#the entire year was a big nothing and now it feels like everything is happening like ok damn let a guy catch up

[grandline-fics]

I'm so in love with your writing, I'd love to see the "one bed trope" from you! Maybe a little suggestive, as far as you're comfortable, of course.

DESCRIPTION: There was only one bed

WARNINGS:  nothing too suggestive, more on the fluff side

CHARACTERS: Mihawk, Shanks

WORDS: 2,065

A/N: Thank you so much for this request. I didn't know which characters you wanted so used the most popular form the recent poll. I had intended to do Ace as well but only had the energy to get something done for Shanks and Mihawk. I love this trope so much that i'll probably do more parts in the future. I hope you're happy with what I came up with and I'm sorry I didn't make it suggestive.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

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MIHAWK

You were going to kill Crocodile. Not only did he order you to the tiniest island you’d seen in a long while, were the only thing in abundance seemed to be gloomy expressions but he also insisted you go to ‘keep an eye on' Mihawk. Since you considered Crocodile your main superior-a perspective you hadn't dropped since your Baroque Works days- you couldn't exactly refuse the assignment but it just made zero sense for you to be here. For starters Mihawk worked alone and efficiently enough that he didn’t require anyone to look out for him. Plus ‘observation’ wasn’t your usual role in Cross Guild. Normally Crocodile handed you a bounty list, told you to pick one and go get them. 

This was just one big headache and to make matters worse after scouring the entire island a call came through from Crocodile saying the bounty had already been completed and just handed in. Now you really were going to kill your boss, but from the look on Mihawk’s face it seemed you would have to get in line. From the receiver, Crocodile’s laugh caught both of your attentions.  “Look these things happen so stop pouting. Just make your way back to Cross Guild.”

Mihawk didn’t offer a response and ended the call, walking out of the alley you’d both stopped at to take the call. Silently you fell into step beside the former Warlord, walking the streets of the island for what felt like the hundredth time already. You let out a sigh of relief to see the inn come into view, now the only thing on your mind was trying to get a good night’s sleep and calm your annoyance at the whole situation. You couldn’t even muster a polite smile to the receptionist at the desk. “Two please.”

“Oh.” The receptionist glanced between you and Mihawk, her expression trained with years of experience to appear calm but you both saw the flicker of nervousness in her eyes for the smallest moment. “I’m sorry but we’re booked almost to capacity.”

“You’re joking.” You muttered. Why was everything going against you today? “You have nothing left?”

“W-well we’re a small island. Rooms go fast but we do have one room available.” You and Mihawk exchanged a look, both composed. Then the receptionist had to uselessly add. “Only one bed…” With a sigh you held out your hand for the key, knowing there wasn't much choice. Muttering thanks you glanced at the number of the keyring and headed for your room for the night. Stepping inside you found it lived up to your very low expectations but at least it was clean. Silently you eyed the bed you would have to share and looked to your stoic roommate. “So which side of the bed do you want?” 

As expected Mihawk was mature and respectable about the whole thing. Calm as ever he chose his side-the one closest to the door- and settled in for the night. Mihawk’s ability to fall over to sleep at ease was enviable because in the dark you could hear his deep, even breaths as he slept facing away from you. As tired as you were and as comfortable as you normally did feel in Mihawk’s presence you just couldn’t fall asleep. While the bed you lay in wasn't the worst you’d ever had to sleep in, it wasn’t the comfiest and living at Cross Guild had practically spoiled you. You’d gotten so used to stretching out, something you couldn’t exactly do at this moment. 

Deciding to just make do with your half of the bed and not disturb Mihawk, you rolled onto your side with the intention of getting comfortable. The only problem was you’d vastly overestimated the room you had to move and could only gasp as you felt the bed disappear from under you. In a split second as you braced to hit the ground, you were instead caught by a pair of hands. With ease you were pulled back onto the bed and you tensed to feel your back make contact with the warmth of Mhawk’s chest. “Sorry for waking you.”

“It’s fine, just sleep.” He told you while pulling one arm back to tuck his hand under his pillow. You tried not to react to how sleep brought Mihawk’s voice to a lower register that made it so much more attractive to you. You only nodded at his instruction and shifted slightly, already so much more comfortable than you had been all night. The only thing now was you noticed Mihawk still had one arm loosely draped over your body, not quite holding you but still enveloping you in his touch. “This is only to keep you from falling out of the bed again.”

“I didn’t say anything…” You mused, lips curving into a teasing smile that Mihawk could practically hear in the dark. “If you wanted to cuddle all you had to do was ask.”

“Don’t make me kick you out of this bed.” Mihawk warned in your ear, despite the threat you smirked to feel his arm over you tighten just a little. 

“Relax, your secret is safe with me.” Ordinarily you would have teased him a little more but between the tiredness finally winning over you and the warmth of his body against yours being so comforting. For a moment Mihawk wondered if you were genuinely comfortable against him, ready to release you at the first sign of unease. Yet you surprised him when you yawned and lazily placed your hand over his arm and smile in satisfaction as your eyes slid closed, your breathing evening out as you fell asleep.

Mihawk had been taking his time to slowly get to know you and let you in little by little, but now watching you roll onto your other side and curl up against his chest he began to reconsider his actions. Perhaps a few more missions away from Cross Guild’s base wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.

SHANKS

This type of situation should not be happening in this day and age. Not with your crew and Captain having the reputation and fame they had. Drawing names to see who was sharing rooms of all things reminded you of when the crew was only just forming and the coin to pay for individual rooms was a luxury. Some of the others on the crew shared your slight annoyance but you all knew that there wasn’t much you could do about it. The ship needed repairs after getting damaged in a ferocious storm with the sleeping quarters affected and unusable for now. You were all pirates after all and you supposed you needed to be reminded of that. 

Still though you were secretly hoping you were one of the lucky ones who got their own room. You mentally cursed when Ben pulled out a slip of paper and read your name out. Resigned to your fate you grabbed your drink and took a plentiful mouthful as the vice-captain grabbed another piece of paper to announce your roommate for the night. As you wiped the stray remnant of the liquid from your lip you spotted the man pause and fight a laugh, disguising his amusement by rubbing the lower half of his face. “Captain Shanks.” 

Your back went rigid and you ignored the burning stares of the rest of the crew as you instead turned your attention to the man in question. Even he seemed momentarily thrown by the announcement but he recovered swiftly as expected of the laidback man. His dark eyes met your gaze and he offered you a cheeky smile and a wink.

That night when all the drinking had been done you and Shanks stepped into your shared room. Without needed to consult on anything you both instinctively went to your preferred side of the bed to sleep on. You sat down and worked on kicking off your shoes and shrugging out of your coat to at least be a little comfier. You looked over your shoulder when Shanks lightly cleared his throat as he pulled back the cover to settle down on the mattress. “Problem Cap?”

“Not really.” Shanks mused with a sly smile. “I usually sleep naked is all.”

“Poor baby, I’m sure you can be brave and at least keep your trousers on for one night.” You teased, used to your Captain’s antics and knowing he was only making jokes to ease the slight tension at having to share like this. With a tired groan you settled down on your side of the bed as Shanks flicked off the light, bringing the room fully into darkness. “If not the barmaid should still be about to help you.”

“And downgrade my sleeping partner? I’d rather lose another limb.” Shanks told you dramatically, offended you’d suggest such a thing. You let out a huff of amusement and rolled your eyes as you stared tiredly at the ceiling, letting yourself grow more comfortable against the mattress. “I lost count how many of the crew wanted me to swap with them…”

“Uh-huh.“ You mused with a lazy smile before breaking out into a long yawn, sleep coming over you quickly now. “Well aren’t you lucky? Now go to sleep, ‘kay?”

“Can I at least get a good night kiss?” Shanks teased lightly, playfully tapping your nose and grinning in the darkened room to see your tired face scrunch up slightly. He’d said it as a joke, something for you to barely register in your mind as you drifted off to sleep. What he hadn’t expected though was you to roll onto your side and push yourself up with a low hum of sleepiness, not even bothering to open your eyes fully. 

He watched silently, completely overcome with curiosity as your hand reached out to skim your fingers against his face, searching for him in the dark. Your hand settled against his cheek and slowly you drew closer. With half-lidded eyes Shanks couldn’t take his gaze off of your slightly parted lips. 

“Shanks…” your voice was barely a breathy whisper but it was clear as a bell to Shanks, his attention raptly on you and only you. Quickly you pulled back just enough and opened your eyes to smirk slightly to see Shanks had leant in slightly to chase your lips he had been quietly eager to taste.

“You’re killing me here, love.” Shanks protested with a small pout, his hand dropping to the small of your back, fingers flexing slightly a gesture, to request you close the distance. He wasn’t forcing you, you had all the power here. You tilted your head and smiled at the sudden pet-name. You couldn’t deny the temptation to give in to your own idle curiosities about your handsome Captain. Given how you were sharing a bed and he'd requested a kiss you would have been foolish to throw away the opportunity you had. Still you had to at least get a little bit more fun out of it by keeping Shanks in momentary suspense. 

Finally you relented and kissed Shanks, your lips moving languidly against his; it being no surprise to you the he was already returning the action with no hesitancy. There was no fight for dominance in the kiss you shared but you could feel the power and command of Shanks’ presence over you but he left the pace, duration, and intensity entirely up to you. As much as you wanted to take it further, to push your curiosity and attraction towards the man against you for your own satisfaction you had to pull away reluctantly, knowing you wouldn’t have been able to enjoy what would follow fully with how tired you were. “Satisfied with your good night kiss, Captain?”

“You have no idea.” Shanks grinned pressing a quick kiss against your head as you settled down on the bed again. “I can now sleep peacefully and dream the sweetest dreams.”

“Good.” You grinned sleepily, opening your eyes just enough to fix him a playful smile. “I expect a good morning kiss in return by the way.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, love.” Shanks grinned at you, already counting down the hours until he got to feel his lips against yours again but for now he would enjoy the time he had to sleep beside you.

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa@kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99

[taniushka12]

December is such a busy month like this week alone i had my birthday, my cousin's birthday, dinner w/ a friend, my niece's art class end of year presentation, tomorrow and onwards next week I've got my aunt's birthday, a beloved friend's birthday, shopping trip w/ my aunt for my birthday, christmas, my friend's new house inauguration party, And So On And So Forth

[nerdie-faerie]

Why is it when I have a big task to complete that should take days to do, I procrastinate the hell out of it when I have plenty of time but when it comes down to the absolute last minute, I can do a couple of days work in a couple of hours? What the fuck is wrong with me? Why couldn't I do it casually over a couple of days but can do it in matter of hours?

[rainrot4me]

Eyeless Jack General Headcannons

Summary: Basic, SFW, and NSFW head-cannons. My personal thoughts, feelings, and opinions about Jack as a character.

TW: NSFW below the cut, minors dni! Above the cut is sfw! Mentions of gore

Words: 2.3k

A/N: NSFW is reader with female anatomy.

Basic:

- The definition of nonchalant doesn’t convey his emotions very well at all so he lets his actions do the talking.

- Even though he may put on a front of being calculated and detailed, everything he does is purely instinctual or off the top of his head. He’s never made great plans or thought further on a problem than he had to, relying solely on time or for everything to work itself out. Ben calls it ‘thuggin it out’. He may seem all cool, calm, and collected- but really, he just doesn’t care.

- Drives a brown 1989 Ford F-250. Found it discarded on some old hunting grounds and spent the next 3 years learning about truck parts just to fix it up. It’s nothing pretty and the A/C doesn’t work half the time, but that doesn't stop the proxies from either stealing it for missions or Jeff cruising it to gas stations.

- Loves his alone time. If ‘Do Not Disturb’ was a living being.

- Incredible sense of smell, a blessing and a curse.

- Even though he doesn’t really feel emotionally tied to anyone or reliant on anyone's attention, he would never pass up a good conversation with Jeff or Toby. Finds their problems interesting (and funny).

- Even though he doesn’t have any eyes, he can still see. How? Who even knows? The demon would describe it as more of a viewing like he can detail everything that’s happening, but he can’t physically see it. Cryptic stuff even he’s too dumb to figure out.

- Despite everything, probably the most upkeep and clean member of the mansion. While eating organs and harvesting them can be messy, he doesn’t like the grime and prefers to clean off as soon as he can. The same goes for his clothes and room/office. Surprisingly tidy.

- Not as smart as he likes to present himself. Sure, he’s a medical student with more experience than anyone in a 50-mile radius, but that doesn’t mean he knows what he’s doing all of the time. Whenever the proxies roll in with serious injuries, the demon shoots them full of antibiotics, cauterizes the wound, and prays it doesn’t get worse from there. He knows what he’s doing, but that doesn’t mean he knows it’ll work 100% of the time.

- A silent panicker. Will absolutely tear his brain to shreds worrying or fighting with himself, but keep a stone look on his face the entire time. Gauging his emotions is like conversing with a brick wall.

- Dry humor. Absolutely will answer your long, emotional paragraph with a thumbs-up emoji.

- In some sick way, slightly prefers the life he’s living now. It may be grotesque and depressing, but his knowledge of the medical field and human bodies is infinitely more broad than it would’ve been. He quite enjoys the freedom he has now.

- Never happier than when winter is fizzling out and the first signs of spring show up. The warmth, the colors, the vibrancy coming back. He can’t get enough of it. Absolutely will get lost just studying the snow melting from the new flower beds.

- Locked in the basement of the mansion at all times. Only comes out to eat or on the rare occasion he’s assigned a mission. The only place he truly feels comfortable.

- Will get oddly emotional when light reflects on the lake just right or the fog settles on the ridge just perfectly. You’d never guess, but he’s a big poetic bum.

- Purrs. Like a cat. Ears flick around like one too.

- With music, he’s a big lyric listener. The song could sound absolutely terrible, but as long as he resonates with the words, will enjoy it anyway.

- Unorganized organization freak. Everything has a place, even if you don’t know where that place is.

- Seriously underestimates just how overtowering he is. He’s nowhere near Slender’s height, but the demon easily doubles in the average human’s vertical. When he was human he was taller, but never like this. He’s still getting used to it.

- Lanky but quick. Limbs and features are longer, but the muscle index makes up for it. He’s seriously fit, but everything is evenly distributed. Serious muscle definition in his arms and back, though. What he lacks in strength, he makes up in speed and agility.

- Enjoys Radiohead, Cigarettes After Sex, Paramore, and Three Days Grace. Will also never admit it, but really enjoy the Twilight soundtracks.

Dating Him/SFW:

“My pet…” “Little thing…” “Pretty thing…”

- Gift-giving love language. Loves to make you things unexpectedly and watch the surprise on your face. Steals jewelry or clothing from his victims to gift to you.

- It takes a lot for the demon to even consider you a friend let alone a potential love interest. But you best believe once he’s decided he wants you, that’s it. You take precedent, anything and everything else in his life takes a step back and you become the focal point. Heaven help if you ever change your mind about him.

- “My pretty thing… my lovely little pet… all mine…”

- Physically can not get enough of your smell. Whether it be sweet or sour, whatever emotion you dwell in, this demon will bury his nose into the crook of your neck and waste away there. It’s intoxicating to him, like an emotional tie he’s bound to.

- Like to study you. Your movements, your voice, the way you react to certain stimuli. Everything about you and your personality just intrigues him to no end.

- Possessive in the, ‘If they look at you, I’ll kill them’ way, but also is sure enough in himself and you to know he doesn’t need to go that far. Would rather lock you away for only him to see, but respects you too much.

- Has a deep-rooted fear of hurting you, so any fight or disagreement turns him distant. He’ll come back eventually, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be comfortable enough to get all touchy-feely again just yet.

- A lot like Edward from Twilight, he wants to taste you the most. It’s seriously a bad habit to nip at your skin or get lost in your scent because he knows how easy it would be just to take a chunk out of you. Has to be very aware and cautious of himself.

- Even though it took a long time for him to be comfortable enough to take his mask off around you, he still gets wildly conscious about it whenever you’re around. Loves nothing more than when you’re caressing his face or kissing his skin because he knows it's genuine.

- For a cannibal, he’s an insanely good cook. Will only cook for you, however. He says it's out of love, but really he knows deep down he wants to control what you eat so you have good organ health. You best believe he’ll have you hitting those core diet needs.

- Doesn’t sleep often, but when he does it's for long periods. The problem is, he likes to completely swallow you with his body and wrap around you, keeping you there until he eventually wakes up. Really enjoys the body heat you provide. Lowkey a small spoon.

- Slouches to your height.

- His favorite time is after a long day, curling up in a big chair with a book and you in his lap. You cocoon in his arms as he leans back, a blanket draped over the two of you. He’s naturally cold-blooded so he would stay there forever if he could.

- “You smell so good, pet… So good…”

- Talks in short, mumbled sentences. The mansion residents started using you as a translator because he would only say more than 3 words at a time around you.

- Absolutely never cared about how he looked before you. You taught him decent clothing styles and now he rocks the ‘dark academia/soft boy’ aesthetic like a champ.

- Made you your own special corner in his lab just because he couldn’t deal with having to be away while working.

- An intense kisser. It’s never soft pecks but full-on mouth-consuming makeouts. He’s a hungry guy who can only be satisfied if he feels like he’s swallowed enough of your tongue and lips with his own. Your lips and chin are absolutely soaked with slobber afterward.

- Firm believer in carrying you. No matter where or how far, he likes to bridal-style haul you around or have you latch onto his back.

- “I could eat you up. Just kidding… yeah…”

- Goes ridiculously insane when he can see the chubbiness on your thighs or stomach. You sitting down or lying out, you best believe he is fighting every demon internally not to take a massive bite on your skin.

Dating Him/NSFW:

- Again, skin. No better than a man during the dark times when you flash just a little too much leg or abdomen. He’s on you in seconds and clawing your clothes off to see more.

- You will never leave an encounter without cum dripping out of you. Refuses to get off anywhere else but deep inside of one of your holes. Call it a breeding kink but his animalistic tendencies just won’t let him pull out. Grunting and panting against your nape as he slams inside as far as he can to keep you from squirming away

- “You can take it, I know you can… Need you full of me… All of me…”

- A greedy kisser. Grabbing your jaw and fucking his tongues into the warm wetness of your mouth, teasing to just push them further past the tightness of your throat. Even when you squirm and gag, he just pushes them deeper, testing your resolve.

- You reach your breaking point longggg before he does. A couple of orgasms deep and he hasn’t even put his cock in yet, just milking your body for all it’s worth. It may be because he has a high sex drive, but it’s mainly because he gets off best when you’re pliable and numb to his touch. It’s a domination thing.

- A pussy worshiper. Much like his adoration for any organ, he really appreciates all of his knowledge of the female anatomy and how good he is at eating you out. If he can, or if you can take it, he’ll press all three of his tongues deep inside and spread your plush walls to his content. Likes to swap between focusing on your cunt and your clit, but mainly both at once.

- Bite marks galore. Has to be careful with how much blood he draws, but you’ll never get by without at least one good bite mark on your shoulder. Likes to possessively mark you all over just for others to see. Same feeling with claw marks.

- There’s some cognitive switch in his brain that flips when he gets to a certain point of desperation, like after not seeing you for a long period or after a particularly difficult day. It’s like a starved creature hungry and desperate for anything. He’ll ravage your body and mind, fucking you both to pure exhaustion or until he physically can’t cum anymore.

- On that note, ruts. They’re seasonal, usually coming around the first two weeks of spring and fall. He can’t control when they show up, but once started, they usually last 3 to 4 days, each day getting less intense. Since it’s such an animalistic ordeal, he loses all restraint or moral compass on how to treat you. Bites, blood, wounds, and injury are all possible. They’re not intentional, but he physically cannot control his mental or physical, blinded completely by lust. Thank god his sperm isn’t compatible with human anatomy, because that’s the only place he’ll cum.

- “I’m sorry- sorry, pet- Just one more time- just one more- Fuck- I promise-”

- Both ankles wrapped in one claw. Two claws overlapping around your waist. Yeah…

- Starts slow, so achingly slow you want to rut your hips and get him deeper. He likes the feeling of entering you, of spreading your plush cunt around his cock and finding its home deep inside. He’ll get faster eventually, but for now, he just wants to drink up the sights and smells of your desperation. That first gasp gets him every time.

- Mating press or nothing else. If you want to try something new, he’ll happily oblige, but the only way he’s truly happy is if your legs are pushed back to your shoulders and his hips are slamming down into yours. He’ll take the occasional doggy style, but only if his teeth are latched on to the back of your neck and holding you docile.

- Could watch your face come undone all day. Loves to see your eyes roll when you come, or the sweat and tears dripping off your cheeks. The dark flush of your skin gets him so hungry he has to physically restrain himself.

- “You’re so gorgeous- so fuckin’ pretty- Ah- Look at me. C’mon, don’t get shy now…”

- One time, after a particularly messy organ harvest, he couldn’t wait to get to you. He was so livid, body practically shaking with excitement when he snuck into your room that he didn’t even have time to clean himself off. Blood (not yours) stained your sheets and skin, messy claws dragging across your stomach and chest to coat you in dark red, his tongues quick to shoot out and lap at the stuff. You, covered in blood and his mess, sent him spinning. That was the fastest he’s ever came.

- Growling, panting, snarling, huffing, chittering, teeth gnashing, LOUD ASF

- Has a size thing. Comparing your hand to his makes him so horny and eager to just pick you up and fuck you. Admires how small and easy you are to just throw around like a doll.

- Absolutely has had sick fantasies of fucking your organs like a fleshlight. He’d never tell you, but the thought of cutting a slit in your abdomen to push his cock into the tangle of intestines and muscles makes him drool. He can almost imagine how warm it would be.

- Gets a high when you squirt. Feels accomplished to be covered in your juices and having you completely ruined for anyone but him.

- “You can take it for me, yeah? Go ahead and make a mess… It’s alright…”

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[tthoroughfare]

crush (part 2) // abby anderson

*･゜ﾟ･* summary: i owe you a black eye and two kisses. tell me when you wanna come and get 'em. abby finally confronts her feelings in the spur of the moment, then gets scared and runs away. it all works out in the end, though.

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: canon!abby x reader

*･゜ﾟ･* content: nsfw. nothing too crazy just some yearny sesbian lex using hands. light injury description and abby being a horrible communicator

*･゜ﾟ･* length: 2.9k

this is part two of this series! find part one here

i hope you enjoy the second part! i'm so down to write more of this so lmk if anyone wants it

abby keeps it all to herself. she enjoys having you as a friend, and reasons that it’s better not to mess it all up. just because you like her whole entire gender doesn’t mean you like her. plus, she’s not even sure about what she’s feeling. figures that if she actually wasn’t straight, she’d surely have already known by now. but then again, she didn’t know you back then. didn’t feel what she feels around you.

then, one night, you’ve been around at hers, drinking and watching a movie with manny. she’d accidentally overindulged, possibly (definitely) out of nerves. you’d had to drag the chair and beanbag over in front of the TV, you and abby both piling onto the beanbag, chair not big enough to hold the two of you.

there was still barely enough room, and you were pressed up against her. at first, you were awkwardly perched, body rigid; but then, as the film went on and you had a little more to drink, you found yourself sinking into the seat, further into her.

by the end of it, your head is comfortably on her shoulder, laughing and chatting freely — she can smell your hair, feel the heat of your body against her, and she truly thinks she might combust.

once it’s gotten late, you say you’d better be heading back to your own place. abby tipsily insists on walking you back, even though it’s really not necessary. like, at all.

you jovially chat and giggle on the way back through the stadium, and all you can remember thinking is how glad you are that you met her. how rare it is for you to know someone who you feel so connected to, who everything feels so easy with almost instantaneously.

when you get to your door, she lingers around, keeping the conversation going even after you say goodnight — like she wants something from you, wants to say something but can’t. there’s a moment where it drops quiet, and she’s just looking at you. studying your face, maintaining eye contact for probably longer than she ever has. that’s when you realize she’s automatically drifted closer.

and then, liquid courage coursing through her veins and affirmed by you leaning on her earlier, she kisses you.

it’s quick, and you don’t return it. not because you don’t want to, but out of pure shock — never in a million years would you have seen it coming. you’d fully shelved your crush on her, under the impression it was never going to happen.

before you have a real chance to react, she pulls back, cheeks tinged red.

you speak at the same time: her blurting out, "sorry, fuck"; you simply shaking your head a little, stuttering, “a-abby, i…”

a beat passes, you slightly open-mouthed, abby’s hands anxiously fiddling with themselves at her sides. immediately, she’s sober. “fuck, i-i’m sorry. that was stupid.”

“no, abby, it’s just—“ before you can finish your sentence, she mutters something inaudible and turns, beginning to stride off down the hall, feeling like a fucking idiot. of course you didn’t like her, and she’d just drunkenly ruined it all for nothing.

your call of her name, followed by a, ‘wait!’ falls on deaf ears, and she turns the corner, gone. you’re left stunned, frozen outside your door, trying to process what just happened.

you want to go after her, have her allow you to explain yourself, but decide against it. you don’t know if she really meant it, you don’t know what her reasons were for running off; you don’t know what the fuck to do. so, despite every ounce of yourself begging you not to, you simply go inside and try your best to sleep. you can’t, though, mind whirring for hours on end until you finally pass out.

the next morning, you pray you run into her. usually, you always saw her at some point, but it was like she was avoiding everywhere you might be.

you see manny in the canteen later in the day, catching up to him and asking him where she is; he just shrugs, saying that she’d picked up an extra assignment and headed out that morning. might not be back for a day or two.

you can’t help but let out an exasperated sigh, crossing your arms. you knew it was on purpose. all over a kiss. “are you fucking kidding me?”

he gives you a funny look. “you two have a fight or something? she was… quiet when she came back.”

rolling your eyes, you shake your head after a moment. basically the opposite. “no… no, we didn’t.”

“right.” he quirks an eyebrow slightly, taking a breath. “you want me to talk to her when i see her?”

you shake your head vehemently, furrowing your brow. “nah, nah, don’t. just… let me know when she gets back, please?”

he nods once, tapping the side of your arm. “you got it.”

you utter out a thanks, and with that you’re off.

you don’t want to be mad at her, but you are. you don’t know why she’s running away from you, quite literally putting her life on the line just so she doesn’t have to face you. what makes it so much worse is she didn’t even give you a chance. if she’d have just heard you out instead of storming off, there wouldn’t even be an issue in the first place.

the next morning arrives, and abby’s still not back. the whole day, you fight the urge to walk over to her apartment and knock on the door every five minutes. you know manny said a day or two, but you can’t help but anxiously await her return the moment it’s plausible.

you try to keep yourself busy with work, but all your mind does is wander back to her. thinking about what she’s doing, if she’s okay, what you’re going to say to her when she gets back. you replay the kiss over and over in your head, scrutinizing every millisecond of it. what if the reason she freaked out was that she only did it because she was drunk, immediately realized she regretted it, and that’s why she’s avoiding you?

her absence just gives you too much time to worry, conjure up every worst case scenario. by the end of it, you’re essentially convinced she doesn’t like you, that it was a mistake, and now your friendship will never be the same.

finally, around noon the day after, manny collars you in the hallway and lets you know abby’s back. you let out a half relieved, half nervous sigh, nodding and thanking him. you can’t go talk to her right away — you’re too swamped with work, on your way back from the shortest lunch break known to man, but you know the second you’ve called it a day, you’re finding her.

it’s not until almost eight that you finally get to a place where you can break off, leaning back in your chair and running your hands over your face. you pack a few items away hurriedly, heart beating in your chest as you make your way over to abby’s.

it’s not her who answers the door, though — it’s manny. you blow air out of your nose at the fact you’re seeing more of him than her at this point.

“where is she?” you question gently, as if he doesn’t already know what you want.

the corners of his mouth quirk. “guess.”

“library?”

he clicks his tongue in affirmation, and you roll your eyes fondly before telling him you’ll see him later, turning to make your way down there.

standing outside the door, you realize how nervous you are. you’ve wanted nothing more than to see abby since it happened, but now the moment’s here you can’t help but feel hesitant about all the ways the conversation could go.

after a beat of psyching yourself up, you gingerly crack the door open, spotting her on the ottoman before gently wrapping your knuckles as you peer in. “knock, knock.”

she looks up, an unreadable expression on her face.

“can i come in?”

she pauses, sitting up properly and placing her book to the side. “uh… sure.”

you smile gratefully, picking your way in and softly closing the door behind you. you make your way over, taking a seat next to her with your hands folded in your lap, avoiding eye contact. “so…”

you can see her fiddling with the sleeve of her shirt in your peripheral vision. “so…?”

looking up at her, you go to say your rehearsed spiel, then the words get caught in your throat when you notice the injuries littering her face. a couple of gashes are set into her forehead and chin, purple blossoming over her cheekbone.

“what the hell have you done to your face?” it comes out a little more frustrated than the caring tone you intend, but you are frustrated. if she’d have stayed and listened, she wouldn’t have been avoiding you, and in turn wouldn’t have gone off and gotten herself hurt. you pivot your body to face her side, knee bending to rest your left leg sideways.

“it’s not anything.”

you tut, unable to help yourself from reaching out and running your thumb tenderly over the bruising. she pulls away from your touch slightly, to which you shoot her a look. “worse than i ever get.”

“you’re sheltered.”

she says it matter-of-fact, and you know it’s true. you’ve always had it better than her, better than most, never really being required to go into the field. both your parents are still alive, a rarity nowadays, both academics. the last time you were in real danger was simply when you were being moved into the base, going from safe point A to safe point B. 

still, it stings a little.

“yeowch,” you respond as you allow your hand to drop from her skin, only half joking. “there’s no need to be mean, abby.”

she rolls her eyes, still keeping her sight trained firmly ahead. “i’m not being…” she trails off, shaking her head a little and looking down at her hands. she moves to lean forward, forearms resting on her knees.

a pause passes that feels like an eternity, until you finally will yourself to speak. your voice is soft, low. “why did you run off on me the other night?”

she gnaws at her lip, not saying anything for a moment. “can we just forget about that? it was…”

“a mistake, i know. you were… you’d had a few drinks. i know you didn’t mean anything by it.” you finish her sentence for her, and she sighs and shakes her head in annoyance at how wrong you have it.

she swallows thickly in defeat, urging the words to come. she might as well tell you; she’s already basically fucked everything up. what does she have to lose?

“that’s… not it.” her words come out quiet, and she looks at you for the first time since you walked in, hands wringing in her lap.

you automatically shuffle a tiny bit closer, her leg warm against yours. “then what is it?”

“i didn’t… it wasn’t… because i was drunk. it was because i wanted to.” she takes a deep breath, shoulders sinking. “and then… you reacted all… i don’t know. anyway… you don’t see me like that. can we just move on?”

you look at her, mouth opening and closing a little. your brow furrows. “oh my god. are you serious?”

“what?” she replies, a little defensively.

“i reacted like that because i was fucking shocked. as far as i was aware, you didn’t even like girls, never mind me, and then you just kissed me out of nowhere. i didn’t know how to react. and then, you didn’t even give me chance to say anything and just walked off, and then i don’t see you for two days,” you blurt out, floodgates opened.

it’s her turn to be speechless again, looking up at you like a deer in headlights. “so… w-what are you saying?”

you don’t even bother to answer, knowing you can show her tenfold better than you can tell. you pull her up to you, hand resting on her jaw, pressing your lips to hers with a gentle urgency. she freezes for a split second before kissing back, one hand leaning on the ottoman behind you, the other coming up to cup your cheek.

you shift further in subconsciously, right leg going over one of hers and your free arm wrapping around her neck.

“jesus christ, abby,” you mumble against her lips between adoring smooches, “i can’t believe you.”

she breathes out a chuckle. “sorry.”

you have sex for the first time that night. you invite her to stay over, not even having those expectations. you just want to be with her, want to feel close to her, wake up side by side.

but then it drops late, and your lights are on low, having spent the evening conversing on your bed with the tv droning in the background. you’re both on your sides facing each other, propped up by an elbow. and you look so pretty in the dim yellow light, she can’t help herself from leaning in and kissing you, dripping with want.

you end up on top of her, fingertips stroking over either side of her face, hers pressing into your hips. all you can hear is your own pulse banging in your head, the labored, rapid breaths the two of you let out into each other’s mouths.

you don’t think you’ve ever wanted anything this much. you can feel yourself soaking your underwear, and nothing’s even happened.

abby swallows thickly, pulling back for a moment, knowing where this is all going. “you know i’ve never…” she trails off, implicating the last few words, voice husked with arousal.

you pause to look at her, lidded eyes dragging over her face, a slightly amused smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

“i know,” you respond, leaning back in to mouth at the corner of hers, before kissing down to her jaw. you continue to speak against her skin, voice low. “you’ll figure it out.”

and she sure does.

you make love to each other. it’s all slow, and testing, but wanting and desperate. a lot of abby asking every two minutes if what she’s doing feels good, you guiding her and showing her how you like it. when you first flip her on top of you, tenderly taking her hair out from its braid and running your fingers through it, leading her hand under your waistband and showing her how wet you’ve gotten for her, she truly doesn’t know how the fuck she was ever, ever uncertain about her feelings.

you take your shirt off, baring yourself to her, then hers, needing to feel your skin flush against one another. her hands automatically move to make quick work of the lower half of your clothing, gaining confidence. and then you’re naked, spread out underneath her, all flushed and open mouthed, hips shifting into hers desperately — and it’s just like something takes over her.

she kisses over your chest languidly, exploring, needing to taste your skin. you gently take her wrist, moving her hand back between your legs, and your head falls back when she runs a finger through your folds. it’s a little clumsy, a little anxious, but abby’s a quick learner. she finds a rhythm, circling your clit as her mouth attaches to your nipple.

“abby, fuck…” you moan shakily, one hand tightening around her wrist, keeping her where it feels good, the other gripping lightly at her hair.

“is that okay?” she asks. she’s looking up at you reverently, desperate to impress, and the sight sends even more heat pooling in your lower belly.

you nod hungrily and your hand moves from her wrist to her waistband, voice coming out a lot more needy than you intend. “take these off.”

she obeys you without a word, and your free hand immediately goes to touch her, spreading her apart and toying with her clit, reveling in the noises it draws.

you make each other cum like that, touching each other at the same time, all needy and yearning. you’re first, abby’s nerves getting the best of her, you unable to help yourself. it all builds and builds until it hits you hard, breathy, high pitched moans and whines of her name tumbling out against her shoulder. hearing you, seeing you like that sends her absolutely reeling, and it’s not long until she’s there too. you pull her face level to yours with your free hand, threading your fingers through her hair, needing to look at her as she cums.

she looks so pretty, eyes screwed shut and brows drawn, parted lips rosy as she pants her way through her orgasm, unable to help the string of mmphs and low, strangled moans that escape her.

you work her through it, slowing your movements gradually, stroking at her face as she comes down. it’s quiet for a moment, just the sounds of the forgotten movie across the room and both of you attempting to regain your breathing.

“okay?” you ask, voice barely a whisper.

she nods, eyes still closed, tongue darting out to wet her lips. then, her mouth twitches, corners forming a small smile. “yeah. fuck.”

you mirror her, a tiny smile of your own tugging at your lips. “good.”

kissing her nose lightly, you shift your hand away from her pussy and pop your messy fingers in your mouth, cleaning her off you, relishing in her taste.

she watches through hazy eyes, committing the sight to memory.

yeah. she’s never looking back.

[runariya]

Tame Me Softly (m.)

thank you @ericawantstoescape for making this happen 🫂💕 summary: There's really nothing that could tame Jungkook. Not some therapist, and definitely not some 'aggression management program' at a clinic. Or so he thinks. pairing: panther hybirdl!Jungkook x cat hybrid!fem reader genre: hybrid!AU, S2L, fluff, smut rating: 18+, MDNI! warnings: aggression, foul language, size difference, a bit of jealousy, JK's whipped and a pussy for OC, explicit sexual content, mutual masturbation, good boy, kitten, sub-y!JK, unprotected sex, kinda public sex(?)...there are CCTV's..., fluff, pls lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 6.6k

a/n: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

“‘S nothing.”

Jungkook sits on the counter of his kitchen, staring at the shredded remains of his curtains like they’ve personally offended him. Which, to be fair, they probably have. They’re too floaty, too white, too… delicate. Namjoon picked them out ages ago, saying they’d “brighten the place up”. Jungkook’s claws have had other ideas.

There’s a pile of fabric strips on the floor, another casualty in his ongoing war against… well, everything. It’s not just the curtains, though. The wall behind the sofa’s got claw marks gouged into it, his sofa’s a disaster of stuffing and fabric, and let’s not even get started on the dining table. That poor thing never stood a chance.

“Right,” Namjoon sighs from the doorway, coat still on and arms crossed like some disapproving school teacher. “What do you call this, then?”

Jungkook doesn’t bother answering this time. He’s too busy ignoring him, staring hard at the floor like it might suddenly open up and swallow him whole. A nice hole in the ground might actually solve a few problems, now that he thinks about it.

Namjoon doesn’t leave, of course. He just leans against the wall beside the damaged rag, sighing in that way he does when he thinks he’s about to say something profound. “You can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” Jungkook snaps, head jerking up to glare at him. His tail twitches against the counter, betraying the irritation radiation off his very being. “Existing? Don’t worry, I’m working on it.”

Namjoon’s face falls, which is somehow worse than the disapproval. Jungkook hates when he looks at him like that, all older-brother sympathy and “I know what’s best for you” vibes.

“You’re not gonna find a mate if you act like a feral alley cat.” 

Jungkook snorts, leaning back on his hands. “As if you’d know.”

“I do know,” Namjoon counters, like he’s just been waiting for that line. “I’ve been with my mate for years. You think she’d have stuck around if I’d been shredding the furniture every time I got annoyed?”

“Maybe.”

Namjoon gives him a flat look. “Look, I get it. You’re frustrated. You’re lonely. But this,” he waves vaguely at the destruction like it’s all just one big disaster “this isn’t helping you. You’ve got to figure something out.”

Jungkook knows Namjoon’s right, and that’s the most annoying part of it. He is frustrated. His skin itches all the time, his claws feel like they’re too sharp for his own body, and he’s constantly on edge. Growling at strangers, snapping at anyone who gets too close, it’s all instinct now. And he’s sick of it.

Sick of waking up in an empty bed, with no one to press against when his tail curls around his own leg for comfort. Sick of walking past couples on the street and pretending he doesn’t feel like biting something out of sheer jealousy.

Still, he can’t bring himself to say all that. Not to Namjoon, anyway.

“You’re so fucking smug, you know that?” Jungkook mutters instead, looking away.

Namjoon doesn’t even deny it. “Smug or not, I’m right. You need help.”

“I don’t need help.”

“You do.” Namjoon crosses the room, dropping next to him. Jungkook tenses automatically, but Namjoon doesn’t push. Just sits there, calm like he’s trying to prove a point Jungkook’s unable to see.

“I found someone for you to talk to. A hybrid therapist. He’s good. Works with panther hybrids like you.”

Jungkook bristles, turning to glare at him again. “You’ve been telling people I’m mental?”

“No,” Namjoon deadpans. “I’ve been telling people you’re a stubborn git who doesn’t know how to ask for help.”

That earns him a low growl, but Namjoon doesn’t care. He never does. “Look, all I’m saying is you don’t have to keep doing this on your own. There are people who can help. You don’t have to see him if you don’t want to, but I think you should.”

Jungkook’s quiet for a long time after that, staring down at his hands. His claws are out again, gleaming in the daylight filtering though his shredded curtains. He wants to dig them into something, but there’s nothing left in the flat that hasn’t already been destroyed.

It’s not like he doesn’t know he’s got issues. He’s not stupid. But admitting it out loud feels like giving up, like letting everyone else win. Still, the idea of someone understanding what he’s dealing with… it’s tempting. More tempting than he’d like to admit.

Namjoon doesn’t push him, just lets the silence settle until it’s unbearable, until Jungkook caves. 

“Fine,” Jungkook mutters eventually, the word bitter on his tongue. “I’ll go. Once.”

Namjoon’s smile is small but victorious, and Jungkook immediately regrets saying anything. “That’s all I’m asking,” he pats him on the back.

Jungkook growls low in his throat again, but Namjoon just laughs, already on his way out the door.

“Proud of you, Kookie,” he calls over his shoulder, and Jungkook swears under his breath, hating this nickname to no ends.

“Asshole,” he mutters, a dull sort of resignation crawling through his insides, like he already knows this is going to be a nightmare.

Still, as he stares at the wreckage of his flat, he wonders if Namjoon’s truly right this time. 

Namjoon wasn’t right. 

Jungkook slouches in the too-small chair, arms crossed tightly over his buffed-out chest, tail flicking with absolute irritation. The claws of one hand tap against the armrest beside him, an aggravated click click click that makes the snow owl hybrid perched opposite him raise a single, unimpressed eyebrow.

This is hell. He’s decided that’s where he is, hell, specifically designed for panther hybrids who don’t know how to behave. The small office is too stuffy for his liking, and Dr. Min Yoongi’s wide stupid eyes never blink, which is doing nothing for Jungkook’s nerves. What kind of therapist stares you down like they’re trying to out-brood you?

Dr. Min hasn’t said much yet, just the usual introductions and a few polite questions about Jungkook’s life that Jungkook hasn’t bothered answering properly. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to talk. And he definitely doesn’t want some fucking owl hybrid poking around in his head too. 

“This hostility,” Dr. Min says finally with his stupid slow and calm voice, like he’s got all the time in the world. “Do you ever stop to think where it comes from?”

Jungkook snorts, leaning back in the chair even more with a huff and a sneer. “Why don’t you tell me, Doctor?” His voice drips sarcasm, and his claws tap faster on the armrest, though he hopes the owl doesn’t notice. “Aren’t you supposed to have all the answers?”

Dr. Min tilts his head, feathers ruffling slightly in what Jungkook guesses might be owl irritation. “I don’t have the answers. I just help you find them yourself. But I can tell you one thing: it’s not everyone else who’s the problem.”

That gets under Jungkook’s fur immediately. He leans forward, glaring at the owl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Dr. Min says, entirely too casually for Jungkook’s liking, “that you’re spending a lot of energy being angry at the world when maybe the problem starts a bit closer to home.”

“Piss off,” Jungkook snaps, his tail whipping uncontrollably against the chair.

Though Dr. Min doesn’t flinch. Of course, he doesn’t. Snow owls probably don’t flinch at anything. He just blinks slowly and sets his clipboard down. 

“You can keep deflecting all you want,” he leans back in his chair with an irritating air of calm, “but it’s not going to make things better for you. Or for anyone else around you.”

Jungkook growls low in his throat, claws digging into the armrests now. “You don’t know a fucking thing about me.”

“I know enough,” Dr. Min muses, no, taunts for Jungkook to say otherwise. “I know you’re angry all the time. I know it’s not working out for you. And I know you came here because you’re tired of it, even if you won’t admit it.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to argue, but the words stick in his throat. He is tired. Exhausted, even. But hearing it said out loud makes him feel vulnerable, and vulnerability is just about the last thing he wants right now.

Thankfully, Dr. Min doesn’t press. He just watches, his head cocked to one side as if he’s studying some particularly complex puzzle. “Tell me, Jungkook, what do you want to get out of this?”

“To leave,” Jungkook fires back instantly.

Dr. Min hums, like that’s about what he expected. “Alright. And then what? Go back to your flat, shred some more curtains? Snap at your brother? Growl at strangers on the street?”

Jungkook bristles. “That’s not—”

“Not what? Not the truth? Because from where I’m sitting, that’s exactly what you’re doing. And it’s not solving anything, is it?”

Jungkook falls silent, his jaw tight and his claws digging deeper into the armrests, seconds from piercing the poor wood.

“Look,” Dr. Min sighs after a moment. “This isn’t about blame. It’s not about you being a bad person or a bad hybrid or any of that bullock. It’s about figuring out why you feel the way you do and finding ways to make it better. That’s it.”

Jungkook glares at him, but he doesn’t have a snappy comeback this time.

“You don’t have to like me,” Dr. Min continues, “and you don’t even have to like this process. But you do have to try. Otherwise, you’re just wasting your time. And mine.”

That rankles more than it should. Wasting time? Like Jungkook doesn’t already know he’s been wasting time for years?

“I’m not—” he starts, but Dr. Min cuts him off again.

“I’m going to prescribe you an aggression management program,” he pulls a form out of his clipboard. “It’s a program at a hybrid clinic. You’ll work through your anger, learn some coping mechanisms. I think it’ll help.”

Jungkook’s hackles rise immediately. “You think what? No way.”

“It’s not a punishment,” Dr. Min holds up a hand to forestall the argument he can see brewing. “It’s a resource. You don’t have to do it forever, but I need you to try it. Commit to the first session. That’s all.”

“You’re having a laugh,” he growls, standing up abruptly. “I don’t need some clinic full of strangers telling me how to ‘cope’.” He practically spits the last word.

Though Dr. Min doesn’t react, just scribbles something on the form and tears it off, holding it out calmly. “You don’t have to like it, but you do need it. Take this to the clinic. They’ll get you started.”

Jungkook doesn’t move to take the paper, just stands there frozen, bristling, and fuming, seconds from tearing this hellhole down. The audacity. Who does he think he is, telling Jungkook he’s got to go to some stupid program like a naughty schoolkid?

“If you don’t take it,” Dr. Min taunts, his voice maddeningly even, “I’ll just send it to your brother. And something tells me Namjoon will make sure you go.”

Jungkook’s growl deepens while his eyes turn into dangerous slits, but he snatches the paper out of the owl’s hand regardless before storming to the door, flipping his middle finger over his shoulder in farewell. 

As he stalks down the corridor, the paper crumpled in his fist, his mind still races, spirals. The nerve of that guy. Sitting there all smug, handing out life advice like he’s got it all figured out. And what’s with prescribing some program after one meeting? Like he knows Jungkook at all?

His tail lashes behind him, and his claws itch to tear into something, preferably Dr. Min’s stupid, unflappable face. Though he doesn’t turn around. 

“This is bullshit,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, cramming the paper into his pocket. He doesn’t need some clinic. He doesn’t need therapy. He just needs everyone to fuck off and leave him alone. For good. 

But as he steps outside, his anger not the least tamed under the surface, a small, unwelcome voice in the back of his mind whispers: What if it actually helps?

Jungkook growls again, louder this time, startling some kids walking by while he shoves the thought away. No chance. Dr. Min’s got no fucking clue what he’s talking about.

And yet, as he walks home, the crumpled paper feels heavier in his pocket than it should.

Yep, Jungkook hates this place, hated it the second he stepped into this forsaken shit hole of a clinic.

The walls are painted this weird pastel green, the air smells faintly of antiseptic, and the receptionist at the front desk had looked at him like she didn’t believe he’d made it this far without biting someone’s head off. She wasn’t wrong though, but it doesn’t mean she had to act like she knew it.

He’s again slouched in one of the too-small chairs in the waiting room, glaring at the ground. His sharp black ears twitch in irritation, catching every little sound, the receptionist tapping on her keyboard, the cheap buzzing light overhead, some fucking bird hybrid chirping on about “hEaLiNg tHrOuGh cOnNeCtIoN” in a pamphlet on the coffee table.

Jungkook’s tail flicks once, twice, then lashes against the leg of the chair. He’s ready to walk out, tear the door off its hinges, and forget this whole stupid idea ever came up.

Except he can’t. He’s promised Namjoon he’d give this a go.

Jungkook snorts like he so often does. As if Namjoon’s got room to talk. He’s been with his mate for years and doesn’t have to worry about stuff like this. Still, Jungkook knows he’s got to figure something out. He’s tired of being pissed off all the time. Tired of everything, tired of himself.

And that’s why he has to be here. Some “aggression management program” he really doesn’t want to be a part of but doesn’t have another option. Fucking Dr. Min. 

He doesn’t even know what they’re going to do to him. He didn’t really listen to the receptionist beyond “spend the night with a companion”. Whatever that means.

The sound of a door opening jolts him out of his spiralling thoughts and he sits up, narrowing his amber eyes at the woman walking towards him, a staff member, by the looks of her, clipboard in hand and a neutral expression on her face.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

“That’s me,” he says with clipped voice. His ears pin back slightly, a reflex he doesn’t bother controlling.

“Right. Follow me, then.” She doesn’t flinch at his tone, just turns on her heel and starts down the corridor.

Jungkook rises to his feet with a grunt, his tall, muscular frame practically filling the hallway as he stalks after her. He can’t help but feel like this is some kind of trap. They’re probably going to put him in a padded room or something.

The woman stops outside a door, turning to face him. “Now, before you go in, I need to remind you, this is a controlled environment. Your companion has been trained to handle aggressive hybrids, but that doesn’t mean you can be reckless. Understood?”

He bares his teeth in what might pass as a smile, though it’s more of a grimace. “Yeah, yeah. I get it.”

She doesn’t look convinced but steps aside to let him through. Jungkook squares his shoulders, pushes the door open, and—

Oh~

The first thing he notices is the scent. Soft and warm, like freshly laundered blankets and a hint of magnolia. It wraps around him before his eyes even land on you.

And when they do… fucking hell.

You’re perched on the edge of a plush armchair, a white British shorthair with fur so soft-looking he almost wants to touch it straight away. Your fluffy tail swishes lazily over the armrest, and your round eyes, so wide and curious, lift to meet his.

You’re cute. Too cute. Jungkook feels his throat tighten. What is this?!

“Hello,” you greet with a voice that’s as soft as the rest of you.

He doesn’t respond right away, standing stiff in the doorway, his dark tail flicking behind him like a warning. But you’re not fazed. You tilt your head, offering a little smile that makes his heart twitch for the first time in his life. 

“You can sit down, if you like,” you gesture to the other chair in the room.

He exhales through his nose, trying to shake the tension out of his shoulders as he moves to the chair. It’s awkward. He’s all muscle and sharp angles, and everything about you is so gentle.

Jungkook doesn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t this. He’s meant to spend the night with you? What’s the point? You’re too small, too quiet, too…

Perfect, his brain supplies, unhelpfully.

“Are you nervous?” you pull him out of his thoughts.

His ears twitch, and he glares at you out of instinct, “What’s there to be nervous about?”

You shrug, your tail curling delicately around your own leg. “You just seem a bit tense.”

Tense. Right. That’s one way of putting it. He shifts in his seat, his claws flexing against the armrest.

“You don’t have to be,” you continue. Your voice is so calm, it’s like you don’t even notice how tightly wound he is. Or maybe you do, and you just don’t care. “I’m not here to judge you or anything. We’re just meant to spend time together. That’s all.”

He scoffs, though it comes out weaker than he intends. “And that’s supposed to fix me, yeah?”

“I don’t know about ‘fixing’,” you give a little shrug. “But it might help. You seem like you’ve got a lot on your mind.”

Jungkook bristles, because he doesn’t know what to do, but you’re not wrong. He just doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he just watches as you shift slightly in your seat, your tail uncurling and sweeping across the cushion.

It’s hypnotic, the way it moves. So white, thick, and fluffy, like it was made for wrapping around someone.

“You can talk to me, you know,” you try gently.

“I don’t talk,” he snaps, more out of habit than actual anger.

But you don’t flinch. You just watch him, those big eyes of yours soft and unbothered, as if you’ve seen it all before. And maybe you did. 

“That’s okay. We don’t have to talk. We can just sit here.”

Jungkook frowns. Who are you, and why are you so… unbothered? It’s unnerving. And comforting. And annoying.

He doesn’t know how long the two of you sit in silence, but eventually, you stand up and stretch, your arms raising above your head, your tail flicking lazily behind you. Jungkook’s eyes catch on the movement, and he feels the tension in his own body start to ebb.

“I’ll come over here, then,” you murmur, padding over to his chair.

“Wait, what’re you—”

But you’re already settling onto the armrest of his chair, close enough that he can feel the warmth radiating off you, breathe your scent in. Your tail brushes lightly against his arm, and Jungkook stiffens right back again. 

“You don’t mind, do you?” you tilt your head to look at him, still so much smaller than him despite being elevated quite a bit. 

He should mind. He should tell you to back off, though he can’t help but mutter defeatedly, “Do what you want.”

You smile, and it’s like the room gets as brighter as your fur. Then you do something that nearly makes his brain short-circuit.

You wrap your tail around his arm.

It’s the softest thing he’s ever felt, and he freezes, every instinct screaming at him to pull away or growl or do something. But he doesn’t. He just stares at the white fluff curling around his dark sleeve, his heart thudding out of his chest onto his thighs. 

“There,” you coo softly. “Isn’t that nice?”

Nice? Nice doesn’t even begin to cover it. It’s like every spike inside him has been sanded down at once. He doesn’t even realise he’s leaning back into the chair, his shoulders relaxing for the first time in… he can’t remember how long.

You keep talking, your voice a soothing balm to his racing mind and heart, but Jungkook’s barely able to listen. All he can think about is how good this feels. How you feel. How the growl that’s been simmering in his throat all day has died down to nothing.

After a while, he sneaks again a glance at you. You’re not looking at him, though. Just staring off into the middle distance like this is the most normal thing in the world, sitting on the arm of some massive panther hybrid’s chair like you haven’t got a care in the world.

“What happens then?” he asks suddenly, maybe a bit too gravelly. He doesn’t really mean to say it, but the words are out now. He’s not great with silence, never has been.

You turn your head and meet his gaze with those big, round eyes of yours. Again unbothered. Completely fucking unbothered by the size of him, the way his claws are tapping the arm of the chair like he’s seconds away from tearing through the padding. You’re not scared of him. He’s not sure how to feel about that.

“Whatever you need,” you shrug. “Cuddles, a chat, whatever helps.”

Jungkook blinks, caught off guard by the simplicity of it. “That it?” he mutters, shifting in his seat. His tail swishes again, knocking lightly against your side on accident and he instantly feels sorry. But again, you don’t even flinch. “That’s what you’re here for, then? Just… comfort?”

“Mmm.” You stretch your feet slightly, dangling a good distance from the floor. “That’s the job.”

His ears twitch. “So you do this with everyone?”

The words come out more jealous than he means them to, and he winces internally. He’s always got a fucking tone, even when he’s not trying to. But you don’t seem bothered. You tilt your head slightly, considering him, then shake it once.

“Nah,” you say casually. “Sleeping with‘em’s off limits.”

He stares at you, unblinking with his lips parted. You don’t elaborate, don’t explain, just leave it there like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. His tail has stopped moving too, his claws completely retracted, fingertips resting against the fabric of the chair. There’s something oddly reassuring about the way you said it, like it’s not even a question, not a possibility. And for some reason, that makes him feel so much better. Not that he’d ever say it out loud.

“Right,” he grumbles, leaning back in his seat. He keeps his arms crossed, though, just to give himself something to do. He’s not about to let you see how much your answer affects him. No chance.

Time passes slowly, the two of you existing in a semi-comfortable sort of quiet, but eventually, you hop down from the armrest and pad over to the bed, tail dancing gracefully behind you. Jungkook watches you go, pretending he’s not, especially when you climb onto the bed and settle in, stretching out like he wasn’t even there.

“You coming or what? It’s late.” you glance at him over your shoulder. Your tone is light, teasing, and it does make his throat dry up. He stands abruptly, shoving his hands into his pockets, and strides over to the bed like he’s got something to prove, though he doesn’t know what exactly. 

Reluctantly, or rather clumsily, he climbs in, the mattress dipping under his massive weight, and lies stiffly on his back, nails digging into the duvet laying over you both. You’re beside him, close but not too close, and he’s hyperaware of every fucking inch of space between you. His tail flicks against the duvet and the mattress, restless as his mind is, and he starts to feel embarrassed for it.

“You’re still tense.”

“Not tense,” he squeaks out. It’s a lie, obviously. He’s never been good at this, the whole vulnerability thing, letting his guard down. But you just hum softly, like you know better, and he feels the bed shift slightly as you move closer.

Your hand brushes his arm, and he can’t help but to again freeze pathetically, as his tail stops flicking, lying still under the covers. You don’t say anything, just let your hand rest there, and slowly, so slowly it’s almost physically painful, he starts to relax again.

“You’re alright, you know,” you breathe softly. “You don’t have to keep your claws out all the time.”

He huffs out a breath, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “Easier said than done.”

“I know,” there’s something in your tone that makes him believe you. Like you really do get it. Like you’ve been there, done that. 

Minutes pass, the quiet settling over you both. He’s not sure when it happens, but at some point, he shifts slightly, turning onto his side to face you. You’re close, so close he can see the soft rise and fall of your chest, the way your whiskers twitch slightly as you breathe. His eyes flicker to your lips, then back up to your eyes, and he clears his throat, suddenly too nervous for his own good.

“You’re my mate now,” he blurts out, the words rough and unpolished and oh-so embarrassing. 

You blink, startled, and then, to his absolute horror, you laugh. Not a mean laugh, though. It’s soft, warm, almost affectionate, and it makes his ears flatten against his head, blush painting his cheeks as he nibbles on his lower lip. 

“That’s how you ask someone?” you gasp through your laugh, a teasing lilt in your voice. “All gruff and demanding?”

“What’s wrong with that?” he mutters, defensive.

You shake your head, still smiling, and reach out to tap him lightly on the nose. He freezes, stunned by the casual intimacy of it.

“Try again. Nicely, this time.”

He swallows, the lump in his throat almost too much to bear, and nods once, takes a deep breath. He wants you as his mate, no doubt about it, though stating it too plainly again will surely push you away, and that’s the last thing Jungkook wants, what he needs.

“If… if you’d like, uh, if you’re okay with it, I’d love to be your mate?” It’s pathetically high-pitched, but dear Lord have mercy, he can’t screw this up now, not with his nerves all over the place.

You smile, a proper smile this time, and lean in close, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He’s so startled he doesn’t move at first, but then his body takes over, and he’s kissing you back, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head. It’s soft and slow and everything he didn’t know he needed.

When you pull back, you’re both a little breathless, and you reach out to grab the edge of the duvet, pulling it up over both your heads. “No cameras,” you murmur, and he can’t help the soft laugh that escapes him, feeling the corners of his eyes crinkle for the first time since his childhood. 

Letting his big hands glide across your fur, Jungkook can’t help but capture your lips yet again, knowing that the taste of you has become his favourite after just one try.

“You’re not working here anymore,” he grumbles against your teeth, which are gracing his lower lip. But as soon as the words escape him, you halt, pull away, and narrow your eyes at him, something so out of character for you, yet it makes his blood rush just that bit faster through his veins.

“Pardon?” It’s not said angrily, though there’s a warning underneath the mellowness of your tone that makes him gulp.

He realises quickly that he needs to change his approach. Needs to get rid of the harsh, aggressive tone now. And if it means being a little pussy for you, then that’s exactly what he’s willing to do.

“Please stop working here. I can provide for you. I’ve got the money, I’ve got everything you need. Please.”

Your lip twitches and your body shifts closer to his, just a fraction, and he knows he’s said it the right way even before you open your mouth.

“Okay, I’d love that.”

If he were a stupid dog, his tail would have knocked the duvet clean off the bed by now. But instead, he starts to fucking purr, a sound that surprises him almost as much as it seems to surprise you. Your eyes widen, then soften, and your own purr begins, pulling both of you back into the bliss of tangled lips and hands leisurely exploring your clothed bodies.

“My pretty kitten,” Jungkook husks when your tiny canines nip at his throat. The devastatingly sweet moan you let out at his nickname makes his chest swell in ways he’s never felt before.

Not wanting to get caught on CCTV, you both opt to just slip out of your bottoms, hiding them under the pillows to avoid them landing on the open floor. Jungkook’s hands find their way to your thighs, squeezing and caressing up to your heat until he’s able to coat his fingers in your arousal.

He can’t process the delicate feel of your tiny hand wrapping around his massive cock, your dainty fingers struggling to even grip him properly. The sheer size of him leaves you working to pump him to full erection, while the scent and squelching sounds of your arousal fill his senses, utterly consuming every fibre of his being.

“Move in with me,” he blurts out, overwhelmed by emotions so beautiful he doesn’t know how to contain them.

Your answer comes with a sharp bite to his left pec. Even though he’s still wearing his shirt, the nip startles him slightly.

“Would you please move in with me, kitten?” he tries again, words more thoughtful this time. 

“Of course, Kookie.” You purr against his lips now, draping a leg over his side and guiding his already leaking cock to your weeping entrance.

Under any other circumstances, someone calling him Kookie would drive him mad, he’d probably bite their head off. But with you? He loves it. Hell, if you called him a pussy, he’d happily fall to his knees and agree, Yes, he’s your pussy, and he’s fucking proud of it.

Your tight cunt fits him like a glove, sucking him in inch by inch as your hips roll against his. There’s no space left between you, no gap to measure. The whimpers and grunts falling from his lips are all he can muster, his mind utterly blank and for the first time, everything feels so right, so perfect, that it sends a different kind of adrenaline through him.

Everything Namjoon and Dr. Min ever said to him finally makes sense. Everything makes sense because of you. Because of your being, your beautiful soul, your kind and calm heart, your sweet moans, and your perfect cunt. Jungkook never believed in paradise before, but God, you’ve shown him it exists, and it’s named after you.

“Kookie, you’re so perfect,” you moan, your lips and tongue tangling and untangling with his over and over, recalibrating everything he once knew and trusted.

“Kitten…” His whine is embarrassingly submissive, but he doesn’t care. Not now. Not ever. In this primal state, you’re his guiding light, and he’ll follow you anywhere. No questions asked. 

He tries to stay as silent as possible, moving just enough to keep the duvet from sliding off, but the feeling of your cunt clenching around him with every thrust drives him dangerously close to the edge. His breathing turns too laboured in the suffocating heat beneath, and when one of your hands slips between your bodies to massage his balls, his resolve crumbles.

“Don’t,” he rasps, head and eyes lolling back. He’s desperate to hold on just a little longer, but your sugary voice pushes him over the brink.

“It’s fine, Kookie,” you whisper, biting his lower lip and tugging at it before letting it snap back. “Cum for me, Kookie. Be a good boy for your kitten.”

And he is. He’s such a good boy when he lets go, his hips erratically driving against yours as his free hand claws into your ass, pulling you impossibly closer. He doesn’t even notice your orgasm arriving as quickly as his own until your walls spasm around him, milking every last rope of his release. He knows that after this night, after this nut, he’s a changed man.

“Good boy, Kookie.”

He’s going to make it right, somehow. He’s going to be good. For you. For himself. For everyone.

Later that same day, Jungkook’s pacing the flat like his tail’s on fire, which it might as well be given how much it’s lashing about. He’s got a broom in one hand, a bucket of soapy water in the other, and absolutely no clue where to start. The place looks… kind of better than it used to, but that’s not saying much. He’s scrubbed the claw marks out of the walls where he could, patched the worst of the holes with dodgy plaster, and thrown a blanket over the mangled sofa. But it’s still his flat. And his flat is a disaster. Literally. 

He glances at the clock on the wall, then back at the battered door, his ears twitching nervously. You’re due any minute now, and he’s not ready. Not mentally, not emotionally, and definitely not domestically.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters to himself, scrubbing furiously at a smudge on the floor. “What was I thinking? Inviting her to this?”

He’s tried telling himself you won’t care, that you’re not the type to judge, but it doesn’t help. You’re a white British shorthair hybrid, graceful, elegant, put-together in ways Jungkook doesn’t even know how to be. He’s never met anyone like you before, and now you’re moving in. With him.

His claws flex instinctively, and he has to stop himself from raking them across the wall yet again. He needs to take deep breaths, no more damage. Not now, not ever again. 

The intercom sings as if mocking him even further, startling Jungkook to the point where he nearly drops the broom.

“Shit,” he mutters repeatedly, chucking the cleaning supplies into the nearest cupboard where they definitely do not belong and hastily swiping his damp hands down his trousers.

He opens the door to find you standing there with a suitcase that barely would fit one of his shoes in one hand and a smile that could knock the last brain cells out of him.

“Hi,” you greet softly, tail curling behind you in a delicate arc.

Jungkook freezes for half a second, his brain scrambling to process how small you look compared to him, how soft your ears are, how fucking perfect you seem in his doorway. Then he remembers himself.

“Uh, hi,” he stammers, stepping aside awkwardly. “Come in. Sorry, it’s… yeah. Come in.”

And you do, taking a careful look around, and Jungkook’s stomach knots up even more. He can see your eyes flicking to the patched-up walls, the threadbare carpet, the uneven paint job. He feels like a kid getting his homework marked, and he hates everything of it.

“It’s not great,” he blurts out, his tail twitching nervously behind him, though barely lifted off the floor. “I mean, it’s better than it was, but it’s still…does it bother you?”

You turn to him, your head tilting upwards, and there’s that mesmerising smile again. “No, it doesn’t bother me. I’m sure you won’t be needing this outlet anymore now that I’m here.”

Jungkook blinks at you, his ears perking up. “What d’you mean?”

You shrug, setting your suitcase down gently. “All this.” You gesture vaguely at the room behind you. “I’m guessing it’s the sort of thing that happens when you don’t have someone to keep you steady. But you do now, right?”

For a moment, Jungkook doesn’t know what to say. His heart’s fluttering weirdly in his chest to the point where it hurts, and he’s half sure he’s forgotten how to breathe.

“Yeah,” he finally presses out. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

You smile again, and Jungkook feels like he’s just been handed a second chance at life he didn’t even know he wanted.

“Right,” he claps, clearing his throat and trying to sound normal. “Let’s get you settled, then.”

He picks up your suitcase, surprised by how light it is, and carries it to his bedroom, your room. It’s the only part of the flat he’s really proud of, the one place he’s managed to make look half-decent. There’s a fluffy throw on his bed now, soft pillows, and a little lamp with a warm glow he brought on the way home earlier this day. It’s not much, but it’s cosy.

You step inside, and your tail swishes as you take it all in. “It’s lovely,” you gush, and Jungkook feels a ridiculous swell of pride.

“I, uh, wanted it to be comfortable. Figured you’d like… soft things.”

You laugh softly, and it’s the kind of laugh that makes Jungkook’s ears twitch in a way he’s not used to but surely would not mind happening again and again. “You figured right,” you step forward, running your fingers over the throw.

Jungkook watches you fondly, dumbly in love, before gesturing back to the rest of the flat. “I’ll, uh, give you a tour, if you want.”

You follow him around as he points out the kitchen, the bathroom, the little living room. He tries to brush past the obvious flaws, the wobbly table, the poorly fixed cabinets, but you don’t seem to mind. You just nod along, your tail curling in that slow, content way that makes Jungkook feel like this really isn’t going to be a total disaster.

Once your suitcase is unpacked, you curl up on the sofa, your fluffy tail wrapping neatly around your legs while Jungkook can’t stop watching you, but equally unsure what to do with himself.

“You alright?” you ask, looking up at him with those big, soft eyes.

“Yeah,” he breathes quickly, dropping onto the armchair opposite. “Just… yeah.”

You giggle, making grabby hands his way which he can’t ignore, trotting over to you without a second thought. As soon as he’s sitting beside you, arm draped over your delicate shoulders, he feels himself start to loosen entirely again like last night, realising, that for once, he can just be.

“Thanks for this,” you beam at him, snuggling into his side, purring and kneading your tiny hands against his shirt. 

Jungkook shrugs, trying to play it cool, even though he doesn’t know what you’re thanking him for. “It’s no big deal.”

But it is. It’s the biggest deal he’s ever had, and as he watches you being this content beside him, he knows you’ll be the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

a/n 2: lmk what you think in any way you like! 👀 If you liked what you read, pls consider buying me a ☕️ Ko-fi.com/runariya 💕

Like what you read? Check out my other work here!

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permanent taglist: @runariyaluvr , @closer-to-jungkook , @dreamcatcherluvr , @blueofocean, @https-mei, @xsyruhh , @nemelkawar , @joonlover1207 , @elinaki92 , @curse-of-art

[literaryavenger]

Obsessed

Summary: Your crush on Bucky may be getting out of control.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Warnings: Dramatic Reader. Language. Angst. Fluff. My poor attempts at being Funny.

Word Count: 1.4K I'm physically incapable of making anything short.

A/N: I wrote this in like 2 hours and I don't even know what this is, just... Yeah.

Masterlist

This is terrible.

This is the worst thing that's ever happened to you.

This is the worst thing that's ever happened to anyone. It's just the most horrible, dreadful, awful thing that could’ve ever happen to yo-

“Would you stop staring at him for fuck's sakes!” Natasha's hissed words make your eyes snap to her and finally away from the metal armed Supersoldier lifting weights. Shirtless.

You don't know when Bucky stopped feeling self-conscious enough to allow him to workout in nothing but a pair of gym shorts, but it has become literal torture for you.

Needless to say, Bucky's current level of undress is making it impossible for you to concentrate on the stretching you're supposed to be doing before your sparring match with Natasha.

But your very thoughtful and not at all exasperated friend makes sure to keep your attention on her during the entirety of our match by thoroughly kicking your ass.

What a lovely best friend you have.

Anyways.

Your entire mood shifts with one not intentionally overheard conversation. Steve enters the gym and goes straight to Bucky, who was putting his weight set down.

“She’s here!” Is all the blonde says to his friend and your heart stops at the way Bucky’s face lights up with a smile, not needing any more information before following Steve out of the gym.

She’s here? Who the fuck is she? Does Bucky have a girlfriend? And most importantly, she’s here? In the Compound?

Natasha can almost see the gears turning in your brain as you make no attempts to move from the mat after she knocked you on your ass for the hundredth time today. You didn’t even seem to notice her hand offering you help to get up, your eyes still looking where Bucky was just a moment ago, staring at nothing in particular while your brain drowns in your overthinking.

Natasha sighs and decides to end the match here, kneeling down in front of you and placing her hands on your shoulders, shaking you gently to snap you out of it.

“Don’t overthink this.” She tells you when she’s sure she has your attention. “It’s probably just a friend visiting.” She tries to comfort you, but you both know that’s highly unlikely. 

Bucky has no other friends outside the team. He doesn’t know how to talk to civilians anymore after everything he’s been through, and gave up trying to after the hundredth time he saw fear in a person’s eyes just by recognizing him. So his friend circle now includes the team and the agents of SHIELD that are not intimidated by him. Point is, every friend he has already lives in the Compound.

So who the fuck is here just to see him? 

Natasha can see that this is a lost battle, your eyes barely concentrating on her as you start drowning in your mind again. All she can do when you’re like this is try to distract you and keep you out of your head. So she takes your hand and helps you up, leading the way to the common room to watch one of your beloved romcoms together, because that’s how much she loves you.

Big mistake.

“Y/N! Y/N!” The excited high-pitched voice came just seconds after you set foot in the common room. And that’s about the only warning you got before the excited 5-year-old jumped on you, your reflexes thankfully quick enough to catch her.

“Hi, Maguna!” You say while chuckling as the little girl hugs you. “You seem excited today. Did you get into the sugar cabinet again?”

Morgan giggles at your joke and shakes her hand before taking your face in her little hands and dramatically saying, “No! A princess came to visit uncle Bucky! A real princess.”

You frown, confused at what she’s talking about, before you look around the room and finally notice everyone else in it. Pepper and Tony are on the couch, looking at you lovingly as you interact with their daughter.

You love Morgan, she’s like a little sister. You never miss an opportunity to babysit her and you spend as much time with her as you can. She also loves you, out of all the Avengers you’re her favorite, much to everyone’s dismay. She calls them all ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’, but you’re just Y/N. You’re her big sister, you don’t need a title. Which is why you're the only one other than Tony allowed to call her 'Maguna'.

Then you notice the other people in the room: Steve, Bucky and… Shuri. The fucking Princess of Wakanda, standing in the common room of the Avengers Compound and just smiling at you as you carry Morgan.

You’ve never met Shuri, but you know she played an important part in deprogramming the Winter Soldier out of Bucky, and you’re grateful to her for it. She’s important to Bucky, and you can’t believe you forgot Bucky has Wakandan friends.

You put Morgan down on the ground again and the little girl takes your hand and aggressively steers you towards where Steve, Bucky and Shuri are standing, clearly thrilled to be in the presence of a real life princess.

“Hi, I’m Shuri.” She offers you her hand when you get close enough and you shake it with your free hand while introducing yourself.

There’s a bit of an awkward pause and you’re about to say the first thing that pops into your head when Morgan thankfully saves you by pulling on your hand, making you look at her. She tells you to come close and, chuckling, you kneel beside her so she can whisper conspiratorially in your ear.

“She’s a princess and she’s really pretty, but I still like you better.” She whispers and you can’t help but laugh.

God, you love this little girl.

You smile brightly at her and launch a tickle attack, her adorable giggles filling the room as everyone looks at you two with warm smiles.

Your attention is solely on Morgan, until you unintentionally hear the whispered conversation between Shuri and Bucky.

“So, this is the girl, huh? She’s pretty.” Shuri says and your heart skips a beat. 

You glance at them as discreetly as you can while still tickling Morgan, only to find Bucky looking at someone behind you. You turn around less carefully and see Sharon just entered the room, and she's also looking at Bucky with a smirk. You quickly return your attention to Morgan, but your mind is going a thousand miles a minute.

Of course he’d like someone more like Sharon. She’s pretty, she’s talented, she’s a total badass and she’s not afraid to go after what she wants.

She’s not a mass of anxiety in the shape of a woman that overthinks everything and becomes a flustered mess every time she’s even near Bucky.

It’s time to admit it to yourself: Bucky just doesn’t see you like that and you need to move on. 

Natasha is right, your obsession with Bucky needs to end.

What you don’t see is Bucky almost glaring at Sharon because he knows damn well why she’s smirking. She came in just before Shuri whispered to Bucky, when he was very intent on looking at you with heart eyes as you played with Morgan.

Just before you looked at him, Bucky noticed Sharon and he had to hold in a groan at her because he knows that she’s never gonna let him live this down.

Both Sharon and Steve have tried really hard to convince Bucky that you like him back and he should make a move on you. But Bucky, being as stubborn as they come, never believes them.

He obviously makes you uncomfortable, you’re always stuttering when he’s around and you avoid eye contact whenever possible. He’s just glad that you can stand his presence enough for the two of you to work together when necessary and to hang out with the rest of the team without problems.

So he just enjoys looking at you from a distance. He loves watching you play with Morgan and his thoughts always run wild with images of you playing like that with kids that are yours and his.

But he knows that’s never going to happen. Why would you like a damaged, PTSD ridden soldier that can’t even make it through the night without waking up from a nightmare? No, that’s definitely not your type.

Bucky accepts the truth: He doesn’t deserve you and you don’t see him like that anyways. 

It doesn’t matter that Sam thinks he’s obsessed, that won’t stop him from looking at you whenever he’s lucky enough to get a glimpse of his little ray of sunshine.

Requested taglist: @vicmc624 @matchat3a @nerd-without-a-cause @sapphirebarnes @cjand10 @mostlymarvelgirl @julvrs @blackhawkfanatic @lillianacristina @armystay89 @imdoingbetternow @spookyparadisesheep @elizalexwil @aceofhearts25 @dontworryboutitsweetheartxx-blog @justab-eautifulmess @buggy14 @thedonswife13

[withercat1]

Some observations about Mouthwashing

Spoilers ahead!

Ok so this game has got me so hyperfixated that I’m using Tumblr for the first time in like a year just to keep a tab with the Mouthwashing hashtag open so I can refresh it throughout the day and see what people are posting. That and my tab full of Danny AOD gifs. Anyway.

So I wanted to share some things I’ve noticed because I haven’t seen anyone else mention them and I want to seem smart and observant.

First off is the name Curly. Like it’s kind of a weird name. It’s unclear whether this is his first or last name because the writing on his id card is so burned and so cursive. It is worth noting that Curly is an actual name, meaning “strong man” or “great strength”. What stands out to me though, is that Laika, the dog who was sent into space, was actually named Kudrayavka originally, which means “Little Curly” (and a little fun fact, Laika means “barker”). Thematically, both of these make sense. I don’t know which one was intentional, if either. It’s entirely possible Curly as a name is a reference, or just a name the devs liked.

Secondly, Anya’s design is based off of Shelley Duvall in The Shining, most recognizable to most people for the scene where she’s hiding in the bathroom while Johnny breaks down the door. That being her most iconic scene really reminds me of Anya’s deal with doors, being unable to lock the door to her quarters, and then locking herself in medical while the others try to get her out.

Thirdly, and the one I find most interesting, is one of the videos that plays on the tv after the storage room is opened. It’s about atoms, and states that atoms make up everything, like shoes, and ships, and sealing wax, and cabbages, and kings. I don’t know if this video was chosen by the devs specifically for this quote, but for the purposes of my rambling I’m going to assume it was. This quote is a direct reference to The Walrus and the Carpenter, a poem by Lewis Carroll.

The poem is hyperlinked above (hopefully, Idrk how to use Tumblr), but I just want to post the segment that the quote from the video comes from.

“The time has come,' the Walrus said,

      To talk of many things:

Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —

      Of cabbages — and kings —

And why the sea is boiling hot —

      And whether pigs have wings.'”

To briefly summarize the whole poem, though I highly recommend reading it for yourself as well because it’s really good, the Walrus and the Carpenter come across a group of oysters and ask them to join them for a walk. The oysters do, and the Walrus and the Carpenter walk with then a bit, before finally stopping, where the lines above happen. Right after this, the oysters ask to take a break, and the Walrus and the Carpenter agree to let them have the break - because they plan on eating the oysters. “And why the sea is boiling hot,” I believe, refers to the oysters being boiled in order to prepare them for consumption.

The Walrus says he pities the oysters, and wipes his tears away, while actively partaking in the consumption of the oysters. The poem ends with a statement that all of the oysters have been devoured.

So! Let’s focus on the Walrus here. Someone who leads innocents astray, boils/cooks them, and then eats them, all the while crying about how awful it is while doing nothing to abstain from eating them. Sound familiar? Sound like that guy we all hate? Little bit! I don’t know if it was an intentional bit of symbolism or not, but it’s super big brained if it was.

That’s all for now but I’m sure I’ll think of some more things later. I love this game. If u made it this far I really appreciate it, feel free to comment and let me know what you think

Also let me know how to tag a post as spoilers properly, I seriously do not use this site

[mr2swap]

Swap syndrome 2: armpit addiction.

-damn heat… -

The time on my cell phone showed 2:05, the idiot Travis had made me wait but in a way that made me happy I would have to charge him $50 more for being late.

Today was a very fucking day at the gym, it was so hot that I had to change my shirt, but still the rancid aroma of sweat coming from my hairy armpits filled the interior with my car, I was in the same parking lot of the gym where it is only A couple of minutes had left a huge sweat stain on the floor.

But despite everything I loved my new life, after the great shift and finding myself in this boy's hot and muscular body, from the beginning I knew this was a good thing, when I woke up in Travis's bedroom and looked down to see two juicy pecs, a sculpted six-pack and long, hairy legs, the first thing I did was take out my huge cock that was hidden among a leafy bush of hair and give myself the best handjob of my entire life.

It had been a little over a year since that moment, I quickly got used to Travis' life, kept his muscles big and strong and all thanks to his tiny YouTube channel where he showed all his exercise routines, but that was all wasted talent for Travis' glorious, beautiful body.

I no longer had my college degree or anyone to turn to, yet I was able to easily make money from all these fags, who wanted to sleep with me and this body.

Still not in the same city where I used to live, I watched the news and learned everything that had been happening in the world and that the real Travis was out there in my tired, flabby 40-year-old office worker body.

A tapping on my car window brought me out of my thoughts, it was the real Travis I grimaced in disgust as I looked at my old face once more in front of me, I looked at the time on my phone once more, and now it was 2:07 that now meant $70.

The door of my car and Travis jumped inside it, his first action was to completely inhale the disgusting smell inside the car, after that he lunged at me trying to reach my armpits, After that he lunged at me trying to reach my armpits, but in one movement I moved his old, ugly face away from me.

-You know the rules Travis, first I want the bills-

He extended one of my hands while he took out his wallet and extended a small wad of cash. In one quick movement, I snatched the bills from him and began to count them one by one while a nervous expression formed on the real Travis's face.

-Are you fucking with me? Only $500? -

There was nothing left of the old confident Travis, the confident, outgoing boy had disappeared, in his place there was only a perverted faggot who paid me for a few minutes of my attention due to swap syndrome. When we swapped our bodies, I thought I would get rid of him to always, but this pathetic middle-aged man was clinging to me like a leech trying to get close to me with his twisted homosexual intentions. I didn't really care what he did with my old body, but I thought I could make some money a month by squeezing every penny of this situation.

-Please! Just, just 5 minutes! I had to pay this month's rent and my landlord told me that if I was late another month he would throw me out on the street.-

I rolled my eyes as Travis the bitch kept giving me stupid excuses about how hard it was to find a good job now that he was a middle-aged man and he was tired all the time from working so much.

-Okay, just shut your fucking mouth.-

I put my hand on his head and pushed him into one of my hairy pits and choked his nose with the sour sweat that was collecting in my armpits. The initial struggle quickly turned into pleasure, I could feel Tyler's breathing slow. He shook until he filled his lungs, his mouth savored the curly hairs of my armpit and sucked up the small drops of sweat with his dirty tongue as if he had crossed a desert.

Tyler's small hands slid to his crotch and he began to frantically massage his cock over his pants, occasionally Tyler would move away from my armpit to get some air and lick my muscular arms with his disgusting sticky tongue, I watched as they passed minutes on my cell phone and before 5 minutes had passed, Tyler's small wrinkled cock soiled his pants with semen.

I pushed Tyler away and a satisfied smile formed on Tyler's face, his chest rising and falling as he tried to recover from the addictive experience he had just experienced, a few hairs from my armpit had stuck to his face and a stain of sweat had formed on the collar of his shirt.

I didn't have time for this, this experience had made me horny, I wanted to unload the enormous amount of cum that wanted to escape from my huge hairy balls, but the disgusting man next to me was not worthy of this...nor did I have another $500

I extended one of my long, muscular arms and opened the door of my luxurious sports car.

-Now get out bitch, see you next week-

As soon as I clean every trace of Tyler from my car, I'll call some of my girls, so I can fill their pussies with my beautiful, hot seed.

This is a second installment of the swap syndrome story, but the only thing they share in common is the same syndrome that is spreading among those affected by the great shift, you can see more by visiting my Ko-fi page:

Hello, if you liked this story, and you want more, you can take a look at my new Ko-Fi page to see my most recent stories, see my new stories and support me to continue creating this hot content.

[sommerbueckers]

hii oml i love your writingggg, do you think you could do like paige x reader at a sleepover??? like a birthday kind of thing

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤

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✰ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐲...

✰ 𝐰𝐜 :: 𝟒𝐤

✰ 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐦𝐥. 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐤 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 !!

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"THIS IS HER HOUSE?" Amy questioned when the estate finally came into view. "Ask her parents if they're hiring."

Paige broke a smile for the first time that night, and she shook her head at her mother. However, this did nothing to rid her of the incessant anxious feeling she had experienced all day. For the first time, in all the years that she and Catherine Drago had been going to school together, she had been invited to her birthday sleepover.

It was a big deal, the biggest deal. Catherine didn't invite just anyone to her sleepover, typically it was just those in which she conversed with regularly. This year, that happened to include Paige. It had started with the accidental add of Paige's Snapchat account to one of Catherine's private stories, the blonde slid up on a picture of her with a sweet compliment, and it was all up from there.

Now, she sat outside of the girl's residence as she worked up to courage to simply exit the car. Her mother placed a comforting hand on her leg, rubbing up and down the way most mothers often did.

"You nervous?" she asked softly.

Paige, leaning her head back on the seat, nodded quietly. "It's just that I don't have any of my best friends here, like, they probably all know each other and i'm just gonna be feelin' awkward..."

Amy wore a sympathetic expression as she listened to her daughter's concerns. "Well you're friends with Catherine aren't you? You're here for her, not everybody else."

"Yeah but I didn't think we were even close enough for her to invite me," Paige said. A lie. Paige didn't think she'd get invited because of the way she and Catherine talked to each other. They texted nonstop, about anything and everything. But as of recently, their conversations had had more of an intimate feel. They talked about their sex life, about their personal kinks and turn-ons, and Catherine had even shared a picture or two.

Not to mention the 'birthday gift' that Paige had told her she would get, Paige was drunk that night.

She wanted it to be just her and Catherine, not her, Catherine, and Catherine's friends.

"How about this, you go in there and try your best to have fun. And then in one hour, if you're still not having fun and want me to come get you, I will," Amy posed.

"Really?" Paige asked incredulously.

"Really."

Paige nodded her head in agreement, deciding that the offer was suitable enough for her. Giving her mom a quick kiss and hug goodbye, she stepped out of the car and made her way up to the large glass door.

She could see into the house entirely. The floors were a cream colored wood that seemed to be freshly polished, there was a living room off to the right where an incredibly large couch sat. It looked like something you'd see displayed in a furniture shop, clean and untouched. The house as a whole looked like nobody lived there, like it was simply there to take up space on the property.

To the left was a floating staircase leading up to a second floor that Paige couldn't see much of from her place outside. The most she could see was a glass railing that went across the edge of the floor. She swallowed her anxiety and rung the doorbell, the sound echoing throughout the house as well as outside.

Her mom's car remained parked in the circular driveway, waiting for her to be retrieved from the front of the house before she pulled off. She hadn't been standing out there for long, perhaps all of thirty seconds had passed before a brown skinned woman appeared in view. She was coming from around a corner deep within the house, her steps hasty as she made her way over to the door.

"You must be Paige!" the woman greeted with a smile, to which Paige nodded her head. "Come inside. Is that your mom?"

"Yeah."

The woman gave a polite wave to the car before Amy drove off, leaving the woman to close the door and turn her attention to Paige.

"It's nice to finally meet you! I'm Mrs Drago but you can call me Phoebe or Catie's mom or whatever you'd like," the woman laughed.

Paige nodded her head, shifting uncomfortably under the woman's gaze. She tried to focus on what Phoebe no Catie's mom no whatever the woman wanted to be called was saying, but she couldn't stop herself from thinking about how good she looked for a mom. She was fit with a slender face and model cheekbones, at least now Paige knew where Catherine got her looks from.

"The girls are upstairs in Catie's room, it's the double doors at the end of the hallway," she pointed up at the glass railing Paige had seen earlier, encouraging her to go up.

She ascended the staircase holding onto nothing but the blanket and pillow she had brought seeing as though nobody had bothered to extend the glass railing to the steps as well. The hallway was more of a loft area that lacked furniture; the flooring up here was marble with recess lighting illuminating the way to every room. Paige zeroed in on the double doors at the end, Catherine's room.

One of the two doors had a keypad lock on it, what the fuck...The blonde knocked softly and listened to the faint chatter and shuffling that occurred on the other side of the door before it opened. She was met with Catherine's unexpressive face, a feature that changed rather quickly upon realizing it was Paige that stood before her. She smiled brightly, flashing her pearly whites at the taller girl, and pulled her in for a hug. It lasted longer than it should've.

She smells good, like coconut and vanilla.

"So glad you could make it..." she murmured, dragging her hand across Paige's stomach as she pulled away. Opening the door, she allowed Paige access into the room. To say it was huge would've been the understatement of the century. There was a small couch in the front where another blonde sat mutely, a bottle of red nail polish in her hand as she went over her nails again. There was a vase of flowers on the coffee table in front of her, it was surrounded by loads of other miscellaneous things like card games and jewelry.

The fireplace, which Paige later learned was gas which Catherine hated, was turned on despite the eighty degree temperature outside. The tv played an episode of Grey's Anatomy, the girls had turned it on just before Paige's knock at the door. Behind the mini living room were two steps that led up to the king sized bed, the covers were all over the place and there were a few pillows lying around on the floor. Paige's scrutiny of the room was interrupted when Catherine's voice grabbed her attention.

"Do you live far from here?" she had made herself comfortable on the couch now, her head resting in the unnamed blonde's lap.

Paige set her things down beside the couch, shrugging her shoulders, "Kinda, like...twenty minutes maybe."

Catherine hummed in response.

The three girls remained quiet for a few moments, Meredith Grey's voice being the only thing between them and a silence thicker than a heavy fog. Paige was overcome with the thought that she was the only one feeling awkward. Catherine and this other blonde were casually laid out on the couch, something Paige figured they did often. She would too with a room like Catherine's.

Her eyes traveled up and down the girl's soft, smooth legs. At least that was the feeling they gave off when Catherine rubbed them against each other on the couch, almost teasingly. Paige bit her lip gently, frantically moving her gaze between Catherine's legs and the blonde's eyes to make sure she wasn't caught.

Catherine, thankfully noticing Paige's hesitation to do anything other than stand at the edge of the couch rather than her wandering eyes, invited her to sit down. She slightly readjusted herself so that she was still laid out but wasn't invading Paige's personal space. Paige would've liked her to, invade her space that is. But the dark haired girl was feeling unusually nervous now that she was actually in front of Paige instead of talking with her through the phone.

It wasn't long before a beeping could be heard from the door and four new faces appeared behind it. Three boys and one girl. Paige had to admit she would've liked it to just be the three of them, it was hard enough trying to settle her nerves with Catherine and one other friend. Now she would be forced to do it with four more. It was then that she remembered the words of her mother, and how she really only needed to stay for an hour.

Would it be rude to leave?

The room erupted in cheers as the boys jumped on top of Catherine, burying her beneath their bodies. Her protests were muffled as she fought to push them off.

"Will you guys chill? I'm trying to do my nails," the blonde grumbled, scooting over with the nastiest face Paige had ever seen.

One of the boys rolled off the couch, "Try a little harder, they look like shit."

She flipped him off with a freshly painted nail, her nose scrunching up at the mere sight of him smiling above her. The rest of the boys followed suit as they got up off of the couch, brushing themselves off. Another guy, pushing his soft brown hair out of the way turned to Paige and smiled goofily. "You look unfamiliar," he commented.

Catherine snorted, "Guys this is Paige, she goes to my school. Paige this is Zane, Theo, Malachi, and Sasha."

She gave them a small wave, not knowing what else to do since there were too many to greet one by one.

"I thought you hated everyone at your school," Malachi frowned, squeezing himself between Paige and Catherine.

Catherine frowned, she wanted to sit next to Paige.

"I hate everyone except Paige," she clarified, giving the girl a cheeky wink.

Everyone made themselves comfortable somewhere in the living area, whether it was on the couch or in front of the fire. Paige was even warming up, now finding herself in a conversation with Malachi and Zane about basketball.

"What position do you play again?" Zane frowned, his blonde eyebrows scrunching together.

"Point guard."

"I remember my point guard days, I was a beast!" he reminisced humorously.

"Yeah in the fourth grade," Malachi chimed in.

"You're committed to UConn right?" Zane asked, ignoring the other boy.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" Paige smiled.

"Cat talks about you all the time," he shrugged.

At this, Catherine shot up from her position on the couch and slapped the back of his buzzed blonde head. "No I don't!" she argued.

He stood abruptly, and rubbing the now burning patch on his head he said, "Yes you do! I literally remember you saying-"

"Okay!" The blonde girl interjected, "Can we please play a game or something? I'm bored."

"Just go back to painting your nails Noella, the grown ups are speaking," Zane gestured to himself, Catherine, Malachi, and Paige.

"Well in that case you should sit your ass down," she snapped.

"What game?" Malachi asked.

Just like that, the topic of Catherine's incessant talk of Paige had been dropped. Dropped by everyone except the two girls who now stared at each other with pleasant smiles. The group gathered around in a circle and Uno cards were disputed amongst them, everyone audibly reacting to their own deck.

Paige seated herself beside Catherine, nudging her shoulder. "You talk about me huh?" she laughed.

"Zane blows everything out of proportion, i've mentioned you like once or twice," Catherine dismissed simply. It was a lie. Catherine talked about Paige like a proud girlfriend, boasting about how great of a basketball player her new friend was and how good she looked while playing.

Paige nodded simply, not wanting to tease Catherine too much but also taking pride in the fact that the girl talked about her.

They played games for a hefty chunk of the night, stuffing their faces with pizza and cookies and whatever else Catherine's kitchen had to offer. Paige was surprised to discover that the boys were sleeping over as well, though they were in a separate room, she couldn't ever imagine either of her parents allowing something like that.

When the time came for everyone to settle down and get ready for bed, Noella and Sasha disappeared into the bathroom while Paige and Catherine waited in the bed.

"Do you wanna shower tonight?" Catherine asked her suddenly, switching off her phone.

"Yeah, sure. Are you gonna shower?"

"Mhm," Catherine nodded. "It shouldn't take them that long in there cus they're in there together so..." her voice trailed off as she shrugged.

Paige frowned, switching her own phone off as she turned to Catherine. "What do you mean?"

"They're showering together," she laughed, "we do it all the time 'cus we grew up together 'n' stuff."

Paige's lips parted as she went to respond, but at the last second she decided not to. They shower together...What kinda shit is that? Never in life had Paige ever considered showering with someone she saw as just a friend. Showering was your private time to clean yourself and all the parts of you that no one else was supposed to see, to share that time with someone else was intimate, wasn't it?

"Sometimes we just go ahead and finger each other too," Catherine revealed, and Paige's eyebrows shot to meet her hairline. "Kidding! Holy shit i'm kidding, we don't do that."

The pair burst into laughter, using it as an excuse to touch and grab at each other. Catherine ended up with her hand on Paige's knee, toying around with the thread of the sweatpants she was wearing. She smiled slightly, "You believed me for a second though."

"I definitely did," Paige nodded, "was finna grab my bags and go," she joked.

Catherine smirked, "You don't like that?"

"Like what?"

"Fingering."

The energy in the room shifted quickly with just that one word, both girls now staring at each other in silence. Paige couldn't help but feel like Catherine was asking for reasons other than being genuinely interested, and she wanted to give her what she wanted.

"Not my friends...no," the blonde shook her head.

"You don't like it or you've just never done it?" Catherine questioned further, rolling off of the bed and heading over to her dresser. She rummaged around through the drawers for some pajamas as she waited for Paige to respond to her forward question.

If Paige didn't have a crush on the girl, she would've been uncomfortable by the topic, but since that wasn't the case, she provided her with an answer. "I've never done it."

Catherine laughed sweetly, her back still turned. Paige stared at her legs again and the way her jeans shorts cupped her ass perfectly, two gold stars on the back pockets. Paige wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers up and down those legs, how Catherine's ass would fit into her hand as she squeezed it during a passionate kiss. She wanted to see her tits, her back, she wanted to explore every part of the girl standing before her.

She pulled out a pair of lacy panties and a white tank top, tossing them onto the bed and sitting back down. Paige didn't know how she was going to keep it together all night if Catherine was planning to walk around in the pieces of string she had just gotten out. However, after taking a closer look at them, she noticed how familiar they looked. They were the same pair that she had been wearing in the very first picture that Paige had received from her.

Catherine looked at her, waiting for her to say something. She knew, Paige knew, they both knew, and yet their smiles were the only telling factors.

When the sound of the shower cut off, Catherine glanced in the direction of the bathroom. She slowly got up off of the bed and grabbed her clothes (if you could even call them that).

"I'm gonna shower..." she told her.

Something in Paige's eyes darkened as she watched her back up toward the bathroom door. She got up as well, her own pajamas in her hand as she backed up to the other bathroom door.

"I think i'm gonna shower too...After you though 'cus...I don't shower with my friends," Paige smirked knowingly.

"Right, totally understood."

✰ ✰ ✰

Paige couldn't keep her eyes off of Catherine's wet, soapy body. Though she had to admit, she wasn't trying that hard either. The shower was big enough for an entire family of people and yet the girls still found themselves mere inches away from each other. Catherine was standing under one of the shower heads, her eyes closed and head tilted in the air.

Keep it together.

Paige had repeated those three words in her head over and over again, the task proving to be more difficult with every second that passed. She wanted to pin Catherine against the wall and take her right there, but she wouldn't. Not until she got the green light.

She wondered whether that was the direction this shower was going in, did Catherine want to hook up or was she just this close with all her friends? But Paige wasn't just a friend, was she?

Those messages say otherwise...

Brown eyes fluttered open, and Catherine smiled coyly at Paige. She stepped out from under the water and closer to the blonde, her head tilted slightly upward to meet her eyes.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

Paige nodded, "Are you?"

She hesitated before slowly shaking her head.

"What's wrong?" the blonde frowned.

"You haven't given me my birthday gift yet..."

How had Catherine known that Paige had even gotten her anything? For all she knew, it was just a card with some money slipped inside. But Paige wasn't that inconsiderate, she had gotten her a jelly cheek tint from Sephora, but Catherine couldn't have known that. And she didn't, because that wasn't the gift Catherine was talking about.

Paige hid her surprise at the mention of the drunken promise, that entire conversation between the girls had been a blur for her. It was a couple weeks ago, Paige had been at a party while she was texting Catherine, their conversation quickly turning sexual the more Paige had to drink. She didn't think Catherine had taken it seriously, but she probably should've expected it.

"It's not your birthday yet," Paige smirked.

"Don't fuck with me," Catherine mumbled, crashing her lips onto Paige's.

The smacking of their lips was drowned out by the water coming down hard around them. They moved in sync with each other, grabbing thirstily at one another. Paige couldn't decide what to do with her hands, she wanted to grab her neck, to hug her waist, to smack her ass.

The scent of her shampoo was overwhelming to Paige, she felt herself drowning in it as she kissed her, pulling her in deeper. There was a sense of urgency between them, at any second they could be interrupted by one of the girls outside. They couldn't risk that happening, they had waited all night for this.

Catherine backed up into the wall, dragging the blonde with her without ever disconnecting their lips. Paige tasted amazing, Catherine could say that without a doubt for she was exploring every inch of the girl's mouth. Her tongue moved with ease as she maneuvered it around Paige's own, the kiss becoming sloppy.

A string of spit stretched between their mouths when Paige briefly pulled away only to attach her lips to Catherine's jaw instead. She sucked harshly in any spot that Catherine reacted to. Paige licked a straight line from her neck up to her ear, placing a kiss right underneath it.

"Been waitin' all night for this huh?" she teased, her hands trailing slowly down Catherine's body. She was holding the taller girl impossibly close, releasing breathless moans the more attention that Paige paid to her neck. "Been wantin' me?"

Catherine had her arms draped over Paige's shoulders, one hand tangled in her hair while the other dug deep into her skin. She mumbled incoherently in response to Paige, the cold glass on her back and the warmth of Paige on her front sending her into a clouded state. Paige's hands snaked down to her ass, spanking it hard before following up with a soothing rub.

She did it again, and again, and again until Catherine was a whining, begging mess.

"Please Paige," she panted heavily, "need you so bad..."

"What do you need?"

"Need you to fuck me."

Paige laughed tauntingly, "Spread your legs," she demanded.

Catherine obliged pitifully quickly, one of her legs hooking around Paige's body.

Paige ran her fingers through Catherine's sopping slit, relishing in the way the shorter girl shuddered in her grasp. Her thumb toyed around with her swollen clit whilst she began to tease her entrance with her fingertips. Paige stared darkly into her eyes, unconsciously biting her lip at the pleading look that Catherine was giving her.

"What's the magic word?" the blonde smirked mockingly.

"Mmm, please," Catherine whined.

"Louder."

"Please Paige just fuck me!"

Paige watched in accomplishment at the way Catherine's face contorted in pleasure when she inserted her fingers. The blonde nodded her head understandingly, "Yeah that feels good doesn't it?" she cooed.

"Yes," the curly head sighed out.

Just as quickly as she had pulled them out, she thrusted them back in. Catherine unwillingly whimpered.

"This what you wanted?" Paige asked darkly. "For me to fuck you on your birthday, hm?"

Catherine matched the rhythm of Paige's fingers as she moved her hips against them. Paige stared deep into her eyes as she fucked her, their foreheads pressed together to stay grounded. A burning sensation erupted on Paige's back, the shower water was coming in contact with the scratches that Catherine was leaving. She used it as motivation to go faster, plunging into her so hard and so fast that Catherine's legs began to tremble.

She clung onto Paige for dear life, one of her hands slamming against the glass door behind her as Paige fucked her into it. The other was hooked under Paige's arm and gripping her shoulder.

"Yesyesyes," Catherine mumbled in hastened breaths, "so fucking good, so fucking good."

"You gonna cum mama?"

"Yes, keep going."

Paige noticed the way Catherine's walls were clenching around her, and she nodded her head encouragingly.

"C'mon," she urged, "c'mon."

The other girl elicited moans that Paige had never heard in her entire life. They were uncontrollable as Catherine's body writhed and squirmed. The most guttural noises left her mouth and filled the bathroom and Paige muffled them with the palm of her hand. She slowed the pace of her fingers and let Catherine ride out her orgasm before completely removing them.

The younger girl was out of breath, her chest heaving up and down at a rate quicker than usual.

Paige held onto her, rubbing her back softly as she calmed down. She kissed the top of her head, "Are you okay?"

"Mhm," she nodded into her chest.

They stood in silence, holding each other and placing small kisses on each other's foreheads and shoulders.

"We should probably wash again," Catherine laughed shyly.

Paige smiled, "Yeah we should." She ruffled the wet curls of the pretty girl in front of her, "Happy early Birthday Catherine."

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[elssero]

kiri offering to be the first person to give you head-

e.kirishima

♰ suggestive, not quite smut, pro hero!kiri x pro hero f!reader, slight angst.

you don’t remember exactly how you got into this situation, one minute you were finishing up your friday patrol and the next you were being dragged to a local bar, mina ashido pulling you by the wrist towards the table which sat your group of friends from high school.

you especially don’t remember how you got onto the topic at hand but your embarrassed. so embarrassed even that your sinking impossibly further into the cushioned seat of the round table your gathered around.

the tipsy chatter around the table has suddenly stopped, heads are turned towards you and you feel the multiple pairs of eyes scanning you- judging you.

it’s denki who speaks first, breaking the very awkward silence that makes you just want to run home and forget this ever happened.

“what the fuck do you mean you’ve never gotten head?”

you can’t help the increasing beating of your heart or the way you immediately look down to your lap, absolutely dripping in shame. he continues and god do you wish he hadn’t.

“weren’t you with todoroki for like a year? and he never gave you head? are you serious?”

the humiliation you feel right now is worse than ever before, it’s worse than that one time you showered in the male bathrooms by accident, infact it’s far worse than that. you can’t even bring yourself to lift up your head from its position looking directly down.

“i- i haven’t no-” you cut yourself off before continuing “it was just- it was never something he expressed interest in and neither have any of my hook ups since- it’s not a big deal- really.”

you finally lift your head up when you finish your sentence to find that everyone’s looking at you. each pair of eyes scanning you with what seems to be a look of pity. you need to get out of here.

“that’s so not cool-“ sero starts before he’s interrupted by bakugo “-not cool is an understatement it’s fuckin’ ridiculous- god i knew he was a loser but i didn’t think it was that bad.”

“it’s fine- honest- it never really bothered me” your lying. and everyone knows your lying by the way your voice drops and the way you can’t meet anyone’s eyes, your worried if you do that you’ll melt into a puddle of shame right there and then.

“should fuckin’ bother you- he’s a piece of shit- not giving his girlfriend of over a year some fuckin’ head what a dick.” he’s got you. of course it bothered you that your boyfriend- that woman constantly fawned over hadn’t even as much as tried to make you cum not once your entire relationship. in the beginning you excused it as him being inexperienced, you were his first everything- or at least you thought you were- nothing seems as clear cut as it once did since your break up 4 months ago. it’s not like he’s been your only partner either, you’ve been with people before and after todoroki it’s just- no one seems to actually care about your pleasure.

your sudden break up with todoroki followed swiftly after you’d begun working as pros- it was him who ended it- claiming he could’ve give you the time you deserved due to his entirely full schedule, whether it was patrol, or an interview, or a mission- you were never entirely sure what he was doing but you knew whatever it was, it didn’t involve you. it’s not like you can blame him, you yourself know how hard it is to start off as a pro hero.

ultimately you thank him, despite the fact you think it’s very unlikely that the two of you will ever even be on speaking terms again- at least not for the next couple of years- his sidekick made sure of that when she accidentally made a comment about them being together a mere 2 days after the two of you had broken up.

but still- you thank him, you hadn’t realised how isolated the two of you had became, attempting to salvage the hanging threads of your relationship by spending every minute of your free time together, you feel more relaxed- like you can focus on things you haven’t been able to give the time to in what feels like forever.

one of which being the group your with now, your own friend group from ua- not todorokis who you had been forced to go out with for the past couple of months- not that you didn’t enjoy their company! they just weren’t your friends.

despite the love and care you feel for the people around you- you need a bit of time to breathe following your confession to the group- you think that denkis shout of determination deciding they need to get you some head is the perfect time for you to escape.

“well- have fun with planning? m’ gonna get a drink at the bar- i’ll be right back” your words are slurring slightly, the embarrassment you recently felt only fuelling your current tipsy state.

“i’ll come with you-” it’s cheery, and you can’t help but smile up at the red head when we takes your arm and leads you to the bar, you watch as he takes a set on one of the bar stools- waiting to be served by the bartender as he beckons you to sit with him.

there’s a moment of silence between you, not completely uncomfortable- you can tell he has something to say but you wait for him to be ready to say it. in the meantime you observe him, he seems a little nervous but you can’t quite figure out why-

“m’ sorry i didn’t say anything back there- i was just- shocked” he’s not looking at you as he says it, it’s clear he feels bad.

“kiri please-” you giggle and you watch as he seems to smile slightly at the sound. “i said it wasn’t a big deal and i meant it!” you look up and and smile before you continue “and its definitely not that shocking either im sure there’s alot of people my age who have never- y’know…”

he catches your eyes now- he’s looking at you with an expression you can’t quite read- “but it is shocking.” he takes a deep breath in before continuing- “it’s absolutely crazy to me than he had you in front of him that whole time never once-” another deep breath- you swear you see him shudder a little before he continues “…tasted you.”

what?

what the fuck???

your eyes are blown wide as you stare at him- that same unreadable expression on his face as he looks into your eyes- he doesn’t dare look away- not now. his eyes are lidded, probably due to his alcohol intake and you sigh slightly when you realise that’s why he’s being like this. he doesn’t really mean what he’s saying and you feel a twinge of guilt at the fact it made your insides feel all warm.

it’s almost as though he can read your mind- sensing your self-dejecting thoughts he decides to continue- although quieter now, he leans in close to you and your breath catches in your throat- “i can’t believe he had the chance to have you and didn’t take it-” he’s moving closer as he speaks- your still frozen in place- “because- i’d do anything for it.”

you stop breathing- “you- you don’t mean that kiri it’s fine you don’t have to try and make me feel better-” you rush it out, your whole body feels hot. he’d do anything for it? you want to believe him- you really do. but you can’t, no one’s ever thought about you like that- your sure he’s just trying to cheer you up.

“don’t do that” his tone is harsh now, eyes still unwavering from yours as he stares you down, you see the look now, before unreadable now you can tell- it’s lust. he’s not in his right mind you think- he’s drunk- even if only having a singular drink so far, not even nearly enough to cloud his judgement to this extent but it’s the easiest excuse you can find right now for his behaviour.

“i’m not saying this to make you feel better- i mean it. every word.” he moves his hand to touch the soft skin of your exposed thigh and you feel your body betray you as your thighs immediately squeeze together in an attempt to feel something- anything.

his words are too much you decide- too overwhelming- rushing a feeling through you that you’ve never quite felt before- you want it. you really want it.

your both broken out of your trance when the bartender hand him over your drinks- ones you weren’t even aware that kiri had ordered as he takes them both in his hands-

“cmon, im sure our friends are waiting on us” he stands up with a smile- urging you to follow him as he turns around and leads you back to the table your long forgetten friends sit.

you don’t follow him- you can’t- your overcome by an emotion you can’t quite recognise as you stand up from your seat at the bar and make a direct run for the exit- putting on your jacket with a hurry as you push open the door with a force that could’ve taken it off the wall. you don’t look back- not for a second.

maybe part 2 incoming idk i’m trying to decide which root to take this :3 lmk!

♰ part 2

[thriftedtchotchkes]

old dogs don't change

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: weeks after sleeping together, your no-strings-attached agreement goes up in flames when joel goes on a date with another woman. you make sure that never happens again. (sequel to keep it on the low)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, ex-boyfriend!joel, jackson era, tlou 2 jesse appearance, age gap, hurt, angst, smut, unprotected piv, post-breakup sex, rough sex, public sex, rough oral (m!receiving), exhibitionism, possessive behavior, jealousy, alcohol use, briefly dating other people

word count: 10.6k

You have no idea who she is, but you bet she’s a total bitch. Is that mean? Maybe. Do you give a shit? Nope.

To be fair, you’d probably say that about anyone Joel started dating after you, but that doesn’t mean it can’t still be true. Sure, you've never actually talked to her…or seen her before in your entire life, but that’s beside the point. She’s cute and bubbly, and everything you’re not, and that’s the point. 

It’s honestly a little comical how different the two of you are, and you can’t help but wonder if Tommy did that on purpose. You know he was the one who set them up. Everyone in the dining hall was talking about it this morning. The latest, hottest piece of gossip, bouncing from table to table like a cruel game of telephone. 

He probably thinks he’s protecting his big brother, but you think he needs to mind his own fucking business. It’s not like he knows anything about your relationship, not really. Well. It’s not your relationship anymore, is it? And Tommy, along with everyone else in this town, blames you for that.

Poor Joel, dumped by the biggest bitch in Jackson, who took advantage of his kindness and patience for years, and broke his heart when all he did was love her. Selfish, cold, and uncaring. Nothing like the pretty, perky girl sitting next to him in the booth they’re sharing at Seth’s. 

If only they knew what really happened.

The bar is especially busy, even for a Saturday night, so you figure no one’ll notice you blatantly glaring at them. It’s not like you care, anyway. You’re feeling warm and loose, and maybe a little too tipsy for your own good, but tonight, you get to do whatever the fuck you want. 

Because Joel’s sitting ten feet away with his arm slung around another woman, and it hurts. 

It sucks way worse than him avoiding you since the last time you slept together, after all of the things you did and said on that couch. The things he said. You shoo away the thought with another swig of beer, wishing you were drinking something stronger. It's for the best. 

If you get any drunker, you’ll probably end up doing something stupid, and the last thing you need is to prove everyone right that he’s better off without you. But you can’t seem to shake the anger that’s starting to simmer below the surface. 

With the emotional toll this night has already taken, you kind of don’t want to. So, you surrender to it. Fuck him. He’s a piece of shit for parading his new girl around right in front of you, and for breaking off your agreement without so much as a word. 

If he wanted to see other people, he should’ve opened his mouth and used his big boy words. Then again, he’s always been terrible at that, so why are you surprised? 

Maybe he’ll fuck her tonight. Touch her all of the ways you like because that’s all he knows anymore. She’ll moan for him, soft and sweet, gentle in her affection, just like she’s touching him right now. But it won’t satisfy him, and when he’s panting on top of her, chasing that all-consuming release only you can give him, you know he’ll be pretending she's you. 

Asshole.

You’re still watching them, shooting daggers from your spot at the bar, when your wish from earlier is granted. Two overflowing shot glasses topped with lime are placed in front of you, and you look up to see a very attractive dark-haired, brown-eyed man smirking down at you.

"Looked a little lonely over here," he says in a raspy baritone even lower than Joel's. He clinks the top of your beer bottle with the bottom of his own. "Thought you could use some company, maybe another drink."

Well, he’s right. You could use some company, and you’d love another drink. There’s no harm in having a little fun, right? If Joel’s doing it, then there’s nothing stopping you.

"So, both of these are for me, then?" you smile coyly, reaching for one. He nods, his own smile widening.

"Could be. Can I join ya?" he gestures to the empty stool next to you. 

He has this cocky look on his face like he already knows you'll say yes, and in your inebriated state, you think it's kind of hot. It reminds you of Joel when you first met. How he knew exactly what he wanted and wouldn't give up until it was his. Until you were his.

You consider him for a moment. He’s young, maybe even younger than you, and obviously confident enough to make a move on you. Fleetingly, you think he might end up being that stupid thing you do tonight, but then you down one of the shots and decide you don't actually care. 

What turns out to be tequila burns the entire way down, and you immediately pick up a slice of lime. You’re hyperaware of the way his eyes lock onto your mouth as you suck on the sour fruit, lingering when a droplet of juice dribbles down your chin. 

It’s not a total surprise when he reaches up to thumb it away, but you are taken off guard by how strange it makes you feel. The pad of his finger is disappointingly smooth, no weathering or even a hint of a callus. You're not sure why that matters to you, but you can take a decent guess.

You chance a glance over at Joel's table and, of course, you have his full attention now. His entire body looks tense, from his hand clenched on the table to the prominent vein bulging angrily in his neck. 

Good. Now he knows how it feels.

Looking back up at your mystery guy, you run your tongue along your bottom lip, catching any remaining lime before you finally give him an answer. 

"Sure. Pop a squat, cowboy," you giggle. It doesn't even sound like you and feels wrong the second it passes your lips, but as long as Joel heard it, that's all that matters. "You got a name?"

He replies, but you're too busy keeping an eye on Joel in your peripheral to catch what he says. In the back of your mind, you think that’s probably a good thing. You'd rather not know, especially if you do end up taking him home. 

Mystery guy laughs at your noncommittal hum and you realize you’ve been caught. But he doesn’t seem upset. It’s clear he’s amused by your obvious interest elsewhere and that piques your curiosity. 

Any other guy here would’ve been pissed by your apathy, especially if they’d bothered to buy you a drink that you accepted, but apparently not this one.

He sits down on the stool next to you, pulling it close enough that his knee presses against yours. You unconsciously lean into him, your skin erupting in goosebumps despite your growing unease.

He's...baffling. A total enigma. You can’t figure out what his deal is or why he’s choosing to keep pursuing you when your eyes have been glued to another man all night. 

The thought of letting this continue long enough to find out is a little thrilling. Might as well see where this goes. If it escalates, you’re more than confident in your ability to care of yourself.

But it happens sooner than you expect. His hand finds the back of your stool and, then, his lips are suddenly right next to your cheek. You can feel the warmth of them as he tilts his head to whisper in your ear.

“Look, not try'na to overstep, but…,” his eyes dart to where Joel’s sitting, unreservedly ignoring his date. The poor thing barely notices, chattering away about something not nearly as important to him as watching you. His gaze returns to you, and you can feel him smirking. “You wanna make that guy you've been staring at all night jealous?"

That’s—wow. You didn’t see that one coming. He’s got a lot of audacity to assume that’s something you’d want, let alone offer…what? His services? 

But, then again, he isn’t wrong. Joel’s been the only thing on your mind since you walked into Seth’s tonight and saw him with her. He’s always on your mind if you’re being totally honest with yourself. It’s plain to see, obvious to every single person in this bar including the man himself.

You eye your mystery guy curiously for a second before nodding, your lips quirking into a small smirk. Maybe it’s time to prove to Joel and everyone else in this judgmental town that you’ve moved on, too. That you’re not the sad, bitter shrew that deserves to be alone.

"Yeah, actually, I do," you reply cautiously. But there's still one lingering question that has yet to be answered. "I just…why? I don’t get why you’re helping me. What are you getting out of this?”

He shrugs, and somehow you can just tell by the look in his eyes that there’s no hidden agenda. You’re not sure how you’re just noticing, but he has kind eyes. This whole time, he’s been nothing but patient and attentive, like Joel always was—...is? 

Was.

You almost wish you could fall for someone like this man instead of pathetically clinging to your past. Maybe you’ll at least get a friend out of this crazy night, if nothing else. But then you remember one, tiny problem with that idea.

“Can you tell me your name again? I promise you have my full attention this time,” you smile sheepishly. He chuckles good-naturedly and, again, doesn’t seem to hold it against you.

“It’s Jesse,” he says with a deep, southern drawl you should probably be more attracted to. “And let’s just say I know how it feels to want someone ya can’t have.”

You nod slowly, understanding perfectly. Except—you didn't realize up until this moment that that's exactly what you want. Someone you can't ever have. 

And it took seeing Joel with someone else, his body pressed up against a woman that isn't you, to realize it. Well, that fucking sucks.

You decide not to ask about Jesse's situation. It's not your business and, anyway, you're both trying to feel better about your circumstances, not worse. 

There’s a silent sense of camaraderie between you that tells you to throw caution to the wind. Tossing back the second shot, you turn your stool to face his, literally and figuratively turning your back on Joel. 

“It’s really nice to meet you, Jesse,” you murmur, and you genuinely mean it. He grins, leaning in slowly, still giving you time to back out if you want to, but you don't. 

Eat your heart out, Joel Miller. This one's for you.

"S'nice to meet you, too," he replies softly. 

Then, his lips are on yours. The kiss is wet and open-mouthed, and yet he handles you so delicately. He cradles your face in his hands as his tongue brushes against yours, and you moan softly into his mouth, letting your body get lost in the way he feels. And he feels so—

Much different than Joel. 

All you can think about is how much you miss Joel's rough touch, the way he'd thread his fingers through your hair and tug you into his mouth, nearly devouring you whole. Joel kissed you like every time might be the last, right up until it actually was. 

Fucking hell, why can't you just enjoy this without him ruining it for you?

You try to forget about it, about him, licking into Jesse's mouth a little more aggressively, and he groans, his body eager and responsive. It's probably more than you should be doing in public, sitting at a bar surrounded by people but, hell, you want them to see. 

They can say whatever they want about you. You're done giving a shit.

And, boy, will they have a lot to talk about after tonight. Joel makes sure of that. It happens so fast, you barely register that Jesse’s lips aren’t on yours anymore like they should be.

One moment, Jesse's hands are trailing down your sides to your waist, and the next, he's being forcibly dragged off you. Between you stands a broad, imposing figure ensuring you stay separated.

Your mind goes blank, and all you can do is watch in shock and disbelief as Joel lets loose on him, his words possessive and almost nonsensical. 

"The fuck you think you're doin' touchin' her like that? Y'need to learn how to keep your hands to yourself, kid, before ya get yourself in trouble," he grits out angrily. 

To his credit, Jesse stays cool and collected, but it’s not enough. There’s already a few pairs of eyes on you, drawn by the physical altercation, and it won’t be long before the rest of the bar notices the impending fight.

"Respectfully, sir, s'long as the lady consents, I'll put my hands wherever she wants," Jesse replies, standing his ground. He tries to move around him to return to your side, but Joel fixes him with a look that sends a shiver down your spine.

"S'that really a good idea?" Joel sounds menacing and looks even more so the longer the conversation continues. 

You’re still numb to everything unfolding in front of you and it’s not until Jesse’s next to you again, snaking an arm around your waist, that you finally come to. The reality of your situation hits you like a ton of bricks and now you’re mad. You open your mouth to retaliate, but Jesse cuts you off before you can get a word in.

“There a reason it wouldn’t be?” he turns the question back on Joel and you tense, anticipating a less-than-friendly answer. Jesse squeezes your hip in reassurance, but it does nothing to soothe your unease. He doesn’t know Joel like you do.

“Kid, do I look like I’m fuckin’ around? Take your hands off her and walk away. M'not gonna tell you again,” he all but growls, taking a threatening step forward. 

Neither of you back down. Jesse’s arm stays firm around you as your nails bite into your palm. It's taking everything you've got not to make a bigger scene than you already have.

You knew it. Since the breakup, you’ve been trying to reconcile this increasingly unfamiliar man with the Joel you gave your entire heart to all those years ago. With each passing month, the differences between the two become more and more obvious.

He's angrier now and has so much less patience. It's not that he's unkind. You know that no matter what his circumstances are, Joel will continue to be a good man. But he has a hair trigger, especially when it comes to you. 

And he wants. God, he always wants you. It’s not that you didn’t have an active sex life before everything fell apart. He just...fucks you differently now. Possessively and without restraint, like he needs to be sure you're satisfied enough to never need anyone else. The agreement to keep sleeping together was actually his idea. And it worked for a while—until it suddenly didn't. 

Now, you're forced to come face-to-face with that reality. Sitting at this bar, you spent the entirety of the night believing he'd decided he didn't want you anymore, that he was ready to find happiness in something simpler than sneaking around with his ex.

Except, it's starting to feel like maybe that's not as true as he made it seem. Like he never should've gone on this date in the first place.

"What the fuck, Joel?" you hiss, fighting to keep your volume under control. Not that it matters. The entire bar is staring at you, their eyes ping-ponging back and forth like they're watching a tennis match. "Back the fuck off. Now. This is none of your business."

"The hell it ain't my business. Some kid's runnin' his hands all over another man's girl and y'think that ain't my business?" 

His trembling hands clench into fists at his sides and, while you’re betting the rest of the bar thinks he’s preparing for a fight, that isn’t Joel. It might be you, though, if he keeps this up.

"Excuse me? And whose girl am I—yours? Because I'm pretty sure your girl is sitting over there in that booth. Or did you forget about your date?"

For a moment, he actually has the nerve to look ashamed, like he feels bad about leaving her all alone at their table and for humiliating her in front of all these people. He avoids her crestfallen gaze, likely not ready to face the hurt he’s caused. 

But it only lasts for a second before his eyes darken again, focused solely on you. As if Jesse, his pretty date, and everyone else in this bar disappeared, and it's just you and him. This conversation doesn't include them anymore. It's a private matter now.

"We're leavin'," he says with finality, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

He should know better. That's not how things work with you. You’re a fighter, a trait he’s always loved about you, even if your ire was directed at him. Back then, it rarely was.

"You're out of your mind if you think I'm leaving with you," you scoff bitterly. "Go back to your date, I'll go back to mine, and we can forget about this. All of it. We're done, Joel."

He shakes his head, mouth tipping down into a frown like he's thinking something over. Then, he huffs out a laugh. Like, an actual laugh, and you start to think maybe he really has lost his mind.

"Y'know, I really don't think we are, darlin'," he drawls dangerously. 

He's on you in an instant, his hand wrapped tightly around your arm as he drags you out of the bar. You briefly consider resisting, but he's moving too quickly. All of those shots you downed combined with the beer you drank earlier go straight to your head, and you're suddenly overwhelmingly distracted by the feeling of his skin on yours.

Fuck, it feels like it's been so long. In reality, you know it's only been a few weeks but, god, you missed it. His hands on your body, anywhere at all on your body. You'd hate how quickly you forget about Jesse if you could think about anything else but those familiar, rough fingertips.

The way they dig into you, reminiscent of how he'd squeeze your thighs or clutch your waist when he was making love to you.

...Wait, what? No...no, fuck. Why is he making this so difficult? Why—Christ...why can't you just leave each other alone? If he never planned on letting you go, he shouldn't have broken up with you. And if he still wanted you this badly...all he had to do was ask. You would've said yes in a heartbeat.

So, you let him steal you away, out into the brisk, wintry air that does little to cool your fury or the heat beginning to coil in your belly. The door shuts noisily behind you, and you immediately wrench your arm out of his grasp before he can say a word. It's your turn to talk now.

"What is wrong with you? You can't just...fuck, you can't do shit like this!" You're seething, practically shaking in your rage, and his expression doesn't look much different. 

"And you can? I dunno what the hell you were thinkin' gettin’ cozy with some goddamn kid, lettin’ him touch ya like that in front of the whole town," he reiterates harshly. He's starting to sound like a broken record. It's the only leverage he's got, and you both know it's flimsy at best.

"Some kid? Jesse's a fucking adult, clearly more mature than you," you bite back. "And it’s a bar, Joel. That's what people do at bars."

Joel scoffs, and you can tell he hates the way Jesse's name falls from your lips. Especially when those lips were on yours not even ten minutes ago. 

"And who are you to decide who can and can't touch me? You broke up with me," you continue resentfully. "You don't get a say anymore."

At that, his face becomes unreadable. He didn't need the reminder, and you know that, but it needed to be said for both of your sakes. Sometimes you think maybe he actually forgets it was his choice to give you up. That he didn't realize his decision would hurt you as much as it hurt him.

"So, what? You gonna take him home then, let him fuck ya?" He leans in close, so close you can feel his soft, graying curls against your temple and the coarse drag of his beard across your cheek. 

"Kiss ya here—," a finger trails delicately down the side of your neck to his spot above your collarbone, then continues down to where you've been aching for him for weeks, "—taste ya here." 

You slap his hand away before he can get any further, but your reaction only spurs him on. How could you forget? He likes that.

"Y'know he can't make ya feel as good as I do. Fuck you just how y'like it, make ya cum as hard as I do," he drawls confidently, almost smugly, in your ear. "Don't ya?"

It's less a question than a statement, because you both know he's right. Joel knows your body better than anyone ever has, maybe even better than you know it yourself. Just as much as you know his. And it's sort of funny. You were thinking the exact same thing about him with his date earlier.

"Sure, Joel. Just like you were gonna take that girl home, right?" You raise an eyebrow, turning your head so your lips graze his skin. "Pretty little thing like her, I bet she likes it slow and romantic. She’ll probably even stick around for a snuggle and some pillow talk. You'd love that.”

Even as you mock him, the sneer marring your face doesn’t quite meet your eyes, and the spiteful nature of your words tastes acrid as they pass your lips. He’s so good at that. Always able to bring out the worst in you to prove his point—that he’s no good for you.

But you stand firm, your chest pressed flush against his in a show of determination. You're still in control here, unlike Joel, whose fingers are twitching noticeably at his sides like he's just itching to get his hands on you again. 

"Maybe I would. Liked it with you, didn't I?" he murmurs wistfully, and that catches you completely off guard.

His words are almost too gentle to belong in this argument, and it doesn’t feel fair. What's worse, he looks like he means them. You’d prefer the fight, the aggression of the man who dragged you out of the bar. Not this. Not these traces of your Joel. 

You can already feel your resolve slipping, and the rapid thrum of your heartbeat tells you to let it. When his hands finally take their rightful place on your waist, he’s in control again.

The cool evening air is suddenly stifling, and you’re starting to feel like you’re suffocating, your thoughts a jumbled, heated haze of anger and fear and want. He squeezes hard enough to pull your hips into his and you unintentionally buck, allowing his hands to travel up your shirt. 

There's an intensity to his gaze, tinged with an unexpected tenderness. He almost looks...sated. Fulfilled, now that you're back in his arms. But not completely, not yet.

"You still haven't answered my question," he mutters. His hands splay across your ribcage, high enough for his thumbs to tease the undersides of your breasts.

You bite down hard on your bottom lip, sliding your hands up his chest to push him away so you can catch your breath, but your body won't cooperate. It's been well-trained to crave his touch. Exhaling sharply through your nose, you fist his shirt and instead pull him impossibly closer.

"You asked a lot of questions tonight. You're gonna have to be a little more specific,” you pant heavily.

It's getting more difficult to think, now, with the warmth of his body against you, his thumbs shifting higher to stroke your stiffening nipples. He urges your hips forward again to meet his, and you can already feel him straining in his jeans.

You whimper helplessly, unable to curb the way your body's reacting to him, and the soft sound causes something in him to snap. He suddenly backs you up against the hard brick of the bar's exterior and begins to grind languidly into your stomach. 

"Y'really believe that boy can take care of a woman like you? Hm?" He interrogates you, his voice gravelly and uneven in your ear. "Tell me I'm the only one who can give you what ya need. Wanna hear ya say it."

Fuck, you can't lie to him. As much as you want to, it's just one more thing your body won't allow you to do. Not when he's working you up like this. 

"You're the only one," you moan around your admission. He's still crowding you into the wall, his hands greedily roaming your soft curves.

His eyes meet yours, darting quickly to your mouth before he leans in to kiss you passionately like he’s rewarding you. It only lasts for a second, one deliciously fleeting second, before he pulls away. You’re not sure why you let him. Or why you kissed back.

"Who's the only man who can make ya scream?" he demands a little more urgently.

"You, Joel,” you murmur obediently, your lips already parted and ready for your prize.

And he acquiesces—another insistent kiss that doesn’t last nearly long enough. This time, you chase him, but he jerks his head back. He still has one last question for you. Except, this time, he looks afraid of the answer. 

"Whose girl are ya?"

He whispers it so softly, you barely catch it over the whistling, nighttime breeze. As he brushes a few ruffled strands of hair behind your ear, you answer without hesitation. 

"Yours, Joel."

His entire body relaxes. Now, he's complete.

"Damn right, you are—"

Then, the front door bursts open next to you, and he's abruptly cut off. Joel is quick to tug you around the corner into the alleyway before anyone can spot you, but he's not fast enough to keep you from seeing who just left the bar.

Jesse.

And there it is. A shock to the system, enough to clear some of that smoky, nostalgic haze and bring you back to the present. But as everything hurtles back for the second time tonight, this time around, you can’t be mad because he’s right.

Of course, you're not Jesse's girl. As pathetic as it sounds, you'll always be Joel's because he’s the only one who can take care of you and give you what need. The only man who can make you scream. But that goes both ways.

Even though he’s been picking fights all night, he hasn’t raised his voice once. It's not the way he wins his battles. So, maybe it's time to remind Joel Miller that there is someone who can make him scream. But he isn't allowed to unless you say so.

It all feels eerily familiar—his fingers digging into your waist and your lips crashing into his hard enough to bruise. You lead him deeper into the alley, back to where the glow of the string lights above the bar can't reach you, before you separate from him. 

Neither of you wants to be the one to say it, but it needs to be heard. Here, in the dark, you can be his completely, but once you part ways and return to your empty beds, that's it. Just like last time. The reasons for your breakup are still very real, and that means your relationship can't be.

"Only here. Right, Joel?"   

He stays silent for a moment, his gaze filled with deep longing and sadness. It almost makes you want to take it back. Take him back. So, when he shakes his head and cups your cheeks, kissing you like this might be his last chance, you're not surprised in the slightest.

And after this whole night—this whole confusing, fucked-up night—you let him. Right now, he needs this. Maybe you do, too.

His lips taste like whiskey and relief, and you return his kiss with all of the passion and fervor he’s pouring into you. You’re both a little frantic in the way you touch each other, but as much as you don’t want it to, it makes perfect sense. 

Those few weeks without each other felt like years, and now that his hands are back on your body and his voice, deep and dulcet, is in your ear telling you how badly he wants you, you don’t want to let him go again.

You grind the heel of your hand into the front of his jeans and his responding groan pleases you more than it probably should. This. This is yours—his pleasure, his attention, him. They belong to you and you alone. Not his pretty, perky fucking date. 

The sudden possessiveness stuns you for a moment, but it's not enough to stop the feeling from consuming you. This must be how it feels for Joel. It's potent and feels so, so…right. You're starting to think you've felt this way for a while.

"I needed you, and you made me wait so fucking long," you gasp against his lips, and the fingers cradling your face tense. You’re still fisting his shirt, nearly hard enough to tear, and you wrench it up from where it’s tucked into his pants. 

"M'sorry, darlin', I know. I know I did,” he rasps back, following your lead and dropping his hands from your cheeks so he can unbuckle his jeans. “M'gonna make it up to ya. Tell me what you want, I’ll give it to ya.”

You want everything. Everything he has to give, you want it all. After everything you've been through, the hurt he caused you, you deserve it. And right now, what you want is for him to feel so good, he'll never go on a date with someone who isn't you ever again.

Sharp gravel bites into your bare skin as you drop to your knees in front of him. He's already so hard under all that heavy fabric and looks desperate above you. Just as desperate as you are for him to replace the flavor of Jesse's tequila and lime on your tongue with something saltier and headier, and undeniably Joel.

You hastily unbutton and unzip his jeans, not wasting any more of the precious time you have left together, before tugging them down just enough to free his cock and balls. He looks...fucking mouth-watering—flushed and red and leaking, and so goddamn thick. You wrap your hand around him and he sighs gratefully, dribbling precum onto your fingers.

"This is what I want," you finally reply, keeping your eyes locked on his as you lean forward to lick a broad line up his cock. He hisses in a breath through his teeth, his thighs already beginning to tremble, and you brace your hand on one. "But you're gonna be quiet, okay? I'm gonna suck your cock and you're not gonna make a single sound."

His expression darkens, but he agrees to your terms, nonetheless.

"Sure, darlin'. Whatever you say," he nods, gazing down at you with furrowed brows. He cradles your face in his hand and brushes his thumb along your cheekbone.

The affectionate gesture isn't lost on you, but this time you accept it. Instinctively leaning into his touch, you revel in it for a brief moment before his cock pulsing a frantic rhythm against your palm becomes an unignorable distraction. But a welcome one.

"That's my boy," you mumble against the tip. Just as a pained noise escapes his parted lips, you swallow him down as far as you can take him, purposely gagging yourself on him before you can dwell on the words that accidentally just tumbled out.

Your boy. Your boy. It echoes in your mind, ricocheting wildly and painfully like a bullet. Before you can take it back, maybe even to keep you from taking it back, he buries his fingers in your hair and holds you in place. You choke around him, trying your best to breathe through your nose, but in doing so, you take in a lungful of the heady musk at his base.

The familiarity of it all sends you reeling. He only gives you a second to adjust before he's fucking into your mouth and biting back a litany of needy sounds that rival your own wet, audible gagging. Your grip on his thigh tightens as your throat relaxes, allowing you to take him deeper, and you can feel yourself clenching around nothing every time he grazes the back of your throat. 

Tears stream down your cheeks and he wipes them away with a much too tender swipe of his thumb, even as he continues to force you up and down his cock. But you're too lost in your pleasure to notice anymore. So fucking good, you feel so, so good. But you need more, and you're not willing to pull off of him just yet.

Tugging down the front of your shirt, you roll a sensitive nipple between your fingers, and, god, that helps. You imagine they're Joel's and it amplifies the sensation, though your fingertips are still too smooth and delicate. Then, they're replaced by exactly what you've been yearning for all night. 

“You don’t even know how beautiful y'look like this,” he grits out, his fingers running through your hair with one hand and roughly cupping your breast with the other. His hips stutter, and you moan around him. “Fuckin’ perfect. How are ya so fuckin’ perfect?”

Beautiful. More beautiful than her? Well, you must be, because you’re the one here on your knees, choking on his cock, and she’s still sitting in the bar wondering if her date will ever come back. 

He won’t.

You preen without meaning to, your eyes blearily finding his while you drool around him, dripping saliva down his balls and onto your bare breasts. It's as if the visual alone has him thrusting into your mouth faster, pushing your limits only as much as he knows you can take. You must look like a wet dream right now, his wet dream, with your watery eyes and swollen, split-slick lips wrapped tightly around him.

Yet, he's remained so, so quiet this entire time, just like you told him to. Joel likes his sex loud, regardless of where you are and who might hear, so if he’s following your rules, that means something. 

It means he'll do whatever it takes to have you. The realization crashes over you like a bucket of ice water, and then you're pulling off of him. 

“You’ll give me anything, right? Anything I want?” your voice cracks around the question, wrecked from the effort of taking him. His hips chase your hand as you continue to pump him, matching his previous, unforgiving pace. 

“That ain’t a question, y’know I will,” he replies breathily and without hesitation. 

You gaze up at him, praying your eyes convey all of the need and anguish and hope you've felt since the last time you slept together. Since the last time you were his.

“Fuck me," and you won't accept anything less than his all. Not that half-assed shit he would've given her. "Fuck me."

He understands. His heart rate kicks up, thrumming wildly against the palm of your hand, and you know he does.

The growl that rumbles through his chest is nearly soundless but powerful. An entire night's worth of tension culminating in a single exhaled breath, just before he drags you up and spins you around, bending you over against the wall. 

Bracing yourself on the harsh brick, you rush to give him better access, arching your back as he tugs your pants and underwear down to your knees. A callused hand runs upward, following the notches of your spine, while his other spreads across your waist, pulling your hips back onto his so you can feel him, heavy and leaking against your bare ass.

God, he’s so close to where you need him now. His knuckles graze your skin as he grips the base, pumping himself before the blunt head of his cock nudges your entrance.

But then, for some godforsaken reason, you feel a wave of panic. Time suddenly feels like it's running out, worsening with every subtle movement he makes. The ticking clock of your and Joel's relationship, perpetually stuck at two minutes to midnight, has sprung to life and that terrifies you.

You don't want him to stop—fuck, you don't want him to stop, but you know neither of you will last long once he's inside you. The build-up was too intense and this entire night has you both wound up so tight, you could snap at any moment. 

You need to savor this. The way you failed to on your couch all those weeks ago, and might not get to ever again.

“Slow,” you tell him over your shoulder, and it's equal parts a command and a plea. If this is the last time, then you want to feel it. Every thick inch of him, while he still belongs to you. “Just…go slow.”

He nods, shifting forward almost imperceptibly so he can watch your lashes flutter as you brace for the stretch.

"Don't need’ta tell me. I know how ya like it," he replies gruffly.

He does. For now, you won’t overthink it or let yourself get lost in the nostalgia of his cock nestled inside you. You’ll just enjoy it. Sex with Joel has always been mind-blowing, and here, in a dirty alleyway, pressed up against the exterior of a bar, you bet it’ll be life-changing.

It stings like it always does when he breaches your entrance, no matter how wet you are for him. Together, you hiss in a sharp breath, mutually adjusting to the overwhelming stretch that quickly ebbs into something addictive.

"Tight as all goddamn hell," he mutters to himself, rocking into you languidly. He takes his time, relishing your walls enveloping him, mesmerized by the way you suck him in until he's buried to the hilt. 

"Would'ja look at that," he continues in awe, tracing where his cock is forcing you to yield to him. "Greedy fuckin' pussy, ain't she? M'not goin' anywhere, don't'chu worry. Gonna take care of ya...make ya feel so fuckin' good..."

He's starting to babble. Not good. Not good at all. 

Broad hands grip your ass, pulling your cheeks apart so he can see how tightly you’re gripping him, and it's too much. His hips buck, startling a pained whine out of you as he rams into that spot. The one deep inside you he can only reach when he’s fucking you from behind. Your cunt clenches, fighting to keep him there, and he growls low in his throat, hungry and territorial like a wild animal.

"There it is," he nudges it again, purposefully this time. You barely manage to bite back a sob as you gush messily around him. "Christ, honey, y'sure ya still want it slow? 'Cus it sure don't sound like it."

He's patronizing you. He knows exactly what he's doing—that's his spot. He also knows it makes you loud as fuck. But he wouldn’t. There’s no way he’d go back on his word, not after he promised he’d be discreet.

"Joel. Don't," you warn him shakily, but you're already too far gone to be intimidating. 

He pulls out until just the tip is still inside you, huffing out a distinctly calculated breath.

"Don't what? Don't make ya cum nice and loud on my cock? 'Fraid I can't do that, darlin'."

That's all the warning you get before he slams in hard. Your jaw drops, and you're positive you couldn't have stopped the wail punched out of your chest even if you'd tried.

Wrong. You’re wrong again, and you should’ve known better. It’s not the first time he’s gone back on his word, remember? Joel’s shitty lack of communication is why you’re here in the first place. Sure, he agreed to be quiet, but he never said anything about you.

He establishes a brutal pace that has you scrabbling against the wall for purchase and slapping a hand over your mouth in a futile attempt to muffle the desperate cries being forced from your body.

Please, don’t be outside. Please, please, Jesse. Don’t still be outside. 

But your luck's officially run out. 

Heavy mahogany crashes into solid brick, echoing down the alleyway, and a raucous group of people spills out onto the street, barely 30 feet from where your ass and tits are out for anyone to see. Then, the deep baritone of Jesse's voice cuts through the rest, and your blood immediately turns to ice. 

You're fucked. You're about to get caught and expose your secret to the entire town, except...Joel isn't stopping. Fuck, he's—

Yanking your entire body up and ripping your hand away from your mouth, rutting into you like he was just waiting for an audience. He snakes a hand up your stomach to palm at your chest, squeezing firmly to anchor himself as he fucks up into you with all the force he can muster.

And it turns you on so much, you finally stop caring. Fuck it. Fuck this town. Fuck everyone in that bar who made you feel like a goddamn pariah for months, crucifying you for the unforgivable sin of getting your heart broken. 

You hope his date's standing out there, too, so she can hear everything she'll never get to have. So they can all see that Joel Miller isn't the crushed, cruelly dumped old man they all thought he was.

Your moans ring out, loud and high-pitched, all but drowning out the messy slap of his hips into the drenched curve of your ass.

"That's it, darlin', let it all out," he chuckles darkly against the shell of your ear. Your next moan tapers into a drawn-out keen that he mimics, his thrusts getting shallow and sloppy. "S'for me, right? Let 'em know you're makin' all those pretty noises just for me."

Christ, you're close. And he's as close as you are, you can feel it. You turn your head, nodding jerkily into his shoulder.

"S'for you, Joel—mmph, just for you. Only for you," your words slur as he continues to bounce you on his cock. 

"Tell 'em you're mine, darlin’. Not just here," he pants raggedly, desperation coating his words. "Everywhere. You're mine everywhere."

The voices are getting closer, about to pass the mouth of the alley, and the ice in your veins quickly thaws, turning to molten lava. They'll definitely be able to able to hear you, but can they see you? For the umpteenth time tonight, you decide you really don't give a shit. You've got none left. You and Joel, that's all that matters now. 

His hand drops between your legs, thick fingers swirling tight, slick circles into your clit while he waits for you to confirm what he already knows. You've said it again and again—weeks ago, wrapped up in his arms, and earlier tonight, after the worst argument you've had since the breakup. 

And you’ll tell him again in this alley as you cum blindingly hard around his cock. Third time's the charm.

"Y-yours, Joel. I'm always yours."

His hips completely lose their rhythm, and he barely has time to breathe out his contentment before the violent convulsing of your cunt and contrasting serenity of your words send him hurtling over the edge.

"That's my girl."

He crashes his lips into yours, swallowing every noise you make as the group finally comes into view. Their drunken chattering and roughhousing aren't enough to draw your attention away from each other, but the depraved sounds of Joel continuing to fuck you through your release captures theirs almost immediately.

A few of them stop to squint into the darkness, trying their best to pinpoint what everyone already knows is happening further down the alley. As they inch closer, they can just barely make out two connected figures, and the wind carrying muffled gasps and labored breathing with it into the street all but confirms it.

"Y'all seein' this?" they whisper amongst themselves, but in the inebriated state they're in, they might as well be yelling.

And that's what pulls you and Joel back to reality. Shit. Shit. So, this is it, then. You tense in Joel's arms, waiting to get called out as the slutty girl who seduced her ex away from his date. Hell, they're not even wrong. You can feel his cum dribbling out of you, and can't help but think maybe you'd deserve it.

From where you're standing, you recognize each and every one of their faces under the string lights, and you know damn well that none of them can keep their mouths shut. Except...wait a second. They're still glancing back and forth between you and Joel in the shadows and each other. 

Oh. The fucking shadows. None of them can see shit. They have no clue who the hell they're looking at. Joel must've caught on around the same time you did, because now he's backing up, putting more distance between you and the looming crowd. Before they can get any closer, one of the younger guys cuts in front to block their path.

“C’mon, it's probably a couple’a teenagers. Just let ‘em be," he drawls, glancing back at you. Your eyes lock, and you're suddenly so grateful, you could cry. It's Jesse. He shoots you a wink before turning back to the group, shaking his head in mock admonishment. "Don't act like y'all weren't doin' the same damn thing at their age."

By some miracle, it fucking works. They all laugh in agreement, appeased by Jesse's quick thinking. One by one, they follow each other out of the alley and back onto the road to continue their original path home. Jesse lingers. 

"Glad y'all figured things out," he calls out over his shoulder, giving you privacy to tug your shirt back up. He clears his throat awkwardly before continuing, "Look, I, uh...distracted as many people as I could from comin' over here, but if y'all were gonna be that loud, maybe you should'a figured things out at home."

Jesse shakes his head again, chuckling to himself as he shoves his hands into his pockets.

"Anyway, y'all have a good night, now. Get home safe."

As he jogs away to catch up with the rest of the group, you start to laugh, too. You can’t help it. It feels cathartic, relieving some of the tension of this overly eventful night.

Joel’s body begins to shake behind you, his chest rumbling with what you realize is deep-bellied laughter. It gradually increases in volume as it melds seamlessly with yours; transitory, white clouds of condensation that intertwine, then dissipate.

You feel him slip out as he starts to soften, and then he turns you to face him, carefully crowding you into the wall. He kisses you again, this time slow and deliberate like you asked him to earlier. His tongue meets yours, gasps exchanged and treasured like you have all the time in the world. 

When he parts from you, it feels reluctant, but he stays close, whispering his next words against your lips.

“M’gonna get ya cleaned up, alright?” he mumbles, dropping his arm from around your waist to run his fingers up the cum leaking down your thighs. You shiver as they continue up, slipping his release back inside you. “Don’t…,” he continues, squeezing his eyes shut as his forehead drops to yours, “…just—don’t go anywhere. Please. I’ll be right back.”

Maybe he’s trying to protect himself from the response he anticipates you’ll give him, but that seems silly after everything you’ve been through tonight. You cup his cheek and thumb the coarse, trimmed hairs of his beard, willing him to open his eyes. He does, hesitantly, one then the other, and you offer him a soft smile.

“I’m not going anywhere, Joel.”

An intoxicating breath fans across your face, and the taut muscles in his neck and shoulders loosen. His lips match the soft quirk of your own and, then, brush fleetingly against your cheekbone as he backs away and disappears through a metal side door you didn't notice before. The moment it clicks shut, you slump against the wall. 

Christ. Your mind is simultaneously blank and racing a mile a minute. Taking a deep breath, you let your head thunk into solid, grounding brick while you wait for even a single coherent thought to take root. What now? What happens next? 

There's no coming back from tonight. You both made choices you'll have to answer for, but, for some reason, that doesn't seem so scary anymore. The clock is ticking, but there's time. Plenty of it.

You're still lost in your reverie when Joel gets back with a thick wad of damp paper towels. You snort at the idea of him suddenly appearing in Seth's kitchen and having to explain himself, but maybe the racket you kicked up right outside his door was explanation enough.

"Seth didn't give you any shit for stealing his stuff?" you ask as Joel drops to his knees and coaxes one of your legs over his shoulder.

The cold air has already started to leach the warmth from the paper towels, and they feel cool as he slides them along your soiled skin. He huffs out a laugh.

"Nah, the kitchen was empty. Think they're startin' to close up for the night." 

When he finishes your first thigh, he surprises you by leaning in to press a soft kiss against your freshly cleaned skin. He nips at you teasingly before starting on the next one.

You hum in response, threading your fingers through his hair and watching fondly as he pays careful attention to his task. He continues to wipe away his drying release, trailing his lips down your thigh as he goes, until he finishes at your knee.

He gazes up at you with a charmingly crooked grin, and that’s when it finally slips out. The single coherent thought you’ve been waiting for.

“I love you, Joel,” you murmur, brushing your fingertips across his cheek. 

His smile falters. Then, it drops completely and your heart shatters. You don’t understand. But that—no. No, it doesn’t make any fucking sense. After everything that’s happened, how could you have been wrong again?

Joel sighs, grimacing as he slowly gets back up. He braces himself on one knee, clearly aching more than he's letting on, but when you reach down to offer him a hand, he refuses your help.

“S’fine, I got it. Just…,” he gestures to your jeans, still hanging loosely around your knees. You pull them up, fighting not to feel humiliated as he rises to his full height. 

You search his eyes for…something. Anything. Any indication of what he’s feeling right now, but they’re blank. Cold and distant, just like they were the night he left you. 

No. He doesn’t get to do this to you again. Not after everything you’ve been through. Not without an explanation. Not if he doesn’t want to lose you forever.

“Tell me why you broke up with me."

For a long time, you genuinely believed you could live without knowing the truth, but somewhere along the line, it began to eat away at you. Now, you want the real reason. He owes you that, at the very least.

You wait while he either works himself up to it or tries to figure out what bullshit to tell you this time. Once his hands settle on his hips, you know with absolute certainty it's the latter.

“Darlin’…,” he starts wearily, but you shoot him a look that stops him in his tracks. He doesn't get to call you that right now, and he knows it. Pausing, he nods grimly before beginning again. "We already talked about this. I’m no good for ya. It was only a matter of time before ya woke up one day and realized it for yourself.”

There it is. That same bullshit reason. You scoff bitterly, not surprised in the slightest.

“What the fuck does that even mean, Joel? We were together for years. If that was gonna happen, don’t you think it would’ve already?" you counter angrily. 

You're trying not to get emotional. This can't be a repeat of what happened last time, but it's dragging up too many painful memories. It's always the same fight. You can't do this anymore.

"You know what? Fuck you," you seethe as your self-control slips completely. "Fuck you for making that decision for me. You had no right."

At your words, his face crumples and he has the nerve to look ashamed. Maybe even a little hurt. His pained expression makes your heart ache, yet a nastier part of you believes it's only fair that he feels this way, too. He sighs, his eyes dropping wistfully to his feet.

“I did what I thought was best," he mumbles quietly as if he doesn't want to be heard. It's hard for him to say this out loud, and you realize it's because he's finally telling you the truth. "I just…I thought you’d be happier with someone else, someone who could give ya a family. Kids. I gave you up so you could have the life ya always wanted."

You eye him incredulously. The life you always wanted? Sure, you and Joel had toyed with the idea of having a family once upon a time, but that was never a dealbreaker. He should've known that. He should've brought it up before deciding to destroy your life together over an idealized fantasy.

“Oh, here we go. Joel, the fucking savior. Mr. Fix-It, swooping in to save everyone and solve every problem," you hurl back venomously. But it was a cruel thing to say, and you immediately hate yourself for it.

Rationally, you know his intentions were kind. He probably even thought he was being selfless. But he hurt you, and, through your tunnel vision, that's all you can see. You push yourself off the wall, stalking closer to where he stands, still refusing to look at you.

"So what, you thought you’d dump me and I’d immediately shack up with some other asshole? Is that really what you think of me?”

His eyes shoot up to yours and his fingers begin to tap restlessly at his sides. Now, you've pissed him off. 

“Don't go puttin’ words in my mouth. That ain’t true and you fuckin’ know it," he all but growls, his body shaking with a turbulent combination of frustration and adrenaline.

You're starting to feel it, too. This conversation is overwhelming both of you, but he still hasn't told you everything. There's a piece missing, keeping all of his disjointed reasonings from adding up. He's holding back and it's time for him to stop.

“Then what is, Joel?" you plead with him to give you a definitive answer. One that finally explains why you had to lose everything. Ellie, your home. The love of your life. "What’s the truth?"

Then, everything he's kept bottled up inside and allowed to poison his happiness claws its way out as a single, unwavering statement. 

“I’m too fuckin’ old for you!”

The silence that follows his admission is deafening. You watch in shock as he runs a hand through his hair in frustration. He's never yelled like that before or looked so defeated. By something as innocuous as his age. 

It isn't something you'd ever considered, not before your relationship and never once during. But he did. His bottom lip starts to tremble as he turns and takes a few steps away from you.

“Every day, I’d watch ya…offerin’ to take more shifts, spendin’ time at the school with Ellie and the kids," he says softly, shaking his head as he works through his next words. "And every day, I’d feel it. My body givin’ out on me, more and more. My blood pressure’s up, my goddamn knees are creakin’. Couldn’t even fuckin’ stand up on my own just now." 

When he turns back to you, his eyes are wet with unshed tears. He feels too far, but you know you can't go to him, yet. He's not finished.

"You can do better than that. You deserve better than that," his voice cracks and your whole world blurs into a wash of colors. “You’re gonna outlive me by a mile. I’m an old man, darlin’. It wasn’t fair for me to keep ya.”

For a while, you just watch each other. Tears overflow and continuously spill down his cheeks and yours, but neither of you moves to wipe them away. 

None of this is fair. You're both miserable and heartbroken, perpetually yearning for a love you've told yourselves you can't have. Months ago, Joel made a choice for both of you. You won't make the same mistake he did.

"I didn't want fair, Joel. I wanted you. A life with you...," your face screws up as you fight back a sob, "...the rest of my life with you, however long that is."

Joel takes a tentative step forward, carefully reaching out to touch you, but stops himself before he can get too close. He looks afraid...of you. Scared of the consequences of allowing you back into his heart. 

A sob escapes your chest, then, and you wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly bitterly cold and wanting nothing more than for Joel to hold you. To tell you for the first time since the breakup that he loves you and, regardless of time, won't ever stop.

So, you cross the alleyway and cup his wet cheeks in your hands, wiping away his sadness and, hopefully, his fears. He melts into the poignant familiarity of your touch and it makes you brave. This time, you'll be brave enough for both of you.

"Don't I deserve that?" you whisper, close enough to share his next breath. He watches your lips, hanging onto your every word. "Don't you?" 

His eyes meet yours, and it finally happens. The moment Joel gives in and decides to let himself be happy. He nods slowly in your grasp, reaching up to cradle your hand on his cheek. 

"Dunno what I deserve, darlin'. Not after the things I've done and the hurt I put ya through. But if I'm...if this is really what ya want...," he hesitates, his voice thick with tears and, yet, still that full-bodied, twang that sounds like home. "I'm yours. 'Til my last breath, I'm yours."

He kisses you before either of you can start crying again, and it's all there. The love he kept under lock and key to protect you, released from the prison of his own making.

His kiss feels different again. There's no hunger or rush, and the possessiveness—the need to devour everything you have to give so there's nothing left for anyone else—is gone. He's sure, now, that there's no one else you'd rather give yourself to.

His arms circle your waist and he pulls you closer, crushing you into time-worn chambray and sullied denim as you continue to explore each other like a pair of horny teenagers. Two lovers learning to give and take for the first time. Time passes slowly in this space you've carved out for yourselves, even as the moon continues to rise in the night sky and floods the corridor with light. 

Then, noisily and as if right on cue, the last-call crowd stumbles from the bar and immediately catches what the previous group missed. You and Joel separate, dazed but unhurried, to find that it's them. 

It has to be fucking kismet that, of everyone in Jackson, the first to witness your reconciliation would be the biggest blabbermouths in the entire town. The same women who talked shit about you every day for months and constantly vied for Joel's attention, standing there with wide eyes and slack jaws.

Their varied expressions almost make you want to laugh, and you can't help but snort unattractively into Joel's shoulder. Half of them are glaring at you, and the rest look either devastated or genuinely surprised. Guess you were better at hiding your arrangement than you thought, not that it matters anymore. It's a relationship again, and everyone's about to know all about it. Joel clears his throat, drawing their attention back to him.

"Evenin', ladies. S'there somethin' we can help ya with?" he drawls, breaking out the Southern charm that endeared every single one of them to him in the first place.

They all shake their heads, looking a little too pleased with themselves once the initial shock wears off and they realize you've just given them the gossip of the century. After a few fake, high-pitched pleasantries, they slink away as quickly as they came, already chatting to themselves about some shit you'll definitely hear tomorrow at breakfast. You watch them go, feeling oddly liberated.

"Guess the cat's outta the bag, huh?" You wrap your arms loosely around his neck, still chuckling softly to yourself. Joel huffs out a laugh, too, bending down to kiss the crown of your head before nodding in agreement.

"'Fraid so," he muses, amusement and a hint of something lighter glinting in his eyes. 

You haven't seen him this relaxed in a long time. As he holds you in his arms, he leans a fraction of his weight on you to ease the night's strain on his back and knees, and it makes you feel needed. Relied on. That's new, Joel depending on you like this. Things are going to be different this time around, you can tell. They already are. 

You hum, ruminating on what awaits you after your first night back in your own bed, in your own home. What everyone will think and say—to your face and behind your back—when they find out you're back together. Though, the only opinions you give a shit about are Ellie, Tommy, and Maria's, anyway.

So, yeah, you're a lot of things right now: exhausted, yet relieved and so full of hope. But you're not afraid, the cat and the bag be damned.

"I'm not," you tell him honestly as you pull away. You let your hands trail from his shoulders, down his arms, until his hands are in yours. 

Tugging gently, you walk him backward out of the alley, away from the bar and plummeting winter chill, and any lingering, prying eyes. Even the moon and stars have no stake in what comes next. This moment, right here and now, belongs to you and Joel, alone.

"Take me home, Joel."

The light in his eyes burns brighter, amusement giving way to adoration and contentment. He's been waiting for this, to be given the privilege of keeping you safe and taking care of you the way he needs to—it's how he shows love. 

He slots his fingers between yours and leads you down the empty streets of Jackson. 

"Darlin', nothin' would make me happier."

thanks for reading!

[obsessedelusional]

best friends?

paring ↬ Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary ↬ Since birth your entire life revolved around one person, your best friend—Eddie Munson. The two of you always close but never crossing any boundaries that would allow you to be anything more than friends. It wasn’t until college that you were able to experience a life without him. Making other friends and dating, without his presence. Lead you feeling like things would be different when you returned to Hawkins. What happens when you do return, the both of you being a little drunk and in your feelings?

a/n: wrote this forever ago but never uploaded cuz I thought it was a lil cheesy but missing my mans Eddie so took the time to re read it and change some bits, hope you enjoy xx

Feedback & Reblogs appreciated! Thank you ♥︎

⋆. 𝜗𝜚 ˚⋆

You stand outside, trying to summon the courage to step into the party being thrown in your honor. The trailer, once a place that brought you so much peace, now feels like a source of overwhelming anxiety. It belonged to Eddie, your best friend. The person who has been by your side since diapers. The two of you had been inseparable growing up, all the way through high school. But that was a year ago. So much had changed during your first year of college. You’d seen him a handful of times since then, but it was nothing like the bond you used to share.

With your first year of college coming to an end, you’ve returned to your hometown. As soon as Eddie heard you were coming back, he insisted on throwing a party, just like old times. Unable to tell that him no, you reluctantly agreed.

Standing in front of his trailer, you find yourself frozen, unable to cross the threshold. It’s been months since you last saw him. It was some time during Christmas break. In a desperate attempt to muster some liquid courage, you’d taken a few large gulps of liquor before making the short walk here.

It wasn’t helping.

The first 18 years of your life were spent with Eddie. Your fathers were best friends, which made you friends by situation. It didn’t take much for it to become an all consuming friendship between. Only becoming closer when everything happened to his mother, then his father leaving him with his uncle when he was still in grade school. Becoming his only constant in his life. The two of you always so close but never crossing that boundary between friends and lovers. Even though you so desperately craved it.

Your high school years were spent pining after your best friend, watching him date girls that weren’t you. College gave you the chance to step outside Eddie’s orbit. You found a world outside of Munson, making friends and even dating. Slowly, your world stopped revolving around him. You thought you’d return as a more confident version of yourself.

But now, standing here, terrified of seeing those big brown eyes, you realize just how fragile that progress was. One look, and you fear you’ll revert to that awkward teenager with unrequited love for her lifelong friend. A part of you knows that shy girl is still there, lingering beneath the surface. No one has ever compared to Eddie Munson in your life.

Someone pushes past you, jolting you out of your thoughts. Following closely behind, you step into the trailer. The interior hasn’t changed, it’s like stepping into the past. You force yourself to move, slipping through the sliding glass door into the backyard. Music is blasting, and the crowd is alive with laughter and chatter.

Eddie sits by the fire pit, looking a little lost. He’s already had a few drinks, his gaze fixed on the ground as he takes another swig from a beer bottle. The sight of him, so familiar, so achingly Eddie. And fuck does it do a number on you.

Within seconds, you’re seated next to him.

“Mind if I have a drink?” you ask.

Eddie looks up, his frown softening into a half smile. He doesn’t respond immediately, just staring at you like he’s making sure you’re really there. Finally, he says, “I thought you didn’t drink anymore.”

“Yeah, well… tonight’s an exception,” you reply, accepting the beer he hands you.

“I missed you,” Eddie admits, his voice quieter than usual.

“I missed you too.”

“How have you been?” You ask as he takes too long to respond, willing the conversation to move forward.

For a while, the two of you catch up—his job at the mechanic shop, the band’s success with gigs in neighboring towns. He looks genuinely happy talking about his music, and you can’t help but admire the passion lighting up his face. Noticing how much more animated he is talking about what the bands been up to. Knowing that he had always hoped to make it big, that working with his Uncle was not where he wanted to be but accepted it.

“You should come to one of our shows while you’re in town.” He suggests, looking at you eagerly while waiting for a response.

“That’d be fun,” you reply, trying to sound casual, but your heart is racing. Eddie’s excitement is infectious, and the way he’s looking at you now is making it impossible to focus.

“We’re playing at The Hideout next weekend,” he says, leaning forward slightly. “You can’t miss it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you say, your lips curving into a smile as you take another sip of the beer he handed you.

Eddie’s grin widens, his dimples deepening, and you can feel the familiar pull he’s always had on you. It’s annoying, really. One conversation, one smile, and you’re already wondering if the progress you made this year was all for nothing.

“It’ll be just like old times,” he says, nudging you with his shoulder. “You and me, rocking out. Well, me rocking out. You cheering like my number one fan.”

“Always your number one fan,” you admit softly, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Eddie’s gaze lingers on you for a moment longer than it should, his playful smirk faltering into something more serious. “I missed this,” he says quietly. “Missed you.”

You look down at your drink, avoiding his eyes. “I missed you too, Eddie.”

“How’s college life been?” Eddie asks, flipping the conversation onto you.

“Good… it’s been really good. I’ve been making friends and dating—getting the whole college experience.”

“You still with that loser Michael?”

“No.”

“Oh shit… I’m sorry,” he says, immediately regretting the casual diss.

“It’s fine.” You laugh because, if there’s one thing Michael was, it’s a loser. Eddie had called it from the start, but you didn’t want to believe him. Now, having experienced it yourself, you know he was right.

“What happened?” Eddie asks curiously, avoiding eye contact.

“I’m not nearly drunk enough to talk about him yet,” you say, shaking your head and laughing at the thought of explaining.

“Then keep drinking,” Eddie laughs with you. You listen, raising the can to your lips and taking a large swig.

“You know who’s here tonight?” Eddie asks after a brief silence.

“Who?” you reply, glancing around at the familiar faces. You hadn’t greeted anyone else, immediately finding Eddie and slipping back into old habits.

“Mark.”

His name immediately tempts an eye roll, but you suppress it. You don’t bother scanning the room for him. No need to open that can of worms.

“You used to like Mark, right? Back in high school?” Eddie presses, cracking the lid open anyway.

“Yeah…” you admit reluctantly.

“Why didn’t you ever date him?”

“I don’t know. I think I was just scared,” you lie, avoiding Eddie’s gaze and taking another sip.

“But you liked him, and he liked you. That much was obvious. He’s a nice guy. Smart, too,” Eddie adds, scratching his head.

When you finally look up, Eddie’s eyes are already on you. His gaze holds a quiet intensity that makes your cheeks heat up—or maybe it’s the shots and beers working their way through your system. Either way, you’re sure your face is flushed.

“I guess I just… had my eyes elsewhere,” you admit, your voice soft as your eyes stay locked with his.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. His face is unreadable, but you can tell he’s intrigued.

“Had your eyes elsewhere?” he repeats, sipping his beer and waiting for you to elaborate.

“Yeah…”

“Who were you looking at?”

“I wasn’t going to admit it then, and I’m not starting now,” you retort defensively, laughing to cover the tension.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be shy. It’s fine, we were kids. Crushes are normal.” Eddie nudges you playfully, trying to lighten the mood.

“No, it’s stupid.” You shake your head, but Eddie’s gaze doesn’t waver. He’s thinking hard, trying to piece it together.

“Was it me?” His voice is casual, but the words hit you like a thunderbolt. You freeze, and Eddie just keeps looking at you, calm but expectant.

“Yeah… I used to have the stupidest crush on you,” you admit with a laugh, hoping your flippant tone hides how much you mean it.

Eddie grins, blushing slightly. “Did you ever think we’d date?”

“I used to hope so,” you admit, fidgeting with your empty beer can. “But part of me knew it’d never happen.”

Eddie’s brow furrows, his expression serious now. “Why not? Why did you think we wouldn’t?”

“Because you’re you, and I’m me. I never thought you’d even look at me like that. I was shy, socially awkward—a giant loser,” you confess, laying your insecurities bare.

Eddie frowns, genuinely upset by your words. “You were never a loser to me,” he says softly. He sets his beer aside, leaning forward slightly.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything or make a move?” He asks not giving you a chance to respond to his last statement.

“I’d rather have stayed your friend than risk losing you if my feelings weren’t mutual.”

Eddie sighs, nodding in understanding. “You weren’t the only one who felt that way. I thought someone like you would never want to be with me. You were smart, going places. It just made sense that you’d end up with someone else. Someone better.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Eddie, I followed you around like a lost puppy. I did anything and everything you asked. I started smoking, drinking, partying. All just to be around you more. I was so helplessly, pathetically in love with you.”

Eddie stares at you, stunned into silence for a moment.

“If you were so in love with me, why didn’t you ever say anything?” His voice is quiet, almost disbelieving.

“I thought you had to know. Everyone knew. I’d get teased about it constantly—people at school, our friends, even our parents. And every time, without fail, you denied it,” you say, holding his gaze.

Eddie rubs the back of his neck, looking guilty. “Yeah, I heard the teasing too. I just… I didn’t think you felt that way for real. Have you always felt this way?”

“It’s always been there,” you admit. “Even when we were kids, but it got stronger when we got older.”

“And do you still feel that way?” Eddie asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitate, but honesty wins out. “I feel like it’ll always be there, whether I want it to be or not.”

Eddie exhales deeply, running his hands through his hair. His silence is deafening, and your nerves spike.

“Say something,” you urge, forcing a weak laugh to cover how vulnerable you feel.

Eddie finally looks at you, his eyes soft and contemplative. “I don’t know what to say. I feel like an idiot for not seeing it before. For not doing something about it back then.”

You shrug, smiling faintly. “It’s ancient history now, right? I mean, we’re just friends, and that’s fine. It’s great, even.”

Eddie tilts his head, studying you with a mix of disbelief and something you can’t quite name. “Do you really think that’s all we’ve ever been?”

“Isn’t it?” you counter, trying to keep your voice steady.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans back, staring at the ceiling as though searching for the right words. Finally, he sighs.

“Maybe it was all I let it be,” he admits. “I didn’t think I deserved to have you like me. Not like that. So I never let myself think about it. I shut it down before it could even start.”

Your chest tightens at his confession, and suddenly, the air between you feels heavier.

“Well,” you murmur, breaking the tension with a nervous laugh, “we’re quite a pair, aren’t we? Both too scared to say anything, both too blind to see what was right in front of us.”

Eddie chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, guess we are.”

“Did you really start smoking, drinking, and partying just to be around me more?” he chuckles as he asks.

“Unfortunately, yes. You probably could’ve asked me to do crack, and I would’ve considered it back then.” You laugh, and he laughs with you at your honesty. He’s never seen that side of you before; no one’s ever had the guts to be this honest.

“You were crazy about me, huh?” he grins.

“Yes, and it was embarrassing, Eddie.”

“So, that’s why you never dated anyone? Because I was too stupid to see you right in front of me?” Eddie says, not really asking, just confirming it out loud to himself.

“What happened with Michael then? Why’d you two break up?” Eddie asks, curiously looking at his bottle.

“We broke up a few weeks ago. He was nice… but boring. And I’m boring, so for me to think someone else is boring, they have to be really boring.” As you speak, he laughs. He always disliked Michael and never let you forget it.

“You didn’t really see a future with him then?” Eddie asks, already knowing the answer.

“I tried to… he was so rich. Like, I could’ve had a few kids and never lifted a finger again—type rich. But his lack of personality and being terrible in bed, I couldn’t look past those things.” You can’t help the drunk laughter that comes as you speak, surprised by how honest you’re being.

Eddie’s face mirrors your surprise when you finally stop staring at your bottle. He can’t help but laugh. It’s the first time he’s heard you joke about something so serious.

“Bad in bed?” Eddie laughs so much he has tears in his eyes. He looks at you, and your eyes are now a little glazed.

“Mhmm… I had to do all the work. He had a very teeny weeny.” You laugh as the confession leaves your mouth. Sober you would have never admitted this outloud. Eddie shakes his head as if he can’t believe the words coming from you.

“Damn… he was tiny?”

“I’m sorry… I’m starting to feel the effects of the drinks and losing my filter.” You set your empty bottle down, bringing your cold hands to cover your warm face in embarrassment. Eddie laughs even more, clearly enjoying this side of you.

“Keep going, this is great. How tiny exactly are we talking?” Eddie can’t help but ask, curious to hear just how small this guy really was.

“He had a micro penis, like scientifically. A doctor diagnosed him. It’s one thing to have a teeny weeny, but at least compensate elsewhere.” You huff in annoyance. You know you shouldn’t be admitting this to Eddie, but it feels good to finally get it off your chest. The girlfriends you had in school would always try to see the positive in Michael and talk you down.

“He couldn’t compensate anywhere else either?” Eddie asks, still laughing, and you can tell he might even start to cry from how hard he’s laughing.

“Nope.”

“Damn. That’s a shame.”

“I know. The first time I went to have sex, and he has a micro penis. Just my luck.”

“That must have been a disappointment for sure. You were this young, cute girl wanting to get it in, and he turns around and pulls out that little thing?” Eddie says, with a laugh holding his hand out to show how small it was.

He can’t help but think of his own cock, it’s definitely not micro. It’s something he’s always been proud of, large and heavy. His mind wonders to thoughts of his sliding his length inbetween your folds, until you beg from him to finally fuck you. His thoughts interrupted when you speak.

“Yeah.. I tried really hard to no judge him and make it work. After six months, I couldn’t do it anymore.” As you speak, his eyes dart to your lips. He’s enjoying this conversation but now his mind is elsewhere. He can feel the heat growing between his legs, his dick stiffens as he porrly attempts to push those thoughts away.

"Do you know how much I wish I’d paid more attention back then? Save you all that trouble. I wish I could go back and do things right. If I could, I’d make a move on you in a heartbeat. But that’s in the past. I’m not letting you slip away again.” Eddie’s voice is genuine, tinged with frustration. He can’t help but imagine how different things might have been if one of you had made a move when you were younger.

“Is it too late for us?” Eddie asks, his voice quiet but earnest. He doesn’t want to mess this up now, not after finally finding the courage to be honest with you.

“I don’t think so. I’m willing… if you are.” You answer, looking down at the tiny space between you, now nearly nonexistent.

You meet his eyes again, and this time, his gaze shifts to your lips. That’s all it takes. Before Eddie can respond, you pull him closer and kiss him hungrily. He matches your intensity, kissing you back with just as much passion. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens—an image you’d imagined countless times before. A smile plays on your lips, and the sound of Eddie’s groan fills the air as your kiss continues.

After a few more heated moments, Eddie pulls away first, his lips swollen and red. You can’t see yourself, but you imagine you look the same.

“Do you have any plans this weekend?” he asks between breaths, trying to catch his voice.

“No,” you answer, barely able to focus on the words.

“Good, I’m going to pick you up Saturday night. We’re going on the most stereo typical high school date. Make up for all those missed out years.” Eddie’s grin is mischievous.

“Oh yeah? What does that entail?”

“First I’m gonna take you to Al’s dinner, cop a feel at the movie theaters and then drive you to the look out and hope that I get lucky.” He teases, kissing you swiftly as if it’s the most natural occurrence.

“We used to do all those things but without the kissing and heavy petting.” You say and can’t help the eye roll that happens, as you bite your lip trying not to smile.

“Yeah but I’m not holding back no more. Now that I know your feelings are mutual, prepare to be sick of me.”

“Dunno if I could ever get sick of you, Eddie.” You admit, honestly.

“Good. I’m going to make you so damn happy. You’ll never get bored with me,” he says, laughing as he throws a jab at your ex.

“I believe it,” you smile, your fingers intertwining with his.

“It may sound cheesy, but I want to be the guy who can walk into a room and make you feel the most comfortable and safe. When people see us together, I want them to know that we’ve found the best in each other.”

“Eddie, you’ve always been that for me.”

“Good, and I’m only going to get better when I’m your boyfriend. That’s a promise.” Eddie’s voice is full of confidence, even a bit cocky now, but it’s clear he knows what he’s capable of. He’s determined to be the man you’ve always deserved.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Hi! I have a request for you 💜

Reader gets their period for the first time at older!eddie’s house and is very embarrassed about it, but he is the sweetest and super supportive.

If it’s not your thing, I understand. I just started my period and need older!eddie to take care of me 😭😭

I’m about to start mine so I felt that!

older!Eddie x fem!reader

cw: obvious mention of reader getting her period, age gap (reader is 25 and Eddie is 40)

You were pretty shameless about your period. Both getting it and talking about. You thought it was just something that happened and didn’t understand why there was so much stigmas around it.

That was, until you started it at your new boyfriend’s house. And he had been the one to notice it. You were about to go to sleep, Eddie cuddling up to you when he noticed something wet on the back of your pajama pants. It was red so it could have only meant one thing.

He leaned over, his lips right by your ear. He had never had this happen, but he still knew exactly how to handle it. He was going to be as gentle as possible. It wasn’t your fault so he didn’t see why he should have blamed you. And he could just throw everything in the washer. It was no big deal.

“Hon, I think you started your period,” he whispered. Your cheeks went warm and you turned, pulling your pants as you did so to get a better look at the stain.

And sure enough, he was right. You weren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed. You always did. You were always prepared. At least, you usually were.

You quickly got out of the bed and saw that the blood had transferred onto the sheets. It wasn’t much, but the fact that it had happened at all made you feel embarrassed.

“Hey, hey,” Eddie spoke, sitting on the edge of the bed. “It’s alright, angel.” He grabbed hold of your waist and pulled you closer, looking up at you with those big brown eyes.

“I’m so embarrassed.”

“I promise it’s not a big deal. We’ll throw the sheets into the washer and I’ll get a shower started. And while you’re in there, I’ll run to the store and get your favorite snacks. And after you get out, we’ll watch a movie of your choice. How does that sound?”

“That sounds great. Thank you, Eddie.”

“Of course, honey. Now come on, I’ll set up the shower for you.”

Eddie led you to the bathroom and turned on the water for you even though you knew exactly how to do it. He then waited outside the door until you got into the shower to grab your clothes. He just wanted to give you some privacy since you seemed to be on edge.

The hot water felt good on your skin, felt good against the cramps that had just started forming in your stomach. You couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have a boyfriend like Eddie. He had been nothing but gentle and caring about the whole situation. Other boyfriends you’d had over the years would have told you that it was gross and forced you to clean it up.

Maybe it was because Eddie was a man, but you weren’t entirely sure that had anything to do with it. You were convinced that even if he had been closer to your age that he still would have been a perfectly gentleman.

Once you got out of the shower, you reached for the towel Eddie had left for you and couldn’t help but notice that there was a pair of pajamas you always left there with a pair of panties lying on top, a pad laid inside of them. You felt tears welling up in your eyes as you dried off. Just when you thought he couldn’t get more thoughtful.

Once you were dried off and dressed, you exited the bathroom and made a beeline for Eddie. He was standing on your side of the bed, plugging in a heating pad. More tears fell from your eyes as you made your way over to him, wrapped your arms around his waist as your pressed your face into his back.

He let out a yelp followed by a chuckle before he set the heating pad down on the bed, turning so that he could return your hug.

“What’s this for, hm?” He asked.

“Nothing,” you shook your head, knowing that if you told him the truth, you’d just cry again. “I just love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he smiled, tilting your chin up so he could give you a kiss. “Now c’mon, it looks like you’re in desperate need of cuddles.” And you so were.

[xenteaart]

when you're feeling weak, i'll be the words if you can't speak

pairing: chan x reader (i wrote it with idol!chan or producer!chan in mind, but it can fit any au, really) genre/warnings: er, angst, hurt/comfort, implied suffering w depression and anxiety. reader is feeling off and insecure. also kinda going almost non verbal author's note: a short lil songfic ig coz it's inspired by Isak Danielson – I Can't Lose You. basically channie being a comfort boyfie material

to put it simply, you were never not anxious or insecure. but stepping into the big adult life, you sort of learned to conceal it well, even from your own self. the fake it till you make it thing, and you could even say you've "made it" with a small exception of the days where your brain and your entire nervous system randomly circled back to your default settings. "so what are you gonna eat, baby?" chan asks with a cheerful soft tone, glancing over the menu and then back at you.

today's a good day. you haven't been too overwhelmed with work, nothing out of the ordinary happened. so naturally, a pinch of guilt somewhere deep in your guts makes you feel like a bother to be around, and today — for no good reason.

"are you okay?" he notices your slightly spaced out gaze when you're trying to read the menu but not really reading, more like frowning and getting nervous.

"yeah.. no. no, i don't know," you murmur barely audibly, losing your focus for the tenth time in a span of the last five minutes. brain fog takes over, making your vision blurrier than normal and your thinking all floaty and hazy. as if you're looking at the world through dirty lenses, but also the lights are too bright and your surroundings are loud.

"i dunno, i just..." can't even speak for myself today and choose a meal and say it out loud because suddenly everything is embarrassing and difficult.

chris looks slightly worried because you might be in pain or feeling unwell, but nothing hurts except your pride. because you're a big girl, you have been for years, and now you want to cry on the spot because you can't choose between pasta and soup all of a sudden. it makes you feel even more stupid.

"can you please choose and order for me today? my brain just can't," you try to explain, visibly stressed and overwhelmed by a simple mundane task, "i want somethin' warm and filling," you specify to make it easier for chan.

he doesn't make a big deal out of it, just nods and meets you with a gentle 'course, baby. he then talks to the waiter and makes sure they don't ask you anything which feels like a relief. sometimes it's nice to feel invisible, especially in a vulnerable state.

after the horrifying deed is over with, chris leans in a little closer to be able to speak in a softer, quieter voice.

"d'you wanna just have dinner in silence and head home?" he asks while massaging your palm with his fingers soothingly, so calm and nonchalant as if you didn't just obsess over the smallest thing to the point of making yourself filled with shame and insecurity.

that's how chris always does it. by showing you that whatever it is that's bothering you is not a burden to him. he's got you. it's okay if you want or rather need him to do something for you. he's happy to be your strong shoulder to lean onto and not think about a single thing while he takes care of whatever it is at the time.

"yeah. or you can tell me about your day and stuff. i wanna know and i'm okay with listening. just not... responding, maybe?" you give him an awkward smile as he nods understandingly and plants a little kiss on the back of your hand. a modern gentleman and a caring lover.

somewhere in the middle of a story about how cubase was lagging and almost crashed mid producing session today, the waiter brings your meals. it's two pumpkin cream soups, some grilled and seasoned breads and a fresh greek salad to share.

oh, to be loved like this.

your stomach growls at the smell of food, and a bright proud smile is instantly painted over chan's features.

[mirohlayo]

🍉 WATERMELON — hiya!! congrats on 1k! i was wondering if i could please request a watermelon with the prompt 'kisses on the tip of the nose' & lando norris?? ❤️

THE RACE AND THE GIRL

( Lando's first win is your first kiss win. )

warning : none, all fluffy

note : my boyy finally got his first win ahhhw !!! and thank youu bby love you ᥫ᭡

word count : 938

As the crowd cheers for the British McLaren driver, the entire racing team runs behind the barriers, ready to celebrate their driver who has just won his first F1 race.

A divinely big smile has been plastered on your face for 10 minutes. A few tears of joy bead on your cheeks as you weave between the members of McLaren, making your way to be in the front row.

The atmosphere seems unreal, almost surreal. The cries and applause of the spectators match the rhythm of the tears and smiles of the mechanics. You seem to be in a dream, failing to realize that all of this is really happening. But reality is before your eyes, more than ever.

Lando Norris won his first victory.

After years and years of hope, despair, and questioning, he finally succeeded. He's finally done it, he's finally reached his ultimate goal, and the big smile on his face speaks for itself. His moist eyes highlight the beautiful victory he gave us. He is the happiest man on earth right now, and nothing and no one can say otherwise.

The other drivers on the grid come to congratulate him, celebrate him, sending him words of encouragement and respect. Lando's smile hasn't disappeared for a while now, but that divinely beautiful smile warms your heart. Because it is a sign of victory and happiness.

And without further ado, you see your boyfriend drop his helmet on the ground, and literally throw himself at the members of McLaren. Everyone carries him with their arms, some shake him to congratulate him, others shout indecipherable words to him. You can only follow suit, cheering as best you can and especially with all your heart for your boyfriend.

The moment is idyllic, almost utopian. The pressure and adrenaline absolutely do not want to go down, they continue to increase at the sight of the deep feelings that this victory provides. Everything seems to be an illusion, no one seems to want to believe what just happened.

And yet, you couldn't be happier and more fulfilled than now. As Lando lowers himself to the ground, kissing Zak quickly but tightly, his eyes finally meet yours. You don’t know if that moment lasted hours or seconds, but the feeling of his gaze on you burned your skin.

He approaches you, quickly, and thinking of nothing, nor of the consequences, he gently lifts you to take you over the barrier. The cameras flood the show with thousands of flashes, and yet, despite the fact that it seems like the entire Earth is watching you, it's just you and Lando.

A bubble has taken hold, spreading around you. Putting yourself in respect of others. There is only him and you, only your eyes and your hearts to express feelings still hidden and secret from the public eye. You're sure you'll never forget the way he's looking at you right now, his smile growing wider at the sight of yours.

Maybe it was the adrenaline that started it, or maybe it was just the metamorphosis of way too strong feelings waiting to explode, but Lando has never felt more confident . So confident and not even a little hesitant.

His hands gently cup your face. He gives you one last big smile, while his lips press against the tip of your nose, gently, sensually. The kiss lasted perhaps a fraction of a second, or perhaps an eternity. All you can remember is the feeling of his lips against your skin.

The cameras stream in as Lando whispers these simple words to you, these words that you will never be able to get used to, they are so exquisite. "I love you, my love. I love you so much. Thank you for everything". He can't smile anymore, because that would give him endless pain in his cheek.

But maybe that sore cheek was worth it right now, and without another second's hesitation, he places another kiss on the tip of your nose. This time, a longer, more passionate kiss. You wouldn't describe how you feel right now, because there aren't enough powerful words to do it.

So you just enjoy. You take advantage of this unreal moment. This kiss, this kiss on your nose, was the promise of an eternal relationship. Your secret romantic relationship has finally become public. Everyone will know by now that you have been in a relationship for a few months now, but yet this idea seems like the most beautiful thing.

And while he seems to want to kiss you again, this time if his gaze is on your lips, you stop him with a soft laugh. You know it, he knows it, that he must first take care of the media and the interviews. So, in a last kiss left on the same spot, he winks at you before heading towards the journalists.

And when these same journalists ask him questions about your couple, about your relationship, Lando will always give the same one and only answer, a big smile on his lips and hearts in his eyes. “I won this trophy and above all the girl of my dreams, the one with whom I have been deeply in love since my childhood. So yeah, this is the happiest day of my life.”

But what is certain is that the media will continue to talk and gossip about the kisses Lando gave you on the tip of your nose. However, it will never bother you, since people will now know that it is his favorite place to kiss you, at least in public. Between you two, it's something else...