hybrid that didn’t fuck up the chances the universe gave them.

“Go on, sweetie.” She smiled at you, “It’s okay to eat, you look hungry.” She was knelt by your seated form, showing no signs of leaving. After nearly thirty minutes of just staring at the woman, the plate of treats, and a spot on the sidewalk, you hesitantly approached the plate. Grabbing a treat, you looked up at her, almost as if wanting her approval. “There you go, eat up.” Her voice was like a campfire, warm and safe.

You had slowly eaten all the treats and now, were following the woman like a lost puppy. Well, you kind of were one. Only that you were willfully lost. Your sunken eyes followed her as she walked up the few steps of a hybrid shelter.

Staying at the bottom of the stairs, you looked up at her as you began to protest. “Oh, no, I- I don’t need a home…” “Well of course you do, lovie.” She smiled down at you, not understanding what was going on in your head. Of course, everyone needs a home, it’s just that you were a bad pup. Bad pups don’t deserve homes or food. You only ate the food she offered you because she wouldn’t leave you alone.

“C’mon, pup, it’d nothing to be scared of. Everyone is deserving of a warm place.” She smiled down at you, quickly trotting down the steps and grasping your hand. Despite your constant protests and objections, she pulled you into the building and you were suddenly hit with so many smells of different hybrids. It was overwhelming, you wanted to leave more than you already did. But you were now in the custody of the shelter, there was no getting away now.

At the shelter, you didn’t do much. You didn’t do anything. You never left your cage, you always had your back turned to everyone but the wall, even when sleeping. Even in captivity, you didn’t eat, didn’t play, and you never communicated. There was even a rumor around the shelter that you didn’t have a voice or face. That was only with the new members, though. It’d been another week since you were brought here, and you were growing more and more hopeless by the day.

Why? Why was the universe giving you more and more chances? You’d only end up throwing them away, why wasn’t the all-knowing universe catching on?

You didn’t get it. You didn’t get why they kept trying to feed you, replacing the uneaten food in your bowl with new food. Food that would also stay uneaten. You didn’t get why they made sure you drank at least a little water each day. You didn’t get why they cared. Why did they care about you so much?

Why did they care so much about someone who threw away every chance they got, because they couldn’t trust anything supposedly good in this world?

You had grown quiet. What was once a fearsome fighter dog, one that was well known for their vigor and bloodthirst, was now a meek little pup. Scared, not knowing what they did to deserve this life, this pain, this distrust of every single being around them. You would find yourself getting angry again, angry that you didn’t get a cozy life like the other pups, and when you were offered one, you ran away.

Bad pup. Bad pup. Bad pup. It repeated in your head like some twisted earworm that had engraved its home into your brain.

Unfortunately, your only outlet for this anger was your tears. But you didn’t want anyone to hear your suffering. You still wanted to be seen as a scary fighter. So you waited till everyone in the shelter was asleep, this meant everyone, so you would end up waiting till three or four in the morning to just silently cry your heart out.

You would grip at your hair and the clothes you still got from Price, and you would sometimes clutch your entire face as you desperately hid it to muffle your sobs and hiccups. You would cry for an hour or two, then you would be asleep by sunrise. It was your little routine by now. Hey, at least that meant you were getting used to this place.

Sometimes, there were nights when you would cry harder than other nights. Mostly ones where a hybrid was adopted, a constant reminder as to how unwanted you were, or the ones where you couldn’t stop the constant flashes of your past fights. All of them. Ones with actual fighter dogs, ones with domesticated dogs that were just trying to live their lives, and Soap. None of them deserved what you did, not even the fighters that wounded you that you ended up wounding back just as harshly if not, worse. They didn’t deserve that. No one deserves that. Soap didn’t deserve to be the victim of your outburst. No one did.

You didn’t deserve this life, you didn’t deserve to be a bad pup. You didn’t want to be a bad pup anymore. You would desperately cry out to the universe, in your head, that you didn’t want to be a bad pup anymore. You wanted to be a good pup. You wanted to play in the park with other dogs, you wanted to have a bath every week, to go on walks, to eat your favorite treats, to wear your own clothes that didn’t have holes from rotting away. To have a kind owner.

You wanted Price. You wanted Gaz, and Soap, and Ghost. You wanted to take back that chance, you would plead every night to get it back.

But as much as you wanted to get that chance back, it didn’t come.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Price never stopped his search. None of the boys did. But while the boys would sleep throughout the night, Price was now spending his time in bed constantly searching for any sign of you on his computer.

Finally, he came across a photo of you. He had to do a double-take when he saw the date of the photo. It was recent, and you were still wearing the t-shirt from your first day at the home. He had to make sure he didn’t wake up any of the boys with the slight cry of joy and relief he let out at the revelation that you were safe and in a shelter.

He made sure to save the address of where you were. It surprised him that you were so far from his home, but he was happy you looked like you were safe at the moment.

That morning, Price was up and early. Already dressed, he began to cook breakfast for his boys. They all had their morning routine of having breakfast and usually chatting with each other. Gaz and Soap, however, had grown quiet the past few weeks. Price and Ghost could tell they were heavily affected by your disappearance, Soap was more guilty than Gaz was saddened as well as missing you.

Price would interrupt the difficult silence that they’d all grown accustomed to with a clearing of his throat. “I’ll be out for a while today. I’ll be visiting an old friend.” He didn’t want to say who he was seeing specifically as that would make all the pups want to come with him. It would overwhelm you if all the dogs came in with him just to see you. He knew you would need a slow reintroduction to the idea of becoming domesticated.

A few murmurs of acknowledgment made their way around the table as the boys ate their breakfast. It was clear they were all trapped in their heads, stuck in their thoughts.

An hour later, Price got in his car and drove to the shelter where you currently resided.

He stepped into the building, already beginning his search for you again. He looked at each cage, wondering which one you were in. It wasn’t until he had finally caught a glimpse of a familiar t-shirt that he let out a sigh of relief. Kneeling by your cage, he carefully watched your back slowly rise and fall with each breath you took. He could vividly imagine the empty look on your face, how you were trapped in your head and stuck with your thoughts.

Price couldn’t blame you for wanting to be alone, he could sense the guilt dripping off of your curled-up form.

“Hey there, pup.” He spoke softly, you could hear a little smile in his voice too. You couldn’t help yourself, you looked over your shoulder at his gruff face. You did it so quickly that it made Price chuckle a bit, “Yes, it’s me. The old man.” He joked, running a hand over his facial hair. You stayed quiet, your head returning to its original position of staring at the back of your cage.

Letting out a little sigh, Price got slightly comfortable by your cage. “...the boys and I, we- we’ve missed you. We’ve been lookin’ all over town for you…” He continued to speak with a soft tone, his voice almost like a gentle, forgiving embrace. “I wanted to let you know that- we’re not mad at you. Nobody is, not even Soap. He misses you, I think, the most.” He laughed a little. “I know you’re scared, pup, I don’t blame you. You and the boys came from a very scary and cruel place. I’ve seen, multiple times, what that kind of life can do to a dog.”

Looking over at you, Price took in your tired appearance. “What you did… yes, it was bad. But you were scared. You did what you felt was necessary to protect you.” He paused. “Soap feels guilty himself, he didn’t mean to set you off. And he wants nothing more than to apologize for himself, and forgive you too.”

“He wants nothing more than to keep you safe. You know, he’s already been going on and on about being your guard dog when going on walks and at the park.” He laughed a little, looking over at you again.

That made you think to yourself. Soap wanted to protect you. Soap, the dog that you violently attacked in a fit of fight or flight senses that flooded your brain at that moment. It made you feel even more guilty, causing you to clutch at your shirt as a form of biting back the tears that were forming in your eyes.

“Now, you have every right to answer this question however you please, okay?” He looked at you, noticing how you looked over at him again, a subtle sense of curiosity in your dull eyes.

“Would you like a second chance to come back home?”

You were riddled with embarrassment as you followed Price out of the shelter, your tail could not stop wagging. And it was wagging hard. Your tough exterior was being betrayed by your brain, directly wired to your tail and making it wag like you had just one first place at a dog show.

It didn’t stop even when you were seated in Price’s car, audibly swishing against the material of the car seat. You were just so happy. You were happy Price had given you a second chance, the universe gave you a second chance to have a go at this whole domestication thing. After you had convinced yourself you weren’t deserving of one, the one person who you wanted a second chance from had come in and given it to you.

You weren’t going to mess it up this time, you weren’t going to lash out, you were going to see your old foes as new friends, and you were going to cherish this second chance for the rest of your life.

Price chuckled at your swishing tail, putting his phone down after sending a text. “I’m glad you’re happy, pup. You deserve to be.” He smiled at you, his thick, greyish mustache curling as if smiling too. He put on some jazzy radio station and began to drive back home. He even held your hand for comfort, after he offered his hand over the cupholders anyway. “It’s gonna be okay, dear. You’re gonna be okay.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The boys were all waiting by the front door, waiting for you to step through that door at any moment. After Gaz had received a text from Price, saying that he’d found you and was bringing you back, he had quickly informed the other two. Gaz had taken the liberty of setting up your little bed on the couch, lighting a little ocean-scented candle on the coffee table, and even setting a small plate of his favorite treats next to the said candle. The treats were just for you, like a little welcome-home gift.

His only orders for Ghost and Soap were to look sharp, making sure they weren’t still in their pajamas when you arrived, as well as having Soap fix up his mohawk.

Once all was said and done, the house was ready for your long-awaited return, the boys stood near the front door with bated breaths as they waited to hear Price’s car pulling into the driveway. It was about five minutes of waiting when they finally heard a vehicle arriving at the house.

Gaz’s tail was wagging, he was excited to greet you and hold you once again, happy that you were now safe and sound. Ghost was happy too, not as much as Gaz was, but still happy to have you back with the rest of the group. He was a little excited to see how you would adapt to a domesticated life, he could tell you were starting to like it before you left.

Soap was nervous, almost terrified. His tail was halfway tucked between his legs as he tried to maintain a good posture. He didn’t know what your reaction was going to be to see him again, he could already see you adamant on avoiding him like a virus. Maybe even barking at him to leave you alone, calling him a bad dog. In his eyes, he was a bad dog. He didn’t respect your boundaries when you were just settling in, he was the main reason you were gone in the first place. As much as he tried to keep himself straightened up, his eyes were full of shame, guilt, and worry.

The front door would open with a quiet click of the handle, and a tiny creak as it opened. Price was the first to step inside, letting you come in at your own pace. As you entered, you would look at the boys with surprised eyes. You hadn't expected them to be waiting for you, you thought they would be doing things around the house.

Gaz was smiling from ear to ear, opening up his arms as he silently asked for a hug. Taking a bit to get used to being in the house again, you eventually walked closer to him, accepting his embrace. “Welcome back, friend…” He hummed, resting his head on your shoulder as he closed his eyes. You slowly returned the hug, wrapping your arms around his broad frame with a gentle squeeze.

After nearly a minute, the two of you parted from one another. Ghost would gently pat and rub at your shoulder, a silent way of welcoming you back. “Good to see you back. We missed you.” It was the first time you’d seen Ghost smile at you. It felt… strange. But in a warm, welcoming way. Those three words nearly tore you up, ‘we missed you’. After weeks of imagining the group saying ‘good riddance’, ‘finally, they’re gone’, and ‘I never thought they’d leave’ constantly in your tortured mind, ‘we missed you’ blew all those thoughts away. It made you tear up, but you managed to blink them back and gulp down that burning lump in your throat.

You turned your gaze to Soap. The minute you locked eyes with each other, it was almost as if all your guilt and shame were shared with him, and his was shared with you. The day you saw Soap cry seemed to be an impossible thought. But it was happening right in front of you. Although he wasn’t a sobbing mess, you could tell he was holding back. And you were sniffling just as much.

With a deep shaky breath, he mustered up the courage to finally tell you what he’d been choking back ever since you’d run away.

“I’m sorry, pup. I’m sorry for not respectin’ your boundaries. I should’ve known you needed a bit o’ space, especially around Ghost and I. I- I just-” He sniffled, regaining himself when he felt his voice cracking. “I just wanted you t’ know that you’re safe here. No more fights, no more fear, no more worryin’ about when your next meal is gonna be. I just wanted you t’ feel safe, I… I want you t’ know that you’re safe, pup. We all are.” He sighed.

When Soap finally looked back up at you, staring at the ground in shame, he saw you choking back tears and sobs that were tearing at your throat. His eyes widened, “Are you okay, pup…? ‘M sorry if I said anythin’ that made you feel- bad.”

You shook your head in response, “No, no… I’m sorry too.” You wiped at your eyes as you sniffled. “I shouldn’t’ve freaked out on you like that. I had zero right to attack you, to hurt you the way I did that night. Especially after all you guys have done for me. I just- felt so guilty, I couldn’t come back. I thought all of you were gonna be so mad at me, you were just gonna kick me right out onto the streets again.” Your voice began to shake and crack, and your concrete walls began to crumble down. “I didn’t wanna face that, so I figured I could just do it all for you guys.” You hid your face away into your hands.

“I don’t feel deserving of the food, of these clothes, of anything you offer me.” You sobbed. “Not after what I’ve done, what I did.”

Soap watched the way your scarred ears folded back against your head, your tail nearly tucking itself between your legs, the way your shoulders shook with every uneven breath you took in or let out. He lightly brushed his calloused hand against one of your arms, making you look up at him with your red, puffy eyes.

“...do you need a hug?”

Your throat burned more than it ever did, causing you to whimper and nod as you began to audibly sob and cry, not being able to hold back anymore. Soap opened his arms and held you. He held you in such a gentle, forgiving way, that it was almost as if you were made of thin porcelain. Clinging onto him, you sobbed into his shirt. Your muffled cries and violent hiccups were soothed by one of his hands slowly caressing circles into your back.

“You do deserve all these nice things, pup. With all th’ shit you’ve put up with?” He chuckled slightly. “You deserve it all…” He smiled down at you, softly nuzzling into your hair.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Putting on a new set of clothes that Price had gotten you from the store, you stepped out of the bathroom after having your first bath back. They were comfy, nice, soft, and baggy too like wearable blankets. You had snuggled into your makeshift bed that Gaz had set up, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders.

Gaz happily watched as you tried the treats he’d set out for you, his tail wagging when you gave him a nod of approval. “Don’t spoil dinner just yet, pup. Food’s here!” Price called out from the front door. Price decided it was an order-in kind of night, so the group settled on take-out Chinese food.

Soap and Ghost made sure to handle the food order, their appetites combined making them wannabe food critics. Your mouth watered when the smell of it hit your sensitive nose, as well as the other dogs. Soap had also picked out a movie for the group to watch on this special night, he loved movies.

The group was sitting around the coffee table, their plates and mouths full of delicious food. Yours too. You were all sitting silently, captivated by the adventure unfolding before your eyes on the TV screen. For a brief moment, you were brought back to reality when you went to stab some more food with your fork.

You took the moment to look around. You were surrounded by what would be your new family, all in warm clothes, with nice hot food in your stomachs, and a nice warm home with decent air conditioning.

You were clean, you weren’t hungry, and your wounds from the streets had been taken care of. The you from a few months ago wouldn’t believe it, even you couldn’t believe it a little bit. That you were safe. You were looked after. You were loved.

And you deserved it all. ───♡───────────── End

Again, thank you so much for the love and support! If you have any requests or asks, feel free to submit them!

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[katemoneymartinsgf]

Paige x Sick Reader

a/n: I’ve been sitting on this for a minute, hope you guys like and let me know what you want maybe???

———

*Beep*

The FaceTime call ended, and you let out a soft sigh, staring at the screen where Paige’s smiling face had just disappeared. It was the fourth day of her trip, and she was finally coming back. You tried to act like everything was fine, but your body was telling a different story. You hadn’t felt this run-down in a while, but you didn’t want Paige to worry. Not with the massive game against USC and the weight of the loss to Notre Dame sitting heavy on her. She had enough on her plate without worrying about you.

“I’m fine,” you muttered to yourself as you laid back down, pulling the blanket up tighter. Just a little cold.

The next day, as promised, Paige was finally home . You could barely sleep, your body aching, feverish, and drained. But you couldn’t show her how bad it was—not when she was needed to be focused on the game ahead. You dragged yourself out of bed just as you heard a knock on your dorm door.

“Babe?” Paige’s voice rang out, tired but excited. You opened the door to find her standing there, holding a bouquet of flowers and a bag of Scandinavian Swimmers you always get from Trader Joe’s.

The moment you saw her, the guilt hit you hard. She looked so happy to be back, but you could tell she was physically drained. And yet, there she was, grinning at you like she hadn’t just played one of the most high-pressure games of the season.

“I thought these might cheer you up,” she said, stepping inside and handing you the flowers. “I could tell you weren’t feeling well.”

You forced a smile, but the effort made your head spin. “Thank you, my love. I appreciate it.”

She set the flowers down and immediately reached out to pull you into her arms, but you stepped back before she could get too close.

“I don’t want you to get sick,” you said quickly, your voice a little weaker than you intended. “You know Geno needs you at full health for USC, and I—”

Paige didn’t seem to care. “I don’t care about the game,” she said softly, pulling you back toward her. “I care about you.”

You shook your head, trying to distance yourself just a little more. “I know, but you need to focus on the game. You’ve been working so hard, and I don’t want to be the reason you can’t give it your all. Please don’t worry about me.”

Her brow furrowed, and you saw the hurt flash across her face. “You’re my priority,” she said, her voice thick with sincerity. Your heart immediately tightened. I love this woman so much, you thought to yourself.

“I’ve missed you so much, and all I want right now is to take care of you. I don’t care if I’m tired or if I have a game coming up. You’re here, and that’s all that matters to me.”

“I know, but...” You hesitated, the words not coming easily. “Please, Paige. I’m not trying to push you away. I just—I don’t want to risk you getting sick too. You have enough on your plate right now.”

There was a long pause before Paige sighed, her shoulders drooping slightly in defeat. “Okay. If you say so.”

The moment she pulled away, you regretted it. You could see the hurt in her eyes, the way she clenched her jaw to keep from saying anything.

“I’ll just... go play some Fortnite or something,” she muttered, turning toward the living room without another word.

You stood against the wall for a moment, the weight of what had just happened sinking in. You didn’t mean to hurt her. She just wanted to take care of you, and you had rejected her in the worst way possible. You hadn’t even stopped to think about how stressed and tired she was, and the guilt clawed at you.

After a few minutes, you heard the faint sound of a game starting in the other room. Paige’s voice came through the wall, distracted and low, but there was a sadness you couldn’t ignore.

You hesitated for a moment, then finally dragged yourself to the next room. You stood there for a few seconds, taking a deep breath before you walked slowly into the room. Paige was sitting on the couch, her eyes focused on the screen in front of her, but you could tell there was something more to her—something she was trying to hide.

“Paige?” you said softly, standing in the doorway.

She didn’t look up immediately, but you saw her shoulders tense. “Yeah?” she replied, her voice flat.

“Can you... turn it off for a second?” you asked, your voice gentle but full of regret.

Paige paused, her hand hovering over the controller. Then, she set it down and turned to face you. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and you could tell she’d been trying not to cry.

“You don’t have to pretend everything’s fine,” you whispered, walking over to her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I was just trying to protect you, but I hurt you, didn’t I?”

She looked away for a moment, blinking rapidly as she fought back tears. “I just missed you,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Four days without you was hell. I didn’t want to be away from you, and when I finally get home, you won’t let me be close? I just wanted to hold you.”

You felt your heart break. She’s hurting and you are all she needs and you pushed her way. It had never been about not wanting to be close—it was about not wanting to risk her health before the biggest games of the season. But she didn’t understand that. She just missed you

“Paige,” you said softly, kneeling in front of her. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ve missed you more than I can say, but I just... I can’t let you risk everything for me. Not when you’ve worked so hard to get here. I want you to be at your best for USC. I don’t want anything to keep you from playing your best on that court.”

She sniffed, wiping her eyes quickly. “l just missed you”

You took her hands gently in yours, looking up at her with soft eyes. You could see the sadness and anxiety clouding her beautiful blue eyes. She was holding herself together, but just barely.

“I love you. I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Paige let out a shaky breath and nodded, her lips curling into a faint, bittersweet smile. “I just want to be with you,” she said quietly, a tear finally slipping down her cheek as he head dropped

“I know, baby. I know,” you replied, pulling her into your arms. You held her tightly, feeling the tension between you both start to melt away.

Physically she was still tense, still trying to keep herself from breaking down. You gently massaged the back of her head, whispering soothing words into her ear.

“Hey, deep breath, love. It’s okay.”

You felt her inhale deeply, and then exhale, sinking into you as her sobs slowly started to fall.

The two of you sat there for a while, the world outside forgotten. When you pulled away, Paige’s eyes were softer, her smile more real, though there was still a touch of sadness lingering in them.

“I’m so sorry for pushing you away, P. I never meant to hurt you. I just want you to be at your best,” you said softly, your voice full of regret.

Paige looked up at you, her grip tightening at your waist. “I’m at my best when I’m with you,” she whispered, her hands pulling you even closer.

Your heart melted. You brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll never understand what I did to deserve you.”

She leaned in, kissing you softly, and for the first time since she’d been gone, you felt at peace. The weight of the world lifted, and you knew everything would be okay.

[terminallydiseased]

content warning — nsfw (lewd), porn with plot, forcas x fallen angel reader, dom forcas sub reader, on the wall sex, breeding, cumming untouched, kind of clothed sex?

author's note — cutie patootie,,,, i should breed hi- sorry. also holy shit i have like over a hundred followers now? thank you...??.???? i appreciate it really but all i do is die

summary — forcas had to go down to the church to protect the souls, but was then distracted because of you

"..(reader)." forcas growled, his eye twitches in annoyance at the sight of your appearance, you were here to bother him again, as always. you would always manifest within the church, your tail and wings twitches minutely as you look up at your favorite guardian angel.

"eugh, forcas, dear, don't frown like that, it'll give you more wrinkles." you purr, flashing a smug smile and winking at him. forcas' eyebrow arched at your comment, he couldn't help but let out a hum, crossing his arms.

he knew you loved to push his buttons, but he also couldn't deny how captivating your smile is, his wings flutter in agitation, eyeing you. "and i thought you were supposed to be in hell, (reader)." he says, trying to hide the flustered tone in his voice. "what are you doing here anyway, looking for souls to corrupt?"

your tail swung side to side, smiling widely at forcas, your fangs visible. "eeeh, something like that, i think you know why i'm here, i want a vessel, you know..." you lean close to him, you were too close. "besides, that means i could see you more often..."

there was also another reason why you're here again, but you couldn't tell forcas. you're always at this specific church to see forcas himself, you couldn't help but be head over heels with him, even before you turned into a fallen.

forcas' eye widen from your closeness and words, his face flushing, he could feel his body slightly trembling, he had to remind himself that you're an enemy now, a fallen who sought to corrupt the innocent.

"a vessel?" he repeated, trying to sound uninterested. "well, I hope you don't have your eyes set on anyone here, they're all under my protection." he crossed his arms again, trying to seem imposing.

however, the way you smirked, you know that it has some sort of effect on forcas, making him clench his fists. "you.. you can't just come here, and take someone you like." he snarls, trying to regain his composure, his eye narrowing.

"i'll protect them, even if it means i have to fight you."

your grin widens at his words, tilting your head oh-so innocently. "would you really do that, now?" you ask, giving him a playful pout, like you're guilt tripping him.

forcas could feel his chest tightening up at your actions, you were playing with his weak spot, he knows it. but he still couldn't help but feel slightly saddened about it. he had sworn to protect these people, and he has grown fond of them.

he can't let you see his vulnerability, though. his lips tightened, staring straight ahead, daring to not meet your gaze. "i'm not the one to back down from my duty, (reader)..."

"oh, come on... why are you even guarding this church? is big boss getting tired of angels running around in his place or something?" you quirk an eyebrow at him, grinning, your canines visible.

forcas' wings twitched in irritation, you were pushing his buttons, and it was infuriating. "i'm not here because of 'big boss upstairs'." he snapped at you, voice rising as you look at him in amusement.

he takes a deep breath, calming himself. "i'm here because i care about these people, and i'll do everything in my power to protect them from demons like you." his eyes narrowed, voice softening. "perhaps you can find another church to plague, one that doesn't have a guardian angel to interfere with your plans..."

your eye twitched at that, you went here specifically for a reason, you wanted to see forcas again. you loved him, and still do, you'd do anything to see his pretty face again. he's just so adorable that it irritates you.

"come on..." you walk closer to him, placing a hand on his chest. "i'm already here, your suggestion's a waste of time." you croon, eyes softening while you look at forcas, admiring the guardian angel's beauty.

"you're not helping your case." he mutters, god, you were too close, the heat from your touch intoxicating, he swallows thickly, trying to ignore the warmth spreading throughout his body. he glanced at your hand placed on his chest, he wanted nothing more but to press his lips against yours in that very moment.

his wings twitches at his thoughts, wanting to push them away and bury them. "just.. go. leave these people alone, or I'll make sure you regret it." he threatens you, scowling, his tone was steady but thick with unspoken desire. he was torn between his duty to protect and the undeniable pull towards you, the only one who seemed to understand the depths of his feelings.

"..fooorcaaaas...~" you coo, your other hand going to his jaw, caressing it lightly, you could feel forcas melting into your touch almost immediately, it was amusing... his eye met yours, and he could hardly breathe, your touch was just electrifying, sending shivers down his spine.

"i won't let you hurt them..." his voice trembles, the scent of your sinful aura wafted around you two, mingling with the sweet scent of incense from the church. it was a potent combination that left him feeling lightheaded.

forcas knew he shouldn't, but in that moment, he couldn't resist the allure of you. he closed his eyes, allowing himself to be captivated by the fallen angel's touch. "but... if you're going to stick around," he murmured, the words barely escaping his lips, "i guess I'll have to make sure you won't get bored."

"atta boy..." you giggle before pausing, thinking for a moment. "fine, here's the deal, I don't use anyone as a vessel, but I stay here, and you entertain me, hm?"

forcas' heart raced, feeling a mix of excitement and dread. he gulped, his mind racing with possibilities. "you... you promise not to corrupt anyone?" he asked, his voice still shaky. a part of him worried for the people under his protection, but another part of him couldn't help but be tempted by the idea of spending more time with you. he thought for another moment, before nodding.

"if you keep your word, we have a deal."

and there you are, pinned against the church's wall, getting absolutely wrecked by your beloved angel, your legs locked with forcas' waist as you yelp, your wings stretching out, feeling forcas' dick explore the deepest parts of you. "i really.. didn't expect- this kind of entertainment..! hhaah..."

"well, it is distracting you, right?" forcas muttered against your ear with a smirk on his face, but you couldn't say a word, your own cock leaking with precum and smearing your abdomen with it. "would ya look at that.. you're leaking already?" you scoff at his teasing, if he weren't fucking you right now, you'd kill him

you let out a gasp, throwing your head back as forcas finally found that one specific spot that'll have you writhe and gasp, your reaction making forcas hum. "found it..?" he grunts, before quickening his pace, your hands on his back starts digging its fingernails on his clothes (technically, it's his skin...).

you chanted his name like a prayer, as ironic as it sounds, you could feel yourself getting closer, the heat in your abdomen worsening. forcas, on the other hand, was close too, but it wasn't guaranteed he'll climax with you.

"i'm so fucking close- holy shit, f-forcas..!" you managed to let out those words, clawing on his back as your shaft shoots ropes of cum all over yourself and forcas. forcas didn't stop though, trying to chase his own release.

the overstimulation was too much, your eyes threatening to spill tears, your toes curling inside your footwear, you were a moaning and drooling mess, and it was all because of forcas, and shit, was this hot.

the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the church, forcas' grunts and groans grew louder as one of his hands let go of your hips, going to your dick, stroking it back to life. your breath hitches, moans turning into sobs and cries, hiccuping, it was too much, yet you loved it, you loved how intense it is.

you felt forcas slam inside you one last time, cumming inside you and painting your insides white, sealing the deal for you, you came once again, squirting your cum all over yourself and the guardian angel again while panting.

"fuck... i didn't expect you to be.. rough with me." you let out a weak chuckle as he smirks, placing a kiss on your lips. "sorry.. couldn't help it."

"well, hey, since we have a deal now, we should do this every time."

divider, banner

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

Hello! I'm so sorry because this is a bit random and you definitely don't have to answer. But I'm a writer too and is it just me or has Tumblr been seeing much less interactions with fanworks these days? People aren't reblogging the way they used to and it's bugging me. Someone reblogged one of my fics this morning with "I don't usually repost fics but this one stole my heart" and I'm pleased with the compliment obviously but it did rub me the wrong way... Tumblr has no algorithm that'll push fanworks to you, and if you like something you're a lil bit responsible for it being shared. And while I do thankfully receive compliments and encouragement on that blog, on another it's just... It feels a bit like they don't care for the author, they just want the fics.

I know this was a bit random, apologies again! I just didn't know who else to take this too. Hope you're having a wonderful week!

I mean, I do agree with you on the “people unfortunately no longer engage with or reblog stuff like they used to in the past” though, as a fellow writer, I don’t believe anybody is “responsible” for reblogging things they enjoy, be it fanfiction or anything. like… yes, reblog means a whole lot to us artists. Like as a function — for Tumblr — doesn’t actually help that much (Like still helps, we still appreciate Like, but it’s not as effective as Reblog), because unlike other social media platforms, Tumblr Like isn’t going to get the content spread to wider audiences. but still, I don’t want to guilt trip anybody into thinking that “reblogging stuff you enjoy is a Must on Tumblr” because then it kind of becomes a “responsibility”, and I don’t think “responsibility on anybody’s end (be it artists’ or audiences’)” is why we create art to begin with, be it fanfiction or fan art or any other form of art.

instead I’d like to encourage people to please reblog the stuff they like. we do appreciate you if you like our posts, but we will appreciate you even more if you reblog and help our content reach wider audience.

please please please please don’t be shy to reblog what you like. reblogging is also a great motivation for your favorite artists to create more art you can enjoy.

reblog is like giving your friend a cup of hot chocolate as a way of thanking them for giving you a gift (fanfic or fanart), in the sense that it’s not your ‘responsibility’ to give your friend a cup of hot chocolate because when your friend gifts you the gift (fanfic or fanart), they do it out of love, not because they demand something in return from you, but your friend will still greatly appreciate the cup of hot chocolate nonetheless, and there will more likely be more gifts (fanfic or fanart) from them this way.

[songbirdseung]

young love 2 / nishimura riki

read part one here 🤍

synopsis: she fell first but he fell harder type of scenario. ANGTSY

warnings: jealously, one sexual innuendo and suggestive part with hoon (but no smut) btw this takes place in college time

wc: 6.6k

"hey, you've been avoiding me all day. Is everything alright, babe?" Mina settled down beside Riki, who sat lost in thought, facing the beach. Unaware of her presence, he was entirely focused on the crashing waves, the chilly breeze, and the swirling thoughts in his mind. "Riki?" She called out again, giving him a gentle nudge. Finally snapping out of his trance, he turned to his girlfriend, apologizing and asking her to repeat what she had said. "Are we okay? Or more importantly, are you okay?" She remained oblivious to Riki's growing feelings for YN, unable to connect the dots. However, Riki knew he couldn't break her heart with such information, especially during what was supposed to be a joyful trip. So, he concocted a white lie, reassuring her that he would be fine.

mina studied riki's expression, a hint of concern lingering in her eyes as she waited for his response. riki forced a smile, masking the turmoil churning within him as he reassured her with a nod.

"yeah, babe, everything's fine," he replied, his voice steady despite the tumult of emotions raging beneath the surface. "just got lost in my thoughts for a moment there, but i'm okay now."

mina's features softened with relief, a smile gracing her lips as she reached out to squeeze his hand gently. "okay, just making sure," she said, her voice warm with affection. "you know i'm here for you if you ever need to talk, right?"

riki's heart swelled with gratitude for mina's unwavering support, but a pang of guilt tugged at his conscience as he realized the depth of the lie he had just told her. he knew he couldn't burden her with the truth, not when it threatened to unravel the delicate balance of their relationship.

"yeah, i know," riki replied, forcing himself to meet mina's gaze with a reassuring smile. "thanks, babe. i really appreciate it."

with a sense of unease lingering in the back of his mind, riki pushed aside his inner turmoil, determined to make the most of their time at the beach and protect mina's heart at all costs. but beneath the facade of calm, the storm of conflicting emotions continued to rage, leaving riki adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

unbeknownst to them, you sat a few feet away, nestled in one of the beach chairs, solitary. Your sole desire was to relish the view while immersing yourself in music until Mina settled beside Riki. You couldn't deny the effect they had on you anymore, though a small part of her still pondered the possibilities of what could have been. But now you had Sunghoon—shouldn't that be enough to make you happy?

"jeez, yn, you're such a dunce," you muttered to yourself, your voice barely audible. you removed your earphones and shut your eyes tightly, attempting to divert your thoughts from what might have been. "well, maybe not entirely stupid… okay, sometimes," sunoo's voice interrupted from behind, causing you to jump slightly. he chuckled at your startled reaction before settling down next to you, inquiring about the whereabouts of your significant other. you gestured in the direction where sunghoon, jake, and a few strangers were engaged in a game of beach volleyball. "so, why are you sitting here alone? and conveniently positioned just a few feet away from riki and mina?" sunoo probed further.

you shrugged, offering a weak smile to sunoo. "just needed some time alone, i guess," you replied, your voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. "and as for the seating arrangement, pure coincidence, i assure you."

sunoo raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical yet understanding. "right, coincidence," he echoed, a playful glint in his eyes.

sunoo's smile gradually faded into a serious expression as he fixed his gaze on you. "don't tell me you still have feelings for him, yn. i thought we were past that," he remarked, his tone tinged with concern.

you shook your head and let out a sigh, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on you. "it's not like i have feelings for him, i don't," you clarified, but then added, "but you can't blame me for occasionally wondering about the alternative possibilities or outcomes that could have been, sunoo."

deep down, all you truly desired now was sunghoon. you loved him dearly, but riki, your first young love, remained a lingering presence in your thoughts, a part of your past that refused to fade away.

"i get that, but instead of being so dramatic—" sunoo began, but you cut him off with a playful jab. "as if you're not dramatic as fuck, you're the drama queen in this friend group," you teased, earning a chuckle from sunoo as he playfully slapped your arm.

"shut up and listen," sunoo continued, his tone more serious now. "stop dwelling on the past. stop thinking about those things and start focusing on the future. a future where you find peace of mind, whether you're in a relationship or not."

he flicked your forehead lightly, a playful gesture before offering you the chance to join jake and sunghoon in a game. with a nod, you accepted his invitation, grateful for his words of wisdom and the distraction of spending time with your friends.

that's precisely what you ended up doing, making your way over to sunghoon's team with a gentle nudge from sunoo, who seemed determined to reunite you with your beau. as you joined their side, sunghoon greeted you with a sweet kiss on the forehead, causing a blush to rise to your cheeks.

"why's your forehead all red, baby?" sunghoon inquired with a playful grin, prompting you to sheepishly recount sunoo's teasing antics. your boyfriend chuckled at the anecdote, releasing you to join the game.

"get a room, damn!" jake's voice rang out from the opposite side of the net, his playful jab accompanied by a smirk. "ready to lose, yn?" he taunted, a competitive glint in his eye as he prepared for the match.

you chuckled at jake's playful taunt, feeling the familiar rush of competitiveness coursing through you. "lose? not a chance, jake!" you retorted, matching his competitive energy with a grin of your own.

with the game about to begin, you took your position on the court, feeling the warm sand beneath your feet and the anticipation building in the air. sunghoon flashed you an encouraging smile before the match started, his unwavering support giving you an extra boost of confidence.

as the game progressed, laughter and friendly banter filled the air, each point won or lost accompanied by cheers and groans from both teams. despite jake's confident taunts, your team managed to hold your own, each player contributing their skills and teamwork to keep the game tight.

in the end, it was a close match, with both teams giving it their all until the very last point. but as the final point was scored, your team emerged victorious, erupting into cheers and high-fives as you celebrated your hard-fought win.

"another round? maybe with riki this time?" sunghoon suggests, glancing behind at the couple. everyone nods and calls riki over, along with mina.

"oh, come on, riki! join us, it'll be fun," jake calls out, waving riki over with a grin.

riki hesitates for a moment, exchanging a glance with mina before standing up and making his way to the group. mina follows closely behind, a slight frown creasing her brow.

as riki joins the circle, the atmosphere shifts slightly, a subtle tension hanging in the air. you can't help but notice the awkwardness between riki and mina, wondering if anyone else has picked up on it.

as the game begins, you can't help but feel the weight of the unresolved tension lingering in the air. every interaction between riki and mina seems strained, their once easy rapport now marred by unspoken words and lingering doubts.

despite your efforts to focus on the game, your mind keeps drifting back to the uncomfortable situation unfolding before you. it's clear that something is amiss, but no one seems willing to address the elephant in the room.

as the game progresses, you can't shake the feeling that this outing, meant to be a fun-filled day at the beach, has taken an unexpected turn. and with each passing moment, the tension threatens to unravel the fragile bonds that hold your friend group together.

in the midst of the game, your attention scattered, you fail to notice the volleyball hurtling towards you. suddenly, both sunghoon and riki spring into action, moving at lightning speed to shield you from the incoming ball. sunghoon reaches you first, his arms wrapping around your waist protectively as he checks if you're alright.

"are you okay, yn?" he asks, concern etched into his features as he holds you close.

you nod, reassured by sunghoon's presence, but your gaze flickers to riki, who stands nearby with a nonchalant expression. despite sunghoon's awareness of riki's proximity, he brushes it off, focusing solely on ensuring your safety.

"thanks, sunghoon," you murmur gratefully, offering him a small smile.

meanwhile, riki rolls his eyes at the scene, a hint of annoyance flashing across his face before he turns away, seemingly unbothered.

as the game comes to an abrupt end, jake takes the initiative to diffuse the tension, suggesting that it's time for dinner despite the sun still hanging high in the sky. his words break the awkward atmosphere, prompting everyone to agree with a collective sigh of relief.

"yeah, let's call it a day," sunghoon chimes in, shooting a reassuring glance at you.

as the group begins to disperse, mina's gaze lingers on riki, her brow furrowing with realization. it dawns on her that riki's peculiar behavior may be more than just casual indifference — perhaps, deep down, he harbors feelings for you.

"you like her, don't you?" mina's voice cuts through the tension, her words hanging heavy in the air as everyone turns to look at riki.

riki freezes, caught off guard by mina's direct question. his cheeks flush slightly as he meets her gaze, unable to form a coherent response in front of everyone.

the atmosphere grows uncomfortably silent as the weight of mina's words sinks in, casting a shadow over the group. you exchange a glance with sunghoon, both of you unsure of how to navigate the sudden awkwardness that has enveloped the once cheerful gathering.

-

in yuna's room, the tension from the beach outing still lingered in the air like a heavy fog. yuna paced back and forth, her frustration evident in every movement.

"she's so dumb, why would she say that with everyone there?! she could've just talked to him in private, gosh, i knew i never liked her," yuna exclaimed, her voice laced with anger and disbelief.

you reached out to your best friend, trying to soothe her frayed nerves. "hey, maybe she was just in shock, in realization, yun. calm down," you urged gently, hoping to diffuse the situation before it escalated further.

yuna huffed, her agitation not yet subsiding. "but still, it's such a personal thing to bring up in front of everyone. poor riki must feel so embarrassed," she lamented, sinking onto her bed with a frustrated sigh.

you nodded in understanding, sitting down beside her. "i get it, it wasn't the most tactful move on mina's part. maybe she just didn't think before speaking," you suggested, trying to offer a different perspective.

yuna sighed, running a hand through her hair. "i just hate seeing riki like this. it's obvious he's struggling with his feelings, and mina's comment probably didn't help," she said, her voice softer now, filled with concern for her friend.

"i know, but maybe this will be a wake-up call for him to confront his feelings," you offered, trying to find a silver lining in the situation.

yuna nodded, her expression thoughtful. "you might be right. i just hope things don't get even more awkward between them," she said, casting a worried glance towards the door as if expecting riki or mina to walk in at any moment.

yuna suggests that you talk to riki, to make him realize that it's too late now and he needs to get over these feelings he developed for you.

you consider her suggestion carefully, knowing that it might not be an easy conversation to have. but you also understand the importance of addressing the situation before it becomes even more complicated.

"yeah, maybe you're right. i'll talk to him," you agree, steeling yourself for the inevitable awkwardness that lies ahead.

yuna gives you a supportive smile, grateful for your willingness to help. "i know it won't be easy, but i think it's for the best. riki needs to understand that life moves on, and dwelling on what could have been will only hold him back," she says, her tone hopeful yet firm.

with yuna's encouragement, you resolve to have the difficult conversation with riki, hoping that it will help him find closure and move forward.

after discussing, you decide that it might be best to give riki some time to process everything before broaching the subject with him.

"i think you're right, yuna. i'll give riki some space for now," you say, nodding in agreement with your friend.

yuna nods in understanding, appreciating your decision. "that sounds like a good plan. let him come to terms with everything on his own terms," she says, her tone thoughtful.

with a shared understanding, you and yuna leave the conversation at that, knowing that confronting riki about his feelings is a delicate matter that requires careful consideration and timing. for now, all you can do is wait and hope that he finds the clarity he needs to move forward.

after a while, yuna decides it's time for you to head back to your shared room with sunghoon. as she closes the door behind you, she can't resist making a few suggestive jokes.

"alright, lovebirds, time for some alone time," yuna teases, winking mischievously as she sends you off.

you chuckle at her playful banter, shaking your head as you walk towards your room where sunghoon is waiting for you, already out the door. just before you reach him, yuna calls out one last joke.

"remember to keep it pg-13, we don't want to hear any wild noises," she adds with a laugh, causing you to blush and sunghoon to raise an eyebrow in amusement.

you enter the room, trying to stifle your laughter from yuna's playful remarks. sunghoon looks at you with a bemused expression, clearly curious about what transpired outside.

"what was that all about?" sunghoon asks, a smirk playing on his lips as he approaches you.

you shake your head, still grinning at yuna's antics. "oh, just yuna being her usual cheeky self," you reply, trying to downplay the situation.

sunghoon chuckles, wrapping his arms around you. "well, now that we have some privacy, what do you say we make the most of it?" he suggests, his voice low and suggestive as he leans in closer.

you feel a rush of excitement at his words, your cheeks flushing with anticipation. as you lean in to kiss him, you can't help but be grateful for the playful banter that brought you both closer together.

-

the next morning, you feel a gentle nudge as sunghoon wakes you up, his warm smile greeting you as you open your eyes. hovering over you on the bed, he leans in, and you plant a soft kiss on his nose before stretching lazily.

"good morning, sleepyhead," sunghoon says affectionately, his eyes sparkling with fondness.

you return his smile and sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. sunghoon gives you a quick peck on the cheek before getting up to let you get ready.

downstairs in the kitchen, you find riki sitting with sunoo and jungwon, engaged in a lively conversation. you offer them a warm greeting as you join them, feeling the pleasant buzz of morning chatter fill the room.

"good morning, everyone," you say cheerfully, exchanging smiles with the group.

while you're carefully arranging sunghoon's cereal with fruits, jake shuffles into the kitchen, his eyes still heavy with sleep. spotting you, he does a double-take and then lets out a surprised gasp.

"whoa, what's that on your neck?" jake asks, his voice laced with sleepy confusion.

you freeze in your tracks, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you realize what he's referring to. jungwon stifles a laugh at jake's sleepy shock, while sunoo and sunghoon exchange surprised glances.

riki, sitting nearby, seems to pretend not to notice, focusing intently on his breakfast.

you meet riki's gaze briefly, a pang of guilt washing over you as you remember your plan to talk to him soon.

sunghoon, catching on to the situation, jokingly scolds jake. "hey, jake, mind your own business!" he says with a playful grin, trying to lighten the mood.

amidst the light-hearted banter, sunghoon shoots you a knowing look, silently asking if you're okay. you offer him a reassuring smile, silently thanking him for his understanding.

jake, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, seems to realize the awkwardness of his comment. "oops, sorry, didn't mean to pry," he mumbles sheepishly, retreating slightly.

you nod, grateful for his apology, and continue with your breakfast preparations, trying to shake off the embarrassment. sunghoon steps in to help, smoothly diverting the conversation to a more neutral topic.

as the atmosphere in the kitchen lightens, you exchange a glance with riki once more, silently acknowledging the impending conversation that hangs between you.

with breakfast finally ready, everyone gathers around the table, the earlier awkwardness dissipating into the background as laughter and chatter fill the air.

after breakfast, you and sunghoon take on the role of "parents" of the group, tackling the dishes together as the others relax or continue with their morning routines. the warm water and soapy suds provide a soothing backdrop as you work side by side, the clinking of dishes filling the air.

as you scrub away at a stubborn stain, sunghoon glances at you, a serious expression crossing his face. "hey, yn, now might be a good time to talk to riki," he says gently, his voice barely above a whisper over the sound of running water.

you pause, considering his words, knowing that sunghoon is right. it's better to address the situation sooner rather than later, especially before any more awkwardness arises.

nodding in agreement, you steel yourself for the conversation ahead, grateful for sunghoon's support and understanding. with a shared determination, you and sunghoon finish up the dishes and then make your way to find riki, ready to finally have the difficult but necessary conversation.

riki was alone, engrossed in a video game when you approached him, quietly taking a seat beside him. his fingers paused on the controller, and you could sense the tension radiating from him as you spoke up.

"hey, riki… can we talk?" you ask softly, your voice carrying a mixture of concern and determination.

riki's eyes flicker with uncertainty as he turns to look at you, his expression guarded. he hesitates for a moment, clearly apprehensive about what the conversation might entail.

"yeah, sure," he replies, his voice slightly shaky as he sets the controller down and turns his full attention to you.

as you and riki sit together, the weight of the impending conversation hangs heavily in the air. you take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the difficult words you know you need to say.

"riki, i… i need to talk to you about something," you begin, your voice trembling slightly with emotion. "i'm sorry… i know you have feelings for me, but… i don't feel the same way anymore."

riki's expression falls, his shoulders slumping as your words sink in. "i… i understand," he replies softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "i'm sorry, yn. i should've realized my feelings for you sooner… i regret rejecting you before."

you shake your head, feeling a pang of sadness at the pain in riki's eyes. "it's not your fault, riki," you say gently, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. "we were just meant to be friends… childhood friends who grew apart romantically."

riki nods, his gaze dropping to his lap as he struggles to find the right words. "i should've tried harder… i should've fought for us," he murmurs, his voice thick with regret.

you offer him a sympathetic smile, squeezing his shoulder gently. "it's okay, riki," you assure him. "we both made mistakes… but we can't change the past. we need to focus on the relationships we have now, separately."

riki nods again, a sense of acceptance settling over him as he looks up to meet your gaze. "yeah… you're right," he says quietly. "i'm sorry for everything, yn."

you nod in return, a weight lifting off your shoulders as you both come to terms with the situation. despite the sadness of the moment, there's a sense of closure in knowing that you can move forward as friends, each on your own path towards happiness.

as they finish talking and discussing the future of their friendship, they share a heartfelt hug, a silent understanding passing between them. just as they begin to pull away, mina walks into the room, her expression apologetic.

"hey, sorry to interrupt," mina says softly, her eyes filled with sincerity. "i just wanted to say that i didn't mean to cause any awkwardness yesterday. my intentions were genuine, i promise."

riki and you exchange a glance, a flicker of relief passing between you at mina's words. "it's okay, mina," you say with a warm smile, genuinely touched by her sincerity. "we understand."

riki nods in agreement, his expression softening as he looks at mina. "yeah, we know you didn't mean any harm," he says, his voice filled with reassurance.

mina lets out a relieved sigh, a weight lifting off her shoulders as she smiles gratefully at her friends. "thank you for understanding," she says, her voice tinged with relief. "i'm really glad we can move past this."

with a sense of resolution in the air, the three friends share a brief but meaningful moment of understanding, each grateful for the bond of friendship that binds them together.

-

as they wandered through the bustling streets, the group took in the sights and sounds of the city, their laughter echoing off the walls as they recounted funny stories and shared inside jokes.

"hey, jungwon, are you sure we're going the right way?" sunghoon teased, earning a playful shove from jungwon.

"of course i am! i've got a great sense of direction," jungwon retorted with a grin.

sunoo jumped in with his signature humor, "yeah, if by 'great sense of direction' you mean getting lost every five minutes!"

the group erupted into laughter, with yuna adding, "well, at least we'll have an adventure!"

riki, who had been quiet earlier, chuckled softly, finally joining in on the fun. "yeah, who needs a map when you've got jungwon?"

jake, always quick with a witty remark, quipped, "yeah, he's our own personal compass, leading us in circles!"

the banter continued as they strolled through the colorful streets, each joke and comment bringing them closer together. despite the occasional wrong turn and detour, they knew that as long as they were together, every moment would be an adventure.

reaching a park with various attractions and things to do, you spotted something that reminded you of your childhood. with a grin, you grabbed riki's arm and pulled him over to take a look.

"hey, remember this?" you said, pointing excitedly at the familiar sight.

riki's eyes lit up with recognition, and he chuckled as memories of your childhood flooded back. "yeah, i remember. you were terrible at this game," he teased, nudging you playfully.

you rolled your eyes, laughing along with him. "hey, i wasn't that bad! besides, i bet i can beat you now," you challenged, a competitive glint in your eye.

riki smirked, accepting the challenge. "oh, it's on," he declared, leading the way to the game booth with a playful grin. as you both stepped up to the challenge, the friendly rivalry between you reignited, sparking laughter and camaraderie as you competed against each other just like old times.

next, the group dispersed into two teams, with you and riki finding yourselves on opposing sides. as the game began, the competitive spirit ignited once again, with each team determined to come out on top.

with laughter and friendly banter filling the air, the group watched eagerly, cheering on their respective teammates and teasing each other mercilessly at every missed shot or fumbled move. sunghoon's infectious laughter echoed through the park as he cheered you on, while jake couldn't resist poking fun at riki whenever he made a mistake.

later, the group found themselves deciding what to eat, so they headed to the mall, hoping to satisfy their hunger with a variety of options. However, their plans hit a snag as they found themselves once again getting lost, courtesy of Jungwon's questionable sense of direction.

"Jungwon, are you sure we're going the right way?" Sunghoon asked with a chuckle, glancing around at the unfamiliar surroundings.

Jungwon scratched his head sheepishly. "Uh, well, I thought so, but maybe not," he admitted, his expression sheepish.

Sunoo couldn't resist chiming in with a grin, "Looks like we're taking the scenic route again!"

Yuna laughed, shaking her head. "Maybe we should invest in a GPS for Jungwon," she joked.

next, they reached the mall, and as they waited for everyone to order at the diner, sunghoon and riki found themselves drawn to the claw machines and booths in the retro-designed diner. amidst the flashing lights and nostalgic ambiance, they shared a quiet, one-on-one conversation.

sunghoon leaned against the claw machine, his gaze thoughtful as he spoke. "hey, riki, i just wanted to say that there's no bad blood between us, you know?"

riki glanced up, surprised by sunghoon's sincerity. "yeah, i know. i appreciate that," he replied, a hint of gratitude in his voice.

sunghoon continued, his tone gentle. "i know things might be a bit awkward because of… well, you know," he gestured vaguely, referring to riki's feelings for yn.

riki nodded, understanding. "yeah, i get it. but i want you to know that i'm really happy for you and yn. you guys deserve each other."

sunghoon smiled, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. "thanks, riki. that means a lot," he said, grateful for riki's understanding.

as they continued to chat, the tension between them eased, replaced by a sense of camaraderie and mutual respect.

"hey, riki, i get it. it's not easy to just switch off those feelings," sunghoon said sympathetically, placing a reassuring hand on riki's shoulder. "but you've got to try to move forward. you know, there's this saying: 'the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.'"

riki chuckled weakly, appreciating sunghoon's attempt at lightening the mood. "yeah, i guess you're right. but what if i just can't seem to shake these feelings?"

sunghoon nodded understandingly. "it's tough, i know. but you've got to focus on what's in front of you. mina is a great girl, and she really cares about you. don't waste the chance to get to know her better and appreciate what you have with her."

riki sighed, knowing that sunghoon was right. "yeah, you're right. thanks, sunghoon. i needed to hear that," he admitted gratefully.

sunghoon gave him a supportive smile. "anytime, buddy. just remember, you're not alone in this. we're all here for you." with that, they shared a brief, understanding nod, knowing that even though the road ahead might be tough, they would face it together as friends.

as riki and sunghoon triumphantly emerge from the claw machine area, each clutching a plush toy in their hands, their faces light up with excitement. with a shared grin, they make their way back to the rest of the group, eager to show off their prizes.

"check it out, guys! look what we won!" sunghoon announces proudly, holding up his prize—a penguin with a big, friendly smile.

riki joins in, brandishing his own victory—a cute fluffy baby chick. "and look at this beauty! who's the claw machine champion now?"

jake chuckles, giving them both a playful pat on the back. "yeah, seriously, well done! maybe you should start your own claw machine championship league."

sunghoon beams with pride as he presents you with a cute penguin plush, his eyes sparkling with affection as he watches your delighted reaction.

"here you go, babe," he says softly, placing the plush in your hands. "a little something to remember this day by."

you can't help but smile back at him, touched by his thoughtfulness. "thank you, sunghoon," you reply, leaning in to press a gentle kiss on his cheek. "i love it."

meanwhile, riki playfully teases mina, pretending to keep a tight grip on the chick plush he won, much to her amusement. "hey, hands off, riki!" she laughs, attempting to wrestle the toy from his grasp.

riki grins mischievously, holding the plush just out of mina's reach. "sorry, babe, but this little guy is mine," he teases, feigning innocence as mina gives him an exaggerated pout.

with a playful roll of her eyes, mina gives riki a gentle shove. "fine, keep it then," she says, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "but you owe me one."

riki chuckles, relenting as he hands over the plush to mina. "of course, anything for you," he replies, leaning in to press a sweet kiss on her forehead.

as the group shares in the lighthearted moment, laughter filling the air, sunghoon wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. you lean into his embrace, feeling grateful for the love and laughter that surrounds you.

as they enjoy their meal, riki leans over to mina with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "hey, mina, what do you say we pretend to propose to each other so we can get free dessert?" he suggests, a playful smirk playing on his lips.

mina stifles a laugh, shaking her head at his antics. "as tempting as that sounds, i don't think i want to get proposed to at a random retro diner," she replies, a hint of amusement in her voice.

sunoo chimes in from across the table, his tone teasing. "yeah, i don't think that's quite the romantic setting you're looking for, mina," he quips, earning a chuckle from the rest of the group.

riki shrugs, still wearing a playful grin. "hey, it was worth a shot, right?" he says with a wink, before digging back into his meal. the group shares a laugh at his antics, enjoying the light-hearted moment as they continue to savor their time together.

sunghoon chuckles at riki's failed attempt, then a mischievous glint sparkles in his eyes as an idea forms. "hey, why don't we pretend it's yn's birthday? they'll definitely give us free dessert for that!"

yuna raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. "but what if they ask for id? i doubt they'll believe you're turning twenty-one again," she teases, glancing at sunghoon with a playful glimmer in her eyes.

sunghoon laughs, waving off yuna's concern. "don't worry, we'll just tell them we left yn's id back at the beach house," he replies, confidence lacing his voice.

you furrow your brows in confusion as the conversation steers toward the topic of dessert. "what's with you guys and dessert?" you inquire, looking around at the group with a bemused expression.

jungwon grins, leaning back in his chair as he explains, "well, you see, dessert is the best part of any meal. and when it's free, well, it's even sweeter."

mina shrugs, letting out a laugh at your confused expression. "yeah, i mean, who doesn't love free dessert?" she chimes in, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

you can't help but chuckle at their enthusiasm, shaking your head in amusement. "fair enough," you concede, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "i guess i can't argue with that logic."

with everyone on board for the plan, you settle back in your seat, eagerly anticipating the sweet treat that awaits you at the end of the meal. after all, who could say no to free dessert?

as the waiter approaches their table, sunghoon leans in with a mischievous glint in his eye, flashing his most charming smile. "hey, is there any chance we could get some free dessert? it's my girlfriend's birthday today," he says, gesturing towards you with a playful wink.

the waiter's eyes light up with enthusiasm as he nods eagerly. "of course! happy birthday!" he exclaims, offering you a warm smile before dashing off to fetch the dessert.

as the waiter scurries away, the anticipation among the group grows palpable. sunghoon grins at you, excitement dancing in his eyes. "get ready for a sweet surprise, birthday girl," he whispers, his voice laced with excitement.

you can't help but laugh, feeling a mixture of amusement and nervous anticipation. "i can't believe you talked them into this," you reply, shaking your head in disbelief. "this is going to be hilarious."

across the table, yuna and mina exchange knowing glances, stifling giggles behind their hands. "i can't wait to see their faces when the entire diner starts singing," yuna whispers, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

as the minutes tick by, the anticipation mounts, and the group exchanges playful banter and speculation about what kind of dessert the waiter will bring out. finally, the waiter returns, carrying a decadent-looking dessert adorned with a flickering candle.

with a flourish, he sets the dessert down in front of you, offering another cheerful round of "happy birthday" as the entire diner erupts into applause.

-

on the way home, the group is abuzz with excitement, unable to contain their chatter about the day's silly antics. sunghoon leads the conversation, recounting each hilarious moment with animated gestures and infectious laughter.

"i still can't believe we convinced them it was your birthday," sunghoon chuckles, glancing at you with a playful grin. "that dessert was worth every bit of embarrassment."

yuna nods enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "and the look on everyone's faces when the whole diner started singing! priceless," she adds, shaking her head in fond remembrance.

mina joins in, her laughter echoing through the car. "i never knew free dessert could be so entertaining," she quips, casting a teasing glance at riki, who chuckles in agreement.

as the memories of the day's escapades continue to flow, the car fills with laughter and joy, each member of the group reliving their favorite moments and sharing in the camaraderie of the day. it's moments like these, filled with laughter and friendship, that make even the simplest of outings unforgettable.

-

a year later, the group gathers once again, this time to celebrate jake and sunghoon's college graduation. amidst the sea of graduation caps and gowns, the friends stand shoulder to shoulder, a testament to the bonds forged through years of shared laughter and unforgettable moments.

as they gather for a group photo, sunghoon pulls you close, his arm wrapped around your waist in a gesture of love and pride. "let's make sure to get a picture with the graduates," he whispers, his voice filled with excitement.

-

after a while you glance over at jake and sunghoon, who are beaming with pride as they pose for pictures with their families. "they look so happy," you murmur, your heart swelling with pride for your friends' achievements.

sunghoon's gaze softens as he looks at you and walks back to you, his eyes filled with love and admiration. "you'll be up there next year," he says, his voice brimming with confidence. "i can't wait to see you walk across that stage and receive your diploma."

you feel a rush of warmth at his words, grateful for his unwavering support and encouragement. "thank you," you whisper, leaning into his embrace.

as the celebrations continue, the group surrounds jake and sunghoon, showering them with congratulations and well-wishes. amidst the laughter and chatter, sunghoon's voice cuts through the noise, his words filled with hope and anticipation. "and when it's your turn next year, yn," he says, his voice ringing with pride, "i'll be right here, cheering you on every step of the way."

you meet his gaze, your heart swelling with love for the man by your side. with sunghoon's unwavering support and the love of your friends, you know that no challenge is too great, and that together, you can conquer anything that comes your way.

-

as the camera flashes, capturing the joyous moment with jake and sunghoon, riki sidles up beside you, a playful grin on his face. "can you believe we're next in line for this graduation gig?" he quips, nudging you gently.

you chuckle, enjoying the light-hearted banter with your friend. "i can't wait to see you in that cap and gown," you reply, a teasing glint in your eyes. "just don't trip on stage, okay?"

riki laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "hey, i make no promises," he retorts, playfully nudging you back. "but seriously, it's going to be our turn soon. let's make the most of our last year, yeah?"

you nod in agreement, a sense of excitement bubbling in your chest at the thought of the year ahead. "absolutely," you agree, a smile tugging at your lips. "but no wild parties the night before graduation, okay? we don't want any hungover mishaps on stage."

riki raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "no promises," he says with a smirk, earning a playful shove from you.

as the day draws to a close and the sun begins to dip below the horizon, you find yourself reflecting on the bond you share with riki. through the twists and turns of college life, you've stood by each other's side, weathering storms and celebrating victories together.

sure, there may have been moments of uncertainty and confusion, but at the end of the day, your friendship with riki remains steadfast and true. he's more than just a friend; he's your confidant, your partner in crime, and your platonic soulmate.

as you look ahead to the future, you know that no matter where life takes you, riki will always be there, ready to lend a listening ear, share a laugh, or offer a shoulder to lean on. and as you embrace the warmth of his friendship, you can't help but feel grateful for the countless memories you've shared and the ones yet to come.

with riki by your side, the journey ahead may be filled with twists and turns, but one thing is for certain: as long as you have each other, you'll always find your way.

[kings-highway]

this has been in my drafts since April and I cant remember if I'd just planned to go back to it and add more or smth but thats never gonna happen so

Asanoya traveling the world together headcanons:

- Nishinoya is about 90% in charge of their destinations but Asahi books flights/train tickets because Noya gets overwhelmed at all the options and half the time books something that drops off nowhere near their destination

- While Noya tends to be more social and will strike up a conversation with everyone they meet to learn their life story, Asahi is usually people's favourite and he'll get invited to dinners and events like 20 seconds after meeting someone because they just think he's "such a nice guy". Noya can't leave him alone without some local trying to take him away to give him a private tour of whatever site they're at

- Asahi loses weight while traveling because he is not food-adventerous at all and struggles to appreciate local cuisine or customs when it comes to eating unfamiliar products. Noya worries about this so much that it almost ruins the trip for him in particularly off-the-grid locations, because Asahi would never dare complain out loud and Noya has missed the fact that he hasn't eaten properly in a few days before. He is so unbelievably guilt ridden over this that he's started keeping a stash of protein bars and other dense snacks as a mandatory pre-trip checkbox.

- Noya is really good at picking up beginner-level language skills so he gets pretty good at navigating wherever they go. Asahi has never successfully learned another language beyond "hello," "thank you," and "sorry."

- Although they like the luxury of a nice hotel on occassion, they both really enjoy staying in hostels and getting to meet other travelers. It gives them ideas for their next destination.

- They end up in Brazil one summer and follow a goddamn easter egg hunt about a beach volleyball legend only to finally solve it and find Hinata just standing there waving excitedly. Honestly in hindsight they should have seen the signs. Hinata is very excited to show them how to play and then is absolutely shocked to see them absolutely nail the first point without issues. "Oh, I guess we didn't mention, we spent a few months in Portugal and learned it there."

- They bump into a lot of the other globetrotting characters. They're especially fond of the chocolate shop Tendou apprentices at, but had to learn his schedule to go in to avoid running into him because he scares them still.

- Whenever they return to Japan to connect with all their old friends they end up doing like a 2h ted talk going through all their stories and best moments.

- Asahi is the first to "retire" the traveling bc he gets a hoity job at a design company and needs to be able to work consistently. Noya insists he could probably design shirts from a beach but to each their own.

[galene-gothic]

𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝖺 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎?

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ I hope this reading found you in good health, every reblog is appreciated and thank you for everything :) ˖♡ ˎˊ˗ ꒰ 🐇 ꒱

˗ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗             PAID SERVICES

⸼ ۫ ︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 1 ꒱

Some sort of an event happened in the past, that's what people are discussing. Whatever happened seems to have caused you a lot of confusion. I honestly feel like people were purposely trying to cause chaos in your life in order to have some drama in their lives. These people seem to either have been/are close to you or just a close witness to the situation. They're saying good things about you, they're talking about how you released your sorrow, resentment or just negative emotions in general. They're saying that you've left your past behind. I just heard 'this boy', I have no clue but the drama might have included some boy. They're saying that your motivation and enthusiasm are returning now. They're saying that you've accepted the situation. They're saying that you're choosing to focus on the positives of life. They're saying that back then you were trying your best to have a positive attitude towards life and make what you could out of it. They might have witnessed you crying or expressing your sorrow, anger or whatever on the verge of tears. They're talking about how you've grown out of it. They're saying that you've grown to respect yourself now and have a lot of courage. The people who put you in such a situation might've been victimizing themselves and might've successfully guilt tripped you to a certain extent but you seem to have recovered from the guilt. They're talking about your endurance and your morals. They are saying that your views have changed or seem to have changed. There's another group of people, likely the ones who made you go through such a traumatizing time. They're saying that you lack self-awareness. They're saying that you only care about yourself. They're saying that you've not accepted what you've done and believe that you've been falsely blamed. I'm getting that it's because while some of it was your fault.

The way they dealt with the situation and treated you was much worse plus they seemed to just need an excuse to criticize you when they weren't even that affected by the situation. People who had nothing to do with the situation might've gotten involved too. Like, supposing you dated your friend's crush, the whole friend group might've turned against you when it didn't even affect them at all. Some of you might've trouble regarding education, some of you might've been forced to drop out or dropped out on will too, for the rest, you're just having difficulties with your studies. People are talking about it. The people who legit pray for your downfall are saying that you have unrealistic dreams and plans. They're saying that you don't have realistic goals and lack the motivation and discipline to work on your career. Someone saying that you're not someone who wants to work solely for money, you're not the type to be like 'as long as I get money, I don't mind giving up on my dreams' or atleast that's what they think and are talking about. Whatever everyone is saying seems to be assumptions mostly. People from the past who know nothing about who you've grown to be. I'm getting some sort of a pause for you. Gap year from work, education or social media. People who literally have nothing to do with you are gossiping about how you lack direction in life. For those of you who aren't dropouts or are not taking gap years, you might give really vague answers when asked about what you wish to do in the future. You might say things like "I haven't thought much about it yet" or "we'll see" or you might be unsure about what field to study next and you might accept it and sometimes vocalise it "I am not sure what to take yet". People wait for you to post so that they can have something to discuss or make fun of. People from the past are slowly beginning to see that your perspective is changing and you're gaining enlightenment.

The tea here isn't about what they're saying, it's more about how fearful they are of your growth and how many people have their eyes on you. People who literally do not know you but know the people or one of the people who tried their best to traumatize you tend to follow you, your friends, your love interests, etc. just because they're obsessed with you. Like, these people went off to college in the same or different places while you could not afford it, their college mates and friends follow you, the guy you were seen hanging out with, etc. I'm getting a very karmic vibe here. I'm not sure what or when but them looking at you and talking shit about you is weighing them down and lifting you up, little by little. Things are rebuilding for you. You're independent and friendly and the new people in your life see that. You know, the first few days at a new school, college or work. If you're pretty, you realise that you're pretty because of the way people act towards you and the things they say. You might suddenly have those moments "maybe, I am even more attractive than I originally assumed". People are obsessed with you and watching you. They're trying to strategize your every move and keeping tabs on you. Someone here legit dreams about getting a revenge on you and some imagine being better than you, being chosen by someone over you. Even if people do not say that they're mad at you due to external validation from people, they make it obvious and they literally form bonds based upon their jealousy masked as hatred towards you. They're mad because of the support you receive from others. Some of these people regret it because they never imagined you actually leaving them and letting go of them completely. While, one of them was definitely praying on your downfall and still is, the rest, they were just trying to poke some fun to excite themselves. The tea is that people have so many different assumptions about you at this time because they have no clue as to what you're doing, who you're with, etc.

⸼ ۫ ︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 2 ꒱

Some of you here are from Pile 1, someone here is praising you, they're saying that you're mature and grounded. I think that this is someone close to you because you actually do seem to be this way. They're saying that you're generous and social. They're saying that you're practical and care about material objects. They're saying that you have a good nature and intentions. They're saying that you're nurturing and emotionally intelligent. One hint as to who is praising you, it is someone you've talked to when you didn't do your routine or felt unproductive. You likely told them that you didn't get your work done that particular day and they likely told you that it's okay to have those days as long as you do not make it a habit. Some of you might be balancing between two or more different streams of income and they're saying that you are trying to harvest better time management skills. This person understands you very well, they're saying that you have a personality that is very balanced and traits that often contradict each other. You're the coldest warm person, warmest cold person, nicest mean person, meanest nice person, logical and emotional, etc. all at the same time. They're saying that you've gone through many ups and downs in life but always try to balance things out. They're saying that you try your best to keep your grace under pressure until you finally crack and burst.

They're also saying that you struggle with balancing though. This is definitely someone who knows you well. They saw you finally being able to mentally leave a situation. They're saying that you're releasing past hurts and pain. They're talking about your sense of independence and courage. They're so proud of you and your growth and they feel happy to be able to witness your growth. They're saying that you regained balance and control over yourself and your life again. This person has a lot of love for you. The connection between the both of you is likely platonic. This person really admires you for walking away or distancing yourself from past situations. You still seem to be healing though. They have a lot of faith in you. They're talking about your friendliness and ability to grow. They're saying that you're efficient and most likely will be successful in the future. This person knows that you felt used by people even if they do not speak about it. While, this person talks highly about you, there's someone else who's talking shit about you. They're saying that your relationships are very short lived and that you're superficial. They're saying that you're a bitchy person who has no friends (I'm getting that it's not like you cannot have friends, it's just that you don't have a lot of them or people extremely close to you right now.)

If you do, they're not aware of that, I'm getting that this person is likely making other people hate you along with them. If you guys had a break up, people are talking about that. There's a lot of gossip going around currently. This pile definitely seems to have had a falling out with friends or something. I just heard "if she's sad, she tries to drag your mood down too". You guys might have started your healing journey around children or are healing your inner child. Some of you have different projects that are helping you heal better. There's also a chance that some romance changed your perspective, people are not talking about it but it's kind of a confirmation for some of you. People are saying that you lack a vision for the future. They're saying that you do not have enough drive to go after your dreams and stay consistent. People are also talking about your failed long distance relationship. For some of you, it might've been just a situationship but they're not fully aware of that. A group of people are talking about how you've lost direction. They're saying that you'll get nowhere in the future, I just heard it's 'neighbourhood karens'. Someone is saying that you're going through an unrequited love. People are saying that you have blocked emotions and legit tell people not to talk to you so that you feel alone. They're saying that you hurt their feelings, made them sad and are exaggerating everything you've done to them even though they've done worse to you.

⸼ ۫ ︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 3 ꒱

People are saying that you're a social climber. If you go to school or college, juniors are talking about how mean you are. People might even be slutshaming you behind your back. The funny part is that so many of you here are probably virgins. They're saying that you lack/lacked financial stability and stayed friends with people just for their money. People are saying that you're out of control. They're saying that you're obsessed with status and use people. People are also saying that you act like you don't need anyone. The person or people who are talking trash about you are people who are still crying over spilt milk, likely people from the past. Someone is talking about how you have large sums of money and are likely stealing money from others. If you went to a sleepover recently, the person might've lost some money and talked shit about you behind your back. These people tried their best to guilt trip you in the past and it did work for a while but it stopped working after a while. They're still blaming you for everything. I'm getting that people tend to feel lower than you and then act like you're the problem. You might have betrayed them or they might have betrayed or both. This is someone you trusted who let you down. You might have done something that hurt one person in the group and the whole group turned against you is the scenario I'm getting. You might have almost completely hid yourself away from the world. These people are not open to change, they take everything as a personal attack and are still the people that they were a few years ago. You, on the other hand are the type to grow every single day. I'm getting that for some of you, you used to talk shit about others with this person or group of people but as you started growing older, you started feeling like it didn't align with your personal values and you might have called them out.

Maybe, you just refused to talk shit about others but they were like "oh, you think you're better than us/me?" Let's just say that they failed to understand you but they fear you strongly. They know that you have a lot of hidden secrets, there are so many things that they're trying to figure out about your life. You've withdrawn and are silent but you are often not like this and they feel like you're going to come up with something in full force. You naturally attract attention even if unwanted and right now you do not want attention, you want peace but when you come out of this period of solitude, they don't know what's going to greet them. They were in your life for pretty long until you had a falling out, they were always confused when you entered those periods of solitude and jumped into conclusions but everytime they did that, you did something surprising so they're naturally confused when it comes to you and your life currently. Everytime they ignored your potential, you proved them wrong. They spread misinformation on you but well you have something you have been working on that they can pick up on intuitively and they're so curious and feel like when you do step out of the self isolation or whatever, you're going to be so big, they will not know what to do. However, some of them are trying to reassure themselves and the rest that you lack potential for any of that. They think that you might've hidden agendas against them. These people cannot let go of you, mostly because if one of them doesn't bring you up, the other does. You're rising above the problems and their bitchiness. You've realised how worthy you really are and you think that you've gotten over the worst already and they can pick up on it too. You do not give them the time of the day. Your life improved in some way after they left your life and they know that.

It could be anything, something as small as your first job or something as big as a successful business, however, either way you're ahead of them in some way, regardless of whether they accept it or not. You've let go and learnt from the past to a certain extent and you're trying to fully release, they feel like their fears will come true. Their biggest fear is you realising your worth and achieving success. The amount of resilience you have is something that they cannot deny. Some of you are taking a break from school, college or work, maybe it's been one or two years now, you're still growing something for yourself though. They know that you have an ability that they lack, self awareness and acceptance, you're very much the 'yes, what I did was wrong but I forgive myself' kind of person while they're the 'yes, everything is my fault' while denying everything and refusing to look into themselves and their actions. I just heard that you're on your way to become a ten. You know and manage to take time out when you burn out, they aren't like that. They're too scared of being behind in life even though something like that doesn't really exist. They're burnt out and not content. Their life is tiresome because of some routine, I just heard 'rat race'. You're taking a lot onto yourself and someone else is talking about how hard you are on yourself and appreciating your efforts. Some are talking about how beautiful, nurturing and respectful you are. You're growing, please continue doing so.

[lizdive]

Heyy!! May i request father figure gallagher with a teenager reader who gets bullied and is stuck in a toxic friendship. For example how would he help reader out of the toxic friendship? And what would he do against the bullying?

(sorry my english sucks)

Gn or F reader n' platonic ofc

Don’t worry anon you’re english is amazing <33 To anyone who’s in a toxic friendship, please know it’s important to always think about yourself first. Cut off anyone who brings negativity in your life because you’ll find those who will bring positivity in your life one day and it’ll be worth it !! Thank you for requesting and if you’re unsatisfied tell me and I’ll redo it <33

notes 𐙚 gender-neutral reader — "you" used to refer to reader ,, reader is a teenager ,, bullying and toxic behavior from others ,, platonic relationships ,, it’s implied Gallagher only exists in the dreamscape snd reader is in both reality and dreamscape ,, idk if penacony has school ?? ,, hopefully i did this right ,, not proofread ignore typos

⭑ Taking you in as his own was probably GALLAGHER’s best choice in life. You were a good kid — at least around him — and you didn’t cause much trouble around the bar as you helped him out.

⭑ GALLAGHER wasn’t too involved in your social and school life if you have one. Do as you please as long as you get decent grades (he cared more for your health than some numbers) and be friends with whoever you want to he as long as they do you no harm. If you’re happy and content, he’s happy and content.

⭑ So when you begin to return to the bar looking a bit upset, he got worried. "Hey kid, you okay?" He’ll ask, but when you dodge the question and change the subject or tell him you’re fine he’ll get even more worried. He won’f push but he’ll be more attentive to your behavior.

⭑ GALLAGHER will notice how your confidence dims with every time you enter the bar. He’ll notice how you’re more attentive to your phone as if waiting for a specific notification and how you get even more upset when it never comes.

⭑ How you tell him you’ll be hanging out with your 'friends' only for you to show up at the bar to help out, telling him that they canceled or forgot to tell you the time or some other dumb excuse that has him irritated and annoyed with your so called 'friends'.

⭑ As states above, he isn’t too involved with your social life. However he can see how your 'friends' are just using you and discarding you and how they doesn’t even try to hide their blatant lack of care. They don’t appreciate what you do for them and do not reciprocate it.

⭑ It’s when you bring your 'friends' to hang out at the bar that he watched firsthand as they disrespect you — be it by violating your physical boundaries, making mean jokes at your expense, making you get their drinks, etc.

⭑ Whenever you try to call them out they guilt trip you and gaslight you, painting you as the one in the wrong even though you’re as innocent as an angel.

⭑ GALLAGHER will step in the second he sees their unacceptable behavior. He might be a bit petty and purposefully make their drinks wrong or bad. He’ll keep a close eye on them which will make them quiet down since he’s giving them a mean glare whenever they say something mean. However if it gets too bad that they’re hitting you as a so called 'joke' then he’ll confront them face to face.

⭑ He’ll try not to cause a scene, especially if you’re present (he’d confront them if you were somewhere else like in the restroom or smth), but if they’re being difficult he won’t hesitate to just kick them out. He has experience as a security officer.

⭑ If you get upset, he’ll try to comfort you and make you understand why he kicked them out / made them leave.

⭑ If they try to curse you out via calls or messages they won’t be able to do so. GALLAGHER will encourage you to block them and deleting their numbers from your phone. He might even do it himself.

⭑ "Their number was deleted off your phone? Huh, that’s weird," He says, knowing damn well he was the one who deleted their numbers from your phone while you were in the back room getting some ingredients.

⭑ If you’re scared because they might do something bad to you, he’ll make sure you’ll stay safe so don’t worry. He has his ways. Also if you don’t know how to fight he’ll teach you so you can defend yourself should they try to gang up on you.

⭑ They were your only friends? Hey, don’t be upset. Penacony is a big place with a huge hotel filled with so many different people that would be blessed to be your friend. You’ll find the right people, and he’ll help you if you’re not a social person!

⭑ GALLAGHER will also scare off any bullies that you tell him about.

⭑ If their words get to you and you feel insecure, GALLAGHER will be there to comfort you and reassure you that you’re handsome/beautiful/pretty/etc. just the way you are. You don’t need to change anything. Those people are just jealous of how talented you are.

⭑ The people at the bar will probably also protect and comfort you. A friend (or in this case kid) of GALLAGHER is a friend of theirs. They’ll compliment you on your looks, your personality, your skills — trust that you’re confidence will be built back up pretty quickly.

[personasintro]

I get that you will update whenever you feel like it (its unpaid work after all) and i guess its better to have an update even a year later than not one at all. But is it really that serious? Like at this pace just wrap it up make an epilogue even if it’s shitty so at least we’ll have closure… I’m sure you too read fanfics so I hope you get the feeling.

IF you’re open to suggestions If I were you I would either make like 5k word(or less) updates regularly -even with payment if thats what it takes to motivate someone- or I would just give it up cause I’m sure if you’re dragging it out this long it will feel like a chore even to yourself. You don’t owe us anything so if you’re doing it just for us, there is no point.

To all the readers who will run to defend you; I GET IT. I DO. I DONT BLAME HER. But suck it up and be real about it, we will grow white hairs before we see the end of mh lmao 😆🤷‍♀️

I sincerely apologise if I came of bitter bcs I’m not doing it out of hate or whatever but I am curious about the way you work. I still love your works, reread them anytime I need my fix and I am grateful you are still trying to update (I’m grateful in general that mh exist its a super fan read). Is everything I said an oxymoron? Maybe. Do I stand by my words? I do 🙂‍↕️

I love you and will support you whatever you choose to do. I guess what I’m asking is;

Will we ever get closure on their story?

judging by you writing this, i guess it is a big deal to some of you 😅

i won't just wrap up the story to give a quick closure because there are people who can't wait. i understand the long is wait, i do feel bad for keeping everyone waiting but that's just how it is. i explained it more times than i can count, i'm working on it but in my own pace. i'll finish mh even if it takes years, whether it's just for me or for everyone.

little tip for everyone: i used to be very open about what's going on in my life but i stopped because it never really mattered, i appreciate everyone who loves the story and is excited – i am trying my best when it comes to writing even if it doesn't seem like it to you, but you never know what's going on in someone's life 🙏 don't jump into conclusions or guilt trip any writer.

thank you for the support!

[481mclarg]

Scared to love you | AL65

★ I've never been good at telling people how I feel, but you make me want to try.

STLY       •       FANFIC + SMAU.

          • Arthur Leclerc x Male!Oc Driver

« K » Just want to say thank you for all the support. Every like, new follower, and reblogs. All the interactions w/this and any fanfic/smau is more than appreciated. <3

Warning: —

★          introduction. | one. | two. | three. | four. | five. | six. | seven. | eight. | nine. | ten. | eleven. | twelve. | thirteen. | fourteen. | fifteen. | sixteen. |

          After finishing shopping, they left the store, with the brunette texting on the group chat the reason for their separation.

          —...Thank you. —Lombardi murmured as they walked on the way to the park that Paul indicated to them.

          —For what? —

          —I don't know... For everything. —He shrugged, somewhat shy. Embarrassed, praying that the heat on his face wasn't evident to the Monegasque, who had been looking at him so much lately.

          —I... You don't need to thank me for anything. —He placed his hand on the back of his neck, caressing his skin and the small curls that fell over it.

          The Italian finally turned around, fixing those eyes that Arthur was addicted to on him.

          —The people... —He murmured, worried, even though there were very few who passed by paying attention to them. The Monegasque lowered his hand down the boy's spine, guiding him with him to a nearby alley.

          The need to thank him again arose from him. He didn't know if for bothering to look for a less crowded place or for what. The words died in his throat, but the gratitude was expressed by kissing the brunette boy back.

          "How long will this last?" he wondered, fearing that it would have an end. Fearing to return home and with a cool head, everything will seem like a big mistake.

          Maybe worse, that only Arthur will find the wrong in all that.

          He was afraid that the idea of ​​going back to being just friends was inconceivable, that he would hate everything that happened enough not want to talk to him again. He didn't want to lose the relationship, nor did he need it to remain like the last few days. He didn't know what he wanted. He was afraid of the future.

 ��        The ringtone of a cell phone startled them, causing them to separate quickly.

          Matteo was quick to take the device out of his pocket, feeling anxiety grow inside him.

          —Giancarlo? —Fear spread to Arthur, who debated between trying to listen to what the man was saying or giving the young man his space to answer the call.

          The dark-haired boy noticed the doubt in the Monegasque, managing to communicate with just his gaze that he didn't want to be left alone.

          He barely spoke, only nodding a few times, with his eyebrows furrowed in concern, murmuring vague assents or denials. The call ended a few minutes later, with a "See you later" from Matteo, who didn't seem to have received a response.

          —Is everything okay? —he asked, almost scared.

          —He found out about the trip, and he's not very happy... —he denied. —He wants me to go home as soon as possible. —Leclerc nodded. His eyebrows furrowed, really worried. Guilt was what he felt. —Don't worry; it'll probably just be a scolding for not letting him know. —

          —Are you sure? I can explain to him, tell him that I insisted on my birthday. —

          —No-. No. It's not necessary, Le. —he denied quickly. —I'll take care of this. —Arthur wanted to insist, but Matteo's phone vibrated again. —We have to hurry. The boys are asking for us. —He changed the subject, forcing the conversation to die there, to get out of that alley and hurry to get to the others.

          Leclerc followed him with concern.

          He understood that this was an issue Matteo wanted to resolve with Giancarlo alone, but he was afraid that he would take all the responsibility and get all the scolding for something that wasn't even his idea in the first place. At the same time, he hated knowing that Matteo could be scolded for things as common as taking a vacation or going out with friends.

          Yes, it was wrong of him to hide something like an international trip like this from his coach and manager, but he did it for a reason. Arthur knew that he wouldn't keep secrets from Giancarlo for nothing; he must have a good reason for deciding to keep quiet.

          Would Girotti be so severe for a young man's simple and almost silly idea of ​​spending a few days partying? Arthur was really worried. Not only because of what the man might do or say to him, but because of what the Italian himself would say to himself.

          Matteo, for the first time all weekend, was using the second bed in the room, and Arthur couldn't feel more strange about it.

          He regretted the loss of the Italian's warmth. He misses him. He didn't know he could miss something he had barely known so strongly. With a sadness he tried to believe was irrational, he looked at the boy who, lying down, turned his back on him from the other side of the room, apparently asleep.

          "I need time to think," he excused himself as soon as they returned to the room after dinner, knowing that it was a doubt they both had. What would they do that night? He didn't think about repeating what happened the previous nights, but he hoped perhaps to be able to talk about all that, about what they felt, and what they wanted.

          At least he would tell him that they were going to pretend that nothing happened and return to the almost formal relation, limiting themselves to the talks at the academy meetings.

          The boy didn't know he could feel that way about losing someone. Yes, he had lost very dear people before, but it was different. Maybe, because he knew that Matteo would still be there, carrying whatever he was holding in and the memory of what he had experienced.

          He knew he was going to miss that weekend. Miss the side of Matteo he had known, the person he allowed himself to be far from home and from anyone who conditioned his way of acting.

          Now that he knew that more carefree and relaxed side of Matteo, closer, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to forget it, to miss it. He was scared of how right it had felt to be embraced by the Italian's warmth, and how lost he imagined himself being without being able to experience it again.

          He was terrified to think that he was missing a warmth that he didn't want to share with him. Could Matteo hate him now? Maybe he hadn't enjoyed that weekend as much as he had.

          Maybe he had never wanted to do any of that, and only now dared to put on the brakes, to distance himself.

          Why had he acted on those stupid drunken ideas? He was still asking himself that question a week after the trip. He was already back in Monaco, and he assumed that Matteo was in Italy. He assumed, because the boy hadn't spoken to anyone after an "I'm home" message, sent hours after landing in France. An almost obligatory message, since Dennis and Paul insisted that he let them know when he arrived in his country.

          Lombardi didn't write to him, and he didn't try to either. He was… afraid? Afraid that he had ruined everything, that he would hate him, that he would never want to talk to him again. Or was it shame that he felt? For feeling so much and confusing desire with something more. Shame for having let himself go and given himself over to the heat of the night, letting himself be enveloped by the atmosphere of the clubs and bars, letting himself be influenced by silly games and his most primitive reactions.

          How could he face talking to Matteo again? He couldn't even think of what to say to him. Just say hello? Talk about the next race? Ask again about the future in Formula 1? Inquire into his feelings? Apologizes?

          Should he apologize?

          Did he feel guilty, and that's why he didn't want to talk to Matteo?

          Giancarlo was a volatile man, yes. Perhaps he overreacted when the driver neglected his image as a star athlete and behaved like the teenager he was, yes. But- if he hadn't invited him…

          If they hadn't insisted on going out, on drinking, on returning to the hotel before the rest, on repeating it a second night… If he hadn't done everything he did before thinking.

          How severe must Giancarlo have been?

          Maybe talking to him wasn't even possible. Maybe he had him incommunicado, punished like a child who is deprived of his phone and networks. Or maybe he just forbade him to talk to him? Has Matteo confessed everything that happened? Does Giancarlo know… how much does he knows about Matteo's life? Is there anyone who really knows about him? Is Matteo allowing himself to know himself?

          He tried to maintain a slight hope. The illusion that the trip had managed to awaken that young and rebellious part of the Italian. That he would let himself live, that he would allow himself to have a life apart from his professional career.

          He tried with all his strength, although inside, he was dying of uncertainty, fear, shame, and guilt.

[ 📲 ] Incoming call...

🔊          —Charles. —he calls his brother one night before dawn. He hates bothering him on a race week, but he needs advice.

          Talk to their older brother or their mother scared him, more than just talk to Charles. He also might be the only awake because of the different time zones. Anyways, he thought hundreds and hundreds of times what to say and what to not.

          He wasn't ready to "the talk" trying to explain if he now also likes boys or the kind of relationship that he had with Matteo. At some point, it would happen, he knew, but it wouldn't be that night. I preferred it to be later, as late as possible

          «¡Hey, Arthur!» he greeted happily. «What's up? Is everything okay at home?»

          —Yeah, all good... —nodded. —I'm calling you for advice. —

          «Oh? What kind?»

          "Hope not sound so stupid..." —Sometime you feel... nostalgic? Missing... not something, to someone —He was looking for the right words to express his doubt. —Missing a teammate so much and being afraid of losing your friendship. —

          «Oh...» he murmured on the other end of the line. The depth of the issue had caught him off guard. «Well, I miss Sebastian a lot, of course; and when Carlos leaves Ferrari, it will take time to adapt to his absence, but... I guess I always knew that Formula 1 was like that» Arthur nodded, although his brother couldn't see it. «Not because they retire or change teams, they stop being friends... and not all teammates are friends»

          —But, you know-. You spend a lot of time with Carlos, so many things, many important moments; don't you feel that you lost something now that he left? —Isn't it normal to feel that emptiness in his chest when he imagined that they would no longer share time together?

          «I don't know if it's that big of a deal, Arthur. I will continue to see him in the paddock» He scratched the back of his neck, beginning to doubt if his brother was really okay. «What are these questions? Whom are you missing?

          —Oh, well- Since I'm not going to continue in Formula next year... I don't know, I've been a bit thoughtful lately. You know, a little... sad. —

          «Oh, Arthur. Don't worry, other opportunities are going to come» He didn't believe that the main problem, now, was the lack of a seat for next year.

          The lack of a companion bothered him. The lack of Matteo.

          —Do you think I will lose my relationship with the others if I leave the category? —

          «Your friends? The ones that travel with you to Spain for your birthday?» he waited to the younger nod before continuing speaking «They would be idiots if they ruined a friendship and so much time together by not being in the same grid. If they do, they aren't worth your time»

          —But I don't want to lose him. —He immediately regretted it, cursing in his mind repeatedly for letting himself speak before thinking.

          «Uh...» he sputtered. Before the younger could retract it or add something to disguise the desperation of the comment, he responded: «Maybe you have to act and do something about it too. Relationships -all types of relationships- depend on the effort of both parties to preserve themselves, right?»

          —Yeah, I guess... —

          «Arth, if I don't go to the meeting, Fred is going to hang me from the Angel of Independence» He spoke a little more hurriedly, while complaints were heard in the background. «Then I want to know who all this was for, okay? See you! Kisses to mom! »

          —See you... —He stammered, barely getting to speak before he hung up the call.

[ 📲 ] ...Call ended.

481MCLARG | 21 . 01 . 2025 | CORREGIDO