#they’re working on hoodies now

[butchharts]

having a friend that crochets is the best thing ever I swear. they made me a garfield bag and I haven’t gone anywhere without it since!

[seriouslycalamitous]

Tubbo swearing he’s gonna do everything in his power to break Hideduo up…

All I’m hearing is that I should write a fic about Tubbo going through wacky hijinks to ruin their date and it just makes things more romantic.

Like setting off sprinklers to interrupt them on a walk together, but now they’re sharing an umbrella and blushing about it.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ how long does it take to fuck your brother's best friend? (four whole days)

synopsis. suguru comes home to visit from college at the same time you do—except he brings satoru along. this is going to be a long break

word count. 8.5k (i am tired of this tomfoolery)

contents. college! au, brother's best friend! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, three-year age gap (you're both early twenties), slightly mean satoru (when you’re kids), slight enemies to lovers, jealous! satoru, mentions of reader having an ex-bf, male masturbation, satoru is taller + carries reader, cunnilingus, fingering, handjobs, unprotected sex, brief mentions of alcohol (satoru), creampie, pet names (baby + sweetheart), not proofread i could not be bothered i’m sorry

notes. this was not supposed to be this long bye i am embarrassingly down bad for the blue-eyed freak

everyone knows that where there is satoru, there is suguru—and likewise, where there is suguru, there is satoru.

they’re a bit of a packaged deal, really. satoru befriends your brother in what you think must be some twisted stroke of luck—there is no way suguru would lower his standards for some rich bastard who’s had life made for him since the day he was born. but apparently, he does, and you’re stuck with a white-haired nuisance in your house at least once a week. for years.

you’ve known satoru since he was a whiny, snot-faced, and spoiled little brat. back then, he used to call you toothless—you were six, it’s normal for children at the age of six to lose a few teeth. just because satoru is nine and has grown his teeth back doesn’t mean he escaped the toothless phase himself—but satoru is just a jerk like that, pushes your buttons, and calls out your insecurities to get a good laugh.

you don’t smile with your mouth open even once around him that summer, not until suguru assures you that regardless of how many teeth you have, you have a lovely smile.

when you’re twelve, puberty does its thing, and now you’re stuck with acne-prone skin—also a normal occurrence for people your age, but satoru makes sure to point out the giant pimple on your forehead every time he sees you. you make sure to let him know his haircut is as awful as his sense of style, and suguru tries his best not to choke himself with his charger as you both bicker.

satoru is gone that entire summer for a family cruise that you’re sure costs double your house—he comes back frighteningly taller than you remember him within the span of just a few weeks.

it’s been like that since you were kids. he comes over, finds a new thing to pick on through his smug grins and smooth chuckles, and you fume as you bite back with just as snarky rebuttals. he makes sure to never cross the line of going too far—it’s more for suguru’s sake, you’re fairly sure—but stays right on the dot of getting just under your skin.

he’s annoying. a jerk. a rich snob. a privileged dickhead. he’s rude and disrespectful, with no tact, let alone any semblance of respect. you don’t understand what could possibly make suguru want to hang around such a douchebag, but suguru cares about satoru—and satoru has always been there for your brother.

you don’t understand it, but you respect it. as long as he doesn’t wet your entire bathroom sink and mirror in the mornings after he stays over, you suppose you can coexist.

but you haven’t seen him in ages—not outside of suguru’s instagram stories and posts. it’s been a long few years since the two of them have left for college, and by the time you leave too, life has its funny way of working, and, well…you don’t bump into him anymore. it doesn’t occur to you that satoru is not the same guy you used to know until you come back home to visit after your second year of college.

“suguru,” you call, “i borrowed your hoodie. but you can have it back—”

you cut yourself off when you open the door to your brother’s room, and lo and behold, stands a very shirtless gojo satoru, the white-haired and blue-eyed asshole you’ve had to deal with since childhood. except he’s way taller than you remember him—just how much does this guy grow, exactly? his shoulders are broader and….and since when did he have abs? there’s a small tattoo just under his collarbone—when did he even get that? his hair is also longer, just enough to fall over his forehead and curtain those striking blue eyes of his.

he looks…well, handsome. very handsome, in fact. dangerously handsome that it catches you by surprise as you blink.

he’s still shirtless, holding his t-shirt in his hands as he grins.

“hey, toothless,” he greets, voice deeper than the last time you heard it—but it still sounds relatively the same. you think you’d always recognize satoru’s voice, whether you’d like to or not. and, of course, he just has to still use that ridiculous nickname after all these years. “long time no see.”

“i have all my teeth now—i have for a long time, y’know. and put a shirt on, you freak,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “where’s suguru?”

“what, you don’t enjoy the view?” he motions at his bare torso, like the shameless bastard he is, “most girls love this view—”

“and yet, you’re still single,” you cut him off, staring at him pointedly.

he grins impossibly wider, tugging his shirt over his body swiftly—you have to exercise all ounces of control not to gulp as you watch his biceps flex.

“keepin’ track of my love life?” he wiggles his brows, “i know older men can be appealing but have a little class. your poor brother would lose his shit if you went after his best friend—”

“satoru,” you sigh, pinching your nose, “do you age backward or something? how are you still this obnoxious after so long?”

“i practice in the mirror,” he winks, “it’s my charm.”

“that’s hardly charming,” you roll your eyes, “anyway, whenever suguru comes back, let him know i left his hoodie, yeah?”

“sure,” he chuckles.

and then you close the door as you leave—right before you stop, pause, and open it up again as you’re sticking your head back in when you make a shocking realization.

“wait, how long are you here for?” you ask, eyes wide.

he has the audacity to look smug as he taps his chin and pretends to think—“oh, y’know. just the rest of break. my old man took my mom on some trip, so i’m killing time here,” he shrugs.

great. lovely. wonderful. just what you needed.

you wish he’d drop dead—maybe suguru will finally be forced to go outside of his one-man circle and actually befriend some respectable people.

“you can’t just stay at your place?” you hiss, “it’s certainly big enough.”

“well, why be lonely in an empty home when we can have fun here?” he hums, “consider yourself lucky—you get to be housemates with me for a—”

“keep to yourself,” you warn, cutting him off again through narrowed eyes and a dangerous glare—satoru only looks more amused, raising his hands up in surrender.

with that, you turn again and almost shut the door when he calls for you—“hey, toothless,” he says lowly, making you pause before turning to him with a raised brow. he smiles—it’s so unlike that usual smirk of his…somehow this one is a bit gentler as he murmurs, “you look good. grew up well, y’know.”

you blink. you’re not ready for that…didn’t expect a compliment from gojo satoru himself—especially not after all this time of throwing mediocre insults your way.

you decide he must be messing with you, so you purse your lips as you click your teeth in irritation. “yeah, sure,” you say dryly.

you can hear his chuckles as you close the door again—this is going to be a long break.

—————

just as expected, the house is simply not big enough for you and satoru.

the first time you run into him happens to be first thing after waking up—you’re walking up to the door just as he twists the knob and opens it, walking out shirtless. again.

this time, however, he’s got beads of water rolling down his skin from his shower, right between his pecs, as a towel hangs around his shoulders. you can see his tattoo from up close now, a small infinity sign right under his collarbone that contrasts against his pale skin.

how tacky, you think—just as you’d expect, even his choice of tattoos is questionable.

his hair is wet—it’s sticking to his forehead instead of the multiple directions it usually scatters around in that messy way it always does. you’ve only felt satoru’s hair once—when you were fifteen, and you’d hit him in the back of the head as you walked past him at the breakfast table. he’d made a jab at your dark circles. tests were around the corner, and unlike satoru, your grades actually mattered. you didn’t expect his hair to be so soft, but it is, and you almost itch to twirl the strands around your fingers for a quick feel.

instead, you scowl and stomp off to your room as soon as your dishes are washed.

his hair is probably just as soft now—maybe even softer now that he actually probably cares to look after it. you’ve heard suguru grumble about using two-in-one shampoo too many times when he comes back from spending the night at satoru’s. for a second, your fingers twitch to reach up and brush through a few strands on his forehead—just to feel them because they look soft. nothing else.

the urge is quickly killed as soon as he opens his mouth, however.

“oh, hey there, roomie,” he grins, “you’re really doing all you can to catch me half naked, huh?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you grumble.

“i’m just sayin’,” he chuckles, “that’s twice now. if you ask nicely, i might walk around like this just for you.”

it’s way too early for this.

by early, it’s actually late noon. now that finals aren’t killing your free time, you stay up until ungodly hours to catch up with your social life—and it doesn’t help that you can hear satoru and suguru stay up playing video games the next room over, either. suguru is probably still sleeping.

that’s a bit of a shocker, in fact—usually, it’s satoru that has to be dragged out of your brother’s room to have breakfast (or brunch, really) before the kitchen is cleared up. why satoru is up first is beyond you.

maybe it’s just a cruel way for the universe to enjoy watching more of your veins pop.

“does that apply to asking you to leave? because then i suppose i can ask rather politely.”

he grins, eyes sparkling with amusement as he shoots you that smile with those pearly whites that irritate you to no end. you’re not sure why, but something about his smile looks so much different nowadays—something about it just seems so….mature.

that’s a word you didn’t think you’d ever use to describe satoru.

“mm, not quite,” he hums, “you’re still stuck with me.”

“whatever,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “move, i want to shower before suguru wakes up.”

“you have time,” he steps to the side, letting you enter the bathroom, “he’s probably not waking up anytime soon—woah.”

satoru’s shirt is on the floor—why, you may ask? because he’s an annoying idiot who doesn’t have to clean up after himself when people have always been around to do it for him. he never has to care to aim and toss his clothes into the hamper because the maids will pick up after him anyway. old habits die hard, you suppose—you’ve listened to suguru complain about satoru’s messiness not improving even after being his roommate for the last few years. it’s never been your problem, but you don’t appreciate it now that you’re slipping over the fabric on the tiled floor, falling backwards with a squeal.

but satoru’s quick—he catches you with those strong arms of his and wraps them tightly around you, keeping you securely in place as he steadies you against his chest.

his bare chest, in fact.

you can feel the slight dampness seeping into your shirt, and you can feel his hot breath on your neck as he exhales in relief once he makes sure you’re safe. you almost shiver—almost, but you manage to scrape together enough self-control to stay painfully still in his grasp.

“you okay?” he murmurs gently, voice a low whisper against your skin. there’s no bite to his words. no amusement or teasing or even smugness. it’s genuine, the way he checks on you.

this is…new. very, very new.

“yeah,” you breathe, letting out a sharp breath. and then—“maybe keep your clothes in the fucking hamper next time, though.”

“sorry,” the smile in his voice is almost audible—you can’t see it from where you are, but you can hear it in his voice. you roll your eyes, and satoru makes no move to loosen his arms around you. for some reason, you don’t move.

you’re not sure why, but you just don’t.

“you’re still just as messy, huh?” you roll your eyes—he laughs, and it’s a smooth, boyish chuckle that almost makes you wonder for a moment if this is why girls seem to love satoru so much despite his god-awful personality.

it’s a pretty beautiful sound—you hate that you have to admit that to yourself.

“yeah,” he admits, “it drives suguru nuts.”

“yeah, i can’t imagine why,” you snort. it’s like that for a moment—satoru’s muscled arms around you and hard chest pressed against your back. finally, you clear your throat. “you can let go now, you know.”

“right,” he mumbles, slowly pulling away—and when you turn to face him….is that disappointment? on his face? you don’t get a chance to be sure because then he’s bending down to pick up his shirt before he’s standing—he’s already wiped the expression from his features completely by then. “sorry about that, toothless. i’ll keep my shirts off the floor next time.”

“that would be so kind of you,” you smile sarcastically.

and then you shut the door in his face and exhale as you lean against the wall.

this is going to be a longer break than you thought.

—————

the next time you run into him, it’s late at night. everyone is asleep—even your brother and his headache of a best friend, if the silence tells you anything. you can’t sleep, though, so you make your way to the kitchen to hunt for snacks. you’re skimming through the pantry before your eyes land on a surprise—a box of strawberry pocky sits nice and enticingly, right there for you to open and devour.

you grin, reaching over when—

“those are mine,” satoru calls, stepping into the kitchen, “brought them over myself. you should ask before touching people’s things.”

“you literally ate my leftovers the other night,” you say incredulously.

“those were yours? i thought they were suguru’s.” he raises a brow in surprise, making you click your teeth in irritation.

“the principle of asking still applies,” you purse your lips. and then defiantly, you open the box and grab a pack right before his eyes.

he scowls—but you know he doesn’t actually mind because he waits for you to finish grabbing yours before taking the box and grabbing his own pack and a coke from the fridge. you both take a seat at the kitchen table, across from each other, as you open the packaging and silently eat your newfound snack.

it’s satoru who breaks the silence first.

“do you still throw away the ends of these?”

you huff indignantly, not meeting his eyes as you take a bite off the strawberry-covered end, stopping at just where the cookie portion is uncoated. “yes. i’m eating these for the coating—not the bland biscuit part.”

“what’re you, five?” he snickers, earning a glare from you. defiantly, you pop the end of the pocky stick into your mouth just to prove a point—and then the look of distaste makes him cackle louder. 

“shut up,” you hiss, “you talk too much.”

“the ladies love it when i do,” he bats his lashes—you stare at him blankly, unimpressed.

“yeah, as if.”

“hey, my ex-girlfriend totally did,” he defends.

ex-girlfriend? that’s a bit of a shocker—you didn’t know satoru dated anyone in the last few years, you haven’t seen or heard anything of it through suguru’s end. in all realness, you didn’t even think satoru was the boyfriend type…but then again, he’s not really the anything type. he just kind of exists to take up space and be the bane of your existence. 

“i hope the poor girl is recovering well after dating you,” you shake your head, feigning a concerned look on your face that makes him roll his eyes—they’re still disturbingly bright even in the dark kitchen, dimly lit by the slightest bit of moonlight pouring in through the small window.

“i dated her freshman and sophomore year,” he says casually. you also didn’t expect that—that it lasted that long. something about satoru doesn’t strike you as the long-term relationship kind of guy. something about him doesn’t seem like the relationship kind of guy at all. not because he’s the type to mess around casually, but because he seems the type to seem disinterested all around—he’s snobby like that. “she was…alright, i guess.”

yeah. very snobby.

“you are such a sick bastard,” you spit.

he snorts, taking a bite of his pocky as he shakes his head in amusement. you’re as feisty as ever—it’s always fun riling you up, even if unintentionally.

“hey, it’s not like she was bad. she was just…well, she wasn’t interested in me like that either,” he shrugs, “i think it was just the sex. it was good, can’t lie there.”

“you’re so gross,” you roll your eyes, “have some decorum.”

“what, you’re still sixteen?” he raises a brow, lips curling into a smirk as he reaches for another pocky, “can’t say the word s-e-x?”

“i don’t broadcast my sexual activities out in the open,” you shrug.

satoru chuckles, taking a bite that more or less finishes the entire stick in one go before he presses a finger to his lips, “shh. don’t say that too loud—suguru will come chase you from his room if he hears.”

“suguru,” you groan, “he’s such a pain to have around sometimes. y’know i dated this one guy last year. i think suguru might’ve paid him to dump me.”

“i know. he definitely thought about it,” satoru hums, “he used to go off about it all the time. he was right, though—that guy was a total prick.”

something about you is mildly shocked that satoru knows about your private life—sure, it’s not outrageous or even the slightest bit unlikely that suguru mentions you. satoru and suguru are best friends, and you happen to be suguru’s sister—of course, suguru is bound to mention you here and there. it’s just the fact that satoru even pays attention to anything to do with you that surprises you—although you suppose it would be a good way for him to find his next source to push your buttons.

“i’m not surprised you think he’s a prick,” you nod, “it takes one to know one, after all.”

“oh yeah?” he snorts, waving you off, “i do, in fact remember anniversaries, y’know.”

“okay,” you sigh, defeated—your ex-boyfriend is admittedly not at the top of the list of your brightest choices. not even up halfway on the list. in fact, he’s so low on the list of good choices you’ve made, that willingly choosing to interact with satoru feels like an exceptional decision in comparison. and that’s saying something. “he was pretty bad. but he was really hot. when a guy looks like that, his values are the least of my worries.”

it’s a joke—you’re sure he knows that. but satoru takes a long sip from his coke, silent for a moment. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so serious, especially so suddenly.

“he can’t be that hot,” he mutters.

“oh he was really hot. probably the hottest guy i’ve ever talked to—” satoru bites his pocky a bit aggressively at that, “and he was so tall. maybe taller than you—how tall are you again? anyway, he was pretty enough to overlook his shortcomings.”

“he’s probably not taller than me,” he grumbles, frowning. you snort—men and their fragile little egos, you think in amusement.

“he was,” you tease, “he was so tall, i’d let him do whatever he wanted.”

“that’s a terrible way to look at it,” he scrunches his brows, “you shouldn’t let some guy walk all over you because he’s tall and his face is a bit easy on the eyes—”

“i know you’re not talking—”

“i’m serious,” he cuts you off. something about him reminds you of suguru for a moment—like he cares who you’re with because he has a reason to. as if you mean something to him, as if knowing someone who doesn’t deserve you has you in their palms is upsetting.

but then you shake the thought out of your head—satoru doesn’t care. he’s never had a reason to, and you don’t exactly plan to give him one, either.

“okay, dad,” you roll your eyes, “i learned my lesson. i have standards now.”

“good,” he nods—and then, as if to keep himself in character, he adds, “because i don’t want to help suguru kill someone, and it’s over something lame like forgetting his little sister’s anniversary. i’d like to go to jail for something more badass.”

“you and badass don’t belong in the same sentence,” you raise a brow. “let’s be realistic.”

“oh yeah? that’s rich coming from—”

“guys, it is five in the morning,” suguru grumbles, throwing a water bottle at satoru’s head. you glance at the kitchen entrance, eyeing a half-asleep and very irritable suguru as he crosses his arms, “can’t you idiots fight over who’s more of a loser at reasonable hours? some of us like to sleep.”

“want one?” you offer your pack of pocky, holding it out to him.

suguru blinks, contemplating for a second before sighing and trudging over.

“yeah,” he mutters, flicking your forehead. “gimme that.”

you watch woefully as suguru takes the entirety of your pack, swiftly sitting next to satoru and leaving you empty-handed. satoru snickers obnoxiously at the deflated look on your face—and then he holds out his pack to you.

you look between him and the pack for a moment before giving him a genuine smile. it’s a rare sight—he drinks it in as you carefully take one and bicker over something with suguru.

you’re pretty when you smile, he thinks—pretty enough that if you had horrible values (which you don’t), he might feel inclined to understand your (awful) reasoning for a moment.

and then he blinks and shakes the thoughts out of his head—it’s going to be a long break.

—————

satoru meets you when you’re six. 

he’s nine at the time, and he feels on top of the world knowing he’s three whole years older than you—in hindsight, three years is not a very large gap, but to nine-year-old him, it feels like centuries. he’s remembered you as the fun little drama queen that’s too easy to poke fun at for years—that’s all you’ve always been: suguru’s younger sister who puffs her cheeks out and scowls way too often to be normal, the girl that’s way too easy to tease than should be standard. 

somehow, he wasn’t expecting for you to come back so grown…and so hot. suddenly, it really hits him that you’re not a kid—have not really been for a long time now. he’s always treated you like you’re way younger than he is, way too little to be in his presence and be worthy of it—but you’ve really become a fine young woman.

a magnetizing one, in fact.

it’s now his third night at your house—your parents are as lovely and welcoming as ever, and suguru is always a good time to be around. but somehow, satoru is not satisfied. not anywhere near sated by the few, minimal moments of contact with you. 

when did you get so pretty? although, as much as satoru has always liked to poke fun at you, you’ve never been ugly. not even a little—but you’ve grown into your features better, outgrown the awkward teenage era of your life, and now present yourself with a newfound confidence that just looks…so good. satoru doesn’t see his best friend's kid sister anymore—no, there’s something so alluring about you now.

the nail on the coffin that solidifies he’s officially screwed is when you mention your ex-boyfriend—why would your dating life make him this irrationally angry? why is the thought of someone being on the receiving end of your praise (and shameless heart-eyes) so aggravating for him? 

he doesn’t know—but what he does know is that the raging boner has been killing him all morning ever since he woke up from…well, less than proper dreams about you.

so now he’s here, forehead pressed against your shower wall as the hot water hits his back, swollen cock in his fist as he thumbs at the tip, teasing the slit just the way he likes. he thinks about you—how he’d show you what makes him feel good, how you’d probably learn fast and take care of him just the way he needs. 

your hand would look so much daintier compared to his—smaller, but he’s sure it would still feel infinitely better. 

he bites his lip, fighting back a moan as he strokes himself slowly, pre cum smeared along the length of his hard, aching cock—red and angry at the tip, leaking with more pre cum no matter how many times his thumb collects every drop. 

“f-fuck—” he breathes, and his voice lets out a shaky, breathy little call of your name—he’s screwed if anyone hears it. he’s sure you and suguru will both band together to kill him, but thankfully, the words are lost in the sound of the shower running. “fuck baby,” he says hoarsely, voice cracking ever so slightly as he whines. 

it’s soft and quiet, the noises he makes—careful and deliberately hushed to make sure no one hears the improper way he’s thinking of you right now. but fuck, your tits are so pretty when you walk out of your room in a t-shirt in the mornings—he can just tell you’re not wearing a bra. he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop trying to picture what they’d look like uncovered and bouncing.

“jus’ like that, baby,” he pants, whimpering softly as he squeezes around his tip, teasing himself with that slow, painful pace of his. 

satoru is sure that if it were you, that if the hand stroking his cock right now was yours, you would never let him cum so easily—you’d drag it out just like this, pump him slowly and twist your hand around him in a pace that’s painfully not enough before ever thinking about letting him come undone. 

it’s just the way that you are—never ready to back down from a challenge, unwilling to go down without a fight. but he loves it, he thinks—lives for the way you keep him on his toes and work for the satisfaction. 

“more,” he gasps, “n-need more—gimme more, sweetheart.”

he imagines it—the way you’d kiss his jaw, maybe even the corner of his mouth, as you hum. say please, toru, you’d probably say—and fuck, he’d kill to hear you say toru. 

“please,” he rasps, “please, baby. d-don’t tease.”

he can practically hear your light giggles, the sweet, okay, baby. no more teasing, that you might whisper. he’d also kill to hear you call him baby—he’s almost nauseous at the idea that some other guy must’ve heard the pet name from your lips before him. and then he lets himself pump his erection faster, squeezing tighter as his thighs quiver while he stands in the shower. 

fuck—you feel so good. you’re not even here, but he’s sure you do, and he’s desperate to envision it. it practically hurts—the way he’s so hard and swollen and ready to release. just for you, he wants to tell you, he’s going to cum all for you. 

“baby,” he whimpers, “‘m so, so close—fuck ‘m gonna cum. ‘s for you—gonna cum for you—ngh, sh-shit.”

and then there’s cum on the tile walls, on his hands, on his abs as they flex with every labored breath. satoru cums—hard. his eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted with a silent cry as he pants and strokes himself through his high. you’d kiss him, he likes to think, on his jaw and cheeks and maybe the tip of his nose as you sit on his lap and work him through his orgasm. you’d watch him closely, take in the way he comes undone for you, maybe even call him your pretty boy as he paints your hand white with his seed.

would you praise him? murmur softly into his ear and seal the gentle words with a kiss to his skin? would you stroke his hair from his face as you admire his blissful, fucked out little expression? maybe he’d ask you then—maybe he’d ask you to admit he’s way more handsome than that douchebag you dated as your hand holds his softening cock, sticky with his release.

god, what he wouldn’t do to see your hands coated with his cum—did you do this for your ex? did he look as hot as you claim he was when he came for you? the thought makes him sour—he grits his teeth and clenches his jaw at the idea, panting and catching his breath as he stares down at the mess he’s made.

he should feel bad—this is wrong. so, so wrong—suguru would kill him if he was aware satoru was lusting over his little sister. but it felt so fucking good—he’s never cum as hard as when he’s pictured cumming for you. 

it can’t be that wrong, if that’s the case—can it?

——

“suguru,” your voice is shrill, deadly—like you’re out for blood. “next time you jack off in the shower, maybe clean the fucking wall? are you joking?”

“wha—i definitely cleaned that,” suguru defends. 

oh, fuck, satoru thinks—he forgot to clean that. so he makes himself very scarce and stays within the confinements of suguru’s bedroom—his messy habits are starting to really catch up to him. if his defense, he really would clean that up…it’s just that he was a bit distracted. 

“so you admit you jack off in our shower? our shower?” you sound inconsolable, downright devastated, and borderline hysterical. having siblings seems like a lot of trouble, he thinks—but then again, sometimes satoru is jealous of your bond with suguru. it’d be nice to have someone in his family he can actually depend on. “keep that shit for your bedroom, you jackass!”

“well, how am i supposed to do that when satoru is there? you tell me.”

“i don’t know! figure it the fuck out—you guys probably jack off together anyway.”

“what?” suguru sounds appalled, “we do not—that’s outrageous.”

“whatever,” you say—you sound almost murderous as you warn, “next time you better clean up your fucking mess, you asshole.”

satoru can’t help but smile a little—your pointer finger is definitely held up as you scold suguru—you’re so cute when you’re mad, he thinks. he almost wants to step out and catch a glimpse, but he decides against it for now.

silently, satoru thanks his best friend for taking one for the team—even if it was unknowingly.

—————

it’s night four. 

satoru has surprisingly kept to himself—he even promptly looked away after meeting your eyes in the kitchen yesterday morning as you walked in for breakfast. that’s…new. a lot about satoru is new. 

he’s taller and more muscular now—at one point, suguru used to tower over his scrawny little form. now he’s seemed to grow into his body, seemed to learn how to style himself better, and actually do his hair a bit. it’s still messy now that he’s just lazing around in your home—but it’s oddly handsome. 

scarily handsome, in fact. 

you don’t enjoy the idea of thinking about the jerk of your childhood like that—but ever since you felt the hard press of his chest against your back, sometimes you wonder what it’s like to know satoru outside of just your older brother’s obnoxious friend. 

maybe, somewhere along the line, had you put your pride aside and actually tried to get to know him, maybe you both could at least be friendly. but then again, there’s never been any real animosity between you two—you can share a lighthearted talk from time to time, like that night in the kitchen. 

you decide not to dwell on it too much, decide that he’s not really worth your thoughts when he’s just a guy who’s always been a bit too spoiled to learn how to be humble. instead, you go down to the kitchen to grab another pack of strawberry pocky—satoru will just have to deal with it. if he doesn’t want his snacks eaten, he shouldn’t keep them in the pantry where anyone could stumble across them.

you walk into the kitchen until—oh. it’s satoru. again.

“oh, hey,” he grins cheekily, taking a sip of his coke—he needs to break the habit of having so much sugar this late at night…but then again, why would it matter to you? “stalkin’ me?”

“for an unwelcomed guest, you sure do talk a lot,” you roll your eyes, making his lips curl into a smug little smirk. 

“i don’t know—your parents seem to love having me over. what if i become their newest son?”

“i doubt my parents are looking to adopt you,” you raise a brow, slightly amused. 

he hums, sipping his coke before blinking at you through those long, perfect lashes of his. “well, there are other ways to blend into a family. marriage, for example, is a great way.”

“you and my brother might as well marry each other,” you snort, “no one else will do it.”

“who said anything about suguru?” he winks, chuckling when your face twists into an exaggerated look of horror—always as dramatic as ever, you are. he can’t help but find an endearing side to it now.

satoru stands, walks over to where you are and stands in front of you as you scoff, shaking your head as you huff out a disbelieving chuckle. 

“that’s pushing it,” you muse, “marrying you would be the last open option i’d have left—and even then i doubt i’d ever take it.”

“yeah?” he raises a brow, leaning in so close, you can practically feel his breath fan over you. he smells like expensive cologne and your shampoo—why is he using yours instead of suguru’s? before you can even ask him what he’s doing, he throws away the empty can of coke in the trash can behind you, eyes bright with amusement as your breath hitches.

it’s like he knows—the fucking asshole.

“yeah,” you breathe, “you don’t deserve me,” you try to say matter-of-factly. it comes off a bit more breathless than you intended—the air feels suffocating. maybe because satoru is so close, maybe because his breath is on your face, maybe because all you can smell and feel and hear is him. 

you can’t find it in yourself to pull away—why aren’t you pulling away? it’s just like that day he caught you, when his arms wrapped around you and all you felt like doing was lean into his chest. what about satoru and you has shifted so quickly to make you want to do that? what makes him so easy to fall into when all you’ve always known was to shove at him?

he hums, leaning in closer and closer until his forehead touches yours. “you know who didn’t deserve you?” he asks, “that shitty ex of yours.”

you look up at him with wide eyes, speechless as his hands find purchase of your hips, grabbing them and pulling you closer—and against better judgment, your hands lay themselves across his chest. it’s as firm as you remember it. 

“how would you know—”

“heard suguru rant about it all the time,” he murmurs, “how he forgot your dates. got you a shitty birthday present. didn’t show up to your anniversary. made you hang out with his friends and didn’t even meet half of yours. you’re tellin’ me he deserves you more than me?”

“he was hot—”

“yeah? and i’m not?”

he’s cocky—you hate that about him. always did. but he’s so close, so intoxicating, so irresistible, and fuck, he is hot—so incredibly hot, you’ve been losing sleep over it the last four nights no matter how hard you try to deny it. 

“satoru, what are you—”

“y’know, i’ve been helping suguru pick your birthday presents since you were twelve. i’d pick you the best gifts,” his nose is brushing against yours now, lips just millimeters away from his as he speaks—“and i never forget an important date. i’m very punctual too, believe it or not. i’d meet your little friends—show ‘em what a catch i am when you introduce me.”

“and what am i supposed to do with this information?” you ask defiantly.

it’s a last-ditch effort—you both know this. you know exactly what he wants you to do with this information. 

“i don’t know, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “what do you think?”

and then you’re kissing him—because fuck, satoru is right there, and how could you not? his chest is under your palms, his lips are right against yours, and you can feel his thumb rub circles into your hips. 

so you kiss him—loop your arms around his neck and tug him closer and press your lips to his. he groans, responds almost instantly as his mouth molds against yours, kissing you deeper as his hand moves to cup your cheek.

your lips are softer than he thought, and his hair is silky against your fingers. you tug at the strands, grab a handful, and feel them against your fingers like you’ve wanted to for so long. and when he nips at your bottom lip, who are you to deny him? your lips part, letting his tongue slide in and taste you with a breathy sigh that makes your knees wobble. 

“s-satoru,” you stutter, whispering between kisses, “suguru might come in like last time—”

“god,” he groans, head burying into your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the skin, “don’t fucking talk about your brother right now. please.”

“my room,” you say urgently—it’s all he needs to hear before his hands are on your ass, grabbing you as you wrap your legs around his hips. it’s urgent, the way his mouth is back on yours—he doesn’t pull away even once the entire walk to your room, not even when he lets your back fall onto the mattress as he hovers over you, pressing kisses along your collarbone. 

no bra, he notes happily, his hand sneaking under your shirt to toy with your pert nipples. 

“god, you’ve been driving me fuckin’ crazy,” he mumbles, tugging the hem of your shirt over your arms and tossing it over his shoulder. he stares, takes in the sight of the same tits he’s been fantasizing over for the last few days in awe. “you know that? been thinkin’ about these for days,” he says lowly, cupping your tit and massaging as he presses a kiss to your jaw. 

“you’re shameless,” you mutter, snorting before you cut yourself off with a gasp as he squeezes your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers and pulling a soft whine from you.

“shhh,” he chuckles, tilting his head toward the wall next to you, “don’t want suguru to hear, do you? that wouldn’t be nice, would it?”

“it’ll be worse for you than me,” you grin, tugging at the hem of his own shirt, indicating you want it off. he grins widely, wiggling his brows and making you purse your lips.

“wanna see me shirtless again, huh? third times the charm, as they say,” he winks. you would retort with something as witty, but then your eyes fall on that tattoo again—right under his collarbone, making your hand reach out to trace it with your thumb. 

“what compelled you to get this corny little tattoo of yours,” you grin, giggling as you trace over the small infinity sign. 

for the first time, you think you witness satoru shy, blushing as he rubs the back of his neck and chuckles awkwardly. “that…that was an accident. when i got drunk for the first time.”

“oh,” you snort, “you’re so weak, satoru—”

“do me a favor, sweetheart,” he hums, cutting you off, “as much as i love when you say my name, say toru for me, yeah? i wanna hear it.”

you roll your eyes, huffing as your hand finds the back of his head and pulls him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he grinds the throbbing erection in his sweats over your heated core. 

“toru,” you say breathlessly, “more.”

that’s all he needs to hear—satoru doesn’t waste a second before he’s crawling between your legs, sliding your cute little pajama pants down your legs before meeting your dripping pussy.

it’s wet—so wet, he almost wants to chuckle and tease you a bit. just for old-time's sake. but the ache that shoots down to his cock reminds him that he’s in no position to tease you when he’s not faring any better himself. so he spreads your legs, kisses lightly at your clit in a feather-like touch that has you whimpering and clutching the sheets in anticipation.

“how pretty,” he mumbles, “been hiding this pretty little thing all this time. what a perfect pussy.”

“satoru,” you gasp in embarrassment, hands reaching for his hair and tugging him closer to where you need him most—equal parts because you really need his mouth on your cunt and equal parts because you really need him to shut up. 

but he chuckles, takes his time to spread your folds open with his thumbs, and watches in wonder as you flutter around nothing, arousal dripping and leaving a mess. it’s perfect—you’re perfect, and he wants to take his time with you. 

“god, you’re soaked,” he groans, chuckling as he murmurs, “that’s fuckin’ cute.”

before you can even whine at the way his words are shameless, his mouth is back to kissing your clit, lips wrapping around it as he sucks and rolls his tongue along the sensitive bud. his fingers sink deep into you, pushing past your folds and slowly bullying into you until the tips of his fingers curl and brush against a spot that makes you squeal. 

you gasp a breathy, “fuck, toru—” before he hums around your clit, vibrations making you whimper as he thrusts his fingers back in to hit that spot again. it’s sensitive, the way he makes you feel—your nerves are on fire, and your head is light, and fuck, it feels so good you can’t help but sob brokenly and squeeze your thighs around his head. he moans against your cunt, pulling his fingers out before letting his tongue lick a stripe along your slit, tasting you with a sharp inhale. 

“f-feels good,” you whimper, biting your lip as your eyes crinkle at the corners from squeezing shut.

“yeah?” he hums, kissing your inner thigh, leaving a wet little sheen of his spit and your arousal on the skin, “that’s a good girl—just keep telling me how good i make you feel, kay?”

he could stay buried nose-deep into your pussy for as long as you let him—tongue alternating between fucking into you and rolling over your swollen clit, hearing the broken little gasps and whines of his name as you repeat toru over and over again like a prayer. his hand grips at your thigh, sinking his fingertips into the plush skin and rubbing soothingly with his thumb as you rut your hips and grind against his face. 

satoru has half a mind to watch it again—to lick and suck at your core again and again just so he could burn into his mind what you look like when you cum. it’s divine—like he’s halfway to stepping into heaven and has to pause just to admire the sight before him. 

your hips leave the mattress as your back arches, and your fingers tug relentlessly at his roots as your walls quiver, letting satoru taste every drop of your release as you press a palm to your hand and try to keep yourself from squealing at the pleasure.

suguru is right next door. you can’t wake him—can’t let him know this is what you and his best friend get up to in the late hours of the night. 

it’s not until satoru pulls away, catching his breath as he wipes the wet trail on his chin does he realize how hard he is—how badly he’s aching as his cock strains against his sweats. he hisses as he frees himself; ridding his sweats and boxers and wrapping a large hand around the tip of his erection and smearing the leaking pre cum along his length. 

you watch in awe, reaching over and replacing his hand with yours. satoru was right—your hand is infinitely smaller than his, and yet, it feels a great deal better. so much better, in fact, that his arms shake as he hovers over you, burying his head into your neck and groaning as you slowly stroke him, squeezing at the tip and rolling your thumb through the slit.

he didn’t even have to show you what he wanted, what makes him feel good, what makes his mind fog with pleasure and burn through every nerve. no, you figure it all out on your own, pulling strangled moans and hushed gasps from him that make your clit ache once more. 

“fuck, baby,” he pants, “can’t last long like this—c’mon, g-gotta feel you.” gently, he pries your hand from his thick, pulsing cock, laying it against your stomach as he peers down in fascination. “i’ll be right here,” he hums, drawing a line on your skin right where his tip ends, “see that? that’s where you’ll feel me, sweetheart.”

“then let me feel you,” you murmur, cupping his cheeks and brushing a thumb over the skin, “fuck me, toru—wan’ it so bad.”

so he does—drags his tip along your folds and collects the slick pooling at your entrance before pushing his tip past your folds, splitting you in half as he slowly buries himself to the hilt. his jaw is clenched, breath labored as he waits for you to adjust, lets you kiss his cheeks and nose as you murmur how handsome he is, how perfect he feels, how good is to you. 

“that asshole ever make you cum?” he asks lowly, “he ever eat your pussy like that? make you cum hard enough you had to cover your mouth so you’re not screaming his name?”

“no,” you breathe, quivering as his thumb rolls over your clit in slow circles, still painfully still as he stares down at you, “n-no, never. just you—only you—”

“good,” he grins, “that’s what i like to hear. and when i make you cum on my cock, make sure to tell me he’s never done that either, yeah?”

“you’re full of it,” you scoff, “always have been.”

“and you’re full of me,” he says cheekily, chuckling as you glare half-heartedly. “can i move, baby? please? need more, ‘s not enough. n-need more—”

“yeah,” you whimper, pulling him closer, chests brushing against each other as your lips meet in a sloppy kiss, “yeah—need more too, toru.”

satoru, in all his years of knowing you, has never seen the side of you that could be this gentle. the side that glides your hands over his back, feeling every flex and every pull of his muscles, gently caressing the skin like it’s holy, like it’s not worthy of marks—instead to be worshipped and revered with thoughtful touches. your lips sear into every part of him they can find—his lips, his forehead, his nose, his hair as his face digs into your neck. even your voice is a gentle whisper of his name, so soft and careful, it’s like saying it wrong could break him. 

your hips buck up in tandem with his, meeting his rhythm as he slams into you, his balls slapping against your skin as he buries his cock into you as deep as it’ll go with every harsh thrust. you can feel his tip kissing against that sweet spot in the back of your walls, your abused cunt sucking him in and hugging around him as he groans. 

the friction feels sickening, like he’ll pass out any second, like he’s floating between the precipice of pleasure and the edge of consciousness. 

you do that to him—he doesn’t know how or when or why, but you make him feel like he doesn’t have a grip on his own senses. he doesn’t mind it so much, he thinks—doesn’t hate the idea of letting himself fall into your palm and wrap around him. it feels nicer that way, like it’s where he belongs.

“fuck, ‘s so tight,” he rasps, whining into your neck as your hand cups the back of his head, holding him in place. his hips are rutting into you sloppily now, barely maintaining the rhythm from before as he nears his high—but that doesn't stop him from angling into you perfectly, slamming into your sensitive spot every time without fail. “c-cum—’m gonna cum. cum with me, sweetheart.”

“‘m so close, toru,” you sob—and then, just as his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing harsh, desperate little circles to get you over the edge, you cum again—harder than the last time, spasming around his cock and pulling him in as you squeeze around him. “t-toru,” you gasp brokenly, “fuck, ‘s good—so good.”

“baby,” he moans lowly, “fuck, you’re so perfect. prettiest thing ever—prettiest pussy ever. i, sh-shit—” your orgasm quickly has him falling into his own, hot, thick ropes of cum spilling into you with every twitch of his cock, sweet little noises pulled from his throat that he sings into your neck, fucking his load into you. 

it’s messy, the way cum spills out of you and coats his cock—but it’s perfect and feels so, so right. you can’t help but think how perfectly satoru fits against you as his body slumps on top of yours, panting and spent as he cages you in his arms.

your hand doesn’t leave his hair—now that you know how it feels, you don’t think you can stop threading your fingers through it, ever. 

“wow, toothless,” he chuckles after a bit, “you’re seriously obsessed with me, huh? i mean, how long have you been nursing this crush on me, hmm? thinking about your brother’s best friend, you naughty little thing—”

“satoru, would you shut that mouth for once,” you hiss, rolling your eyes—still, there’s an affectionate grin on your lips this time as he chuckles into your skin. 

“oh baby, i’m afraid this mouth never shuts, so you should get used—”

suddenly, you both freeze as you hear suguru’s voice through the door. “you two better not be fucking doing what i think you’re doing,” he seethes, making your jaw drop and satoru’s eyes widen.

fuck—that was never supposed to happen. suguru was never supposed to hear, let alone know.

“hey,” satoru starts, “if suguru kicks me out of our place, i can come be your new permanent housemate, right?”

do not comment about a part 2

but yeah he can come live with me any time and as long as he pays by sucking my tiddies i shall provide all food and utilities and everything

[j-jared]

This is why you don't sleep with the Tyrant King - The consequence is children

Constantine avoids involvement with the Infinite Realms for two reasons.

Who wants to deal with all those Ancients in the first place?

He’s avoiding yet another unhinged ex of his.

Of course, hooking up with Pariah Dark wasn’t really an actual relationship, more like a one night stand via dream walking (Nocturn owed Pariah, but seeing as it would be insane to release the Tyrant King from his endless sleep, he’d give him a dream partner every couple centuries) - regardless, Constantine doesn’t want to deal with that.

So yeah - the fact that the Justice League is attempting to summon the High King into the Watchtower has him wanting to drink more than usual.

Of course he gave warnings, but they’re dead set on doing so. A green folder had appeared in the secure “cursed artifacts” vault with no trace of whoever left it there. How else were they gonna find out how it got there?

So Constantine’s stuck there to set up wards, and is trying to find his way out of this one.

When the summoning circle worked, no one expected the teenager to pop out of it. 

Instead of Pariah Dark, or even the sarcophagus showing up, there was a white haired ghost boy with glowing green eyes the same color as the flames of the Crown of Fire. Except he didn’t look exactly like the others ghosts. He had a human skin tone, his proportions were exactly like a human teenager’s, and he was wearing a black and white hoodie with black sweatpants, for God’s sake. 

… Were ghosts able to reproduce with humans?

Before any of the Justice League can get into questioning, Constantine speaks up:

“You’re not the Ghost King.”

Green eyes settle on him, lighting up with recognition - Danny knows exactly who this is, with the amount of complaints on his desk about the blonde. Clockwork also informed him (he didn’t want to know but now he does) of the man’s stint with Pariah. 

Daniel “Commit to the bit” Fenton chooses to do just that.

“Of course not,” The confusion crosses the face of the heroes present- “That’s just because I haven’t had my coronation yet! I’m the Crown Prince, it’s practically the same thing!”

Oh, and the dread and realization crossing Constantine’s face is almost enough to make his core purr in amusement. 

“Now I will gladly answer all your questions, but first!” His eyes swept over the heroes before raising his hand and pointing accusingly at the British warlock.

“John Constantine,” his voice boomed, the temperature of the meeting room dropping as his face stretched with a smile too big and too pointy, “You owe me fifteen years of child support.”

[afterglowsainz]

don’t smile | franco colapinto

pairing: engineer!reader x franco colapinto

summary: after franco signs with williams to finish the 2024 season, your relationship takes a punch

fc: different girls from pinterest

a/n: as you can tell, i just love a good star-cross lovers trope

—

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[2hightocare]

COFFEE!

“I think I'm past obsessed at this point, there has to be another word in the dictionary that tops obsessed.”

Synopsis: in which a hopeless romantic falls in love with the man of her dreams…

Pairings: boyfriend!jeongguk x fem!reader

Genre: established relationship.. non idol au

Warnings: literally the most sappy thing I could have possibly written, was listening to ‘coffee’ by miguel while writing, they’re such a gentle love, reader is a book worm, Jungkook likes drawing (doodling) plus points when his drawings are about oc, mentions of their first time having sex, usage of book quotes (read nltm, had to use the mia and sebastian line for my own sanity) <3333333

authors note: this is so simple but my book worm hopeless romantic needed this.. wrote this while high so nothing new 🤍

They say falling in love is the most beautiful feeling in the world.

You couldn’t explain the immediate sensation, the feeling that spreads throughout your chest as if you were a black-and-white picture that suddenly starts to fill with vibrant colors anytime his eyes lock with yours.

It was astonishing how the universe works—the idea that you are destined for someone ever since you are born, and that all the hardships along the way shape you into the person you need to be to meet them.

Your heartbeat thumped loudly in your ears as you watched him laugh from across the room, an oversized hoodie and baggy jeans covering his lean, muscular figure—one you’d memorized to the tiniest detail. You knew every freckle and scar. His head was thrown back, arms crossed, as he paid attention to whatever the guy in front of him was saying.

You scrunched your nose, using your index finger to push your glasses up as you studied your boyfriend from afar. You weren’t sure whether to call it pathetic or endearing, the way you noticed every little crease on his forehead and the way he toyed with his bottom lip absentmindedly. You even took note of his long eyelashes, and nearly died of jealousy every time you counted them when he slept beside you.

It was gut-wrenching to imagine anyone else feeling about him the way you did. The thought alone made you want to puke in the nearest trash can.

You were lovesick for this man, and you could already feel the heat rising to your cheeks whenever you looked at him or heard his laugh. Not only did you want to scream and freak out over every little thing he did, but he also had you daydreaming constantly. You found yourself thinking of silly song lyrics that resonated with how you felt about him. Staring at his side profile, you finally understood the meaning behind Suki Waterhouse’s lyrics: “Oh, my good looking boy,” echoed in your mind.

Before you could form another lyric or recall a favorite book quote to describe your feelings, his eyes found yours. A small smile tugged at his lips as his gaze scanned your expressions, reading you as if you were an open book. You smiled, tilting your head to the side, trying to hide the makeshift fireworks going off in your tummy.

His gaze softened, and it made your breath waver. You had never understood the meaning of “his gaze softened” in books, but now, you understood every syllable of those words after experiencing it firsthand.

You honestly couldn’t think of a single thing you didn’t love about him. You loved everything about him, even the parts he claimed were too “broken” or “damaged” to be loved.

A few seconds passed before he finally said his goodbyes and began making his way back to you. Your eyes followed every step, catching the grin he wore.

“I don’t know, I pretty much think you’re obsessed with me,” your boyfriend teased, his straight teeth on full display as he stopped in front of you, looking down at you on the couch.

“In your dreams.” You laughed, craning your neck to look up at him.

Instead of getting mad, he let out a low chuckle, leaning down with both arms on either side of the couch, caging you in.

“Every night, baby.” He whispered softly, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips before moving to your cheek, delivering another soft kiss. You sighed in contentment as his lips ghosted over your skin, the pet name making your head feel dizzy.

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead before standing up straight again, looking down at you. Your eyelids felt heavy as you looked up at him through your lashes. He was already smiling, and you didn’t even need to ask “what?”—you already knew. Anyone in their right mind could tell how obsessed you were with him, and it was no surprise to him either.

As you both walked out of the bookstore, carrying a bag full of psychological and romance books (and, of course, the box of transparent sticky notes Jungkook got for you to annotate your books without writing on the actual pages), it was clear this was one of his favorite things to do. In his free time, when he wasn’t working or with you, he loved opening one of your books and reading your thoughts scribbled in the margins. Half of his camera roll was pictures of you, but the other half was just pictures of your annotations, scribbles, and drawings.

It was as if he was inside your mind, reading every thought, and he loved it.

He could still recall the first book he opened that sent his heart racing, like a teenage boy with a crush.

“I couldn’t see him, but his laugh was unmistakable. I could close my eyes and be in so many places with that laugh. That laugh was the cohesive thread, the little recurring melody that showed up in so many scenes of my life, like Mia and Sebastian’s theme in La La Land. Always there, playing in the background.”

Those words were highlighted in the prettiest shade of pink, with two small hearts drawn beside them. But it was your handwriting at the bottom that got him: “The feeling I’ve been trying to put into words about how I feel every time I look at him has just been done for me, oh my.” He remembered feeling his heart stop for a second. And when it started again, it was for you—his heart was for you and only you.

That wasn’t all. It had become one of your shared love languages. Jungkook started buying books he thought you’d like. He even asked your little sister what your favorite highlighters were so he could buy them for both of you.

Your heart did somersaults when you opened a book on his bedside table and saw a drawing—a pair of eyes in black ink, long lashes making them look bigger and more innocent. Your breath hitched as you noticed the small freckle just below the eyebrow, realizing it was you.

It didn’t help the overwhelming sensation of adoration when you saw his handwriting in the margins.

“You remembered?” she said softly.

“I remember every second of us.”

The text was underlined, and in small letters, he had written, “Gosh, she made me fall so hard that I’m reading sappy words and thinking ‘us’ out loud. #sendhelp,” with a frowning emoji next to the hashtag. Before you knew it, you were on page one, reading every single line and note he had left.

Also, the multiple drawings on the pages where there was extra space had your heart thumping hard in your chest. There were so many drawings— each one tied to you or him. It was impossible to describe every feeling surging through your chest, every emotion racing in your bloodstream, as your fingertips traced the drawing of you.

This time, it was an image of you on your back, lying on a bed. Only part of your side profile was visible, with your hair spilling across the bed, covering most of your back. At first, you didn't want to assume it was you he'd drawn-being self-centered wasn't your style. But it was impossible to deny it when he'd sketched every freckle, even the small half-moon tattoo on your shoulder blade, matching the real one inked on your skin.

You smiled at the memory but snapped back to the present as your boyfriend instinctively switched you to the other side of the sidewalk when you two turned toward Target. You held tight to his index finger as he squeezed between people, leading you behind him with a soft "excuse me" to anyone in the way.

Automatically, you found yourself smiling as you picked up your pace to match his longer strides. He pulled you in closer, his arm snaking around your waist, his hand resting over your belly—a little lower than usual, sending butterflies flitting wildly in your stomach. You suppressed a shiver as he gently guided you to the side, allowing an older couple to pass by.

"Us when we're eighty, baby," Jungkook leaned down and whispered into your ear, making you playfully roll your eyes at him. His smile only widened at your reaction.

"Won't be us if you keep watching Young Sheldon without me," you pouted, giving him a playful glare, which only made him smile more.

"Why are you smiling?" you asked, maybe even whining a little as you walked into the store and heard the employee greet you both.

"Because you're so beautiful, and my brain goes in circles when I stare at you," he shrugged casually, giving your waist a small squeeze before untangling his arm to grab a cart.

You tried so hard not to melt, holding onto his bicep as he leaned forward on the cart, making him closer to your height.

"Don't know it you're down, but l've been wanting to learn how to crochet," you said as you glanced around the aisles. Your boyfriend immediately started nodding excitedly.

"Baby, oh my god. I'm so down. We need to make those big-ass blankets," he rambled, looking at your face for a reaction, like a puppy with its ears perked up and tail wagging.

"I think that's knitting, baby," you corrected him, smiling as his eyebrows raised before he let out a small laugh.

"Wait, are those two not the same thing?" His dimple deepened as he bit his lower lip, stopping in front of the craft aisle.

"I actually have no clue," you admitted with a chuckle, raising an eyebrow. "But I know you can crochet a blanket because you once told me about those pattern blocks you saw on your explore page.”

Jungkook's gaze softened as he made eye contact with you, his pupils dilated with so much adoration that it made your heart swell.

"And I remember because I searched them on TikTok to see what you were talking about. I saw people connecting them into blankets. Also, I remember you pretending to sleep so you didn't have to scratch my back anymore-before my one minute was up. You swear you're slick, but I know when you're really asleep," he said with a grin, teasingly biting your cheek as you tried not to smile.

"How do you know I'm not sleeping?" you teased, and he chuckled, ghosting his lips over yours.

"Because every time you fall asleep, you make this little sound, and then slowly, you start snoring," he laughed, watching your cheeks turn a shade of red before burying his laughing face in the crook of your neck.

To be loved is to be seen.

That phrase had never felt more accurate. No one else had ever seen you the way Jungkook did. He knew you so well, down to the tiniest details that sometimes even surprised you.

Your eyes practically turned into hearts as Jungkook kissed your neck innocently before turning his attention to the yarns.

This was the kind of love you had always dreamed of

-better than the movies or books. Nothing could top the overwhelming feelings of gratitude, love, and appreciation that coursed through your body whenever you looked at him. Your brain practically played the instrumental of "Video Games" by Lana Del Rey whenever you spent time with him.

It was as if even a natural disaster couldn't faze you

-so long as you could experience it with him.

The connection between you two was beyond what you ever imagined existed in real life. It felt like something out of a fairy tale. From the moment you locked eyes with him across the room, you both knew there was no turning back.

After checking out and getting to Jungkook's car, he opened the door for you, reaching over to buckle your seatbelt before putting the bags in the back.

Once he climbed into the driver's seat, his hand instinctively found its place on your thigh after starting the car. His thumb rubbed your bare skin, sending sparks flying through your body. It was such a natural gesture for him, but the butterflies never ceased. You bit your lip, trying not to whine when his hand moved closer to your inner thigh.

As he softly sang along to "Creep" by Radiohead, it was just another thing you'd become morally obsessed with-his voice. You had always known he could sing, but everything changed the night you were first intimate.

It was as if your entire perspective on love and sex shifted. Simply calling it "sex" seemed absurd now, because it was so much more. Everything felt heightened, more intense, making your heart pound wildly in your chest.

"F-fuck, baby..." he whimpered into your ear, his hips moving slowly into yours, leaving your mouth hanging open.

His little groans and moans made you dizzy, like notes of a lullaby. The feeling of skin against skin was the most addicting sensation, made even more special by the way he always checked in on you.

"Shhh, I'm sorry. Am I being too rough, baby?" His voice was strained as his hips halted, his breath heavy as he moved your hair to kiss your neck.

He resumed slowly, making your legs shake and grip the sheets, and you couldn't help but moan, asking for more. His chuckle against your skin was the same one you’d hear when he rested his head on your stomach, expecting you to scratch his back or read to him.

"You're sweaty," you pouted at him, both of you basking in the afterglow.

"I know. Do you still want me?" He smiled, mimicking your expression before pulling the covers over both your naked bodies and pulling you in as close as possible.

"Yes, I'll forever want you," you replied, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, savoring the warmth he radiated.

As sleepiness began to overtake you, you felt his fingertips tracing letters and shapes on your hip.

Just before drifting off, he began singing again. It was like entering another universe where only you and he existed

"I want you to notice," he sang softly, "when I'm not around."

"So fucking special... I wish I was special." He pressed a kiss to your temple, the sound of his voice and your matching heartbeats lulling you both to sleep.

You snapped back to reality when the car stopped at a red light.

"Is it bad that I always hope to get red lights so I can kiss you?" he asked, flashing a grin that had you laughing.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his as his eyes fluttered shut, his finger lifting your chin gently.

"Not bad, but a little weird. You want to spend so much time with me," you teased, pulling back to your seat. "Some might even think you're pretty obsessed."

"I'm past obsessed at this point. There's got to be another word that tops it," he admitted, stealing another kiss just before the light turned green.

As you gazed at him, you couldn't help but wish there was another word, stronger than "love," to describe how you felt about him.

[sunrizef1]

Monaco Green

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Warnings: suicide jokes in relation to a happy relationship? (Yall know what I mean)

Authors note: more Lando!

Requested: Yes/No

———————————————

yourusername

📍Monte Carlo, Monaco

liked by user1 user2 and 13,800 others

yourusername took a day-trip away from London to go visit Monaco, bit posher than I’m used to, vlog coming soon xx 💚💚💚

In the meantime, new cooking video is up now, we made pesto pasta! 🍝

load comments…

user1 I’m actually in love with her

user2 she’s so pretty!

user3 who’s behind the camera in the pasta video???

user4 is it her editor???

user5 James??? Nah, he’s American, the guy in the video is British

user6 secret boyfriend???

user7 why Monaco?

yourusername visiting a friend! It was quite nice, might have to consider moving 🤔

user8 no offense but how tf would she afford Monaco rent

user9 yk these influencers and their rich parents

user10 so pretty 🥰

yourusername thank you, love 🫶

user11 I love her phone case 💚💚

user12 “we” made pesto pasta 🤔

user13 I loved the new karting vid!!! James had no chance lol, how r u so good?!

yourusername I had a good instructor haha, helps that James is absolutely abysmal at it

jamesedits that’s rude, we don’t all have experienced go-karters to teach us 😒

user14 I want to be her friend so bad, omg her life seems so cool

———————————————

landonorris

📍Monte Carlo, Monaco

liked by jamesedits maxfewtrell and 3,008,996 others

landonorris Monaco green 💚

load comments…

user15 the soft-launch????

user16 who is that??????

user17 not Lando posting his secret girlfriend on a random Tuesday

user18 ooh but she’s got good taste in nails I’ll give her that

user19 and who tf is that then

maxfewtrell ah, bold innit?

landonorris 🤐

user20 wtf is max talking about

user21 all we get is hands????

user22 some Twitter detectives about to figure out who that is just based on the hands i bet my life

user23 and if I told you I know who that is, then what

user24 now how tf do you know that

user23 pure vibes and delusion

user25 who taught this man to soft-launch???

user26 I can tell she’s pretty

user27 NOOOOOOOO

user28 what about our marriage and kids???

oscarpiastri she’s lovely

landonorris you have not met her

oscarpiastri this is your sign to change that

oscarpiastri and from what you’ve told me, she is lovely

landonorris she is

user29 awww I already love her

———————————————

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

📍Monte Carlo, Monaco

liked by user1 user2 and 31,998 others

yourusername supposed to be a one day trip but now it’s been three days 😅

Day 1 Monaco vlog is up now! 💚

load comments…

user30 is this the girl that Twitter thread was about????

user31 she has the phone case!!!!

user32 you can’t tell me that the “tour guide” in the vlog isn’t Lando

user33 love that James was so against the sunshine the entire time lmao

jamesedits I’m white and from London, I can’t survive in the sun 😔

user34 I love the green 💚💚💚

user35 is this landos girlfriend????

user36 are yall just harassing this poor girl because she has a popular phone case??!! 😭😭

jamesedits can I go home now

yourusername pls do, you third-wheel too much

user37 third-wheeling???? I sense landooo

user38 are you staying with that friend you mentioned

user39 pretty girl 🤩

user40 if you go to the part of the vlog when they’re walking the circuit and go over the grand hotel hairpin, on my life you can see Lando for a split-second in the background

user41 are you sure that’s him and not James?

user40 James was wearing a black jacket, that guy was wearing like a beige hoodie

user42 I just binged like 20 of her videos because I heard she might be dating Lando and now I’m in love with her 😭😭😭

user43 I’m convinced it’s her just because of the phone case and yall can’t change my mind

jamesedits I had to work overtime to get all that footage cut quickly so you’re welcome

yourusername “work overtime” you are on vacation it’s hardly working

jamesedits don’t police my stress

yourusername 🙄

——————————————

yourusername added to their story

landonorris

🤩🤩🤩🤩

yourusername

🫶

————————————————

landonorris

📍Monte Carlo, Monaco

liked by yourusername charles_leclerc and 3,006,001 others

landonorris 3 days of Monaco with a guest 💚

load comments…

user44 GREEN AGAIN

user45 and if I told you that phone case girl had that same hat in her Instagram post then what

user46 “three days of Monaco” “supposed to be a day-trip but it’s been three days”

user47 that third picture must be from day 1 because someone’s wearing that same beige hoodie in the back of her day 1 vlog

user48 and the green ny hat???

user49 y/n was wearing green converse on her insta story!!!

user50 AND SHE LIKED!!!!

user51 I recognize those shoessss

user52 this is so cute 😭🫶

oscarpiastri she’s lovely!

landonorris now you can say that

oscarpiastri it was lovely to meet her 🫶

landonorris I’ll tell her you said that

user53 the green aesthetic is so adorable omg I love it so much

user54 LANDO DONT BE SCARED TAG HER

user54 OR POST HER ACTUAL FACE

user54 OR EVEN A STRAND OF HAIR PLEASE LANDO

user55 bathing with a toaster tonight dhmu

user56 wdym my husband has a gf? 😭

user57 what about our kids Lando?? What about the kids?

user58 I’ve never even seen her face but that’s my mom now I don’t make the rules 🤷‍♀️

——————————————

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

📍Monte Carlo, Monaco

liked by landonorris oscarpiastri and 78,661 others

yourusername Day-trip —> full-time stay

More Monaco vlogs to come, then 😅

Monaco day 1 vlog (Lando’s version) is up now, thank you to James for re-including all the clips of him that he'd previously cut out 🫶

load comments…

user59 AWWWWWWW

user60 where’s the user who guessed this from the start

user61 James I going through it

jamesedits it’s bad enough I had to scrub through all the clips of them being lovey-dovey but then I had to look at all of them again to put them back in the vlog

jamesedits and NOW she’s gonna put these clips in EVERY VIDEO! THEYRE SO GROSS!

user62 oh my god poor James 😭

user63 somebody get James a pay raise

yourusername don’t listen to him, he’s like a dog, he’ll act sad to strangers but in reality he gets treated perfectly fine and gets fed on time every day, he doesn’t need any more treats

jamesedits I don’t appreciate being compared to a dog

landonorris dw about it mate, you’d be a nice little yorki

jamesedits 🤨

user64 LANDO!

user65 they both look so good im frothing at the mouth

landonorris glad I could convince you to stay

yourusername you’re very convincing

user66 sleeping on train tracks tonight

——————————————

landonorris

📍Monte Carlo, Monaco

liked by yourusername maxfewtrell and 5,000,881 others

landonorris might have to get her a different phone case…💚

Tagged: yourusername

load comments…

user67 SHE GOT A TAG!!!!

user68 Y/N!!!!!

user69 awww they’re adorable 🥰

user70 I’ve followed y/n for years and it’s so nice to see her so happy 😭

user71 HES PESTO PASTA GUY

user72 knowing it’s him makes it make sense as to why he never actually cooks in the video

user73 man moved to Monaco and still found an English girl

user74 I wish my rich athlete boyfriend would convince me to move in with him in his Monaco home… 😞

user75 I’m in love with both of themmmmm

maxfewtrell she made the main page! And you can see her face! Congrats mate!

landonorris 😐😑😐

maxfewtrell seriously though, happy 4 u

landonorris thanks max

user76 now I need to know where she got the phone case

yourusername wildflower!

user76 omg I wasn’t expecting a reply! Tysm!

yourusername 💚

user77 I’ve never been more interested in a relationship

user78 HARD-LAUNCH

yourusername 💚💚💚

landonorris 💚💚💚

user79 oh my god they’re so perfect

————————————

@casperlikej @evie-119

[tteokdoroki]

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — KATSUKU BAKUGOU. setting powder.

about. whilst getting ready to meet your new boyfriend’s extended family — you learn that he knows a thing or two about doing makeup.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, characters aged up to 20s, enemies to lovers, meeting the family, new relationships, brief mention of injury and hospitals, reader wears makeup and dresses, pro hero!bakugou, nurse/doctor!reader.

“we’re gonna be late, sweetheart.”

leaning against the door frame, bakugou crosses his arms over his chest — his perfect lips pulled into a suave smirk as he watches you finish your makeup for tonight.

“wha…huh? you said i had twenty minutes?” you’re still half dressed, your boyfriend’s baggy hoodie from an old merch collection draped over your sweet little dress to protect it from your foundation, your hair is tied back and away from your face so it doesn’t get in the way and though you’re still trying to blend your cream blush in with one of those sponge things — katsuki thinks you’re the most adorable thing in the entire world.

pushing himself off the door frame, he sits behind you on the bed — still watching you work at the vanity whilst he fixes the cuffs of his dress shirt. “that was twenty minutes ago,” the blonde rasps affectionately and grasps your at your jewellery laid out on the bed. the rough pad of his thumb traces over the ‘K’ on the silver heart locket he’d gotten you for your birthday before he undoes the clasp and places the chain around your neck — being mindful of your hair in the process. “y’said you’d be done by then.”

you catch your boyfriend’s vermillion stare in the reflection of your mirror — his subtle smile when he sees his initials dangling from your neck. it feels you with warmth to know that no matter what, katsuki will always find you beautiful and will always love you. even with how chaotic your makeup looks when half done. “i think i spent too long in the shower ‘n underestimated how long this look would take,” you sigh, reaching for your lip gloss next. you’ll have to put it in your purse, do your lips in the car. “do you think they’ll mind if we’re any later than this?”

“my parents won’t. neither will inko. deku — i mean — izuku will, but he’ll pretend he ain’t bothered,” bakugou prattles down the list, making a note of tonight’s attendees. it was tradition that the bakugous and the midoriyas had a monthly dinner together, it had been going on since the two pro heroes were children. only now, their partners were invited since they were family too. family included you.

you hadn’t gone to U.A and you certainly didn’t know katsuki until he became an up and coming pro hero. the first time he’d saved you, by the sidewalk of the hospital you worked at, you thought he was brutish and stuck up. you’d hated him and he’d hated you. but over time, and more frequent trips to A&E after saving civilians or sometimes after being wounded in villain attacks — you’d come to appreciate bakugou’s brooding personality and observant nature.

he’d come to like you too. how much you cared for others and wanted to make the world a better place. you reminded him a little bit of izuku, in a strange way.

so one night when you were on call, katsuki brought you flowers instead of a stomach wound that needed stitches and you’d given him a kiss instead of berating him about being careful, over vanilla and chocolate pudding cups from the hospital cafeteria.

signing impatiently, you bring katsuki back to present day. “i wanted to make a good impression on your aunty and on your best friend,” rubbing your arm nervously, you cast your gaze over the mess on your vanity — expensive products splayed across them in organised chaos.

“you will. they’re gonna love you. they already do,” bakugou stands behind you now, rough palms smoothing over your shoulders. “izuku says you’ve made me less bitchy at work. whatever the fuck that means.”

you giggle, eyes sparkling in delight as you look at the blonde in the mirror. “really?”

“really,” he nods sheepishly. the way you look at him makes him feel so loved. it’s new to him. nice to him. “now, whaddya need help with s’we can hurry up ‘n hit the road.”

you begin to ramble on, perking up at the idea of katsuki helping with the rest of your routine.“well… i’ve done my lashes, my eyes, my base and blush… i can do lips in the car. aside from putting on earrings and fixing my hair all i need is to set my face with—“

“settin’ powder,” bakugou grabs the little pot from your vanity as if he knew where it was all along, picking up a little face cushion as well as he prepares to get to work. “got it.” he dips the cushion into the translucent powder, rubbing the excess off on the back of his hand before leaning in real close to dab at the areas he thinks you need it. like your t-zone.

your boyfriend’s touch is like magic on your face, perfectly setting your makeup while making you feel like a pampered princess. “who taught you how to do this?” comes your shy mumble, his proximity to your face causing you to grow flustered and squirm in your seat. “h-how are you so good at it?”

“keep still, i’ll be finished faster if y’stop squirmin’ sweetheart. don’t wanna mess up what you’ve done already,” pausing his actions, katsuki gives you a toothy smirk — revelling in how bashful you’ve become under his touch while he helps you with your makeup. “…grew up behind the scenes of fashion shows ‘n shoots. so i picked up a thing or two i wanted to make sure i could still do it so i watched a couple of videos on it too. ‘n i noticed…you always put so much time ‘n effort into your makeup. wanted to help make the process easier for you.”

you feel as though you could melt at katsuki’s kind words and gesture as he dabs at your face a little more — tongue caught between the tips of his pearly white teeth as he sticks it out in concentration. he’s so cute it makes you want to scream. “you’re sweet,” you coo appreciatively, stilling yourself to let him finish before he pulls back — satisfied with his work. “i love you.”

it’s not the first time you’ve said it to one another, but the three words are still new to the both of you. “i uh…i love you more,” a pink, rosey hue rises on the surface of bakugou’s tanned skin and his red, loving eyes dart away from your face bashfully. “‘m gonna get your shoes ‘n jacket ready by the door while that sits. don’t forget your settin’ spray after you brush that shit off — oh ‘n don’t take my hoodie off until you’ve done that. don’t wanna ruin your dress, kay?”

“okay,” you respond fondly, hiding your smile at his very specific instructions. “i’ll be down in a minute.”

katsuki nods hesitantly, standing up as he gathers your belongings and outerwear — ready to load them up in the car, when he suddenly pauses in place. “you look beautiful tonight, sweetness. you always do.” he adds as one last parting message, before disappearing down the hall.

leaving you wondering how you ever lucked out with such a man. one who’s not only kind and gentle and loving, but a pro hero and a makeup artist at that.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x Reader

[Chapter 16] || [Chapter 18]

Pairing: Gaz x Reader x Ghost x Soap || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.7K~ Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: we're getting there.

Gaz's outfit is 100% a rip off of this fanart by the lovely @temeyes.

Chapter 17: Guard Dogs

You don’t exactly know what you did to deserve this.

You really don’t.

You went on Tinder one time. One night after work.

So why the fuck do you have three men lurking around you like guard dogs?

Ever since the Ethan incident last Friday, they’ve been taking turns going to pick you up at work and walking you home.

Monday - Kyle

Tuesday - Simon

Wednesday - Kyle

Thursday - Simon

It wouldn’t be so bizarre if it weren’t for the fact that people (especially your coworkers) stare when there’s suddenly men waiting for you after work… 

Especially when one of them is a 6ft4 man that’s built like a fridge, giving everyone copious amounts of side-eye as they walk out.

And then you wonder why they ask you get asked questions the next morning.

Today, Friday, you exit work to see not one, not two, but all three of them, standing shoulder-to-shoulder. They look frankly adorable, all beaming at you as you come out of work and preening themselves a bit.

Kyle’s on the far left, wearing a cream-colored hoodie with a blue flannel shirt atop, black cargo pants and white and black Air Jordans. The hoodie is pulled up over his hair and his hands are tucked into the pocket of his hoodie.

Simon’s next to him, in the center, wearing black boots, jeans and a black parka with an inner pollar layer that’s zipped up all the way, so as to cover his mouth, in lieu of his usual mask. His hair is sticking up all over and you just know he put hairgel on it. 

Johnny’s on Simon’s other side, the far right, and wearing a pair of distressed blue jeans, a shaggy burgundy Ramones t-shirt and an unzipped grey hoodie jacket. Just like Kyle, he’s also wearing some Nikes and they’re so pristine and clean you’d swear he’s gotten them from the box a minute ago.

“Hi…?” You said in surprise as you adjusted the sling of your laptop bag on your shoulder.

“Hey!” Johnny greeted you.

“Hi, lovie.” Kyle said with a beaming smile.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Simon said simply and nodded upwards at you.

“What are you… doing?” You trailed off as you came to stand in front of them, your eyes going back and forth between them.

“Couldn’t decide who should come get you. So we decided to both come” Simon told you sincerely. “And since the two of us were coming, Johnny wanted to tag along.” He added.

“Why are ye talking like I’m a puppy that couldn’t be left at home by myself?” Johnny said with raised brows.

“Because you were begging for us to take you with.” Kyle retorted from Simon’s other side.

“Go fuck yourselves.” Johnny added. “You look nice.” He complimented you with a boyish grin.

“In my work uniform?” You retorted as you looked at him with a playful look of disbelief.

“Aye.” He replied. “Always love seein’ someone all knackered and sweaty after work.” He admitted.

“Johnny are you flirting?” Simon asked and he gave Johnny a look that could kill someone.

“Aye.” Johnny replied with a mischievous look in his eyes and pursed his lips together. “Is that forbidden now?”

“Mate…” Kyle quipped, his tone a soft warning.

“What? They already got two blokes after them, can have another one.” Johnny remarked with the same casualty of someone saying they ‘might as well have another biscuit from the box’.

You blinked away the surprise at the flirting. It was still bizarre to have one man like Simon interested… And you felt overwhelmed to have Kyle on top of it… And now Johnny too?

“Okay, erm… So… let’s go?” You announced and turned to start marching up the street to work before anyone could say anything else.

The guys followed behind you wordlessly, in a formation lead by Simon… like you were a mother duck and they were your ducklings… Or, rather, like they were your pack of guar dogs.

-

You’re standing by the door of your kitchen feeling like a guest in your own flat. 

Kyle and Simon are cooking… without even being asked. You stopped by the shop and they immediately announced they’d cook for you and… now they are.

Johnny’s sitting at the dining table behind you, sprawled open and sipping a can of Monster he got himself at the shop when you were all there.

“Okay, what’s up with you?” You announced as you watched the two men move about your kitchen as they made your meal. Simon’s was first in charge of chopping and dicing things… and now he’s in charge of frying… something, while Kyle takes care of basically everything else.

“What do you mean, lovie?” Kyle asks as he turns to glance at you while stirring something.

“You all came to pick me up together… And now you’re cooking for me…” You trail off as your nails clink a bit against the glass of wine they poured you. “What’s going on?”

“You’re adorably annoying with how perceptive you are, you know that?” Simon asks as he glances back at you as well before plucking something out of the frying pan and to a dish on the side. The oil sizzles loudly when he puts something else down to fry.

“Thank you.” You say with a playfully smug tone as you shift around. “But you didn’t answer the question.” You remark.

“After dinner, alright?” He answers and Kyle makes some sounds of agreement.

“They want to be yer boyfriends, officially.” Johnny says behind you and it causes you to whip around to look at him… Which also made Kyle drop whatever he was holding, in shock.

“SOAP!” Both Simon and Kyle shout, scolding the Scot who’s sitting at the table with a broad grin on his lips.

“You… You do?” You ask as you turn to look at them, mouth parted in surprise.

“Yeah...” Kyle replies as he looks at you. 

Simon simply nods and turns away to focus on the food he’s frying.

“I… I’m honored…” You admit and feel your cheeks warming up so bright you fear you’ll start sweating. “I…”

“I’d like a shot at it too, if ye don’t mind.” Johnny adds. Once again, all eyes turn to Johnny with another ‘JOHNNY?!’ which causes him to laugh.

“I’m serious.” He replies. “I’ll gladly date ye too.” He adds.

Your eyes widen. “You-”

“Mhm.” He adds.

“No.” Simon replies as he turns around once more.

“What do you mean ‘no’, L.T.?” Johnny asks in exaggerated offense.

“I mean, I don’t wanna date you.” Simon adds.

“I- Wait.” Now it’s Johnny’s time to get flustered. “Date me?” Poor lad, his whole face warms up bright red.

“Y-Yeah… Kyle and Simon kiss each other sometimes.” You announce and out of the corner of your eye you catch both of the other men stiffening up.

“I KNEW IT. I FOOKIN’ KNEW IT!” Johnny jumps up to his feet, spilling his Monster can on the table. “Ah, shite!” He says as he scrambles to pick it up again before it spills too much.

“What do you mean you knew it?!” Simon asks in shock.

“I KEN YE LIKE EACH OTHER! SAW THE WAY YOU SHARE THOSE COY LOOKS BETWEEN YE!!” Johnny shouts as he points a finger at the two men.

You’re pretty sure they’re all blushing now, you included.

“We didn’t share any looks!” Simon says defensively.

“DID TOO!” Johnny insists. “AND I TAKE OFFENSE TO YE NOT WANTING TO DATE ME, L.T.!” He adds. “I THOUGHT YE LIKED ME!”

Your eyes widen and you move your head side to side trying to keep up with the banter between them as Johnny marches his way into the kitchen so him and Simon can keep bickering.

“Are they always like this?” You find yourself asking Kyle, your eyes widened as they shout your house down.

“Yeah… This is a tame day for them actually. Should hear how they are on comms during missions.” He leans over to whisper in your ear.

“Ah…” You say softly. “I don’t know if I can handle dating this all the time.” You quip playfully, making Kyle laugh.

“You’ll get used to it.” He adds.

As you two continue watching the two men arguing, during which Simon is still, somehow, still tending to the food… You find yourself sneaking little pieces of carrot from the salad Kyle’s making.

Only to stop chewing halfway and let your piece of carrot fall right out of your hands when Johnny suddenly grabs Simon by his face and plants a big kiss right on the taller man’s lips. No warning.

At that moment, Simon looks every bit like Kyle did when they kissed for the first time. Perfectly statue-like still, eyes widened, both hands hanging in the air as if he was frozen…

Johnny’s hands are wrapped around Simon’s face, his palms over his ears, and fingers in his blonde hair, their mouths pressed together…

And then Simon comes back from the trance he’s in and his hands wrap around Johnny’s head too, his fingers digging into the back of his mohawk as their tongues battle together.

“Jesus Christ…” Kyle replies next to you, voicing your exact thoughts.

Once they pull apart, both the men are blushing red and out of breath, eyes widened.

“Ye’ll date me now?” Johnny replies.

Simon doesn’t reply, he simply turns around to finish cooking.

“I think that’s a yes.” You finally announce, finding your voice softly.

Johnny turns to look at you and smirks. “From him or from you?” He asks with a cocked brow.

“Both.” Simon quips with his back turned.

“I think that was the hottest kiss I ever witnessed.” Kyle says softly.

“I’ll give ye a smooch too, don’t get jealous, Gary.” Johnny quips and winks at Kyle.

Then, the Scot grabs a paper towel from the roll and walks toward the door to go mop up the spilled Monster from the table.

But not before he cups Kyle’s face and stealing a peck off his lips…

Then, he does the same to you… before licking his lips at the end. 

“Your wine’s tasty.” He adds, before slinking back out of the room.

You’re left blinking away the shock with an equally stunned Kyle next to you… And you’re pretty sure Simon’s stunned too…

Meanwhile, Johnny’s giggling to himself in the living room.

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

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @infpt-zylith , @xxshadowbabexx , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark

@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

[lovelookspretty]

what would you do for love?

exboyfriend!rafe cameron x obsessed!exgirlfriend!reader

— in which y/n spirals into a possessive obsession over her ex-boyfriend rafe. she quietly pulls the strings from the shadows, creating accidents, bribing others, and doing whatever it takes to maintain control—believing she is the only one truly capable of loving him.

warnings: y/n acting like a subtle joe goldberg asf😭, drinking, smoking, y/n missing rafe

authors note: potential series??? THIS COULD BE ITS PROLOGUE. idk much about sofias background so i cant write out a full length “dive” on her like joe would in you, but ill do what i can!! im not abandoning “waking up to you” though, just trying to figure out ideas for how to play out the rest of the week ‘til the end LMFAOOO

if u are interested in being part of the tag list, please let me know through replies, anons, dms, or reblogs !! notifications are always on <33

next

you’re rummaging through your drawers, tossing clothes to the side in a desperate search for something that feels right. it’s one of those nights—some random party you’re not really excited for but can’t help going to because, well, everyone’s going. the young adults of the island, at least.

another night of sloppy, underage drinking, messy hookups, and pointless fights breaking out over nothing, the kind of chaos that seems to thrive in a place like this. you don’t even know whose party it is, but that hardly matters.

you’ve already pulled out a pile of tops, but none of them feel like the one. too tight, too loose, too boring, not the vibe. they’re scattered across your bed now as you dig deeper, hoping that the perfect top is somehow hiding at the very bottom. and that’s when your fingers brush against something familiar, soft yet slightly worn—his hoodie.

you freeze for a second, your hand gripping the fabric, and a wave of something bittersweet washes over you. you didn’t even remember it was still there, shoved in the farthest corner of the drawer like you were trying to forget about it. but now it’s right in front of you, and just holding it feels like opening an old wound.

it’s rafe’s hoodie. as in your ex-boyfriend’s hoodie. the one he never asked for after you broke up. it’s stupid, probably, keeping it like this, but a part of you always thought that meant something.

back then, you’d convinced yourself that him not asking for it back was a sign. like he was telling you, in some unspoken way, that it wasn’t really over. that he still wanted you to hold on, just for a little longer. you’d held onto that hope longer than you should’ve.

because now, things are different. you’ve seen him around the island, his arm draped around another girl, a pogue, of all people. the whole thing feels like a bad joke, doesn’t it? rafe cameron, the toxic kook from figure eight, running around with some girl from the cut.

you wonder what her deal is. maybe she’s living out some kind of romeo and juliet fantasy. is that it, rafe? is that what you’ve become—her tragic love story? maybe she’s the kind of girl who romanticizes the idea of being with someone she isn’t supposed to, thinking she’s special because she got him.

the thought makes you frown, a bitter taste rising in the back of your throat. she doesn’t even know him like you do. she doesn’t know the way his mind works, doesn’t know what he’s like when the charm fades, when he’s spiraling, when everything he tries to hold together starts to fall apart.

without thinking, you pull the hoodie closer, burying your face in it. his scent still lingers faintly in the fabric—his cologne. that familiar, warm smell that used to make you feel safe, even when things between you were anything but. it’s been a while since you broke up, but the cologne is still there, still clinging to the material like it’s holding on, just like you are.

you wonder if he still wears it. maybe he sprays it on for his new girl now. maybe she pulls his hoodies around herself the way you used to, breathing him in, thinking she’s the only one who gets to do that now. the thought actually makes your chest ache.

you blink a few times, your throat tight, and gently lower the hoodie back down to your lap. i miss you, you think, but the words never make it past your lips. they just hang there, heavy and silent, as you stare down at the hoodie, wishing things had ended differently.

eventually, you pull the drawer all the way open and spot a shirt hiding beneath where the hoodie had been—it’s perfect for tonight. you pick it up, placing it on the edge of the drawer, but your fingers linger on the hoodie for a moment longer. then, with a quiet sigh, you fold it back up, tucking it away into the corner of the drawer once more. out of sight but never really out of mind.

you shove everything else back in, trying to get rid of the clutter, both in your room and in your head. it’s just another party, another night to pretend everything’s fine. but the hoodie still sits there, waiting, like it always has.

you’re waiting as your friend pours you a drink, eyes drifting over the skatepark around you. the party is in full swing—some are crowded around ramps, a few on their boards showing off, others slouched on graffiti-covered benches, their laughter mixing with the pounding bass.

when your friend hands you the cup, you take it with a nod, cruising through the crowds as you chat. your gaze flicks from group to group—people are either dancing, downing drinks, or getting a little too close in the shadows. you’re only half-focused on the conversation as you weave between the bodies.

you end up hanging by a ramp, watching as a few people race to shotgun their drinks. it’s messy and ridiculous, the kind of thing you can’t help but get pulled into. someone challenges you, and before you know it, you’re joining in. you win—barely—but not without nearly choking yourself in the process, coughing and laughing at the same time. sure, you won, but at what cost? still, it’s funny enough to have you and your friends laughing about it after.

while your friends mess around, you drift away from the noise, leaning back against the railing near the top of the ramp. your phone dangles loosely in your hand, and you’re resting your head on one of your friend’s backs as they chatter on. you don’t really need to be involved in the conversation—it’s comfortable just being there.

you find yourself staring at your phone screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard as you type out a quick message: hey.

it’s to rafe. of course, it is. and you know it’s dumb, you know you shouldn’t send it, but for some reason, everything in you wants to. even though it won’t do anything, even though he’s probably not even thinking about you right now.

you swipe your tongue across your bottom lip, hesitating for a beat longer before closing the app. you’re not gonna send it. you know you wouldn’t have anyway, you were just seeing if you’re drunk enough to go through with it. not this time. maybe another. maybe never. with a sigh, you turn your phone off and shove it into your pocket, trying to push the thought away.

but just then, there’s a commotion at the edge of the park, some people turning to look. a new car’s pulled up, headlights cutting through the dark, and as the doors open, your stomach drops.

yeah, of course, it’s him. rafe steps out, and your eyes lock onto him immediately. he’s got his girl by his side, and the sight alone makes you want to tilt your head back and groan. but instead, you just watch, waiting, seeing what they’ll do.

rafe moves through the crowd easily, that infamous smile on his face, flashing it at anyone who bothers to look. he looks . . . happy, which is great for him, really. it’s nice, or whatever. but as your gaze follows him, watching the way he’s moving with her, there’s a part of you that’s almost relieved. because no matter how content he looks, he doesn’t look happier. not happier than he did when he was with you. and somehow, that’s enough.

“don’t look now,” one of your girl friends mutters as she approaches, her voice low and careful. her back is to the rest of the party, which includes rafe and sofia, not that they’d even glance your way.

“you’re too late,” you say, leaning back against the railing, gripping it with a small smile. normally, you’d be dropping dead right about now, but if you did that, your friend would worry. and really, you’re not bothered. or at least, not too bothered.

“they look good together,” you add casually, waving a hand toward the crowd where rafe and sofia stand. you’re trying to sell it, trying to convince your friend that this is all good with you.

your friend gives you a skeptical look, her brow raised, and you nod, like you’re insisting she believe you. “i’m serious,” you tell her. “they’re perfect for each other.”

she rolls her eyes and glances over her shoulder to check them out herself, hand on her hip as she grimaces. “yeah, she’s perfect if he’s into . . .” she trails off, eyeing sofia's outfit—one of those looks where it’s obvious rafe bought the clothes for her, but none of it quite fits her style. “knock-off country club chic?”

it’s not that funny, but the resemblance is a little accurate. “stop,” you murmur, nudging her. you can’t help the faint smile that pulls at the corner of your lips as you lift your cup, pretending to hide it by taking a sip.

your friend's not wrong, and she catches the smirk you’re trying to hide. “told you,” she teases, a grin spreading across her face as you take the joint from her hand.

inhaling deeply, you let the smoke linger in your lungs before you exhale it in a slow, straight line. as the haze clears, your eyes fix on rafe and sofia, standing together in the middle of the skatepark. your face softens, the humor from earlier fading like something inside you has switched off. no more laughing, no more games.

just them.

just her.

you take sofia in for what she is—pretty. sure, you can give her that. you understand why rafe might’ve been drawn to her at first. she’s the kind of girl who stays close to him, like she’s tethered, like she can’t stand alone unless rafe has to excuse himself. and when he leaves, she fades into the background. disappears.

you watch her now, standing awkwardly off to the side while rafe talks to someone, looking small, unimportant. oh. interesting.

she must like attention. no, not attention, rafe’s attention. she clings to it like it’s the only thing that makes her visible. and yeah, she’s done up nice—dressed in new clothes, no doubt bought with rafe’s money. she cleans up well for a pogue.

but there’s something about the way she fidgets, like her skin doesn’t quite fit right in the fabric. you can tell she’s not used to it, this life. it’s too big for her. she’s nervous, uncomfortable, trying to blend in with the kind of people who were born into this world.

and her smile. you can see it from here, that ‘just to be kind’ smile. practiced, polite. probably something her parents taught her. good for her, really. that’s good.

she works at the pelican yacht club, doesn’t she? you live right by it. the idea that she works so close to your home, that rafe goes by your house just to see her . . . it makes your stomach twist.

she’s short, shorter than most. short hair, short bangs, and so this relationship will be short too.

just a phase. it has to be. or you’ll make it.

whatever it takes.

early tags: @iissza @lotuslovers @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @yootvi @skyslowalking @ariiwritess @beebeerockknot

[frudoo]

A non Zombie apocalypse 141 poly

They find another survivor looking for supplies and decide to make her their wife.

I went a lil crazy on this one ngl

Warnings: Non-con/dub-con but nothing sexual. Fem!Reader.

It was that colossal motherfucker you saw first—the one you almost wasted an arrow on because of that creepy skull mask he wore. The big bastard was raiding your shelter, a little storage room in what used to be a department store. Believe it or not, the mannequins you placed outside of your hideout were enough to deter the zombies away, so you had a pretty good thing going. That was before this dumb brute decided to ruin all your hard work and steal your canned goods.

     Your plan was to shoo him away and tell him to piss off, but he wasn’t having it. No, instead, he made you carry your own supplies back to his shelter, where there were three other men to feed. Fuck, you had enough food to last yourself about three months, but now, with these giant men who no doubt have massive appetites? You’re lucky if it’ll last a week. 

     You’re sitting on a raggedy couch between the pretty man with the ball cap and another with a stupid overgrown mohawk now, arms crossed with a foul look on your face. Across from you sits the fucker with the skull mask, and beside him in an ancient recliner is a bearded man wearing a weird hat. Every now and then you let out an annoyed huff, earning yourself a pointed stare from each of them.

     “Are ye gonna eat summat, or jus’ pout like a wee baby?” Mohawk Man asks you through a mouthful of lukewarm spaghetti hoops. 

     You flip him off without even looking at him, earning a few snickers from the other men. If you weren’t so pissed off at all of them, you might have allowed yourself a little smirk. In fact, you feel the beginning of one curling at the corner of your mouth, until Ball Cap™ pulls you into his lap and traps you there with his strong arms. You yelp and try to shimmy out of his grasp to no avail. You go to bite him, but the second your mouth opens, a spoonful of beans gets plopped inside.

     “Swallow,” Skull Guy commands, covering your mouth with one wide palm in case you decide to try and spit it out.

     You glare at him the entire time, but still obey his explicit order because you truly are hungry. You give up on trying to escape the pretty man’s grasp, letting your body go limp. It’s probably wise to save your energy, anyway.

     “Good bird,” he praises mockingly. “Now, since you’re through bein’ a brat, I’ll introduce everyone. 

     “M’Simon. Tha’ there,” he points at the one with the mutton chops, “is John, or Cap’n, dependin’ on his mood. Beside you’s Johnny, but we call him Soap. The one you’re sittin’ on is Kyle. We call him Gaz when he’s bein’ a dick, though.” 

     You nod like you’re paying attention, using his distraction as an opportunity to steal the can of beans from his hand. It’s a weird group, for sure, but aside from the fact that they’re thieving bastards, it might be nice to have more humans to help protect you from the hoards of the undead. It’s a step up from mannequins, anyway. Perhaps it also helps that they’re all insanely attractive.

     “Wha’ aboot ye, hen? Go’ a name?” Mohawk Man—or, Johnny, apparently—asks with a cheeky grin. 

     Before you get the chance to tell him your name, the one with the mutton chops, John, interrupts you. 

     “No matter, is it? We’ll call her our wife soon enough.”

     You nearly drop the can of beans when you process the words that just came out of his mouth, choking on the bite you just took. Kyle pats your back until your little coughing fit ceases, and Simon wipes the sticky residue from your mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie. None of them, you observe, are as baffled by John’s statement as you are. It makes a weird feeling churn in your gut.

     “A-all… all of you?” You stammer nervously, then start again with a lilt of confusion in your voice. “Wife?!”

     “Yes, dove, all of us,” Kyle confirms, confiscating the can of beans from you and setting it on the ground. 

     “Aw, don’t look so scared, sweetheart,” John stands from his place in the old recliner, stepping in front of you and lifting your head up to look at him with his pointer finger hooked beneath your chin.

     “I take good care o’my men. We’ll take good care o’you, too.”

[bluesidez]

The Love Lab presents:

Boyfriend is to Husband

pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gn!Reader

summary: How would Miguel react if you did the “calling my bf my husband” trend? 🤔

content warning: It gets a little suggestive, but other than that, it’s fluff fluff fluff. There are short mentions of food, but nothing too crazy. The Miguel in here is also not Spiderman. Just a little guy.

credit for art and dividers: Me! and @kimjiho1 (plus another person for the gif divider, if this is yours, lmk!)

a/n: This will be apart of a series called The Trendy Couple! This is the first installment ☝🏾😌. I’m not sure how long the series will be, but right now it’s just based off of cute couple's trends. My fyp has suffered trying to do research for this…

word count: 2.2k

I use the word "buggy" in here. Buggy = shopping cart or trolley. I'm southern so buggy just rolls off the tongue. ❤︎ Plus, it sounds cute!

You and Miguel have been out since 8 am running errands and grabbing supplies to fill up the new apartment. 

After a year of your dresser being full of his sweatpants and hoodies and his furniture hosting several of your blankets, his fridge being stocked of your favorite fruits and your shower caddy holding his body care, you both decided it was best to live together. 

Towel sets, bed sheets, comforters, silverware, curtains. This was only the tip of what you and Miguel had managed to stuff inside the car.

After hitting five shops just that morning, you opted to stay in the car while Miguel went and handled a pickup order from the hardware store. It was getting closer to lunchtime and you didn’t want to become irritable because of the long lines. 

To pass the time, you decided to scroll on TikTok, watching video after video, reacting to each accordingly. 

First, it was chatty kitties begging for food. Then, it was edits of hot wrestlers. Next, it was ramen recipes to cook at 2am. There were even a couple of NPC lives even though the trend was nearly dying at this point. 

Finally, you scrolled to a video hosting a girl and her boyfriend huddled together in a car over the console.

She’s leaned up against him, her smile beaming, “Today I’m going to be guessing my husband’s favorite things!”

“I’m not your husband,” are the words that shoot from her boyfriend’s mouth, fast as lightning. Cold. Unkind. Callous. 

You watch as the girl’s smile drops and the video cuts, her laughing out of shock beforehand, evidence of her trying to stamp out her embarrassment. 

You watch more as his grin widens and she gives him this awkward glance. 

“Not yet,” he adds, seeing how quiet she was. 

The video ends with her jumping at him playfully, trying to play the situation of. 

“Jesus,” you sigh, mouth turned sideways as you pause the video and open up the comments. Thousands of people were telling her to dump him, others questioning why he would say what he said in the way that he did. 

Your heart went out to the girl who clearly wanted to do a harmless joke that completely backfired. 

You liked a comment about this being a possible red flag. Although he could have responded that way because he wasn’t ready for marriage, his response was so quick and distant that it was like he was disgusted at the possibility of being with her that long. 

After working yourself up by scrolling through the comments, you decide to go even further by pressing the “calling my boyfriend ‘husband’” search at the top. 

There were so many stitches to the original video with people giving their own thoughts about the situation. Some people were proclaimed dating coaches, others psychologists, and a few influencers. 

You even see a follow up video from the original couple with the guy giving a shitty excuse as to why he was so quick in his response. 

“Yeah right,” you mumble, watching the girl snicker at her boyfriend’s pouts. You agree with the comments that his response makes the original video even worse. 

Still scrolling down, you find another video featuring a new couple. 

They’re at a table eating donut holes out of a hat, and when the girl calls her boyfriend “husband”, the guy’s entire body lights up. He’s grinning, cheeks rosy, and can’t stop staring back at his girlfriend. 

From there, you were able to see countless other couples with cute videos, all of the guys radiating at the word “husband.”

Biting your lip, you wondered how Miguel would react if you called him your husband. 

You loved him with all of your heart and you were sure that he loved you. You guys are literally moving into an apartment together. But the thought of him being unsettled by you calling him your husband weighed on you. 

Just as you were deep in your thoughts, you heard a knock near the trunk of the car startling you. Looking up in the rearview mirror, you see Miguel standing with a few bags and wood planks in his hands. You reach over and press a button to pop open the trunk. 

“Got everything?” you ask, turning to watch as he drops items in the back. 

“Yeah, I think so. Although there was almost a brawl over some potted plants,” he said. “Some older lady just came up to this guy and snatched his monsteras.” 

“What?” you respond, watching as he closed the trunk and walked around to the driver's seat. “Out of his hands or the buggy?”

Miguel laughed, both recalling the scene and finding your terms adorable. “She just came up and snatched it out of the cart while he was waiting at the end of the line. She swore that she saw it first.”

You listened to him retell the story, hand under your chin as you leaned closer. He was cute, lilt in his voice to make an impression of the plant thief. Thinking to yourself that you liked this little moment of playfulness, you take your phone out to record. 

Placing your phone in a case attached to the dashboard, you smile at the camera while Miguel’s still going. 

“‘You youngins think the world owes you everything, and that’s just not the case!’ And the poor guy is standing there going ‘ma’am, I just want my plant back.’ He looked so distressed.”

“I would be too! A random lady just shopped from my buggy. It’s like, why are you this close to me to see what I’m trying to buy?”

Miguel turns the car on and buckles up. “It started to escalate when the lady’s friend came over. Then there were two shrill voices fussing at this guy.”

He started to back the car out of the parking spot, hand behind your seat and head turned towards the back window. 

You slowly glanced at his arm, eyes tracing a vein up his shirt. 

Too bad you were in a car right now or else you’d let his arm wrap around you elsewhere. 

You tune back into his words, silently scolding yourself for letting something so simple get you to fold. 

“Luckily, I was able to calm them both down. All it took was me showing them some dasheen leaves,” he said, driving the car closer to the exit of the parking lot. 

You came to a conclusion. There was no better time than the present. 

“Aw, look at my husband. Saving the day with his genius,” you say, hand reaching out to pat his chest. 

Then you feel your body jerk to the right. The seat belt tightens as the car jerkingly swerves in between two parking spaces. 

You stare in a panic at Miguel who puts the car in park and turns his entire body towards you. 

“What did you just call me?” he asks, eyes searching yours, a little startled but mostly hopeful. 

You decide to keep the charades going, “I was just praising my husband for stopping the creation of another Karen video. Why did you turn the car like that?” You’re still looking at him as if he has two heads. 

“You just-!” Miguel takes your hands into his and places his forehead on his fists. “Baby, you know what you just said.” 

You laugh, a little giddy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Miguel leans back against his seat and closes his eyes, reaching down to take his seatbelt off. His eyebrows scrunch up as he brings your hand to his chest, “Feel my heartbeat.”

Your mouth drops as you feel his heart rattling against his chest. He really wasn’t being dramatic. 

“Baby look at me,” you grab his hands and hold them tight. “You did a good job today.”

His breath stopped, as he looked at you. His face was tinted from the whole fiasco. 

“Husband.”

Miguel’s entire body slumped as he grinned wide. He nearly jumped over the console to sag his body onto yours. 

His shoulders were shaking and you heard his laugh muffled by your shoulder. You wrap your arms around him and make a face at the camera. 

“What’s up, Mig?” you say, trying to get him to talk. 

He mumbled into your clothes, shoulders still shaking. 

“I can’t hear you, you gotta sit up.”

He sits up and sniffles, turning his head toward the backseat. 

Looking at his profile you can see a few streaks down his face. 

“Are you crying?” you ask, turning his face towards yours. 

Miguel swipes his wrist across his cheeks, “Stop, this is extremely embarrassing.”

“No, it’s not! I promise it’s not,” you say, rubbing your thumb across his ear. “Talk to me.”

He chuckled, eyes looking down, “It just feels really good to know that you think of me that way. We don’t have to ever cross that line, but one day, if you would like, we can make that title true.”

“Is this a pre-proposal?” you ask, heartbeat in your ears. You went out on a limb to follow a trend, not knowing how it would end. Now you’re staring at Miguel’s flushed face with his heart pouring out into your lap. 

“Maybe,” he whispered, grabbing your hands. “Possibly a promise for what could be.”

You bite your lip to hold back a grin, “Can I know what could be right now?”

“And expose my plans? Not a chance,” Miguel smirked. “Besides, a husband knows what’s best for his partner, right?”

“He does,” you quip, rubbing your hand in a circle on his chest. “He also apparently forgets that SUVs can flip very easily.”

“Lo siento, mi amor,” he says, looking sheepishly at the placement of the car. “Did I startle you?”

You just giggle at his concern and give him a quick peck on the mouth. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting that big of a reaction.”

“How would you react if I casually called you forever mine? While driving!”

“Go 90 in a 70,” you joke. “Maybe pull over and do a little more than make out.” You rub your hand down his chest, and squeeze playfully at his pec. 

Miguel stared back at you, body instantly reacting to the shift in conversation. “We can actually do that right now.”

He leaned forward and brought your lips to his. You could taste the mint from the gum he had earlier, humming when he pushed further into your mouth. 

He started to reach for your hips, ready to pull you over onto his lap. 

Your stomach let out a loud grumble, making you jump. 

“Ok, let’s try this again after we get you some food,” Miguel says, plastering kisses on your face. 

The day moves on smoothly with Miguel not letting you out of his sight, hands itching to hold you in some way. 

He also never lets the husband thing go. 

As you’re ordering lunch, “One lemonade for my baby. And a water with lemon for me, the husband.”

As you stop in a clothing store at the mall for a small break, “These say boyfriend jeans. Do they have any husband jeans?”

As you’re trying to reach the top shelf to grab the last of your favorite detergent, “No, cariño. Let your husband get it for you.”

As you’re looking for throw pillows and towel sets for the apartment, “You think they have a couple’s set? I want something that says ‘Mr.’ on it.”

As you stop at a gift store, looking for something extra to give to the movers, “Look, this shirt says it’s made of ‘hubby material.’ Should I get it?”

This feeling is only amplified when you post his initial reaction online. The comments were full of people yearning to be in your predicament. 

“If my boyfriend doesn’t crash the car when I call him husband, THROW HIM AWAY. 😒”

“Does he have a brother….asking for a friend”

“I needed this after the “I’m not your husband” he in LOVE”

“If your bf doesn’t cry at the thought of you, what are you doing”

“He was blushing HARRRRD 😭😭😭”

“So when’s the wedding? 🤨”

“He was literally cheesing and crying omg”

“Get you a man that stops the car to declare his love”

“What if I did a five mile marathon on i-55”

“He’s so in love with you that it’s palpable”

“He was ready do a lot more than make out 😭”

Miguel saw most things, a little embarrassed but mostly happy that so many people found him to be genuine. 

You laid on his shoulder as he checked the comments, liking the funny ones as they passed by.

“Do you want to make a response video?” you say, liking a comment going ‘he’s a good man, Savannah.’

“No, I think this is enough,” he replies, handing the phone back to you. “Let me keep a little mystery. At least until I actually propose, of course.”

You looked at him with stars in your eyes.

“A mysterious husband. I kind of like the sound of that,” you say, wrapping your body around his side. “Maybe I can be nosy, find out his secrets.”

“I bet you would, cariño,” he voiced, nuzzling his chin on top of your head. “After, everything is planned and done.”

You laughed and snuggled closer, happy to be with him.

Once again, I hope you enjoyed reading! ❣️

Any likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated and welcomed.

I'm excited for the future of this series and I hope you guys are too. When I finish the series masterlist, I'll link it here. If you guys have any trends that you want me to include, then just let me know and I'll see what I can do!

- Blue ♡

[hencheri]

love, H

18+ mdni.

pairing: stalker!heeseung x fem!reader

warnings: stalking, yandere elements (i hate saying that), heeseung's a freak, noncon/dubcon, knife play, fear play & chase kink ig.

wc: 2.2k

.

It’s cold. Freezing cold. The night air has you clutching to your arms in an attempt to heat yourself up, but the breeze hitting you in the face, flowing through your hair and into the collar of your coat, makes it impossible to feel any type of warmth. 

You should have brought a scarf, you knew you should have right when you stepped foot outside this morning, but you didn’t. And now you’re sure you’re going to freeze to death before reaching your front door. 

But at the sight of someone in particular, your heartbeat quickens in seconds, pumping blood so rapidly you feel it pounding against your chest. You don’t feel cold anymore. 

A man you can’t name, but who has been following you and watching you for weeks — probably months at this point. You look back at him, halting your steps, his body standing a few feet away from you just outside your workplace like he’s been waiting for you for a while.

You don’t see his eyes, don’t see his face — never did you, and you might not discover it very soon either — a black hoodie draped over his head as it is often the case. 

He gets away from the wall he was leaning on when you walk away in the direction of your house. You check a few times behind your shoulder, seeing him following you closely in such a casual manner it reminds you how often you experienced this exact same situation before with the exact same person. Your faceless stalker. 

You live a few blocks away, and turning corner after corner, noticing he hasn’t disappeared, you start to really freak out. He usually doesn’t follow you until there, you’ve always supposed he was too scared in case he could get spotted by your neighbours, but this fear doesn’t seem to stop him at this moment. 

You fasten the pace of your steps, quicker and quicker until you’re actually running, the only sounds you hear being your boots hitting the pavement and the rapid breaths you take, accompanied, of course, by his own footsteps chasing after you. 

Your eyes well up in tears as you tighten your hold around the straps of your shoulder bag, taking a look behind you and being horrified to see his dark silhouette still behind you, determined and eager to catch you. You let out a sob, one that rips up through your throat, heartbeat now pounding in your skull, making your ears ring loudly. 

You’re breathless, scared and desperate, a spark of hope lighting in you at the view of your house. You’re almost there, come on. Your stomach hurts as well as the soles of your feet, but you keep going, running because your life depends on it. He’s never expressed the want to kill you, but he’s expressed many other things that made the hair on your arms rise up, and thinking back to it, you don’t want to discover what’s going to happen if he gets his hands on you. 

The letters he leaves you… they all ended up in the trash, until one day where he threatened in his letter to enter your house during your sleep if you got rid of this one, too. They’re now stacked up in the last drawer of your vanity, still in their original envelope. 

You could recite each one of them and exactly what they’re talking about. The subject always the same, but told in a different way; you. Only you. 

You find yourself rereading them sometimes, usually when a new one comes in. He leaves them in your mailbox, but it happens you fall upon one on your nightstand coming back from work, or, the weirdest, in your underwear drawer, exactly in the spot where one of your panties is missing. 

He’s not subtle about it, he admits it pretty buntly, in fact. He tells you which pair he took exactly, the last one he described as the ‘cute baby pink panties with a white heart pattern and small bow on the front’ and he also says what he does with it, a part that always leaves you in shock and weirdly turned on. 

He tells you when he gets inside your house, what he touches, what he likes, what he keeps. His words are kind and surprisingly caring, but when you do something he doesn’t appreciate, like throwing his letters in the trash for example, his tone changes completely. This double side of him is what scares you the most because you truly never know the extent of what he’s capable of. 

He talks about his fantasies, whether they’re explicit or not, you don’t know what to expect when opening his letters. He admits his desire to have you, possess you, his carnal need to make love to you as he so calls it, but anything he describes is the opposite of making love. 

You think he doesn’t really know the difference between love and obsession, but you’d be fooled with how skilled he is with words. Everything sounds poetic, when in reality, the meaning of his words are far from beautiful. They’re deranged and don’t make sense either. You can’t pretend to love someone you say you’d chop in little pieces if they throw away your unsolicited love letters. 

He always signs with H, that’s pretty much all you know of him, and you don’t even know if his name really begins with the letter H. You don’t know if he’s someone from your daily life or a stranger you’ve never met. You know nothing, but he knows everything, every little detail of your intimacy… 

He’s aware of that power he has over you. He could have had you way back before, but he didn’t. He wants you to be familiar with him, wants to make its way into your life without even revealing himself. He wants you to know you’re eventually going to be his and there’s nothing you can do about it. 

Like tonight, there’s nothing you can do to stop him. 

He has the way to your house, he can get inside whenever he wants. If he decides to catch you tonight, he will, and with the chasing that’s happening right now, you think the time has come. You’ll be his, finally. 

But you’ll have to give up on running before he even touches you. 

You cross your front yard, clumsily climbing up the stairs to the entrance door. You slip your hand into your pocket and pull out your keys, hurriedly trying to insert it into the lock. You know he’s behind, you hear him, and you think you’ve never been so frightened in your life before. 

You turn the key and then the handle, pushing your door open and immediately getting inside. You only realize how close he was to getting you when closing the door, he startles you by rushing into it, seeing his body watching through the transparent glass. 

You lock it, shaking in fear, but relieved that you made it in. He hits the glass with his hand out of frustration, visibly upset. His head is down, so you can’t decipher any of his features, but knowing he’s angry is enough to make you scared, recalling the words he uses when he’s annoyed with your behaviour.

‘If you ever escape me, I’ll make sure you never use your legs ever again,’ followed by your name and then ‘love, H’, ending the letter. 

You never knew what that meant, but now you think you do. 

He stays behind your door for a minute or so, both looking back at each other, without you being able to see his eyes. 

He steps away and you watch him leave, wondering where he’s going. Your senses are all enlightened, a million thoughts going through your head at the same time. You walk into your kitchen, grabbing a knife, feeling a tad bit safer now armed. 

But there’s still this little voice in the back of your mind telling you the knife is useless, he’ll get you unarmed in a matter of seconds. You can lock yourself up in a room, he’ll still find a way in because he always does. 

And unconsciously, you make yourself an easy prey. You like it, you anticipate it. Why did you never call the police? Why haven’t you changed the locks on your doors? 

Why in the hell are you turned on to know he touches himself with your stolen panties? 

From the corner of your eye, you get the glimpse of a shadow. You instantly turn around, pointing your knife in front of you, but there’s nobody in the kitchen beside you. 

You walk out, looking on each side of you, being on your guard. Your face turns pale, noticing the back door half open. You gulp down. 

He’s inside. Your stalker, he’ll kill you. He will tonight in your own house.

“Oh, sweetie…”

Your heart skips a beat. 

You turn around again, losing all of the strength you had earlier to fight him. You step back until you hit the sliding door behind you, feeling the cold glass through your clothes. You clasp your hand tightly around the handle of the kitchen knife, but you look much more ridiculous than intimidating. 

“My poor little girl, all frightened and helpless,” he chuckles, and you find back the light-hearted tone he uses in his letters. It sends shivers down your spine, your pussy throbing.

He walks toward you and you point the knife at him, “don’t get any closer!” you sob out, wanting to sound serious, but your voice breaks pathetically at the end. More tears fall down your cheeks, the previous ones now dried out on your burning skin. 

You can see a smirk drawn on beautiful heart-shaped lips, and your mouth opens in shock when he pulls his hoodie off his head. 

Your arm holding your knife is trembling, your eyes staring at his face. You’ve spent night after night imagining what he could look like, feeling so powerless thinking that you might never know who he is, but he’s just revealed himself to you now. And it’s nothing you ever expected to see. 

He’s beautiful.

“What do you think you’re going to do with that thing?” he asks mockingly, referring to the knife that you no longer hold properly, letting your emotions get the best out of you. He approaches you despite your warning — that was nothing other than laughable. “Stab me, maybe? I know you could never.” 

You watch him taking control of you in no time with tearful eyes. He takes the knife out of your grip, and the way he easily uses it against you is humiliating. 

He swiftly puts the tip of the blade under your chin, forcing your head up. “I admire your tenacity, my love. I really do,” he tells you, and his voice is soft, almost too gentle. “But I thought I was clear on that; you’re mine. You can’t run away from me.”

You try to hold back your cries, keeping your mouth closed and looking away from his face, but the tears still roll down your cheeks, drawing a wet trail from your eyes to your jaw. 

“Look at me,” he suddenly growls, pressing the blade harder under your chin, but not enough to cut you. You reluctantly do what he said, your eyes meeting his. “There you go,” he coos, “I know you dreamt of this exact moment. You’re a little freak who likes the attention of deranged guys like me. You’re no secret to me, baby.”

Your bottom lip trembles, no words coming out of you. What possibly can you say? You’re not stupid enough to think you can change his mind. 

And maybe a part of you really waited for this moment to happen. For him to catch you. 

You gasp when he tears through the front of your shirt with the knife, tilting your head downward to see your chest exposed, goosebumps all over your skin. 

“So pretty. I always wanted to see them from up close,” he moans, dragging the knife between your naked breasts, going over your heaving stomach down to the band of your leggings. He lowers them with his other hand, pushing them all the way down to your ankles. 

He tears through your panties as well, leaving you with nothing covering your private parts and you can’t feel more embarrassed. 

The blade of the knife stays just under your belly button as his eyes stare at your uncovered pussy, wetting his lips with his tongue. He’s in love, to say the least.

“Fuck that shit.” He throws the knife away on the floor and with both hands free, he unzips his pants and takes his hard cock out. 

He aligns his leaking tip with your entrance, feeling how wet you already are. 

“N-No, don’t, please!” You cry out, holding his shoulders, but doing no attempt in pushing him away. 

Just as he pushes himself into you, he glances up at your face, looking totally blissed out. His mouth hungs open, staring back into your eyes as he thrusts up all in the way in, making you moan out in pain. 

“Stop lying to yourself, baby,” he groans, “we both know you love it.”

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Hii! If it’s okay, totally okay if not!

Can I please request a TFAWS!Bucky x fem!reader where she is his next door neighbor and they first meet when she’s moving into the apartment complex, and struggling to carry in all of her stuff. Bucky, ever the sweet gentleman he is, offers to help her move in and carries her stuff.🥹 And they spend a lot of time together in her apartment that day getting to know each other. After that they’re best friends (who obviously have a growing love for each other) and often spend time with each other in both his apartment and her apartment. Bucky even starts taking her to his lunches with Yori (who definitely catches on and points out the feeling between the two of them hehe) and eventually introduces her to Sam (who also can see the pair love each other). Many situations bring the two of them closer together, like one day when Bucky saves her from a group of men who followed her home from work, and also another time when Y/n (who now has an extra key to Bucky’s apartment, and he has one to hers) hears Bucky having a nightmare and she goes into his apartment, crawls into his arms, and lays down with him on the floor of his apartment to calm him down🥺 Anyways, they’re both idiots in love and finally confess their love each other after so long of being just “best friends”🥺

Hi! Thank you for the sweet request. This is an amazing, cute, adorable and just lovely request. The way both of them find their way to one another and it just so cute. The end isn’t the best I guess but yeah. I’m sorry it took me so long to write it but I finally finished it! I hope you like and enjoy it.

More than everything | B.B

Your new neighbour helps you to move in but soon he is way more than just your neighbour. Your best friend, the one you can talk about everything, he knows every secret, except one.

Pairing -> Neighbour!BestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Neighbour!BestFriend!Fem!Reader

Wordcount -> 7.371 Words

Warnings -> fluff, lots of fluff, idiots in love, some weird guys, nightmares, love confession

Authors Note -> I want to thank @thevillainswhore for proofreading! Thank you so much, my love! I love you!❤️ All and every mistakes are my own.

Events -> Seasonal Delights Bingo: Types of love | G4 | being calmed down by a familiar person's presence | @seasonaldelightsbingo | Fandom Free Bingo: Book Night Edition | B4 | Baby Just Say Yes | @fandom-free-bingo | Fandom Free Bingo: Frosty Edition | G2 | Wiping away tears | @fandom-free-bingo | Build-A-Bucky Bingo | June | Meddling Best Friend | @buckybarnesevents

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Sweat runs down your face as you lift one of the heavy boxes out of your car. You haven’t even started to move your stuff into your new apartment, yet you feel like you’ve carried an elephant around. The sun is shining a lot today, heating the air and there’s not much of a cool breeze that could help you to cool down.

With a groan, your fingers clutch onto the box tighter. You feel the slow movement of it slipping from your grasp, so you try to squeeze it so it won’t fall down. You’re not sure what’s in the box, but it’s heavy and you can’t have all of your stuff laying around in the ground in front of your apartment.

“Need help?” A rough voice startles you. Spinning on your heel, you turn to face the person who stands there and your mouth drops open while your eyes widen.

The man who stands there with a soft smile tugging at his beautiful plump lips has short brown hair and wears a hoodie and gloves. You secretly wonder if it’s not too warm underneath all those layers of fabric. He reaches out to place his big hands underneath the box you carry and lifts it up like it weighs nothing. You notice the muscles working underneath his hoodie when he holds the carton.

“H-Hi! U-uhm, I would love to accept the offer but I don’t want to interrupt you from whatever you were doing,” you mumble, face palming yourself when the words leave your lips. He wouldn’t offer you his help if he was busy. Instead of judging you he just chuckles, his ocean blue eyes sparkle and his nose scrunches ever so slightly.

“Of course, doll! I’m Bucky, and you?” He asks, looking straight into your eyes and causing your knees to buckle. Bucky’s laugh, his voice — he is just so perfect. You’re not sure if he is just an imagination in your mind or if you’re hallucinating because of the heat and limited drinking.

Clearing his throat, Bucky pulls you out of your thoughts and gets your attention back. “I- I’m y/n. Nice to meet you, Bucky,” you say, smirking softly with heat creeping up your cheeks. You reach into your car once again to get another box out to carry.

“You can place it on top of this one, put two on top,” he says with a grin at you. You narrow your eyes, placing another box on the one he has already in his arms before reaching in to grab another carton.

“It’s heavy to carry that much, Bucky,” you chuckle, but place the third box into his arms as well. With a grunt, he almost falls forward, scaring you before standing straight again. He starts laughing softly, winking at you as you grab a box for yourself to carry into your apartment.

“I once lifted a whole engine for a friend, so your boxes aren’t that heavy compared to a ship engine,” Bucky says. You shake your head, smirking before making your way to the front door and into the apartment complex. “Which floor?”

“Second.” Bucky nods, grinning. As you walk up the stairs and along the floor the two of you walk closer and closer to his apartment, and his smirk grows with every step closer to your apartment.

While you think you embrassed yourself in front of this handsome and sweet man with your stutter and dropped jaw earlier, he only thinks it makes you adorable. There wasn’t someone in a while who looked at him with such softness in their expression — someone who doesn’t seem to know who he was, who gives him the chance to get to know him as the person he is now.

“Oh!” Bucky says when you stop in front of your door to fish the keys out of your pocket. You turn around, tilting your head as he chuckles. “Hi, next door neighbor.”

You giggle. For a moment you’re sure he is making a joke, but he just nods toward the door next to yours and grins even wider. Your eyes widen as you look to the door, then back to him.

“I don’t want to interrupt that sweet little moment where you stare at me and my apartment door because you find out that I live next to you…. But these boxes are going to be too heavy for me to carry soon,” Bucky says and nods at the boxes he is still holding in his arms. You gasp, taking the keys and unlocking the door with an apologetic smile. “It was a joke, I don’t mind carrying those boxes for you all day.”

You roll your eyes playfully, letting Bucky walk into your apartment and follow behind. “You’re the best, thank you so much!” You say as you both place the boxes on the floor.

“Don’t thank me yet, we have a lot more to carry,” Bucky tells you, walking a step closer to you and placing his big hands on the small of your back, pushing you toward the door. Instead of flinching of his sudden touch, you giggle softly, liking the warmth of his soft touch.

The two of you carry all your stuff into your apartment and while Bucky looks like he hasn’t done anything all day, you feel your aching muscles. You sigh deeply when you finally are able to let yourself fall down on the couch.

“How can you still look so— so handsome, so good like you haven’t carried so many boxes and all,” you ask, eyes roaming over his tall body while he stands in front of you. Bucky chuckles, leaning back against the wall behind him. His tongue pokes out, gliding over his lips to wet them and cause them to glisten.

“How about I get some food for the two of us, there is that nice restaurant just a block away,” he suggests and you nod immediately. He pushes himself off the wall, turning around to make his way out of the apartment.

“Wait!” You shout, causing him to stop in his tracks and turn back to you. “Uhm- let me find my wallet.”

Bucky laughs, shaking his head and walking further to the door. “You don’t have to pay me for dinner, and also not for helping you to carry those boxes, so no ‘buts’ here.”

With a sigh, you chuckle and Bucky makes his way to get the food. He already likes you a lot, you’re a sweet and nice person, no judging. He’s sure you wonder why he wears a hoodie and gloves even though it’s hot, but he also appreciates that you haven’t asked him about it, so he doesn’t have to lie to you .

— —

After Bucky came back with the food the two of you sat there in your new apartment, talked and ate. The conversation flowed between the two of you and you feel like you’ve  known Bucky for so long already. He is a sweet and gentle man, taking care of you and making you laugh. Plus his voice and laugh is the most beautiful thing you have ever heard, you could listen to him all day and you would never be tired of it nor him.

The connection between you and Bucky gets stronger with every day. The two of you spend a lot of days in your or his apartment and he becomes your best friend. You know you can trust him, you can tell him everything and he knows it as well.

One night a few weeks ago, Bucky came over in just a t-shirt, asking you if he is allowed to sleep on your couch because he can’t stand the quietness in his apartment. You offered him to sleep in bed with you, knowing that he would never touch you unless you allow him to do so but he shook his head.

“I-I would just love to sleep on the couch, you know,” Bucky mumbled, scratching the back of his head while he looked at you with sleepy eyes. He looked tired, not just because he fell out of his bed, but also because he was suffering from nightmares again.

Your scent is always calming to him. It was his first thought as he was sitting on his makeshift bed for the night, sweat running down his body. Bucky would love to say yes to sleeping in a bed with you, but he knew that his nightmares can cause him to punch something next to him and he didn’t want to risk hurting you.

“Are you okay, Buck? Do you need anything, I can make you tea,” you offered, bushing your fingers softly over his stubble. But again, he smiled softly and shook his head. Your touch was so soft, so loving and he got lost for a moment until you nodded and placed a pillow and a blanket on the couch.

“You know… we can also build a blanket fort,” you suggested with a grin, but Bucky just chuckled and patted  the space next to him.

You sat down, turning to look at your best friend. He smiled, his fingers fidgeting in his lap as you place yours on his and hold his big hands in your smaller ones.

“We don’t have to, if it makes you uncomfortable,” you said, smiling as softly as possible while you stroked your thumb over the back of his hand.

“I-I would love to… but…” Bucky stuttered, his eyes were roaming over your face, trying to find anything that told him that you judge him. However, he could only find nothing but pure love, affection and understanding.

“I just… you remember what I told you about my arm and my past?” You nodded, narrowing your eyes. Bucky inhaled deeply, bringing one of your hands to his metal arm, letting you touch it. He always let you do it, since the day you told him that this arm is a part of him, it makes him special. But you also told him that his arm doesn’t tell who he is because even though he was the winter soldier and had a metal arm there too — it was a different one plus he was under the control of people who used him. But it wasn’t him.

With that he allowed you to touch his arm, it was even claiming for him because you weren’t afraid of him. You accepted and loved him, with the metal arm, with his story. It makes him feel like home.

“I dream about it, almost every night. But when I fell asleep the last time here, I didn't have nightmares. But-but I sometimes punch something so I don’t want to hurt you,” Bucky confessed. You couldn’t help the small quirk of your lips — he felt so comfortable that he doesn’t even have nightmares. But you also couldn’t help the glisten of your eyes; it was awful to know that those dreams made him struggle.

“I’m sorry to hear that. You can always sleep here if you want. And just for you to know… I can take care of myself so if you ever want to cuddle, just tell me, I’m sure I can take care of you and also that you won't hurt me,” you assured him, leaning closer to press a soft kiss on his cheek, causing him to blush softly. He nodded with a thankful smile, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing the back of it with a grin on his beautiful lips.

“Thank you, doll. Now go to sleep, I’m sure you’re tired. I don’t want to keep you awake just because I can’t sleep,” he smirked, letting go of you to let you go back to bed, but you stayed where you were and just let your eyes roam over his handsome face a while longer.

“You sure? I don’t mind staying up with you a while longer if it helps you,” you said but he nodded, assuring you that he is fine. “You can turn on the television if you need some background noises.”

With that, you got up and walked back into your bedroom. Bucky smiled softly, leaning back before getting comfortable and turning on the television. Your scent surrounded him and he fell asleep pretty quick, relishing the first good sleep he’d had in weeks.

That was a few weeks ago and even though Bucky loves sleeping at your apartment, sometimes he is out late and doesn’t want to wake you. Plus he wants to give you some privacy. You’re not dating anyone, but as much as he loves your company, he doesn’t want to scare you away.

With time, you become his everything. You’re the one who holds him when he thinks he falls — you’re the one, his one. And even though his feelings get stronger, he hasn’t told you yet. He’s too scared — maybe you don’t feel the same and he will destroy the friendship you both developed so perfectly.

Bucky knocks at your door. He is on his way to his dinner with Yori but he has to see you. He told the older man a lot about you, but he hasn’t introduced the two of you yet.

In one of Bucky’s hoodies — the one you picked out of his wardrobe when the two of you made a mess in the kitchen — you walk to the door and open it. Your face immediately lights up as you see your best friend, who's smiling softly at you.

“Doll! I’m just on my way to dinner with Yori, wanting to check after you—,”  his voice trails off, looking you up and down. His blue eyes light up as he notices the hoodie you’re wearing, and his nose scrunches with the slight curl of his lips. “Looking good in my clothes, sweetheart.”

You giggle, ducking your head to try and hide the warmth that coats your cheeks. You play with your fingers in front of you, then you look up to meet his intense blue eyes. They look so soft and there is nothing but love and affection in them when he looks at you.

“I’m fine, thank you, Buck. Just came home from work, going to make myself some dinner and then watch a movie, probably,” you say. Bucky narrows his eyes, tilting his head slightly and he looks just adorable like that. “Don’t worry, not gonna watch our series without you! Hope you enjoy dinner with Yori, tell him ‘Hey’ from me.”

Bucky nods, he doesn’t want to move, he would prefer to stare at you a while longer — maybe just forever. He knows the two of you are meeting the next day for your movie night, but he wants to be around you all the time. He inhales deeply, looking toward the kitchen — there is no smell of food, yet.

“W-would you like to join us?” Bucky stumbles over his words. “He would love to meet you, and I would love to have you around. But only if you want to of course!” He hopes that you agree and go out with him — even though it’s not a date, but for him it’s pretty close to one.

Your smile widens as you nod. “Sure! But I have to change clothes, pretty fast— at least my pants.” With that you’re walking into your bedroom to change. Your heart races and the butterflies in your stomach go wild — it’s just a dinner with Bucky and a friend of his. But at the same time it's dinner with Bucky, who is going to introduce you to one of his friends.

Within a few minutes, you made yourself ready for dinner and walked back to Bucky, who was waiting patiently waiting for you with a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“We should put some of my hoodies into your wardrobe so you can always wear them,” he mumbles, his eyes roaming up and down your body and taking every inch in. You look stunning — like always.

You don’t have to wear a dress. Bucky loves you in everything, sweethearts and t-shirts or pants and hoodie. For him you’re always stunning. He can’t take his eyes off you, when he sleeps at yours and you get up in the morning — hair messy and you’re all sleepy. You look like the cutest thing he has ever seen.

“Lets goooo!” You giggle, taking your phone and keys and walking out of your apartment. Bucky closes the door behind you, walking next to you along the floor and out of the building.

Bucky has told you a lot about Yori already, they go out for dinner once or twice a week. Always the same bar and always the same food and drinks but Bucky loves the company of the older man. Even if he has been asking him about you pretty often recently. But Bucky doesn’t mind, he can’t seem to stop talking about how beautiful and sweet you are anyway.

The two of you walk along the street, it’s just a short stroll. He asks you about your day, if you had something nice you could tell him, or if someone upset you during work. Your best friend listens to you the whole time, nodding or chuckling with you.

He always asks you about your day, making sure you had something that made you happy and to get rid of the things that upset you. And even if it ends up with him tickling you until you laugh to have something good to say about the day. As much as Bucky loves to hear and see that someone about the day makes you happy, he loves it more when it’s him who causes your happiness.

Bucky opens the door to the bar. His palms are sweaty and he inhales deeply before following you inside, pointing to the bar where an older man sits. He is obviously waiting for someone while talking to the waitress.

“There is Yori,” Bucky says, his voice sounding slightly broken and when you look at him you notice him shifting from one foot to the other. He smirks at you but it doesn’t reach his eyes — you know that expression.

Bucky often looks like that when people are around and he becomes nervous. Or when someone stares at him with a judgemental gaze, mostly when he is overwhelmed.

You stop in your tracks, turning toward him completely so you block his way toward the bar and take both of his hands in yours. “Buck?”

He hums, letting you know that he’s listening. His ocean blue eyes roam over your face, another attempt of a smile on his pretty lips but once again you notice that it’s not letting his eyes light up like his smile usually does.

“Can you breathe with me? Slowly to calm you down. I’ll hold your hands to help you— feel it?” You ask him, inhaling deeply together with him before slowly exhaling. Bucky nods to answer your question, his thumbs running over the back of your hands. He draws small circles, something that always helps him calm down, feeling your soft flesh underneath his rough fingers.

“S-sorry… just- I’m just a bit nervous. You’re my best friend and I told him so much about you already but he always looked at me with a smirk- that looks like he knows more about our relationship than I do.” Bucky smiles at you, removing one of his hands to wipe a strand of hair behind your ear, chuckling softly. “A-And I just can’t take my eyes off of you, doll. You look so pretty.”

“Thank you,” you giggle, holding Bucky’s hand tighter before you slowly walk to the bar where his friend is already sitting. The older man turns around, his eyes widen a bit, just like the grin on his face, as he notices the two of you. Bucky shifts, offering you the place next to the other man before he takes a seat next to you.

“You look just as pretty as Bucky always described you,” Yori says, causing your best friend to choke on his spit. His cheeks heat up and he scratches the back of his neck as you look at him.

“Told you… told you that I talked a lot about you,” Bucky confesses once again. The woman behind the bar walks toward you, a soft smile appearing on his lips. She silently asks the two men if they want to have the same as always. Both of them nod, Bucky doesn't even look at her, his eyes remain on you.

Then the woman turns to you, offering you a card but you shake your head. “The same as whatever Bucky likes, please.” Whatever it is he always orders, you know you will love it. The two of you have almost the same taste in everything and you know what Bucky loves to eat, so you know that he would never eat something that you wouldn’t like either.

The woman smiles nicely before she turns around and leaves the three of you alone. Yori grins at Bucky, wiggling his eyebrows and you have to admit that’s the funniest and cutest thing a older man like Yori could have done. You chuckle, turning to face Bucky, who could win an award against a tomato.

You place your hand on Bucky’s thigh, running your fingers softly over the firm muscle. “Bucky, do you need some fresh air?” You ask, slightly worried that his skin color could be because it’s too hot or the air too thick for him to breathe right now.

Bucky shakes his head. He places his hand on yours and caresses the back of it with his thumb while he looks into your eyes for a moment. “I’m fine, just- just nervous, you know?”

You nod, then you turn back to Yori, who watches the two of you intensely. His eyes are roaming down to Bucky’s thigh where both of your hands are. “So how long are the two of you dating?”

“We aren’t dating. We’re best friends,” you say, narrowing your eyes at the question. Yori’s smile never fades, his eyes glistening. He doesn’t believe the two of you — or maybe he does but then you both are idiots.

“You should ask her out, James,” the older man says and nods toward Bucky. Your best friend's eyes widen but he smiles softly, shaking his head.

It’s not like he doesn’t want to, but you’re just best friends. You’re everything for him, even though he is more than just in love with you, he is scared to ruin everything. Bucky would do everything for you, but he is still stuck in his past, he is over 100 years old — still looking like a mid 30 year old — but that doesn’t change that he is a broken mess.

“She deserves better than the broken man I am,” Bucky says with a soft laugh. He tries to cover the truth, the pain behind his words but you can see through it.

You would like to smack him for his statement. He may be broken and a mess, but he is still the most loving and sweetest gentleman you have ever met. He never judges you, no matter what it is you have his back, you have his love, you have Bucky. You would actually tell Bucky that you don’t want anyone but him but this would lead into a conversation with more confession — something you don’t want to have during a dinner with one of Bucky’s friends in public.

The night goes well, the three of you are laughing a lot. Yori points out often that the two of you have more than just a friendship, that you both have feelings for one another but you and Bucky play it off. You like Yori a lot, you understand why Bucky likes the older man, why he always eats lunch or dinner with him. After saying your goodbyes to Yori, Bucky and you walk back to your apartment complex. Bucky brings you to your apartment, kissing your cheek softly before he makes his way to his own apartment. Your night is filled with a lot of dreams with Bucky and even Bucky himself has a night — without nightmares — but filled with fluffy thoughts of you and him.

You spend almost your whole free time with your best friend, mostly watching movies or just talking about his or your day. You know everything about his missions with Sam and Bucky suggested that he could take you with him to meet Sam. But this plan changes when Bucky knocks at your door after another mission, his smile as bright as always and behind him another man.

You know that Bucky would come home today, you already made dinner for the two of you but you didn’t know he would bring a friend of his. “Hi, doll! I-I uhm… that’s Sam! He asked to sleep here before he flies to his family tomorrow.”

“Bucky!” You say excitedly as you pull him into a much needed hug. You look over his shoulder to see his friend smirking at the two of you. “Hi, Sam. Come in, Bucky has to give me at least five minutes of cuddles before I let go of him again!”

Both of the men laugh and Sam nods before he walks into your apartment. You let Bucky pick you up, you mean that you get at least five minutes of cuddles from Bucky, and he knows that you can be such a grumpy little thing if you don’t get them. He leads Sam into the kitchen, offering him a drink while he refuses to let you down.

“Does he cling to you like that all the time?” Sam asks jokingly. You turn your head to look at him, chuckling softly.

“Why? Isn’t he such a sweet teddy bear around you?” You ask and poke your fingers into Bucky’s cheeks, squeezing his cheeks softly. “He’s my favourite teddy bear!”

“The cyborg being a teddy?” Sam asks, earning a glare from your best friend. “He’s more like a cold, staring machine.”

Bucky growls into your neck, hiding his face while he inhales your scent deeply. He was away for two days but he missed you so much that he can’t let you down just yet. He doesn’t care that he’s carried you around for ten minutes already, he could do it all day and would never be tired of it.

“I made pizza, your favourite one,” you say and run your fingers through Bucky’s hair, making him sigh into your neck. “Sam, do you like cyborg pizza?”

Sam laughs while Bucky growls once again, but it turns into a chuckle almost immediately. You’re just so cute, he can’t help himself, he can’t stop himself smiling  and chuckling whenever you’re around.

“But I get to keep you on my lap,” he mumbles, letting you down for a moment to place the pizza on the table. Sam watches the two of you, smirking at Bucky. He has never seen his friend so soft and not grumpy around someone. But he likes this version of Bucky, the cute, sweet one, that looks so happy. It's like there is nothing that could make Bucky’s mood bad when you’re around, he smiles all the time, even his eyes are bright and shine in the most beautiful blue.

“I do like every pizza,” Sam nods, arranging the plates you placed in his hands on the table. He puts two of them on one side and one where he sits. Bucky grins at him, placing the pizza on the table before he picks you up and lets you sit on his lap.

Your best friend's arm is wrapped around your waist the whole time, you’re deep in talks with both of the men, getting to know Sam but also some secret and funny things about Bucky.

“And once… it was our first meeting, he landed on top of our car and he smashed the front glass and ripped out the steering wheel.,” Sam says before chewing further on the pizza. Bucky hides his face in the crook of your neck, chuckling softly.

“It wasn’t actually me. It was during the time of the winter soldier,” he mumbles. You run your fingers through his hair, calming him. You know that Bucky isn’t ashamed to talk to you about his past but you also know that he is still slightly tense when it comes to it. And your touch, your closeness and softness, is always calming for him.

“My sister and I are almost done with the boat, maybe Bucky wants to bring you to our little party then?” Sam asks, eying Bucky. “My little nephews and my sister would love you! They already love Bucky, and you’re way nicer than the cyborg.”

“Ey!” Bucky grumbles, gripping you tighter and pulling you more against him. You giggle, shoving a slice of pizza into his mouth. Bucky would love to bring you with him to the party, Sam is a good friend of his, and you’re his best friend, his everything. And even though the two of you aren’t dating, he doesn’t like the way Sam talks about you — that you’re nicer and probably sweeter and more beautiful. He isn’t wrong but Bucky doesn’t like to hear someone else saying such things about his babydoll.

“I would love to meet them, if Bucky wants to invite me,” you giggle. Bucky nods, smirking at you with a mouthful of pizza. He chews on it happily, holding you firmly pressed against his broad chest.

“Would love to,” Bucky smirks, swallowing the pizza before he opens his mouth to let you shove the next slice between his lips. You laugh softly, grasping another and shoving it into his mouth as well.

“So, Bucky said you’re not dating one another?” Sam asks, eyeing the two of you. A smug grin on his face, his eyebrows twitching in amusement. You shake your head, running your fingers through Bucky’s soft brown locks.

“No, he’s my best friend! Why does everyone think that?” You tilt your head softly, causing Bucky to almost choke on his pizza. You’re just so adorable and he can’t help himself but with a mouthful of pizza he can’t chuckle or laugh. “Buck! Don’t choke on your pizza! You need to chew before you swallow!”

Sam makes a lot more jokes about Bucky but in return Bucky embarrasses Sam just as much. The evening is filled with a lot of laughter and jokes. Bucky decides to sleep in your apartment on the couch, while Sam gets Bucky’s apartment — on the condition that he has to promise not to sneak around.

The man was more than just curious what Bucky was hiding in his apartment. Maybe a wedding ring already or maybe some really kinky sex toys? But to not destroy their trust and friendship he promises not to sneak around and he surprisingly managed to not do it.

You spend the weekend with Bucky, he asks you out for some ice cream and invites you also to another dinner with Yori. In the evenings you’re wrapped with Bucky into a blanket, snuggled up on the couch while you watch every kind of movie you can find or play some board games.

On Monday, you had to work again. Bucky told you he would make dinner and you can just come over after work. You know he is making your favourite food, he always does when he cooks for you.

You’re currently walking home from work, a few men following you, nothing too exciting because it’s a public street. But no matter where you walk, they follow you, their voices grow louder and you try to speed up. You can’t walk home, you can’t let them know where you live but they come so close.

“Girl, wait!” One of them shoots and laughs. You hear your blood rushing through your veins. The footsteps of the men behind you coming closer with every step and you feel the panic grow. You try to breathe slowly, try to calm yourself down but it doesn’t work. At least not as long as those guys walk behind you.

“I said wait, whore!” The man growls this time, his pace faster than before and he almost reaches you already. His hand is already reaching out and touching your shoulder. You prepare yourself to be thrown around, to be thrown against a wall or on the ground but it doesn’t come.

You walk further, slowing down the moment you feel a cold arm around your waist. The voices are quieter, almost silent. You inhale deeply, noticing Bucky’s scent and only now you dare to open your eyes further to look at your best friend, who presses you into his side. “Hi, babydoll.”

His voice is soft and shushing, you immediately relax in his warm embrace. Your eyes are locked with his — you’re happy he is there, that he helped you with those weird men who followed you.

“Hey! What are you doing here, Bucky?” You ask, leaning your head against his shoulder while he leads you through the street and toward your home.

“I had to go shopping, your favourite snacks were empty and I didn’t want my best girl to eat something she doesn’t like as much,” he chuckles and kisses your forehead softly. His lips are always so soft and warm, you could get lost in the feeling of them against your warm skin.

“You’re the best,” you giggle. Bucky nods proudly. He opens the door for you, leading you into the hallway before you make your way up to his apartment. Bucky prepared dinner already, he just wanted to get your favourite snacks before you were home, and saving his best girl from some weirdos wasn’t a plan, but he did it anyway.

“I know. Now, get yourself a seat, it’s your turn to decide on a movie first and dinner will be on the plates in just a moment,” Bucky says before he kisses your forehead once again. You take a seat on his couch, making it already comfortable and look for a movie. You can smell the food already, your tummy rumbling and you are already excited to get a taste of this delicious food your best friend made.

You almost confessed your love to him after the dinner, the food was so good and Bucky was so close, his lips so plump and soft you wanted to kiss him so bad. But you couldn’t just kiss your best friend, not before you told him about your feelings, not before you knew about his feelings.

You excused yourself and rushed into the bathroom, you needed a moment to breathe, he was just so soft and warm. Your feelings for your best friend went crazy and cuddling with him didn’t do a good job at calming all your running thoughts.

Even though his lips were really tempting, you didn’t kiss him, his presence made you all dizzy and comfortable — just like always — but you two watched the movie and threw popcorn at one another.

A few hours later you went to your apartment and into your bed. That’s where you are now, your eyes closed but you’re still awake, you can’t stop the thoughts in your mind. Bucky is so present in your thoughts, you tried to hide your love — your feelings — for him but the closer you come to him the harder it gets.

You’re so in love with Bucky, just like he is in love with you. You even have the key to Bucky’s apartment, just like he has yours. So when you suddenly hear a loud cracking noise and a wrecked scream you immediately sit up in your bed.

You know that sound too well, Bucky never screamed that loud but you know the way his voice sounds — it’s him. And your heart clenches as you realize that he has a nightmare, again. He told you once that the only way he doesn’t have one is being close to you. You offered him that he could sleep in your apartment even in your bed with you, but he just smiled. He doesn’t want to be a burden, doesn’t want to take away the little privacy you have. Even though you would rather spend your nights with him next to you, you accepted his decision.

You get out of your bed, wearing one of Bucky’s t-shirts — you stole it — and get the keys to Bucky’s apartment before you run out of yours and open the door to his. You already notice the silhouette  of Bucky in the corner of the living room.

He always sits in a corner after a nightmare, his legs close to his chest and his arms wrapped around himself. The wall behind him doesn’t let anyone attack him from behind and from the spot he is sitting at he can see every entrance.

You slowly walk toward him, turning on just a small light to not scare him even more. “Bucky? Hey, it’s me. Can you hear me?” You ask and get on your knees. A bit of distance between the two of you.

Bucky’s blue eyes are widened and sweat is running down his forehead. He nods slightly, staring at you. His eyes drift through the room every now and then, making sure no one he doesn’t want to have in his apartment comes into it.

“Can I come closer?” He nods again, allowing you to get closer to him. Bucky whimpers, tears stream down his cheeks and you feel your heart clenching at this sight. “I got you, Buck. I’m here, you’re safe.”

You crawl closer to him, your hands reaching out to pull him toward you. Bucky’s head falls against your chest, his hands clawing around your back and he breaks down completely. You run your fingers up and down his muscular back, calming him down.

Bucky holds on to you like you would disappear if he dared to loosen his grip just a tiny bit. “Bucky… we are safe here. You’re safe. We are at home, it’s just you and me here. No one is going to hurt you. I will protect you, I love you so much.”

You don’t even notice that you just confessed your love to him, of course you told him you love him but not like that. The seriousness, the love which is visible in your eyes and for the first time since the two of you know one another Bucky looks at you with a shocked but relieved expression on his face. His eyes still widened from the nightmare but your confession gave him hope — hope that someone as precious and sweet as you could really love someone as broken and messed up like him.

He doesn’t say anything, his face is buried back in your chest after you meet his gaze for a few seconds. He wants to believe that you love him, he really wants but something inside of him tells him that he doesn’t deserve your love.

“I don’t deserve your love…I-i…” Bucky stumbles, he whimpers and pulls you even closer toward him. “I-I want you to love me… b-but I don’t deserve your love…”

“Bucky!” You say, gasping at his words. How can someone as sweet and lovely like him not believe to be able to be loved more than everything, that he deserves so much love? “Hey! Listen to me. You deserve so much love! You deserve all the love in the world. You even deserve the world, Bucky. And I don’t care how broken or messed up you are, I love you!”

Bucky looks up at you once again, his fingers digging into your back. He shakes his head, he wants you to love him, so bad, but he doesn’t want to destroy you. He doesn’t want to hurt you, to break you, to make you like he is. “N-no…”

“Yes, Bucky. You can’t stop me, you can’t make me love you less. No one can, no one will ever make me love you less. I pretended that I could be just your best friend but I can’t anymore. I love you, more than everything, I need you, and I want you to see that you deserve love, all the love!” You say, trying to sound serious but still soft while talking to him.

You’re not sure what came over you to confess all that, maybe because he broke down once you wrapped your arms around him? Maybe it was just the last push after the day and half the night laying awake or whatever it was — you don’t regret it, you could never regret telling the love of your life that you love him, that you care for him — that your best friend is everything for you.

“Doll… you can’t… you— I will break you… I will hurt you. You deserve better than me,” Bucky whimpers, he has you already sitting on his lap, refusing to let go of you.

“It doesn’t matter, even when there would be someone better, I wouldn’t like someone other than you. Please let me love you, let me show you that you deserve to be loved just like everyone,” you mumble, running your fingers through his brown locks.

Bucky nods, letting himself fall more against you, leaning into your touch. He closes his eyes, his heart filled with love and affection. He has waited so long to hear those words from you, and now — no matter how shitty this situation is — it makes his heart race and his feelings for you to grow.

“Can you sleep in my bed then?” He whimpers, looking up at you with teary eyes. You can’t help but chuckle at his cute request, then you nod. Bucky inhales deeply, his breath still shaking but everything worked out so well right now, he couldn’t ask for anything else.

Your love will heal him, he knows it because it has since you got to know one another. Since he helped you to move into your apartment. Bucky knows that he never felt for someone before like he feels for you, no matter how broken he is, he knows that it will never stop him from loving you more than everything.

“I love you too, more than everything,” he mumbles, leaning more into you. “You know… I will never let you go. I will hold you in my arms every night, I will make you dinner, I-i will… be the best version of me I can be.”

“You’re already the best version of yourself, Bucky. You’re the most precious man, the sweetest I have ever met,” you smile softly, cupping his cheeks to make him look up at you. His ocean blue eyes shining with adoration and love, no signs of fear to the nightmare anymore. “Can I kiss you?”

Bucky nods with a soft smile across his lips as he is leaning closer already. You giggle at his impatience. But it was just too long to try not to, so you can’t blame him, it was too long to hold back from kissing one another. With a soft smile, you place your lips on his. And they really are as soft and warm as they look. You sigh softly, letting Bucky pull you even closer and hold you as tight as possible against his broad chest. His lips move softly against yours and he relaxes in your warm embrace, with his lips finally touching yours.

He may think that he doesn’t deserve to be loved — but this kiss lets him forget about all the insecurities and worries he has. The only thought left in his mind right now is how much he loves you, how often he wants to kiss you, that he just wants to hold you and tell you how much he loves you — over and over again. That’s what he is going to do, show you his love for you and he will show you that you’re everything for him, just you, only you as long as you’re with him.

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[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Nine

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Graphic descriptions of domestic violence. Medical chart from a SANE EXAM. Simon's family history, trauma. Brief sexual content. Hospital setting, nurse!reader, medical inaccuracies. Heavy emotions. Scars. Reader in pain. Hurt/comfort. Kate is a dog with a bone. Penny is cute. POV switches. Simon and Johnny make a discovery, and a promise.

You can’t breathe.

The air is too thin, too tight, and you stand, silent, in the foyer of the home that you’ve been invited to.

A clock ticks on the wall. You count each second, waiting. 

You should leave. You should run. 

Simon’s footsteps echo above your head, already up the stairs with your first bag and work backpack.

He said to make yourself at home, but you can’t move.

The foyer is the foyer of a family. There is a hall tree with little shoes scattered beneath it, a tiny, pink backpack hanging on the hook. Too many wellies to count, all in pastel colors, matching a small yellow and green rain jacket that’s folded on the stairs. There’s a black hoodie, a black jacket, and a green on the coat rack, hung haphazardly with a toss. Men’s sizes, and you notice two pairs of trainers next to one pair of black boots, and two crayons hide, peeking out from under the bench, one blue, one purple, so worn down they’re almost half gone.

A home. A family. 

“Hey, so up-“ You flinch. The jolt has you stumbling, one misstep over another, and he tenses, prepared to steady you, careful hand outstretched, but not encroaching.

“Sorry.” You shouldn’t be here. 

“No, I’m sorry. I know better.” You blink, and the silence is heavy, weighted down like bricks at the bottom of a river. 

He’s still wearing the mask. 

 “Can I… give you a tour?”

“S-sure.”

You lose your breath again in the kitchen.

Simon turns away to the sink, loading dishes into the dishwasher as you stare at the fridge and its collage with a tight chest. It’s covered; photos, invitations, magnets, notes, finger painted masterpieces. You step closer, studying, noticing the way they all fit together, mix matched perfectly, and even in the pictures, the three of them glow effortlessly, too sweet and smiling, happy. Together. A family. A perfect unit.

Your nose tingles, and you blink back the tears that fight forward, wiping away the two that escape and trickle down your cheek. You don’t know why it overwhelms you, why it fills you with grief.

What is it like, to be loved like that? To have a family, like this? 

Get it together. You’re a guest in their house.

It’s too much, and you chastise yourself for getting so emotional over nothing, over something stupid.

You need to be alone. 

Dry sandpaper scrubs the back of your throat when you swallow. “Simon?” He turns, concerned, glancing at the fridge and then back to you, drying his hands on a towel.  

“What is it?”

“Can I… I’m sorry. I’m… tired.” You try to explain your needs but it’s awkward on your mouth, uncomfortable. His expression creases with sympathy.

“Of course, c’mon. I’ll show you.”

“Alright, one more step.”

“’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, bun. You’re alright.” In the back of your mind, you’re registering Simon’s warmth, the wilted lean that has you tipped into him, slow steps on the stairs, one by one as you fight to stay upright. He’s warm, and pillowy… the kind of comfort you could sink into, disappear inside for a while. It sounds so… nice.

But your shoulder is throbbing. The pain combined with the emotions swirling about in your heart has you on the verge of tears, top teeth dug into your lip, and your molars grind against one other with each step.

“It’s just at the end of the hall.”

You shouldn’t be doing this. Even now, after agreeing, getting in the car, getting yourself here… the desire to bolt runs hot under your skin, buzzing inside your skull, an insistent need.

You’re in their house. Where they live. With their baby. 

What if he comes back? What if he hurts them? 

“Hey.” Simon says your name slowly, ducking down to get your attention. Fuck.

“Sorry, I’m just… exhausted.”

“I’m sure. It’s right here.” He opens the door to a room, flicking on a light switch. The walls are a sage green, a gentle hue that matches the bedspread, framed photos organized into a gallery wall, pictures of smiles and laughter, a tiny Penny in Simon’s naked arms, a candid shot of Johnny in full military regalia, the three of them together somewhere, hiking, with Pen snuggled in a papoose on Johnny’s chest. The bed is the centerpiece, a massive king size piled with pillows, and it looks so inviting, so soft that you want to collapse into it right here and now.

“Wow.” It’s the best you can do, considering the screeching agony vibrating in your shoulder. You try to breathe through it, but the pain only shortens your draw.

“Yeah, it’s our old bed. Very comfortable.” He puts your other duffel down by the dresser, and you try not to dwell on the idea of it once being theirs, where they slept, where they’ve loved one another, held each other, their child, their- “It’s got its own bathroom, just through here.” He’s on the other side of the room, turning on a light that is far too bright, and you squint, jerking away with a gasp. Are you getting a migraine too? “Shit, sorry.” The room spins. You stumble towards the bed, limbs heavy, head full of cement, wooziness blurring your immediate sight. You’re disjointed, a mess of pain and disorientation, and you cover your eyes with a palm.

“Sorry, I think… I think I’m getting a headache. My shoulder-“ it slips out before you can stop yourself, and even with your eyes closed, you know Simon is staring at you, picking you apart with his eyes.

“Your shoulder?” You’re on a runaway train now. It has no brakes. No destination. It just barrels down the tracks, unable to stop for rational thought or pleas of mercy. It has no plan, and it does not heed you. You’re helpless. Hopeless. Lost. Reaching out for a light in the dark, a rope, a life vest, and a sob breaks through to the surface.

“It really hurts.”

“It hurts?” His voice cuts, tone worried. “Which one?” You use your good side to point, shakily.

“I’m sorry. I’m s-sorry.” You try to tell him, try to explain that you don’t mean to cry, or be emotional. You don’t mean to be making a fuss. You’re not supposed to be a problem.

A warm hand lays atop your thigh, thumb rubbing into your scrub pants.

“Sweetheart, you’re in pain. You don’t have to apologize for crying.” Your vision blurs, thick with tears, and fingers gently probe along your shoulder cuff. When you flinch, he swears. “Shhh, alright. Easy.” He’s gentling a spooked horse, carefully feeling along where you ache as you cry through it, unable to stop. “I’m going to go get some ice. We can… wrap it up, if you think that will help?”

“Ye-yeah, okay.” His steps fade, and you try to get your top off, sliding the arm that doesn’t hurt underneath your turtleneck, which is confined by the rigidity of your scrub top.

When you try the other one, the pain is so sharp, a cry bursts from your lips, and Simon sprints up the stairs. How did it get so much worse between the beginning of your shift and now? 

“What happened?”

“I can’t… I can’t get my shirts off.” You uselessly tug at the hem, eyes half open, letting it fall from your fingers, stuck in a loop, frantic movements matching the increasing pace of your lungs.

“Can I help?” His face is lined in concentration, and you spot an icepack on the bed now, with a sling, and a wrap. They’re prepared. Must come home with a fair number of injuries. “Bun, are you with me?” You sniffle and nod. What choice do you have? What choice do you ever have? The pain is too much. It’s all too much, and it boils over until you need to get the shirts off, not caring that it will expose you, or show Simon the very details you’re always trying to hide. You’re too far lost now, too far gone.

If you’re here, in their home, shouldn't you let them see? Shouldn't you let them know? 

The truth is terrifying, the reality of the trust you have in them. You know Simon won’t hurt you, instinctively. You feel safe here, in their home, their old bed, and when he looks at you, you show him, just for a second, the fractured mirror that is your reflection. You show him the pain and the rage and the fear, you give him everything. You shove the girl in the mirror forward, you force her into the sun and you hold her face to the light, trying not to sob as she screams at you in protest.

Just for a second.

“Okay.” He nods, and then cups your cheek. “You’re okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” You nod with tears that sting, and then you slowly pull away, slipping back into yourself, hiding the girl in the mirror away, making more promises to her that you’re not sure you’re going to keep.

“We’re going to put this one,” He slowly, carefully lifts the arm with the bad shoulder until it’s resting on his own, “right here. That alright?” A whimper builds, but you give him another nod, breathing through the anguish. There are a million little needles in your shoulder, all stabbing you over and over, ripping and gnawing at the cartilage, or the bone, or the muscle… you can’t be sure. “I’m going to bring your scrub top up now. Is this okay?” his fingers peel it from the turtleneck, and when he gets to your head, you incline your neck, more tears rushing forth.

“Yeah.” You whisper, a tired, pained moan, falling from your lips without permission.

“I know it hurts; I know. Almost there, try to breathe.” He soothes you, and the top slides towards him along your arm. He pulls it free, throwing it on the floor somewhere, his hands returning to your thighs.

“Sorry.” It’s automatic, ingrained. A reaction to pain, to fear, to the idea of being a burden, something that haunts you, every day. He ignores it.

“Ready for the next?” The turtleneck comes less easy, but the two of you are in sync like dance partners. The pain shoots up your arm when you move your neck again, and Simon wipes a few tears from your cheek, carefully leaning you back into the pillows and pulling the comforter down.

There’s a sharp intake of breath, the raw edge of surprise, horror, you’re sure, and you close your eyes. You can't look at him, when you know what he sees. You know what you look like. A roadmap of foolishness. Of weakness. You know the scars are plainly on display, still raised, still ugly. Like you.

He says nothing, only sits at your side, bed dipping with his weight. “I’m going to take your shoes off too, okay?” He narrates and asks for permission with each touch, pulling your sneakers free, satisfying thunk of each one hitting the floor, and then moves on to sliding the ice pack underneath you, wrapping it firmly but not too tight, ensuring it stays in place. He’s tender and slow, thoughtful, your eyes fighting to stay closed, brain and body starting to drift off into uncomfortable sleep. “Not yet, sweetheart.” There’s a rattle, two pills being deposited into your hand.

“What are these?"

“Paracetamol.” He turns the bottle, label out, word coming into focus enough to be verified, and you swallow them down with the glass of water in his outstretched hand.

“Thank you.” The croak stays lodged in your throat, and his eyes crinkle, the sign of a smile.

“Get some rest.” It’s comfort he gives you, leaning forward, pressing mask covered lips to your forehead. Comfort that doesn’t elicit a flinch or a sense of wariness, and you bask in the shine of the sun on your skin, holding tight to it, slipping into a dreamless sleep.

“Banky.” Pen demands, hands outstretched.

“No binky, it’s lunch time. Lunch.” Simon makes the sign for lunch, L shaped pointer finger and thumb, circling the corner of his mouth. He does it a few times, accompanied with the word again and again until Penny huffs and leans back, eyes wide. “You try. You try, lunch.”

“No!” She shrieks, and he shushes her, scattering some banana puffs across her tray.

“Shhh Pen. Bun is sleeping, remember?”

“Bunny seep?” She gives him the sign for sleep, or her sign at least, a palm dragging down her face followed by very dramatic closing lids. “Seep?”

“Yes, sleeping.” Simon makes the sign to acknowledge she was correct. “Good job.” He gives her a thumbs up, and she smiles, sweetness melting away some of the tense worry that's taken up in his heart.

“Puff?” She holds one out to him, but he shakes his head, pointing at her mouth.

“For you. Eat them, eat your puffs.” He signs along with the words, and she mimics him, food in hand, eyes lighting up when she finally makes it in her mouth.

He glances towards the stairs. You’re in the guest room, far enough away that Penny’s noise shouldn’t wake you, but still he tries to keep her preoccupied, distracted from making a fuss.

He wants you to get as much sleep as possible, this morning’s discovery of your shoulder unsettled him more than he’s frankly comfortable with, and the image of your swollen, battered face and neck leers and taunts. 

She’s safe now. She’s here. 

“Dada.” Pen calls, and he smiles, leaning forward to brush his lips across his baby’s soft skin, wispy curls tickling his nose. 

“Love you, baby girl.” He signs it too, and she beams.

“Luh.” It’s supposed to be love, and though the word is a struggle, the sentiment is the same. He doesn’t care that she’s not quite got it yet, he’ll take every word, every syllable he can get. These moments, each moment with his child, Johnny’s child, theirs… is a gift, one he never thought he’d have until Johnny. A privilege.

His phone vibrates with a text message.  

>Simon

>Give me a ring when you get a chance. On the black cell.  

“Thought you were on vacation?” Kate sighs, click clack of keys echoing in the background.

“I am, but if I’m too idle I start to go crazy. The wife likes it when I have a project.” Simon pauses, cocking his head. Penny’s feet kick in the highchair, baby spoon banging against the plastic tray.

“Hang on, Kate.” He drags a kitchen chair over in front of her so he can sit, pinning the phone between his shoulder and chin to twist the lid off the applesauce pouch. “Shhh, here you go." Penny gurgles with a grin at the taste of the fruit, and he smiles back at her. "So, what’s the new project then?”

“The nurse.” Simon’s eyes dart to the floor above his head.

“It’s not a good time.”

“I can talk, you can listen.” She brushes him off, sipping something with ice and then continuing. “I found it hard to believe that a civilian would be able to scrub their footprint like this, so I did a little digging. The more digging I did, the worse my fixation became.” Like a dog with a bone.Simon holds his breath. “I just needed a key, and with those photos you provided, well, things just started unraveling.”

“Kate.” He growls because he can’t manage anything else. He’s trying to keep himself still, heart pounding in his chest. Penny coos, like she notices the shift in her dad’s demeanor, and he immediately attends her, thumbing at a smear of applesauce on her cheek.

“I found a SANE exam from a few years ago. Small hospital in southern Colorado, right over the border from Texas. Patient’s name is Jane Doe, but the photos are almost an exact match.” His stomach lurches, dark clouds shadowing his vision, world splitting into blood and rage. Violence.

He didn’t want to be right.

He wanted to it to be anything, anything but this.

Who? 

Is it the same person that choked you? Beat you? Tore your shoulder damn near out of its socket? 

His gaze drifts to Penny.

They'll need to loop Price in, immediately. 

“Can you send it to me?”

“It’s already in your email.” She speeds past, eagerly. “There’s more. I used the photo to run facial recognition on archives in neighboring states and got a host of hits from Texas. You’ll have to visually confirm, but if I’m right, I’ve got positive ID on your girl.”

“How?”

“School. She graduated high school a year before the rest of her class, ended up with a full scholarship to Rice University in Houston, Texas. Went on to get a bioscience degree and graduated from Rice early.” Pride flutters beneath his ribs, honeyed and heavy. Their smart girl. “She ends up at a different school for pre-med but drops out before the first year ends. Not sure what happened but she started an accelerated nursing program, and breezed through it. You should see her transcripts. I don’t think this girl has gotten less than an A+ on anything since kindergarten.”

“Send them over.”

“Already done. After that, she starts work at a local hospital, and then… nothing. Her paper trail stops. Her job disappears. She’s a ghost except for the sealed court records, and now the Jane Doe medical chart, but that didn’t happen until later. The aliases she’s used over the past few years, they’re in the wind. It’s really quite impressive. She’s either got a connection somewhere, or she’s CIA.” Kate is animated, talking quickly, and he interrupts her to get to the question that’s weighing on him, brushing off the latter immediately. You’re not a honeypot. He spots those a mile away.

“You know her name, then. Her birth name?”

“I do.” She’s silent for a moment, and then she gives it softly. First, middle and last.

He closes his eyes. He tries to imagine you as a girl, on the playground, playing tags with other kids, all of them shouting your name, or as a teenager, in a fight with a parent, one of them yelling your name. He pictures you as a uni student, with your friends, laughing and having a good time somewhere, one of them hollering your name over too loud music. You’ve had a whole life with that name, a whole story. You were a person with that name, and he tries to imagine the way it would sound on your tongue, on Johnny’s, even his.

You’re a ghost now, will you let them bring you into the light?

Will you let them help you reclaim it; the way Johnny helped him reclaim his own?

Kate subtly coughs on the other end of the line.

“Thanks, Kate.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll keep digging. Check your email when you get a chance.”

“Will do.”

“Oh! And the hotel, I sent that paperwork to your email as well.” He thanks her, again, tells her to try to enjoy her time off and hangs up just as Penny starts to fidget, unhappy with being in the highchair for so long without attention.

“Alright, lamb. Let’s get you cleaned up, hmm?” He pulls her free, showering kisses all over her cheeks and neck that make her giggle. “Can’t be wearin’ your applesauce and pajamas over to John and Lou’s, can you?”

Johnny is anxious. Simon can see it a mile away, even before he gets in the room, he notices how he is fidgets, unspent energy and too much time to dwell culminating in an unsettled state.

So, when he kisses him first thing, he makes it long and slow. He drags Johnny’s bottom lip between his teeth, carefully taking his time until he’s sure his partner is half hard beneath his hospital gown and blanket.

“Si.” Johnny groans, and he relents, pulling away to cradle his face between his hands, taking him in, every line, every fleck of gold in his blue eyes, soaking up the healing, healthy glow that glimmers in his skin.

His doctor says it won’t be long now, until he can come home, and Simon is counting the days.

To have everyone, under one roof, feels like a fever dream.

“Missed you.” Johnny noses into his neck, and Simon reciprocates with a kiss to his temple, his cheek.

“Missed ye too.” He pauses, squeezing his hand. “Pen?”

“Alright. Grumpy this morning. Think she wanted to see you.” She did, he knows it, but he tries not to pile it on. Johnny knows their daughter misses him, as much as he misses her. They’re two peas in a pod, best friends, halves to a whole. They’re both suffering. “Went with Lou and John fine. I’ll bring her in the morning.”

“Good.” He nods, tilting his chin for another kiss, and Simon gives it without hesitation, basking in the warmth and familiar feel  of his skin.

When he clears his throat, he pulls away with a sigh. “How is she?”

“In pain. Shoulder is nearly torn out of the socket, and her neck is in poor shape. I had to help get her into bed, she couldn’t get her shirt off. Emotionally she’s… still got the walls up, but she let them slip for a second last night, before she let me help her. And I caught her crying in front of the fridge. Think the photos of Pen got to her somehow.” His stomach twists, new, horrifying possibility dawning on him. Do you have a child somewhere? 

“Did she get any sleep?”

“She hadn’t come down when I left to take Penny, so I assume so.”

“Good. She needs it.” Simon agrees. After injury, after trauma, body and mind need so much more care. More rest, more nutrients, water, protein. More love.

“Kate called.” He bites the bullet, fingers flexing against his knee. “She found a loose end and tugged it.” Johnny straightens. He’s every bit the solider, even laid up in bed. Waxy, soft features turn razor sharp and focused, except instead of his practiced steadiness, he’s chomping at the bit.

“Tell me.”

Simon does. He tells him everything Kate said, almost verbatim. Johnny’s face changes from worried to enraged when he finally gets to the medical chart.

“No.” Johnny’s whisper is faint, thin, papyrus. Brittle and broken, almost washed away, and Simon doesn’t blame him. The chart is horrific for them, was horrific for him earlier, turned his stomach until he thought he’d be sick.

He’s killed. He’s tortured. But to be there when Johnny revealed the handprinted tender skin on your neck, to be there when you cried out in pain last night, when he saw the scars on your body, the cigarette burns that were so familiar, to look at these photos and know that you’ve been brutalized beyond belief, makes his vision run red and his heart ache.

There’s a ghost in these photos. A different girl, but the same, a glimpse of what he saw last night. Still their bunny, their girl. He can see her, through the broken blood vessels and compound forearm fracture. He can see her past the swollen cheekbone and broken nose, the fresh burns on your stomach and torso. The doctor’s notes indicate that you said you were mugged, and sexually assaulted, but refused to finish the SANE exam and took off.

He's not surprised. 

The first time he saw the burns on your naked skin, he swore he could his mother’s screams, and for the hundredth time today, Simon thinks of her. He wonders, if she ever went to a hospital, if she ever begged anyone to help her, or them. He wonders if someone saw what was happening, how she was slowly disappearing, sinking in on herself, and tried to help. He wonders if she felt as alone as you seem to. If she too, became a ghost.

He looks at these photos and cannot fight the pain, the memories.

“Oh, Si.” Johnny cups his cheek, thumb soothing softly across his skin, trying to wipe away the tears that fall. He can’t stop them, not now, and Johnny does not ask, only holds him through it, lets him cry into his hands, pain and suffering of a small, frightened boy coming out of his body in broken sobs.

He won’t fail you. Not like he did her.

After minutes turn long, he takes a deep breath, pressing his lips to Johnny’s palm, and utters a promise as cold as death. 

“We’ll kill them. Whoever it is.”

[leejenowrld]

nct dream reactions — dreamies getting jealous and possessive + kissing your neck

ot7 dream

genre smut fluff

author note this is very long and descriptive, also jaemin’s one is a teaser/spoiler for his upcoming series that i’m working on. the first part can be read here. and i’m sorry if some members are shorter than others, i struggle writing for those members and its difficult to write the same scenario seven times lol

REQUESTED? [yes☆]/[no] requests are open so pls request :) asks are open

“can you please write dreamies reaction to someone hitting on their girl and them getting jealous and possessively kissing their neck”

☆ mark lee

In the cozy studio, you find yourself in a very familiar position – comfortably resting on Mark's lap. Your head rests against his shoulder, eyes giving away the familiar heaviness that often accompanies these moments. It's an intimate setting where you tend to become sleepy, cuddling up to Mark, keeping him company as he works on his music.

"I love you, pretty girl," he whispers softly, casting occasional glances your way, a sweet grin lighting up his face at the sight of his girl nestled comfortably in his hoodie, on his lap. The warmth of your presence in his arms brings him immense joy – the soft whimpers and sniffles as sleepiness takes over, the tired hums, and the gentle tracing of your fingers along his cheek and through his hair. Each tender moment is a cherished melody that lulls him into a state of serene coziness, he loves it all.

Mark cherishes having you close; you're his muse, and your touch and presence bring him constant comfort. However, the sanctuary you've created is disrupted when other members walk into the room. The subtle huffs and sighs from Mark indicate his desire for a private moment with you, his personal space now obstructed.

As time passes, you reluctantly stand up, resisting Mark's attempt to lock you in with his arms. Engaging in casual conversation with the boys, you notice your boyfriend's grumpy and sulking demeanor. Something is wrong – he sits there with crossed arms and his tongue prodded against his cheek.

Whispering sweetly in his ear, you ask, "You okay, my love?" But he doesn't answer, and the problem becomes apparent – you're wearing short shorts. When you lean up, it reveals more than Mark is comfortable with, especially with other guys in the room not hiding the way they’re looking at you, eyes heating up at the sight of your skin on show.

His frustration stems from possessiveness. The shorts are acceptable when you're alone together, he loves spanking you or even just touching your ass. However, the presence of others triggers a protective response. The sight of them looking at his baby irritates him, and you remain blissfully naive to the stares, intensifying his annoyance.

Suddenly, he comes up behind you, his arms locking around your waist. His head finds its place in the crook of your neck, and his hot breath fans against your ear. Holding you close, he becomes a distraction while you're in the midst of a conversation with the guys. His presence causes your concentration to falter, and you notice he hasn't muttered a single word to them. The subtle act speaks volumes about his focus on you in that moment.

"Did you have to wear these shorts?" His voice unexpectedly darkens, a low and husky tone that sends a shiver down your spine as his fingers grip the flesh on your thighs.

"You always know how to drive me fucking crazy.” He tuts, the frustration evident in his voice.

“I didn’t do anything.” You whisper, ignoring the silence that falls between the boys as they look at the two of you with wide eyes yet they’re not that shocked, they expect this from you both.

He shakes his head. You know exactly what you’ve done. "You've made me hard, so get all these idiots to leave, or they'll see me arch your back against the recording desk." he demands, a possessive edge to his words.

"You dirty slut, you just want everyone to hear you, don't you?" The accusation hangs heavy in the air. "Gonna record your moans anyway so they'll hear you." Mark's threat is both intimidating and strangely thrilling.

Mark, with his sweet yet tired appearance, messy hair, and glasses, needs to let everyone know who you belong to. His exterior may look innocent, but his words reveal a different side of him, asserting his dominance and marking you as his own.

☆ renjun

It's date night, and the ambiance is set for a romantic evening. You, as always, look absolutely stunning, and Renjun can't help but admire you the entire night. As the two of you enjoy the evening, the atmosphere is filled with an intimate connection, and Renjun finds himself in awe of the fact that you're his, appreciating every moment with you.

As you're at the bar getting the bill settled, a group of guys surrounds you. You, a bit tipsy, remain oblivious to their intentions. Renjun, observing the scene, tuts disapprovingly. He understands that you like to dress up, describing yourself as a "hot slut," and he doesn't mind the attention you attract. In fact, it boosts his confidence, knowing that he's the lucky one to have you by his side. However, the questionable intentions of these guys make him uneasy, and he can't have you perceived in a way that doesn't align with his comfort.

Taking decisive action, Renjun comes up behind you, his strong arms enveloping you, and he starts planting soft, lingering kisses on your neck. This intimate gesture not only silences the surrounding flirtation but also serves as a clear reminder of who you belong to. "You're mine, okay?" he whispers into your ear, adding a touch of filth that brings a playful smile to your face. You, in turn, allow him to act this way, feeling a potent wave of arousal as he asserts his claim. The subtle display of possessiveness not only dissipates any unwanted attention but also deepens the connection between you two, reinforcing the understanding that you belong to each other in the most intimate and exclusive way.

☆ jeno

You and Jeno are having an anniversary dinner in the most exquisite restaurant, soft candlelight flickers against the sophisticated décor, casting an intimate glow that accentuates the warmth in your eyes and the subtle smile on Jeno's lips. The air is filled with a melodic blend of soft jazz, intertwining seamlessly with the shared laughter and whispered words between you two. As the aroma of delectable cuisine wafts through the air, your entwined fingers on the table reflect the connection and love you share.

You’re all dolled up, dressed to the nines. You didn't anticipate the sheer allure that Jeno would radiate. Even though he's the love of your life, the sight of him still catches you off guard with its captivating charm. He looks so fucking hot.

You can't resist the temptation to playfully rile up Jeno. You're well aware of the reactions he tends to make when he perceives others making advances towards you, and tonight, you decide to test those boundaries.

While every fiber of your being yearns to be in his bed, getting your back blown out, you find yourself seated across from him in the restaurant. Jeno holds your hand, his gaze filled with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. He’s silently giving you a warning to behave for him. That familiar, enticing smile graces his face, the one that makes you want to get under the table and suck his cock

Unable to resist the allure, you lean in, eyes locked onto his, and teasingly murmur, "Jeno, if you keep smiling like that, I’m gonna get under this table, on my knees, sucking your cock until you can't breathe."

He shakes his head, a blend of amusement and affection in his response, He appears unchanged by your words but you feel the way his hand tightens around yours. "Baby, can you please just shut up and eat your food?"

Your desire uncontained, you counter, "But I want to eat you." A subtle headshake follows, but Jeno seals the moment with a tender kiss on your hand, intensifying the throbbing ache for him.

Under different circumstances, he'd eagerly propose abandoning the date to fuck you. Yet, tonight is special – an anniversary celebration meticulously planned by Jeno. His sweetness and loving gestures throughout the evening only amplify the anticipation for what awaits later, making the entire experience all the more enchanting.

Jeno's tone takes a swift turn. He's calling you a brat, commanding you to shut up and eat, his voice growing louder as he delivers stern reprimands. Yet, you revel in the duality, the shift from scolding to endearment.

"You're my baby. Just be patient and wait, ok?” He says, alternating between compliments and firm instructions to behave. You touch him under the table which elicits a serious look, a silent acknowledgment of the enticing game you're playing.

As he heads to pay the bill, a sweet kiss and whispered promises of a night dedicated to you and what you want hang in the air. However you truly couldn’t wait a second longer. You pout, a mischievous idea forming. Spotting a group of guys who've been eyeing you all night, you shamelessly strike up a conversation.

Their suggestive comments and compliments serve as a spectacle, a carefully orchestrated act to elicit a reaction from Jeno, you’re looking back and forth and smirking when you see Jeno looking your way, a blunt and still expression on his face which only means one thing, he’s mad.

The guys around you are over the top, complimenting your appearance and making suggestive remarks about how your ass looks in the dress. You respond with a smile and nods, keeping your words to a minimum. You're just waiting for the inevitable clash with Jeno, anticipating his reaction to their bold advances.

The air hums as Jeno quietly emerges behind you, his presence sending an electric thrill down your spine. Engulfing you in a possessive back hug, he holds you tight against him, the strength in his arms making it clear that you're his and his only.

“You think you're sly, baby?” He purrs, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as his hands explore you, tracing possessive patterns on your waist. His fingers dance with a familiarity that only intensifies the heated connection between you. He knows, he knows that you’re too impatient to wait until you’re home, that you just want him to take you here and now.

Jeno's fingers navigate under your skirt, skillfully exploring your most intimate places. The sensation elicits a quiet gasp, and you instinctively bite your lip to muffle the impending moans that threaten to surface. His touch is both commanding and tender, he’s massaging your folds, his fingers slipping underneath your panties so easily. “The red thong, really?” He whispers in your ear, light and sultry voice.

Adjusting your position, he cradles your chin with his fingertips, tilting your head to meet his gaze. A soft kiss lands on your cheek before he buries his head in the crook of your neck. His softness and touchy side surprises you but you know that you have a night filled with edging to look forward to.

“You're mine. You’re all fucking mine, doll.” He asserts with a possessive edge, his hold on you tightening, as if to emphasise the unspoken claim. “I'll let them listen to you moaning my name, yeah?” Jeno teases, making the discomfort of the audience palpable. It’s so funny that he hasn’t spared them a single glance, to him, they’re not there. Guys hitting on you doesn’t scare him because you both know who’s bed you’re gonna be in every night and who’s name you’re gonna cry out. He has an undeniable confidence and assurance.

“I'll rip these clothes off you right here and now.” His voice, a seductive whisper, promises a forbidden encounter. He tilts your head to expose your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses, displaying previous marks as if to say. 'Can't they see me all over you?'

“Gonna make you feel me here.” His hands move to your waist, tracing circles over the material of your dress, his need to rip it off your body intensifying.

☆ donghyuck

The neon lights of the carnival flickered in a spectrum of colors as you and Donghyuck embarked on another one of your adventurous dates. Excitement buzzed in the air, and you reveled in the shared joy of these moments. Little did you know that this particular date would unfold in a rather unexpected way.

Donghyuck knew you’d attract the attention of other guys, as you took your time dressing up, you opted for a striking skirt that hugged your curves, accentuating every step with confidence. The fabric flowed gracefully, catching the light in a way that drew attention. Tonight, you radiated a newfound self-assurance, a glow that spoke volumes about your growing confidence.

He bites his lip. “I'm in the mood to show off my pretty girl tonight. You’re all mine.”

When Donghyuck saw you, his eyes widened with admiration. The confidence you wore was like a magnetic force, pulling him closer. He couldn't help but feel a surge of pride, knowing you were not just dressing up for others but also for yourself. As you walked together, he wrapped an arm around your waist, whispering words of appreciation for the newfound allure you brought into the night.

As you wandered through the carnival, Donghyuck's infectious laughter and playful banter made every experience even more delightful. Your affection for each other was always evident, and normally, attention from others was a non-issue. However, today, the carnival worker running a game took an unusually keen interest in you.

At first, it was amusing for Donghyuck; the way other guys were drawn to you sparked a playful gleam in his eyes. He'd lean in and whisper in your ear, "Just gonna sit back and watch him drool all over you. It's not like he can have you anyways, right? I love seeing people want what they can't have. Love that it's my pretty girl who's making all these guys fall down to their knees, but she'll only be on her knees for me."

As the attention grew, something shifted within Donghyuck. What began as a humorous observation evolved into a source of arousal for him. The possessive thrill of knowing others desired you, coupled with the knowledge that you were exclusively his, ignited a newfound intensity in his gaze. The amusement turned into a tantalizing game, and Donghyuck found himself relishing the role of the only one who could truly claim your affections

Amused by the worker's attempts to win you a stuffed animal, Donghyuck couldn't help but feel a twinge of irritation and jealousy. The worker's laughter echoed around you as he persisted, seemingly blind to Donghyuck's mounting displeasure. Not one to be outdone, Donghyuck decided to shift the dynamics.

With each futile attempt by the worker, Donghyuck became increasingly touchy, his arms wrapping around your body and holding you close to him, showering you with kisses on your face and neck. His whispered words, filled with sweetness and possessiveness, were a comforting reassurance. "You're all mine," he murmured, creating an intimate bubble around you both. “Do you think he’s gotten the hint? He’s still looking at you like he wants to rip your clothes off but I’m the only one who can do that.”

Determined to stake his claim, Donghyuck shot a piercing glare at the oblivious worker, whispering a firm declaration of your relationship. The worker, finally realising he was no match for your connection, reluctantly stepped back, allowing you and Donghyuck to continue your carnival adventure hand in hand.

☆ jaemin

You and Jaemin are currently in what you would call a situationship. It’s not particularly healthy, the lack of labels is evident of the fact that neither of you are ready for full commitment. It’s a bit toxic but the sex is good and you guys do truly care about each other and you only want happiness together. He takes care of you and your emotions. You found each other after messy and bad break ups. Your ex, Hyunjin, really broke your heart and fucked you over and you was in a very dark place for a long time until Jaemin came along, he held your hand through every second, he was with you at your lowest

So you can imagine his reaction and his attitude towards seeing you and Hyunjin happily engaging in a conversation at a party the two of you attended together. You’re smiling and the two of you seem to get along and all he’s left with is confusion. Jaemin doesn’t completely get your decision to reconcile with Hyunjin, he’s trying to understand for you. You keep trying to convince him that staying far away from drama is the only thing you want and it’s best for everyone.

Truthfully he’s not having fun at this party, especially when he catches the two of you in the distance.

He sees him talking with you, you’re unusually quiet, there's two drinks in his hand and Jaemin feels a flip switch when he realises he’s about to hand the cup over to you. He knows his intentions aren’t good, it’s not that he doesn’t trust you, he just hates him and will never understand him.

Jaemin acts swiftly, purposefully striding over with his eyes cold and fixed on Hyunjin, sending a silent warning that succeeds in its intent. Holding the other cup awkwardly, he scans the surroundings with clear annoyance, observing his ex being touchy with another man right in front of him. Without hesitation, Jaemin wraps his arms around your back, and you instantly sigh, feeling the pressure drop from your shoulders as you sink into him. Jaemin understands you well; he knows you'd rather be anywhere else but with your ex, which is precisely why he's here. His actions are solely for you, recognizing that you're too gentle and unfortunately weak to break away from your ex and go elsewhere.

“Why are you smiling so much to him, hm? Should I show him how you smile when I’m touching you up and show him how you sound when you moan my name?” He whispers in your ear, tone heavy with jealousy

“I’ve been looking for you.” You mumble, dropping your hands over his, they lay around your waist and you gently trace his rings with your fingers and the soft touch awakens something inside of him.

"You look so pretty," "you're all mine," and "can't wait to take you home." While these words bring a smile to your face, they are intentionally loud enough for your ex to hear. Jaemin takes pride in the fact that you'll be in his bed tonight, savoring the awkward tension emanating from your ex as he stands there, looking around helplessly. The clear tension and discomfort only add to Jaemin's satisfaction.

Jaemin's lips gently trail along your neck, and you can feel the warmth of his smile against your skin, prompting a giggle from you. You lean your head against his shoulder, tilting it to grin at him before connecting your lips with his.

"I missed you, pretty boy. Where did you run off to?" You ask, your words sweetening the air. He just smiles, too captivated by you and the moment to respond immediately. Initially mad at the sight of you with your ex, jealousy fading away as he hears your sweet voice and looks into your soft eyes filled with nothing but genuine emotion.

Lost in the depth of your eyes, Jaemin realizes that this is what falling feels like. The world around fades, leaving only the two of you caught in a sweet, romantic embrace.

“Let’s go home, baby girl.”

☆ chenle

In the early weeks of your relationship with Chenle, things were still in the lowkey phase. You both hadn't encountered any significant hurdles, and it seemed like smooth sailing until today. While patiently waiting in line at a cozy coffee shop, a charismatic barista initiated playful banter with you, the charming exchange marked by subtle flirtation.

Chenle, who had yet to reveal his jealous side, witnessed the barista's antics with a hearty laugh as a heart-shaped design adorned the foam of your coffee. However, when he caught onto the increasingly flirtatious vibes and realized the barista was openly hitting on his girl, a flicker of possessiveness sparked within him.

Without missing a beat, Chenle wrapped his arms around your back, creating a protective shield, and locked eyes with the flustered barista until discomfort settled in. In a low, steady voice that betrayed a hint of anger, he whispered, "Does he know I'm willing to fight for my girl? My pretty girl, you're all mine, okay? I need everyone to see that. No one else has a chance."

As the barista retreated, Chenle's protective stance lingered, and the subtle tension in the air hinted at the newfound depths of his jealousy and the lengths he was willing to go to assert that you were undeniably his.

Chenle's unexpected display of jealousy and possessiveness revealed a new side of him, one you hadn't anticipated. The intensity in his eyes and the protective aura he exuded created a tantalizing allure that you hadn't noticed before. This newfound assertiveness didn't just catch you off guard; it stirred a desire within you, making your mouth water with an excitement you hadn't experienced in your relationship. The subtle thrill of discovering this hidden facet of Chenle added an electrifying edge to your connection, leaving you curious to explore this uncharted territory together.

☆ jisung

You and Jisung decided to embrace the thrill of a karaoke night, and as you stepped onto the stage, his enthusiastic cheers and claps echoed through the venue. Despite his slightly embarrassing antics, the warmth in your heart intensified with every encouraging gesture from your number one fan.

However, the mood shifted when the playlist took an unexpected turn into the realm of romantic duets. Another guy joined you on stage, and Jisung's expression turned sour. The confident singer's rendition felt more like a serenade directed at you, and Jisung, perceptive as ever, sensed the underlying intentions.

Feeling the discomfort, Jisung decided to take matters into his own hands. Seizing the opportunity, he boldly ascended the stage, surprising you. Wrapping his arms around your back, he started showering your neck with kisses, sharing the microphone for a duet that overshadowed the initial performance.

The overly touchy and romantic display not only made the other guy visibly uneasy but also transformed the situation into a comically passionate rendition of a love ballad. Your eyes locked with Jisung's, radiating love and adoration, turning a potentially awkward moment into an entertaining and memorable karaoke night.

As the duet concluded, Jisung delivered a playful remark, "You're my girl, okay? Only I can dedicate these types of songs to you." The shared laughter that followed eased any remaining tension, leaving you both with a lighthearted and unforgettable karaoke experience.