#this is me brain storming hair cuts

[nottoxicfr]

By using all my brain power to contemplate Tokyo Ghoul, I came to the idea that Black Haired Kaneki (Girl) would have really long and beautiful hair. This would be because Kaneki’s mother said that Kaneki’s hair was beautiful, which in manga always seems to have an underlying implication to it.

Following that logic, White Haired Kaneki (Girl) would have short hair that looks hacked off.

[janitorhutcherson]

Marked Only for Me (Olderbf!Mike Schmidt NSFW)

hii!! okay, i have never written smut before, so i am begging you all to plz be patient with me! this is very long, so my apologies.this is a part of my olderbf!mike series, so hope u guys likeee. also, for this let's make the assumption mike went to college and all of that before his security jobs. he just had burn out and was there, hence why he's working for a major company with what would be little experience. anyways, lmk what u think!

summary: mike comes home and needs to blow off some steam

warnings: nudity, sex, name calling, hair pulling, choking, marking, possessiveness, an implied free use situation, fluff at the end!!

word count: 2,925

nsfw after the cut!!

You were sitting at the kitchen table doing homework in the home you shared with your boyfriend, Mike. You're 20, a couple of years into college, drudging through math problems that make your head feel like it's sitting inside a frying pan. You had to admit this wasn't your ideal way to relax after a 10-hour shift at the bookstore you helped run. Things had been hectic with Black Friday, your store doing a special sale where everything was 50% off, and bookworms were coming out of random corners to fill their already overflowing shelves for cheap. Of course, being younger, you were the one who had to do the grunt work, carrying piles of books to and from inventory, dealing with the more demanding customers as your older coworkers would tell you that they "just couldn't handle kids these days" and that it'd certainly be better for the younger one to do it. Luckily, though, Abby was at a friend's house, meaning you didn't have distractions. You were as focused as could be with a cup of coffee beside you, the sunlight that was once beaming through the cracks of the blinds now completely gone. You were focused, your brain functioning as much as it would with the problems. Things were quiet.

...That is until Mike stormed in. He was frustrated, angry, an invisible red-hot aura beaming off him. His hair was messier than it typically was. The softness in his eyes was instead replaced with a cold look. His eyebrows were furrowed together on his forehead, his jaw sharp and defined as he gritted his teeth. Although this wasn't common, it wasn't necessarily rare either. Mike worked for a publishing company as a marketing manager. He'd gotten the job after a few months of hard work to make up for the slack on his resume after working at the mall and the pizzeria. He moved up the ladder quickly, his company admiring his friendly attitude and his somewhat shy but personable behavior. He loved his job much more than his past ones. He felt happier, got more time off, was less stressed, and was definitely safer. Even with that being said, sometimes shit just pissed him off.

Today's big issue was a meeting with his marketing team, which also involved the big guy over his head. He felt like he was criticized, demeaned, dragged through the mud, and all in front of the team he was supposed to be respected by, listened to. On a typical day, this might not have pissed him off so much. He might've mentally plotted the demise of his boss, but he wouldn't have caused the outburst he did at work, and today had been particularly awful. He'd been late, burned his breakfast, knicked himself while shaving, and even gotten into what he considered to be a little fight with you the night before. Even though you'd both settled the argument, made up, and kissed before bed, he had been thinking about it all day. He'd then spilled coffee on his brand new tie, leaving a stain, and then... that happened. Mike snapped. He yelled at his boss, showing his ass in front of everyone, causing a meeting in his boss's office to end with an inevitable write-up. 

Now, he was home, trudging in all his bad energy, disrupting your study time. You couldn't even be frustrated with him, his demeanor proving he'd obviously had a bad day. You went to stand up to greet him with a hug, a kiss or two, but before you could, Mike stormed over to you, grabbing your arm harshly. You gasped, slightly thrown off by his sudden actions. He pulled you closer to him, his eyes locked on yours and his breath heavy against your neck.

"What the fuck, Mike?" you said, your eyebrows furrowed as you stared into his cold brown-green orbs.

"Listen to me," he grunted, his voice low and gravely. "I have had a very, very bad day, and I need you to be a good girl for me, okay? I don't want no shit, no back talk, you'll listen to what I say.. do you understand?" 

His hand still gripped your arm, his fingernails digging into your skin. You could feel yourself starting to drip, your panties feeling damp against your skin as your body buzzed with excitement. All you could do was nod your head, your eyes locked on his as they clouded over with lust. Mike snapped his fingers in your face, looking at you from underneath his eyebrows. 

"Use your words," he demanded. 

"Yes sir, I understand," you stuttered out, your cheeks flushing red. Mike's face was now pleased, his entire demeanor softening a little. His hand stayed wrapped around your arm as he tugged you into the living room, pushing you roughly onto the couch. You huffed from the impact, your eyes widening as Mike dropped to his knees before you. He slid your sweatpants off, prying your knees open to reveal your see-through pink panties soaked beyond belief. His eyes were hungry, his mouth open, almost drooling as he looked directly into your eyes. 

"All for me, babydoll?" he teased, his hand sliding in between your legs as he drew small circles around your clothed clit. You nodded your head as a whimper escaped your lips, the aching in between your legs only growing worse.

"What did I tell you?" he said, his words sharp as he smacked the inside of your thigh.

"Yes sir," you corrected, your words wavering after the impact from his hand. Mike nodded, satisfied with your answer, as he slowly slid your panties down your thighs, wasting no time. You gasped once again as the cold air hit your wet cunt. Mike exhaled sharply, taking a moment to admire you in front of him. His eyes trailed up to your pathetic look, your already-glazed-over eyes, down to your barely clothed chest, only a sports bra covering your breasts he loved so much, then down to in between your legs, where you were so wet, and all just for him. His lips trailed up to your tummy, sucking on the skin in different areas, from above your abdomen all the way up to right below where your sports bra stayed, purple marks forming.

He then dove in without hesitation, his large hands gripping your sides as he leaned in, moving one hand to take his index and middle finger to spread your pussy lips. His mouth instantly attached to your clit. You yelped as you bucked your hips forward, his lips meeting the sensitive area. Mike pinched your thigh, a sign to quiet down until he said to do otherwise, two of his fingers reaching out to be shoved into your mouth.

“Suck,” he demanded, his fingers going as far back down your throat as they could. You did what you were told, sucking on his fingers and drawing your own circles with your tongue. His tongue drew tiny and slow circles against the set of nerves, your hands reaching down to tangle in his hair from desperation. God, he loved eating you out. The way you yelped, quivered, shook underneath him, your hands tangled in his hair to keep yourself from going over the edge. He fucking loved it, you were the perfect cure to his anger, calming, something he could take it out on in a productive way that made everyone feel good. Your whines were suppressed as you bit your lip, your teeth digging into the softer skin. Mike pulled away for a moment, his eyes locking with yours once again as he admired your face, your now swollen lips.

“You know what, baby? Be as loud as you want for me now, princess,” he mumbled, going back to attacking your wet cunt. Slurping sounds filled the living room mixed with your moans and whimpers as his tongue slid up and down your slit, his lips wrapping around your clit to suck as hard as possible when his tongue wasn’t fucking inside of you. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. His cock was rock hard inside of his work pants, his own face flustered as he rocked back and forth against himself. His tongue continued to lap at your clit as he slid two of his large fingers in and out of you, your walls clenching around them. You could feel yourself drawing close and Mike could tell. Your thighs attempted to clench around his head, but before they could his calloused hands pried them open, holding them apart. Just as your eyes began to clamp shut, your thighs shaking as the knot in your stomach started to untie, Mike pulled away. You gasped as he slipped his fingers out, furrowing your eyebrows as you stared at him with an angry glare. He chuckled as he stood up, raising his eyebrows up and down as he leaned down, his hand lifting your chin up.

“Poor baby, was all ready to finish for me, hm? You were gonna be ‘Mikey’s little slut,’ weren’t you? That’s what you tell me you are, right? My little slut?” he teased, no remorse behind his eyes. You huffed, punching his arm before crossing your arm, too out of it to say anything from the knot that remained in your stomach but too angry to take initiative.

“Awh, don’t be mad, princess,” he snickered, shaking his head as he leaned further down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “You really think I’m done with you?”

With that being said, Mike pushing you back on the couch. His right hand held you down as his lift struggled to unbutton his pants. He pulled his pants down, letting them fall around his ankles as he yanked his boxers off, his cock springing out. He stepped out of them, letting you go for a moment to unbutton his shirt before tossing it off as well. Mike then looked over to you, leaning forward, ripping your thin sports bra off of your chest, your breasts now exposed to him. He licked his lips, excitement overflowing his body. He crawled on top of you, attempting to make the two of you fit on the couch. His mouth attacked your nipples, biting and gnawing at your skin. His mouth moved up to your neck, sucking and prodding and biting until purple marks were left all around, ones you were all too aware would be impossible to hide later on. He moved down to your chest once again, marks all across your collarbone, your tits. Mike’s hands gripped onto your neck as he sat up, looking into your glossed over eyes. He pressed his lips to your ear, a soft kiss against your earlobe.

“’M about to fuck you so hard you see stars,” he said, his voice causing prickles to cover your skin. Then, without hesitation Mike slammed into you, his pace staggered. Your moans were as loud as could be, the sound of skin hitting against each other and the echoes of both of your voices filling the living room. His thrusts were sloppy as he felt himself starting to get close to the edge, his hands pushing your hips down and into the couch. Your entire body sunk into the cushions as he used everything in him, his cock abusing your poor cunt. You swore you saw stars until you felt his hand gently smack against your cheek, your eyes averting back to his gaze.

“You’re gonna look at me when I fuck you, princess,” he growled, his hand sliding up to your hair as he tugged. You grew close, clenching around his length, your thighs starting to shake. Your core was threatening to come undone.

“Fuck, Mikey, baby, I’m gonna fucking cum,” you whimpered out, closing your eyes as your head leaned back against the side of the couch.

“Cum for me, baby,” Mike stated. You did as he demanded, finishing around his cock as your liquids gushed against him. His thrusts grew sloppier before he pulled out, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“You’re such a good girl, you know that baby? You did so good for me, listening to what I said, letting me use your pretty cunt,” he stated, his thumb caressing your cheek. He then resituated, pulling you off the couch, pushing you onto the ground. You were now in the same position he was in earlier, completely fucked out. Your lips were dull from exhaustion, your cheeks red and your hair knotted in certain areas. Mike’s cock was directly in front of you, his hand guiding for you to suck on him. Your lips wrapped around his tip, the tip of your tongue licking his slit. You worked your mouth down his length, licking the sides. Mike’s moans became frantic, desperate as your mouth worked its magic. His hand tangled in your hair as he pushed your head up and down, thrusting up into your mouth.

“That’s it, baby, feels so good,” he grunted. With no warning, Mike pulled out, spilling his load all over your face. He twitched, his moans loud and low, your tongue stuck out to catch his cum. His body laid against the couch, feeling heavy as his head leaned against the back of his couch. A tired grin was on his lips as you also smiled up at him, licking yourself clean. Mike looked down at you, a chuckle releasing his lips. It was obvious all of the tension and anger was gone, as his once cold eyes were once again the soft loving brown they used to be. He looked at you with adoration, always amused by how gorgeous you were even after rigorous activity and getting your face painted.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, picking you up bridal style as he leaned down to kiss you, not caring about his own load that was now on his face. He sat you down on the bathroom counter, grabbing a washcloth out of the cabinet, running it under warm water. He started to wipe away all of the liquids covering your face, pressing kisses to your skin here and there, looking your body up and down as he admired all of the marks he left.

“You always know how to make me feel good and how to take care of me after,” you croaked out, your voice laced with exhaustion as you smiled. Mike smiled back at you, his hand tenderly touching your cheek before pushing your hair behind your ear.

“I love you, of course I want to make sure ‘m taking care of you,” he said softly. His lips once again pressed against yours. “Thank you for letting me… you know.. blow off some steam,” he said, wiggling his brows.

“Of course, honey. I was worried, though. Is everything okay? Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, leaning forward as you slid off of the counter, grabbing a new washcloth and beginning to wipe his face with it as well. Mike sighed, shaking his head as he looked at her with sad eyes.

“I just- I got into it pretty badly with my boss at work and got criticized, I felt like a wounded animal, like I had to fight. I’m so used to having to fight that I don’t know how to shut up and listen,” he mumbled. “It was so bad, Y/N, and I got written up after that awful day I had this morning… I just.. I don’t know. I do know I feel better now, and would feel even better if we cuddled for a bit and then went out for food?” he suggested, spilling his thoughts to you. You giggled, nodding your head as you reached up to press a kiss to him. You dragged him into your shared bedroom, the two of you cuddling up together under the blankets. You turned to your side, your eyes locked with his.

“I love you, Mike, so much. And I’m so, so unbelievably proud of you. Thank you, for always making me feel good too, for taking care of me, for being such a good brother to Abby, just… thank you,” you said softly. Mike looked back at you lovingly, his appreciation for you apparent.

“I love you, princess, you don’t even know how much,” he mumbled. His eyes were heavy. He leaned over and set an alarm for an hour from now, the two of you planning on a night of dinner out and grocery shopping. He curled his arm around you lazily, your body limp and exhausted against his as you yawned.

“Oh, and baby?” he asked. You hummed, lifting your head to meet his eyes. “Wear a crop top when we go out, I want everyone to see you all marked up.” You giggled as you laid your head down, drifting off to sleep.

When you two went out, you did just that, wearing a cropped scoop neck shirt with a low-rise flowy skirt. He showed off any marks you’d left, too, your possessive boyfriend holding you close anytime someone’s eyes linger too long. Mike was strange, possessive, and sometimes a little of what most would say was unsettling, but to you, he was the love of your life, the man who made you feel good, the one who fucked you until you couldn’t think. You loved him, and you always would, blessing you with a lifelong supply of angry sex and aftercare cuddles.

[gothcsz]

imagine moving into your new apartment and finding out that javier peña is your next door neighbour 🤭

tags: f!reader, friends to lovers i think, sprinkle of angst, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, throwing up/vomiting mentioned (if you're squeamish to that kind of thing), javi being javi, untranslated spanish, smut, p in v sex, overstimulation, there are feelings involved, unbeta'd, no use of y/n, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx.

~ 4.2k w/c - gif found on pinterest - masterlist

a/n: i just want javier peña to look at me... is that too much to ask for?! this is tropey asf and not what i was initially thinking of writing when i got this ask—but i like how this lil one shot turned out. i hope you do too, bestie! 🖤

You’re in the middle of unpacking boxes in your new apartment, surrounded by a mess of your own doing, when a sharp knock on the door startles you. You weren’t expecting anyone.

Wiping your hands on your jeans, you head to the door and swing it open to reveal a striking woman. Auburn hair, sharp eyes—she’s undeniably beautiful, but her expression is less than friendly.

Her eyes narrow as she sizes you up. “¿Y tu quien putas eres?” she demands.

Before you can get a word out, she’s already pushing past you into your apartment, not waiting for an invitation. “¿Donde esta Javier? Malparido tramposo. ¡No te escondas de mí!” she continues, storming through your space like she owns it.

You stand there, dumbfounded at the absurdity, watching her move, her fury palpable. Your Spanish is still novice, at best, so you don’t really understand what she’s saying.

“Uh, I think you have the wrong—” you start, but she cuts you off again.

“Wrong, my ass.” She replies, her Colombian accent thick. “I know he lives here. All the Americans do—”

Your brain finally catches up and puts two and two together. She’s looking for Javier Peña. Your colleague and now, apparently, neighbor.

You’ve been quietly, hopelessly crushing on the agent since you started working at the embassy. And now you’re standing in the middle of your half-unpacked apartment while some furious woman is ranting about him.

You’re about to speak again when, as if summoned by the chaos, Javier himself strolls past your open door in the hallway. The woman halts, her eyes following him like a predator tracking its prey.

You see her face shift from righteous fury to utter confusion. It hits her finally—she’s in the wrong apartment, like you tried to tell her.

She mutters something you can’t understand, barely meeting your eyes before storming out, slamming the door behind her.

You stand there, blinking, still processing what just happened. If that was any indication on how things around here will go, at least you know you won’t be bored.

It’s later in the evening when there’s another knock at the door. You’re almost hesitant to answer, unsure if you’ll be met by another beautiful woman scorned, so this time you make sure to look through the peephole before blindly opening it.

It’s Javier.

You glance down at your clothes, suddenly self-conscious. You’re not exactly at your best, sweaty and disheveled from moving all day. Definitely not how you pictured running into him outside of work.

You take a deep breath, trying to pull yourself together, then open the door, “Hey.” You greet him, a little shy.

He leans casually against your doorframe, that signature smirk playing on his lips. “Sorry about earlier,” his deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. “Not the best way to be welcomed into the neighborhood.”

He glances past you, noticing the half-unpacked boxes scattered around your apartment, and you’re mortified for a second, wondering how messy everything must look through his eyes.

You laugh, though it’s a little shaky. “I, uh… didn’t know you lived next door.”

Javier grins, giving you a devastatingly handsome smile that you’ve only seen when he tries to bribe his way through some of the other girls at the office. “Yeah, been here since I moved to Bogotá,” his eyes linger on you, but you don’t notice with how you’re focused on not making a fool out of yourself. 

“Well I hope you and your… friend worked things out.”

He exhales through his nose in an amused laugh. “Somethin’ like that,” he says, sounding almost entertained by the whole thing. “I owe you for that inconvenience.”

Your heart stutters and you hope, no—pray, that your eyes haven’t morphed into hearts with the charming way he’s looking at you.

“It’s fine, really—“

“No, no. I insist. It was rude. The least I can do is make it up to you.”

Knowing he wasn’t going to back down, a stubborn man through and through, you give him a slight nod, trying to play it cool even though your nerves are buzzing. “Okay… sure, fine. You owe me.”

His smirk softens into a half-smile, a little less cocky. He pushes himself off your doorframe, straightening up. “Alright, cariño. I’ll see you around.” The word rolls off his tongue as if he’s said it a thousand times to you, but it lands right between your legs, sending warmth to your cheeks.

“Have a good night,” he adds with that enamoring gravelly voice of his.

You manage to mumble a goodbye, watching as he walks down the hall, his presence making the air feel electric. You’re left standing there, alone with the heavy realization that your harmless work crush just became a lot more dangerous.

Living next door to him is going to be torture.

Months go by, and torture would be an understatement.

You’ve developed an odd, friendly relationship with him. It’s not exactly what you imagined when you first laid eyes on him at the embassy, all brooding intensity and effortless charm, but it works.

You exchange casual greetings in the hallway, little snippets of small talk when you bump into each other at work. 

It’s... normal. Comfortable, in its own way. But every time he says your name, with that gravelly edge to his voice, something flutters in your chest.

He’s even taken it upon himself to help you with your Spanish, which is as endearing as it is embarrassing. On the days when you can steal a few moments to talk, he’ll have you practicing phrases, repeating them until he’s satisfied with your pronunciation. Sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly amused, he’ll leave a sticky note on your door with a new phrase scribbled on it for you to learn.

It’s become part of your routine. Him giving you little bits of language, you trying to impress him with how quickly you can pick it up. You tell yourself it’s just a… fun thing, nothing more.

Then there are the nights when you’ve made too much dinner. You know that man doesn’t eat. Not properly, anyway. So you bring over a plate, standing awkwardly at his door until he opens it, shirt half-buttoned and hair tousled, like he just rolled out of bed.

“Brought you something,” you say, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens as his eyes flicker to yours, a mix of surprise and amusement.

“Thanks, cariño,” he takes the food from you with that half-smile that makes you feel like a damn schoolgirl.

But it’s not always like that. There are times when he’s away for days at a time. Out doing who knows what—your level of work doesn’t intersect with his at all. 

His return comes with whispers around the office or in the form of news broadcasts that seem to be reporting nothing but atrocities as of late.

In the dead of night, you’ll hear the sound of his boots echoing through the enclosed hallway, a sure sign he’s finally back. You wonder what he’s seen, what he’s done while he was gone. The thought keeps you restless sometimes, but you never ask. He doesn’t offer, either.

And then there are the women.

You hear them through the thin walls—his low voice, their laughter, the unmistakable sounds of them fucking. The rhythm of their pleasure reverberates through your apartment, impossible to ignore.

Every time it happens, you’re reminded of the rumors you’ve heard around the office. The whispers about Javier Peña, about how good he is in bed, about how women fall over themselves to spend a night with him. Now, you know firsthand that they’re true.

It stings more than you’d like to admit, considering how you feel about him but knowing that he doesn’t see you as anything but a friend. 

You’ve caught glimpses of him after his flings, too. You kind of wish you could wipe from your memory, if only to keep your sanity.

It’s during different times of the day, really, when he’s leaning casually against his doorframe like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He’s shirtless, skin still damp from a shower or maybe from the sweat he’s worked up, and his jeans hang sinfully low on his hips. The soft light from the hallway casts shadows over his golden chest, highlighting the faint beauty marks that map his body.

You do your best to keep your eyes averted, pretending you’re not affected, pretending you don’t notice the way his muscles flex as he stretches, or how his dark hair is tousled in that perfectly messy way. But your throat tightens every time, your stomach flipping at how effortlessly good he looks. It’s not fair how someone can make post-coital exhaustion look so damn attractive.

He’s usually saying goodbye to one of the lucky girls, tossing a wink their way, or brushing his fingers through their hair as they share a final kiss.

You tell yourself it’s just Javier being Javier, but it’s impossible to ignore the way jealousy twists in your chest when you see them, all blissed-out and satisfied, practically floating down the hallway after a night with him.

You turn your head, pretend you didn’t just catch a glimpse of him looking like some kind of god, and hurriedly unlock your door before he notices you staring. 

And sometimes, when you least expect it, he catches you.

You’re fumbling with your keys, doing your best to mind your own business, when his voice cuts through the silence. “Hey,” he calls out, casual as ever, and you freeze. Your hand stills on the doorknob, and you force yourself to look up.

Javier is standing there, half naked, leaning against his door as if he has all the time in the world.

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, “Hey.”

“You alright there, cariño?” he asks, voice low and rough, like he’s barely holding back a laugh after watching you struggle with your keys.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a long day.”

He hums, his stare lingering on you, and your heart pounds in a way you can’t quite control. But then, as if nothing’s changed, he shifts back into that familiar, teasing grin.

“Okay, don’t work too hard. Can’t have you burnin’ out before me.”

It all comes to a head one night at the bar near your place. You’re out with a secretary from a different department, downing margaritas like they’re water. You’re tipsy—no, you’re drunk, and the world is spinning just a little too fast.

That’s when you see him. He walks in like he owns the place, scanning the crowded space until his eyes land on you. He acknowledges you with a jut of his chin and you smile drunkenly at him, waving, before you’re brought back to the conversation with your friend.

He’s here for work, meeting one of his informants—a very pretty, very obvious, working girl. You hate how seeing him with her swirls the green in your drunken heart.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, maybe it’s the months of pent-up frustration, but when Javier approaches as your coworker excuses herself to the bathroom, checking to see if you’re alright, your mouth runs faster than your brain.

“Don’t worry about me,” you slur, waving him off. “I’m sure you’d have more fun with her,” you add, nodding toward the woman with a sharp, sarcastic edge. “Probably more your type anyway.”

Javier raises an eyebrow, his expression shifting into a playful uncertainty, head tilting slightly. “What?”

You don’t know how to respond. Honestly, you’re not even sure you can form a coherent thought right now. All you know is that you’re in way over your head, and he is standing way too close.

But that liquid courage surges through your veins and the words are tumbling out of your mouth.

“It’s obvious, Javier,” your frustration is crystal clear, despite the way your words run into each other. “The kind of company you keep. They’re more fun,” You gesture vaguely toward his booth. “I’m just… here. A bore that’s drunk on a Wednesday night. It’s why you came to check on me. Why you’ve been overly nice.” Your words sting, even as they leave your lips.

The alcohol amplifies every insecurity you’ve kept buried.

The playful look on his face vanishes, replaced by hardened disbelief. His brows furrow, and for a moment, he just stares at you, like he’s trying to figure out how you could possibly think so little of yourself.

Instead of giving you an answer, he just reaches for his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. “Come on,” he mutters, “I’m taking you home.”

You snort, shaking your head, another wave of dizziness washing over you. “See? Taking pity on me. Again.”

He rolls his eyes, unfazed by your drunken resistance. “That’s not what this is,” he pulls out a wad of cash and drops it on the bar top to settle your tab.

He makes sure your friend is taken care of, telling the bartender to call a cab for her. Then he goes to dismiss his informant—a woman he definitely had plans to sleep with. She seems surprised, but Javier brushes her off and hands her some money. 

Your drunken mind can’t quite comprehend that he’s choosing to deal with you instead. As he guides you outside, you make it difficult, stumbling and resisting as he tries to steer you toward his car.

“I can walk, Peña,” you grumble, though your legs aren’t exactly cooperating.

“Sure you can,” he says dryly, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you upright. “You’re making this real easy.” He comments sarcastically.

You’re so going to regret this tomorrow when you’re fighting a hangover at your desk, thinking of how you just fucked up this friendship.

But right now, you can’t focus on anything but how warm his large hand feels against your side as he helps you into the passenger seat.

Your head lolls against the window, and you groan softly. “You didn’t have to do this, you know. You could’ve stayed with her.”

Javier slides into the driver’s seat, glancing at you as he starts the engine. “Everything you said back there was bullshit,” he says bluntly, pulling out of the parking lot. “You think I pity you? That I only talk to you because I feel bad? You really don’t know me at all.”

His words are cutting, but not in a cruel way. He sounds… disappointed. “I like spending time with you,” he continues, quieter now, more serious. “It’s not some charity case. You make me feel normal. When I’m with you, it’s like the rest of the shit I deal with doesn’t exist.” The faint hum of the radio fills the sudden silence.

“You… you’ve got this smile that makes me feel a little better about myself.”

The sincerity in his voice sobers you up just a little, enough for your foggy brain to process what he’s saying. You turn to look at him, eyes wide, but before you can fully grasp it, your stomach lurches.

“Oh no,” you groan, clutching your middle. “I’m gonna be sick.”

He glances at you, and in an instant, he’s speeding up, making it to your complex faster than you would’ve thought possible. He parks hastily, helps you out, and practically carries you to your apartment. The second the door swings open, you make a beeline for the bathroom, barely making it in time to empty your stomach into the toilet.

You hear him lingering by the door, then the sound of running water as he fills a glass in the kitchen. You hate that he’s seeing you like this—pathetic, drunk, and embarrassed.

When you finally sit back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, Javier is there, handing you the glass of water. His expression is soft, more concerned than anything.

“Drink,” he orders gently, crouching next to you. His voice is soothing, and for a moment, the embarrassment fades under the warmth of his presence.

You sip the water, avoiding his gaze, but he’s not letting this go. “You okay?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.

He sighs, settling beside you on the bathroom floor. “You’re not a bore. Don’t say that shit.” His voice is firm, but there’s an undercurrent tenderness beneath it.

Your head is swimming—not just from the alcohol, but from everything that’s happened in the last hour. 

You lean your head back against the wall, the glass of water in your hand almost empty. With a soft sigh, you begin to speak, your tone hesitant.

“Sometimes… I just feel average, you know?” you admit, glancing at Javier from the corner of your eye. He’s sitting quietly beside you, his long legs stretched out in front of him,  gaze focused on some point on the floor. “Like there’s nothing more to me than this mediocre job, answering phones, filing papers. I mean, I didn’t move all the way to South America just for that.”

You pause, trying to organize your thoughts. “That’s why I transferred here. I thought maybe… maybe I’d find something more. Maybe I’d find me.” You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “But ever since I got here, it’s been nothing but monotony and homesickness. I don’t even know if this is where I’m meant to be.”

The words hang between you. You’ve never said this out loud to anyone, never let yourself be so transparent.

Javier doesn’t say anything right away, and it makes you think that maybe you’ve said too much. But then, you hear him sigh softly, his shoulders slumping as if your rambling has hit something deep within him.

He’s silent as he digests your confession, and you’re about to apologize for oversharing when he finally speaks.

“I get it,” he replies, low and rough around the edges. He shifts beside you, resting his arms on his now bent knees while he stares at the floor. “You’re not the only one feeling that way.”

You blink, slightly taken aback by his agreement. You hadn’t expected him to relate—the sharp, confident DEA agent who always seems so sure of himself. He glances at you, offering a wry smile. “You’re not average,” his voice is firmer now, like he’s trying to make you believe it. “It takes time to figure out who you are, what you want. And if it feels like you haven’t found that yet, that doesn’t make you less than.”

There’s an irony in his words, and he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “I should probably take my own advice,” he admits.

Your heart flutters at his reassurance, but you can see it in his eyes—there’s more. Something heavier sits in his chest, pulling him down.

“What about you? What’s weighing on you?”

Javier sighs again, leaning his head back against the wall like you. “This job,” he says simply, but you can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “It’s… confusing. Difficult. Half the time, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore. I thought I’d come here, do some good, but it’s just…” He trails off, his jaw tightening. “I’ve lost myself in all of it. The work. The women. Because I don’t know what else to do.”

Your chest tightens as he speaks, hearing the vulnerability in his words. He’s always seemed so unshakeable, but now you can see the cracks in his armor, all that he’s been carrying. And then he turns to look at you, his expression softening.

“But you,” he says quietly, “you’re the one thing that keeps me grounded in all this shit.”

You look down, not believing that he’s actually saying this to you. You have to be dreaming. 

“Your smile, the way your eyes light up when you’re happy. Shit, even the way you butcher half your Spanish words with that accent of yours.” He chuckles, and despite the heaviness of the moment, you can’t help but laugh with him.

The tension breaks for just a second, and when you finally meet his gaze again, your breath snags. He’s already staring at you, his beautiful brown eyes gleaming.

You quickly look away out of habit, your heart hammering in your chest, but then he calls your name softly. “Mírame, cariño,” he says, all gentle and insistent.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to do so.

“I’m not just telling you this to score. I mean it.”

And you don’t doubt it for a second. However, the moment is too heavy, too intense for your tequila-soaked brain to handle. You can taste the lingering bitterness of the alcohol, your throat feels raw, and your head is already starting to pound. You’re too disoriented to fully process this moment that’s happening.

“I know,” you nod, picking at your cuticles, “I just don’t think right now is the best time to have this conversation.” Your words are punctuated by a hiccup and you bring your hand up to cover your mouth in fear of accidentally throwing up again.

Javier’s lips twitch with amusement, but he works his jaw, nodding in agreement. “You’re right. Not the best time,” he concedes, though the way he says it tells you he wanted this conversation to happen—needed it to.

“I just had to tell you. And if you genuinely feel like you don’t belong here then go home.” He tells you softly, though his cadence and the softening expression on his face say otherwise.

You glance at him, your lips curving into a weak smile. “While I do feel lost, I think half of all this is the margaritas’ doing,” you admit, your voice a little hoarse.

“Tequila’s dangerous like that,” he agrees with a small laugh, shaking his head. 

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to push through the embarrassment still swirling around inside of you. “I’m sorry about what happened at the bar,” you say quietly. “I didn’t mean to be so self deprecating.”

He waves off your apology, his expression relaxed. “It’s no problem.”

“Thank you for bringing me home, and for… opening up like that… I know it wasn’t easy.” Your voice softens as you say it.

He gives you a small smile, but his eyes linger on you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “You make it easy,” he says finally, the words leaving his mouth like a confession.

You sit there on the cool bathroom floor, your heart stumbling all over the place. Leaving isn’t an option anymore. Not when Javier Peña looks at you like this. Not after realizing that you mean so much more to him than you could have ever thought possible.

Javier hovers above you, his gaze locked with yours, filled with desire and adoration. Your legs are tightly wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, feeling every inch of him as his hips move suavely while he fucks you. 

His breath is hot against your neck, biting and licking at your skin. You can barely keep your thoughts straight, your mind clouded with the pleasure he’s stirring in you, the rhythm of his body guiding you to that edge again and again.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, his voice a low growl, “You feel so good, baby. I can feel how close you are... all for me.”

Your body clenches around him in response, a soft whimper escaping your lips as the pleasure tightens inside you, building and building. It’s the fifth time tonight he’s coaxed this out of you, and you don’t know how you’re still holding on.

His weight presses against you and your nails dig into the broad expanse of his broad shoulders, pulling him impossibly close. His chest, warm and slick with sweat, crushes against yours, and the hairs at the base of his cock graze your swollen clit with every thrust, sending shockwaves through you.

You gasp, your voice trembling with each word. “Javier... I can’t... it’s too much.”

But he doesn’t stop, doesn’t relent, instead he grins down at you, a wicked spark in his eyes, pressing his lips against your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth—kissing you everywhere he can reach while his other hand keeps your jaw locked in place, fingers denting into your skin.

His lips finally find yours in a messy, urgent kiss, swallowing your moans as your body tightens around him again. You’re lost in what he’s giving you, your world spinning as your orgasm tears through you, leaving you a trembling mess beneath him.

His hips stutter as he groans your name, his cock twitching inside you while he comes. He stays there, still buried inside, his body heavy and comforting as the world fades back into focus.

When he finally pulls away, his touch softens. He’s gentle as he plants tender kisses on your forehead, your nose, your lips. His hand caresses your naked side, soothing you as your breathing slows. He shifts then, pulling you close into the safety of his arms, his body wrapped around yours.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Just relax.”

He stays with you, his hand tracing lazy circles on your back, murmuring soft reassurances until you’re completely at ease, your body melting into his.

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️ : @almostempty . @persephone-girl . @magneticecstasy . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @sunshinefive . @dinanabuu . @angiewatson .

[therealmylesmorales]

Dating Loser!Vi Headcannons

A lot of this was thought about with the homie @ficsonpost-its, kind of a way for us to cope with the ending of Arcane 🙃

And I never cared enough to follow the plot so this is a college!au where everyone is alive and (maybe) happy

Warnings: Vi herself is kind of a warning, masc4masc couple if it matters, maybe suggestive at some parts, some parts with Jayce are inspired by “the blind leading the blind” stuff one tictok

She met you through Ekko. You were his (adoptive, biological wtfever shut up) sister and safe to say, she was borderline obsessed with you. But, she didn’t know how to approach you at first. Her very obvious crush on you was noticed by both Ekko and Jinx so they took it upon themselves to help her out.

To get some extra money, she works at her dad’s bar, The Last Drop. She’s a bouncer and whenever she’s around, people tend to behave themselves. It was a normal night until Vi saw you chatting up a storm to Vander and she immediately started to panic. But it all seemed to go on well, seeing how the night ended with your number in her pocket.

Vi can count all of the friends she has on one hand, one of them being her sister. So safe to say, when she admitted that she somehow has a girlfriend, none of them believed her. Jayce even called her a liar until she pulled up pictures.

Vi was out one day when she bought you both matching boxers. She cherishes them like it’s her most prized possession, next to you and the brass knuckles Vander gave her.

“Vi, what are these?”

”Batman boxers!”

You couldn’t help but match her wide smile. “Why Batman?”

”Cause he’s a fucking goat.”

Vi will full on body slam or suplex you, carefully, on the nearest couch or bed whenever you seem to be minding your business. The first few times caught you by surprise but now, it’s almost a daily occurrence that you look forward to.

Vi’s fashion taste is something you admire; from the ripped jeans to the cropped muscle shirts that she cut herself, you have nothing but good things to say about her clothes. However, in the comfort of her own home, she never wears a shirt. It’s even rare to find her in her sports bra while she’s lounging around.

“It’s nine in the morning, why are your tits out?”

”Are you complaining?”

”Of course not. But Jayce is coming over so he might.”

You can hear her groaning the entire time but she’ll do it.

Speaking of Jayce, it’s never a good idea to leave them alone for too long or else something would happen. Separately, they’re geniuses but together…those brain cells are nonexistent.

“Vi, it’s been fourteen hours, where the hell were you?”

”Oh, I was getting that tattoo I told you about.”

”For fourteen hours?”

”Yeah, Jayce was with me and he thought it was a good idea to get it done in one sitting. He even got something!”

Needless to say, both you, Mel and Viktor always expect something to go wrong with those two. (Have we lost the art of a good poly-ship? Jayce has two hand so just kiss and shut up)

Do not EVER call her Violet, she’ll think you are upset with her and will probably tweak out and cry. The only acceptable names to call her are Vi, obviously, or ‘Pretty Girl.’ You were only a few months into your relationship when you called her that, she spent like 5 minutes in straight silence not really sure how to react; something you did notice was that her face was as red as her hair.

Vi will also lay her complete body weight on top of you when you lay down; it's one of her favorite ways of cuddling. (For my gamer!readers) Especially if you’re playing a game, you will wrap your arms around her with the controller laying on her back. The both of you will stay there for hours.

“Motherfucker.”

”Die again, cupcake?” She muttered into your chest.

“Radahn is ass.”

A little something extra for my black!readers that love Vi 🫶🏾

Say you can’t find your bonnet. You looked all up and down the apartment, pretty much flipping it over but it was still nowhere to be found. And seeing how it was your favorite, you were a little upset that it was gone. Until Vi came out of the bathroom, said bonnet on her head, giving you a small smile, completely unaware of what she was doing.

[hellsenthero]

Dirty Little Secret

Dbf!Stucky x Fem!reader

While your dad celebrates his new promotion, you celebrate with his best friends.

Warnings: smut

Masterlist

A.N: I wrote this at my parents house as they nurse me back to health from the flu. And now I just know I'm going straight to hell.

---

The party was in celebration of your father being promoted at work. All his friends from work were at the house to celebrate with him. Drinks were flowing, laughter filled all spaces of the house, and little appetizers were passed among the guests.

"Where's your daughter?"

Your father waved a hand at his co-worker. "No doubt hiding in her room with her nose stuck to a book."

The two men laughed together. "Some things never change."

Little did your father know, you were in the bathroom with his two best friends.

"FUCK!" You gasped out as Bucky thrust up into you. Steve was quick to put his hand over your mouth, stifling your moans.

"Shh, baby, don't wanna get caught, do you?"

Bucky laughed as he continued to fuck you within an inch of your life. "I don't know Stevie, I think our little slut might wanna be caught."

With wide, pleading eyes, you shook your head as best you could under Steve's hand.

"No?" Bucky asked. "Well then, you better keep quiet, baby." Harder and faster, Bucky fucked you on the tiny bathroom counter. "Such a sweet fucking cunt." He gasped. "I'm gonna fill you up, sweetie."

Beneath Steve's hand, you tried to gasp out your wants. "What is it, baby?" Steve asked as he pulled his hand away.

"Need you, Stevie. Need your kisses."

"Awe," Steve cooed. "Of course, baby. Anything you want." With a hand on the back of your head, Steve both protected your head from slamming into the bathroom mirror and guided your mouth to his own.

As your climax approached, a knock sounded on the bathroom door. Steve broke a part from the kiss to call out. "Occupied!"

"Fuck, that excite you, sweetie? Nearly getting caught?" Bucky asked.

"She squeezing you?" Steve asked before you could answer Bucky. You loved it when they got like this, talking about you during sex like you weren't even there.

"Like a fucking vise." Bucky answered Steve.

"Gonna come," you whined.

Steve brought his thumb down to your center, rubbing your clit. "Come on Bucky's cock, baby. Make a little mess for us."

Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream as your climax hit you. Bucky fucked you through it with sloppy thrusts until he too, came. With his cock deep inside you, Bucky filled you up with his seed.

"Fuck," Bucky breathed out before he faced his partner with a sigh and a pat on the shoulder. "Be a good boy, Stevie, and clean our girl up."

As Bucky backed out from between your legs, Steve took his place. Kneeling, the blond male threw your legs over his shoulders and brought his face down on your center.

"Fuck, Steve," you hissed as quietly as you could at the first lick of his tongue. His hands grasped your thighs tightly as we worked his tongue along your center, slurping up every bit of yours and Bucky's mixed juices.

"Ya see how crazy you make us, baby?" Bucky asked. His storm blue eyes held your gaze. "Can't even get through your daddy's party without fucking your brains out."

"I-I love it," you gasped out. "Love you."

"I know, baby," Bucky answered gently. His hand came up to your cheek, caressing you gently as Steve feasted on you. "We love you too."

You grabbed onto Steve's head, pulling on his short locks of hair as you felt your second climax rise up. "Oh, OH!"

Bucky wrapped his flesh hand around your throat. "Gonna come for Stevie?" He asked, already knowing the answer. Still, you frantically nodded your head. Your eyes clenched shut as you tried to hold off, wanting to extend your pleasure for as long as you could. "Come all over his face, sweets." Bucky ordered.

You couldn't stop your release from barreling through you. Your moans were cut off by Bucky clenching his fist around your throat for a moment before he let go, allowing you to gasp down the air your body so desperately craved.

With a last lick, Steve pulled away from your center and stood up, just as another knock sounded on the door. "Occupied!" He called out again. Both men waited a moment, listening for the person on the other side of the door to walk away before they returned their attention to you. "I think we're done here now, baby." Steve told you.

You pouted, and gave your tallest boyfriend your best puppy dog eyes. "But I didn't get you off."

Steve shook his head. "That's okay, baby, but we're running low on time before dear ol' dad starts to wonder where you are."

From behind Steve, Bucky leaned forward and kissed you. "We'll finish this tonight. Just tell your daddy that you're going to your friend Sam's house for the night."

"Sarah," you corrected with a smile, knowing full well your boyfriend's knew all the names of your friends and who was trusted with your dirty little secret.

"Right," Bucky corrected as you fixed your clothing in the bathroom mirror.

"Okay," you sighed before nodding to the door. "Coast clear?"

"Let me check." Steve answered before he pulled the door open wide enough to peak out. "Clear," he warned as he guided you out of the bathroom with a hand on your back. Steve closed the bathroom door once you got out, locking it behind you so he and Bucky could clean themselves up a bit better before rejoining the party.

"There's my girl!" Your dad bellowed as you turned the corner into the living room. "What were you up to?"

"Oh, just reading." You lied as you walked up to his side.

"Ah, just as I thought." You gave a little-that's me-shrug.

"Sarah called me and asked if I'd do a sleepover tonight. Is that okay?" You asked just as you saw your boyfriends rejoin the party out from the corner of your eye.

"Of course." Your dad easily agreed.

"Thanks, daddy." You pecked him on the cheek. "I'm gonna go pack my stuff." You admitted before walking off. You did your best not to jump as you walked by Bucky, who gave your bottom a little pinch.

"Good kid you got there," Steve told your dad as you disappeared up the stairs.

"She's my little angel." Your dad said.

"Sure is," Bucky said with a knowing smile that was lost on your father.

If only he knew how good of an angel you were when you were being fucked by his best friends.

[jadewritesficshere]

Sweatpants

Steve Harrington x Reader

Synpopsis: Steve wears sweatpants and you have to show your appreciation

Contents: mentioned possibility of an exhibition kink, oral (male receiving)

18+ only

This was written because of that pic but apparently a lot of u have not seen the pic which is crazy cause it was all over my dash)

You can't stop your jaw from dropping. You would think to but your brain is suddenly gone because of the sight before you.

Steve Harrington, your lovely, sweet, amazing boyfriend, has just walked in carrying groceries. Said he had to drive Robin to work and was gonna pick up some things to prepare for the upcoming snow storm.

He should have called and told you to prepare. A fire in your gut was burning. A steady thrum spreading throughout your body. Your mouth was simultaneously salivating over him and dry wishing he'd kiss and lick into your mouth.

Steve Harrington was bundled up, that stupid scarf you made wrong that he refused to get rid of ("it's a labor of your love!") even though you made him a better one, was wrapped around the lower half of his face. His nose was a dusty red from the chilly wind outside. He had a beanie on that had a light dusting of snow, the same snow that fluttered on his lashes as he blinked.

His jacket looked too tight because he had a sweatshirt underneath. You knew Steve had another shirt under that, barely seeing the hem peeking out. The bottoms of his pants were tucked into snow boots, where you knew he had thrown on wool socks.

All of that was fine. It was his pants that were the issue. Grey sweatpants, that clung to his perfect ass. Grey sweatpants that did nothing to hide the length of him. Steve wasn't even hard and he was big.

A burst of jealousy runs through you at the thought that anyone could have seen him. That jealousy quickly turns to desire because anyone could have seen but only you could touch. You sort of wish you had gone with him now, only to see the longing looks on other's faces (and you don't really wanna think about what that means for you).

You stand causing the chair at the table to squeak against the hardwood floor. The mittens you were working on for Steve all but forgotten. You can hear Steve speaking but it is not being processed by your brain.

All you can think is how good his voice sounds. How good he looks. How hot.

Steve turns around and jumps back, not expecting to find you in his space. Steve glares," What the fu-Jesus, warn a guy next time!" "Sorry," you look him up and down, tone, conveying you very much are not sorry.

"Upside down ain't gonna kill me, you're gonna give me a heart attack," Steve rolls his eyes dramatically, but you can see the corners wrinkle from his smile that is still hidden beneath the scarf. His hand reaches out, knocking against yours almost subconsciously.

You wanted to say something intelligent, maybe tease him and see him blush and get flustered, but your brain stopped communicating with your tongue.

"Fuck me." You all but whine, biting your lip. Steve's eyes widen slightly. Before he can say anything, you drop to your knees.

"Whoa Ba-" Steve cuts off with a strangled sound as you grab onto his hips and pull him towards you. You kiss the tip of his length before licking the sweats. Your saliva turns the grey darker. Steve lets out a low moan, hand finding your hair.

You continue to lick and leave open mouth kisses all over his hardening length. It was impressive before but now? You fidget slightly, thinking about it being in you.

You hear a thud and a hiss, pulling back to look up at Steve holding a hand to the back of his head. You know Steve threw his head back in pleasure and hit his head against the cupboard.

"Be careful about your head, dont need another concussion," You frown up at him. He peers down at you, eyes full of lust," Not the head I'm worried about." His voice sounds low and gravelly. His face is flushed, even his ears have turned a bit pink. He's looking at you like he wants to swallow you whole.

You yank down the sweatpants and boxers, Steve shimmying away from the countertop to help. His erection springs up, almost hitting you in the face (and damn isnt that a thought). Its curved slightly, precum leaking at the tip. He's flushed a nice red, two small freckles on the base close to his balls.

You spit in your hand and firmly grasp him, causing him to groan. You move your hand steadily up and down him. You love how soft his skin is that contrasts with how hard he is.

You lick his slit, letting the salty taste of Steve coat your tongue. Steve moans and his dick twitches in your hand. You lick again, swirling around his flushed head.

"Not gonna- fuck, not gonna last long," Steve whines, flustered above you. You haven't even done much, and either you're really really good at this (you are) or Steve has been horny for a bit longer then normal today (you wonder if he wanted to be seen as you remember those jeans he used to wear) You slowly wrap your lips around him, sucking lightly. You moan, moving your mouth up and down in tandem with your hand.

It isn't long, maybe a minute. All it takes for him to come undone is for you to peer up at him and meet his eyes. Steve comes with a shout, his leg kicking out slightly as he grips the countertop to stay standing. You swallow it all, everything he would give you.

When Steve starts to whimper is when you let go of him. He falls from your mouth with a pop. You look up at him, lips slightly swollen. Steve is panting, face flushed.

Steve slowly slides down against the counter, legs going to either side of you. He grabs your arms and tugs you into him, pulling you chest to chest. Steve kisses you lightly before pulling back," I think i just blacked out, holy shit."

You giggle before kissing him again. Steve sighs into the kiss, hands running up and down your arms, to your back, to your ass. You pull away to take a breathe and Steve smirks up at you," I should wear these more often huh?"

[amkyor]

Can you write what the mha guys would do if reader slapped them during a heated argument?? Its no problem if you dont wannaa also happy new yearr🫶🏻

MHA GUYS REACTING TO...

GETTING SLAPPED IN THE FACE DURING A HEATED ARGUMENT ᡣ𐭩

Katsuki Bakugoᡣ𐭩

The argument was heated, voices echoing through the apartment as you and Bakugo exchanged sharp words.

Neither of you had intended for it to escalate, but tempers flared, emotions running high after an already stressful day.

“You don’t get it, do you?” His voice was a mix of anger and frustration, his hands clenched tightly at his sides.

His crimson eyes burned as they locked onto yours, but there was something vulnerable beneath the fury—something you both were too stubborn to acknowledge.

And then it happened.

In a moment of frustration, your hand moved before your brain could stop it. A sharp sound echoed as your palm connected with his cheek, both of you freezing in the aftermath.

The room fell eerily silent.

Bakugo’s head turned slightly, his eyes wide for a split second before narrowing.

He didn’t touch his cheek, didn’t move, just stared at you with a look that made your stomach twist. It wasn’t anger or resentment—it was a deep, quiet hurt masked by his usual brash exterior.

“...Did you just slap me?” His voice was low, almost a whisper, but there was a dangerous edge to it.

Your hand trembled as you realized what you’d done. “Katsuki, I—”

He raised a hand, stopping you mid-sentence. “Don’t.” His tone was firm, but his expression softened slightly when he saw the tears welling in your eyes.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he paced the room.

You stayed rooted in place, guilt washing over you. “I didn’t mean to... It just—everything got too much, and I—”

Bakugo stopped pacing and turned to face you, his jaw tight. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to feel too much?”

He took a step closer, his voice still sharp but quieter now. “You think I don’t get mad, frustrated, or wanna punch something half the time? But I’d never—” He stopped himself, shaking his head.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you whispered, tears now spilling freely.

He sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he stepped closer. “I know,” he said gruffly. “But we don’t solve shit like this.”

You nodded, biting your lip to keep from sobbing outright. “I’m sorry.”

Bakugo hesitated before reaching out, his rough hand cupping your cheek gently, his thumb brushing away a tear. “I know you are,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “But we gotta talk, not... hit. Got it?”

You nodded again, leaning into his touch. “Got it.”

He pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around you. “We’ll figure it out,” he muttered into your hair, his voice steady. “But don’t ever do that again.”

“I won’t,” you promised, clutching the back of his shirt.

For a moment, the world outside didn’t matter. It was just the two of you, holding on to each other and working through the storm together.

Izuku Midoriyaᡣ𐭩

The air was thick with tension, your voices rising as the argument escalated.

Izuku rarely raised his voice, but tonight was different. Both of you were exhausted and overwhelmed, and emotions were running dangerously high.

“You’re not listening to me!” you shouted, your frustration boiling over.

“I am listening!” Izuku shot back, his green eyes wide and filled with equal parts determination and confusion. “You’re the one who won’t let me explain!”

The words cut deep, anger clouding your judgment. Without thinking, you raised your hand, the sound of the slap ringing out in the small apartment.

As soon as it happened, regret washed over you like a tidal wave. Izuku stumbled back a step, his hand instinctively going to his cheek. His eyes widened in shock, and for a moment, he just stared at you, frozen.

“Izuku, I—” you began, your voice shaking.

He didn’t say anything at first, his hand slowly dropping from his face. His expression wasn’t angry—if anything - it was hurt.

Deeply hurt. The kind of hurt that came from someone who would never expect that kind of action from the person they loved.

“You hit me,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tears welled in your eyes as you stepped toward him. “I didn’t mean to! I was just so frustrated, and I—”

Izuku raised a hand, not to stop you but to take a deep breath and steady himself. “I would never hurt you,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “Not even when I’m upset. I... I thought you felt the same.”

“I do!” You cried, tears now streaming down your face. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m so, so sorry, Izuku.”

He exhaled shakily, his hand running through his messy hair as he turned away for a moment. You could see him struggling to process what had just happened, his shoulders tense as he tried to compose himself.

After a long pause, he turned back to you, his expression softer but still pained. “I love you,” he said quietly, his voice steady but firm.

��And I know we’re going to have arguments—we’re human. But we can’t let them get to this point. Promise me... promise me we’ll talk it out next time.”

You nodded furiously, reaching out to take his hands in yours. “I promise. I’ll never do something like that again. You didn’t deserve that, Izuku.”

He gave you a small, hesitant smile, squeezing your hands gently. “Okay,” he said, his voice still a little shaky. “Let’s move forward. Together.”

As he pulled you into a tight hug, you felt the warmth of his forgiveness and his unwavering love. It was a lesson learned the hard way, but one that strengthened the bond between you.

Shoto Todoroki ᡣ𐭩

The argument had been brewing all evening, tension simmering under the surface until it boiled over.

Shoto’s calm demeanor clashed with your fiery frustration, creating a volatile mix.

“You’re always so cold, Shoto!” you yelled, your voice breaking with emotion. “I’m trying to have a real conversation with you, and you’re just shutting me out!”

Shoto’s mismatched eyes narrowed slightly, his tone even as he replied, “I’m not shutting you out. I’m trying to stay rational, which is more than I can say for you right now.”

The words stung, and in a moment of heated frustration, you raised your hand and slapped him. The sound echoed in the room, and immediately, regret coursed through you.

Shoto’s head turned slightly from the impact, his expression unreadable. He didn’t touch his cheek or react with anger. Instead, he stood still, his gaze slowly shifting back to you.

The silence was deafening.

“Shoto, I—” you started, your voice trembling.

He held up a hand, stopping you gently but firmly. His face was calm, but the hurt in his eyes was unmistakable. “Why?” he asked softly, his voice steady but laced with pain.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. “I was just so angry, and I—”

“No,” he interrupted, his tone still calm but firmer now. “Being angry doesn’t justify hurting the person you love. I would never do that to you.”

Your heart sank at his words, guilt crashing over you like a wave. “I know,” you said, your voice breaking. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m so, so sorry, Shoto.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. When he opened them again, the hurt was still there, but so was the warmth that you had come to love.

“I forgive you,” he said softly. “But we can’t let this happen again. If we’re going to be together, we need to handle our disagreements without resorting to this.”

You nodded, tears streaming down your face. “I promise. I’ll never do something like that again. You mean too much to me.”

Shoto hesitated for a moment before stepping closer, his hands gently cupping your face. “I love you,” he said quietly, his mismatched eyes searching yours. “But love means respecting each other, even when things are hard.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, leaning into his touch.

The tension in the room began to dissipate as he pulled you into a gentle embrace. It wasn’t an easy moment, but it was a turning point—a promise to communicate better, to lean on each other without crossing boundaries. Together, you vowed to move forward stronger.

Denki Kaminariᡣ𐭩

The argument spiraled out of control, voices bouncing off the walls of your shared apartment. Denki, usually carefree and lighthearted, was now visibly frustrated, his golden eyes flashing with emotion.

“Why can’t you just listen to me for once?” he snapped, his tone sharper than you’d ever heard.

“Because you’re not making any sense, Denki!” You shouted back, your patience long gone. “You’re acting like a child!”

The tension in the room reached a boiling point, and before you could stop yourself, your hand flew up, the sound of the slap echoing in the silence that followed.

Denki froze, his cheek turning slightly red where your hand had connected. His wide eyes flicked to you, shock written all over his face. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still.

“I... I didn’t mean to,” you stammered, your voice trembling as the weight of what you’d done hit you.

Denki blinked, his expression softening as he raised a hand to his cheek. “That was... unexpected,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. There was no anger in his tone—just a mix of confusion and something you couldn’t quite place.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, stepping closer, tears welling in your eyes. “I shouldn’t have done that. I was just so angry, and I—”

“Hey, hey,” Denki interrupted, holding up his hands in a calming gesture. His smile, though faint, returned to his face. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay, but I get it. We were both pretty heated.”

You stared at him, guilt gnawing at you. “You’re not mad?”

“I’m not thrilled,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “But I know you didn’t mean it. And honestly...” He gave you a sheepish grin. “I think I might’ve deserved it a little. I was being kind of a jerk.”

You let out a shaky laugh, relief washing over you. “You didn’t deserve that. I’ll never do it again, I promise.”

Denki stepped closer, gently taking your hands in his. “Let’s just... not let things get to that point again, okay? We’re supposed to be a team, not enemies.”

You nodded, squeezing his hands. “Okay. No more slapping.”

He chuckled softly, his playful demeanor starting to return. “Yeah, I’d like to keep my face intact, thanks. It’s one of my best features.”

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love me for it,” he teased, pulling you into a hug. “Now, how about we forget this ever happened and grab some ice cream or something? My treat.”

As you leaned into his embrace, you knew that while the argument had been intense, it had ultimately brought you closer. Together, you’d learn to navigate the storms—one spark at a time.

Eijiro Kirishimaᡣ𐭩

The argument was louder than either of you anticipated, emotions running high as words flew back and forth.

Kirishima wasn’t the type to lose his temper, but tonight was different. His frustration was evident in the furrow of his brows and the tight set of his jaw.

“I’m just saying you could’ve talked to me before making a decision like that!” he exclaimed, his voice strained but not shouting.

“And I’m saying I didn’t think I needed your permission, Eijiro!” You shot back, crossing your arms.

The tension in the room was palpable, and before you knew it, your frustration peaked. In a moment of heated emotion, you raised your hand and slapped him across the face.

The sound echoed, and you froze immediately, regret washing over you as you saw Kirishima’s head turn slightly from the impact. His hand instinctively went to his cheek, his expression stunned.

“Eijiro, I—” you began, tears already forming in your eyes.

He turned back to face you, his crimson eyes wide but soft. His hand dropped from his cheek as he looked at you, not with anger, but with a mix of hurt and confusion. “You... hit me?” he asked, his voice quiet.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I was just so angry, and I—”

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer to you. “It’s okay. Well, it’s not okay, but...” He trailed off, scratching the back of his head. “I know you didn’t mean it. We were both heated.”

You looked at him, guilt overwhelming you. “I’m so sorry, Eijiro. I shouldn’t have done that.”

He sighed, giving you a small, understanding smile. “We all make mistakes. But we can’t let things get like this again, okay? It’s not... manly.” He chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood.

You nodded quickly, tears streaming down your face. “I promise. It won’t happen again.”

He reached out, gently pulling you into his arms. “I know it won’t,” he said, his voice warm and reassuring. “We’ve just got to work on talking things out better. Together.”

You buried your face in his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart as he held you close. “I love you, Eijiro,” you murmured.

“I love you too,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Now, let’s figure this out without any more slapping, okay?”

You laughed softly, the tension easing as you both took a step toward healing. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you’d face them together.

FANFIC RECOMMENDATION ᡣ𐭩

Adult Bakugo x Female Reader

[iheartmapi]

Get Gone (pt.2 to “Teddy Bear”)

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: Alexia had crossed another line, and you couldn’t let it be like this anymore.

Angst, no comfort ig

TW: none

Word count: 1,185

Your eyes flickered around the restaurant you were patiently waiting in for the past 30 minutes.

The situation is easy to guess, you were waiting for Alexia, since she herself proposed a date today to you a week ago. Yet she wasn’t showing up. Sweat painted your hands, you wanted to finally catch a glimpse of her blonde hair somewhere in the crowd of waiters and other clients, you tried texting her, perhaps she got stuck in traffic or something else happened to her?

You hoped it was only something of innocent nature…Alexia wouldn’t stand you up after all, right?

More time passed and passed, but to no avail Alexia hadn’t appeared in the restaurant. Tears were begging to be let out of your eyes, it was hard keeping yourself in check and not crying a river right there in public but you at least managed to get back to your car before breaking down in tears.

You went back home, your sadness slowly morphed into anger towards Alexis, lately you’ve been wondering if this relationship even had any chance of salvation. She didn’t return till late in the evening. You were sitting in the living room, your arms crossed as you saw her drop her bag down on the floor. Not even a “sorry”, “hey” or “how are you was dropped, let alone one single look at you. You wanted to scream at her, make a mess of the apartment, claw at her skin pull your hair anything..but she’d just turn a blind eye to it anyway, it’s as if you were invisible, when you were around her she treated you like mist, she just didn’t care.

“Why?” You then spoke up, your cheeks got a reddish tint to them, as well as your eyes which were letting tears fall. You cried silently, just looking at her as she turned around to face you as if she had no clue what you meant by ‘why’

“What are you talking about?” Alexia’s brow furrowed, her gaze said it all, she was looking at you as if you were some mad woman that should be institutionalised for her over-sensitivity. “Why don’t you love me anymore?” You choked out the question you had wanted to ask her for the past few months.

“Y/n-“ Alexia begun with a tired voice, “No” you cut in “Don’t ‘Y/n’ me, you know it’s the truth” And she probably did, Alexia stood in place, her eyes diverted from yours.

“I wanted this to work, I really did, and we had our happy years didn’t we? But you changed Alexia, you don’t give a shit about me anymore.” Your voice broke here and there, a thousand words and sentences were running through your brain, so fast it made you feel like it was frying.

“I thought about this so many times, thought about all the things I wanted to say to you…but now I can’t, there’s so many of them I can’t keep up, you had done me so bad, so many times..so many times I forgave you quietly, but I can’t do it anymore”

“What the hell do you mean?” She barked at you, “So you’re gonna break up with me? Because of some dumb things I did? God you’re impossible-“ The blonde shook her head “Stop it! For fuck’s sake stop it! That’s why I’ve been holding back, cause you always do this, I’m always the bad guy whilst you’re a martyr.” Your hands clutched your head “And dumb things? You cal treating me as if I didn’t exist dumb things? You stood me up, and the best part is this wasn’t the first time” It was clear Alexia was trying to come up with some cheeky answer, one that’d shut you up, but to no avail.

“This is the end” you said now more quietly, “I’m leaving, don’t contact me again” with that you made your way to your now past shared bedroom. Another minute spent in this goddamn place was going to drive you mad, so swiftly you grabbed your clothes and other belongings, not caring to fold them, just to get them into your bags. Alexia soon stormed in after you. “This is fucking crazy!” She yelled, “You can’t do this to me!” Her arms were swaying around, she was mad, furious even.

“You did much worse to me” you muttered “You don’t deserve to be mad at me Alexia”

As you grabbed your now packed bags you looked at her for the last time together, “Goodbye” and that was it, the end.

A few weeks had passed now, you bought yourself a flat since you sold your old one before moving in with Alexia. You recall breathing the fresh air, the wind blowing through your hair when you left Alexia, the world around you felt different, alone and freeing. Later a part of you was screaming at you that you chose the wrong option, but you couldn’t get back with Alexia, not after everything.

Years of a good relationship, and then years of a ruin that was your ‘love’. There was no denying that a small percentage of you, still loved her, but you couldn’t be with her if all you were going to get was a one-sided romance.

Alexia messaged you, one message that read ‘meet me at the pier, you know which one. 7pm, I’ll be there.”

You sighed internally, you were gonna give her one last chance to speak to you, whatever it is she wanted, all you knew was that there was no getting back ever again.

It was dark already, the sky turning into a deep navy blue transcending into black. As you walked down the wooden pier, some happy moments from your time together came flooding back. You knew this had to be the pier she wanted to see you at, and as you walked further down you could make out a woman’s figure in the distance, as you got closer you quickly recognised it was indeed Alexia.

She was leaning against the pier’s fence, looking into the deep blue sea, you stood next to her, glancing into the water as well

“What is it that you wanted to talk about?” You then asked, not looking back at her, and you could feel that she wasn’t observing you either. “Can’t we make this right?” She said after a minute “Alexia…” you sighed, “I told you”

“I can change, Y/n” she was still pleading for you to change your mind. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t believe you, we’re done, and that’s it. If we get back together either you or me are still gonna get hurt” You knew well that it was definitely you who was going to get hurt…but you weren’t here to talk about it, all you had wanted was to deliver the message clearly.

“Y/n..” she mumbled, “I’m sorry Alexia” you simply stated, “Have a good night.” You pushed yourself off the fence, walking off, towards the parking lot to your car. As you walked, you hadn’t looked back at Alexia.

You were better off not being together.

[vifilms]

❝ LONG NIGHT, LONG RIDE ❞ ✶ ABBY ANDERSON !

★⠀warning y disclaimers — eighteen+, nsfw themes, country!abby, petname usage (sweetheart, darling), mechanical bullrider!abby, abby is a big ass flirt, kinda shy!reader, dub-con (alcohol involved). 

RAY RAMBLES ★ idk a random thought and i kinda ran with it. if you like, i have a part in mind with smut for my slutty friends. to be continued ...

you’ve never seen a woman move like she did. it wasn’t the first time you’d seen her there. nestled deep in the heart of texas, tattered-blue denim jeans hugging her thick thighs deliciously, white tank top accentuating her toned abdomen. worn-in brown boots on her feet, blonde hair as carefree as she appeared, hips in sync with the mechanic bull as her skillful hips ride as the operator strategically tries to rid her off of it. s’not an easy task by any means. 

she has the face you can’t quite seem to forget. you never really do. it’s become a ritual of yours. every friday night, you end up in this rundown bar, the only one in this nothing town. maybe it’s pathetic to pine over someone so clearly out of your league. but she’s easy on the eyes, the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. surely, it wouldn’t hurt to just look. 

the girl of your dreams is riding the bull again, and looking goddamn hot doing it. possibly even hotter than this texas heat in the beginning of summer’s warmth. someone as muscular, toned, and broad as her shouldn’t be doing it so gracefully. it’s been a month of watching her. every friday night you nurse the ice bear, condensation dripping down to your fingertips, soaking your wrists as the liquid drips further. 

she’s making quite the show of it tonight. anderson, ever the performer. 

the only name you’ve heard being used, quite loose lips of the small town groupies. apparently, anderson, is the talk of the town and tonight the girls next to you at the bar are as chatty as ever. you only pick up remnants. bits and pieces of their drunken gossip. 

she broke up with her girlfriend. been two months actually according to nora. time to make a move. 

anderson wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole. 

whatever. i’m going to make sure she’s riding me tonight. you’ll see. 

you force yourself to disengage the eavesdropping and look away from the scene of her riding the bull. you’ve seen her do it so many times you know it’ll be over soon. it’s pathetic how you know that in the first place. 

you’ll leave soon, the commitment of work bright and early looks over your intoxicated brain. but then you hear loud boots stomping their way to you. looking over you notice it’s her and she makes conversation with the bartender as she sips on the chilled bottle of beer. 

“seen you here every friday for the best month, darling. do you like the show?” anderson chuckles as her body inches forward. her thumb picking at label on her beverage.

she’s noticed you before? 

“mhm, not sure. still trying to figure out if i do.” 

she nods smoothly, amping you nerves as she scoots the bar stool closer to yours, before taking a seat. meaty, strong, legs opened wide as they rest on each side, supporting the weight of her built frame.

“hm.” she hums, watching as you take another swing of your beer. 

she opens her mouth, more of her southern drawl seeping out but the girls from before manage to squeeze through the small space between you and the mysteriously hot woman who occupies your brain. 

“anderson, you look really good tonight.” the girl from before resurfaces, her sultry tone sharp enough to cut through the entire room, her hands making connection with her toned, freckled bicep descending down her forearm. you make yourself scarce to the bathroom, not enjoying the sudden storm in your stomach. 

it’s just there. 

jealousy storming it before you could even stop it. it’s clear anderson is more than sought after. she’s everyone’s dream, yourself included. you’ve had one short lived conversation. maybe she’s an asshole, a cheater, an ego the size of this massive state.

it’s what you told yourself as you washed your hands in the washroom. it’s the only thing you could tell yourself. the hint of rejection was even more unsettling so you decided to pay your tab and get the hell out of here. 

the vibrator tucked in your nightstand drawer had never done you wrong. why break a good thing? right? god, there’s never been a more pathetic moment on earth. you and your wand against the world of scorned loneliness. but then she’s in there with you. you’re frozen, unable to move as walks in. confidently, resting her broad back against the wooden door. the single use bathroom does not give you much room to breathe. 

anderson crosses her arms, muscles flexing as her arms visibly look bigger, as if they weren’t already delicious enough. she looks down as you’re slightly bent over the short sink, suddenly taking interest in your ass. 

well, it seems sudden to you. 

“you really didn’t have to run off.” she tuts, as you find her frame in the mirror. you swear she bucks her hips slightly but you must be imagining it. taking note of her golden locks flowing past her sculpted shoulders, brown stetson hat concealing her eyes from you, for the most part.

“i don’t know. you seem pretty preoccupied. didn’t wanna put a damper on your night.” once you were done rinsing your hands, you turned around, arms placed at your side. every single bone of your body incredibly nervous to speak with her. especially to be alone together.

“besides, it seems like you have a lot of fans mesmerized by you, anderson. everyone seems to talk about you.” 

“maybe? but i wanna talk to you, darling.” pushing off the door, anderson inches herself closer towards you.

“would this be something you want? my attention?” raising her head, tilting it to the side as she awaits your response. 

“you’re… forward.” you grasp at straws, trying to find the right words but nothing seems right. 

“jus’ know what i want when i see it.” anderson admits. you’re not sure what to think. the sinfully hot woman, everyone’s vying for her attention, and she’s decided to extend her interest in you. why? you’re not sure. “what?” 

“i-i just don’t know what to say to you, anderson.” she smirks, the sly smile of hers on display. “anderson, huh?” 

“isn’t that your name?” you perch yourself onto the sink. clearly, you’re not going anywhere anytime soon. “sort of. it’s what everyone here knows at least. but you should call me by my name. my real one.” 

you’re honored with a privilege, a simple one, just for you. it’s intoxicating how special she can make you feel. your heart beating out of your chest the more she takes. affecting all and any rational thought occupying your brain. it’s just her. 

“abigail, but you can call me abby. abs.” she takes a few steps forward inching closer to the space between your open thighs.

“whatever you want, really. as long as these pretty lips are talking to me. hm? how does that sound to you?” 

you visibly gulp as  she inches closer and closer…

“uh, um, abigail’s pretty.” she’s got you now. utterly fucking trapped. 

abby chuckles. if she wasn’t this hot, it would be downright condescending. “mmm, think i’m pretty, sweetheart?” she’s so sure of what she wants, eyes set on you and it’s s’much to handle. the trap’s been set and you’re falling into her southern charm far easier than you would have if it were anyone else.

you barely nod your head, shyly biting your lip. finally, giving her something to work with. abby’s thinking about devouring you whole, eating you right up, bringing you home with her, pulling you into her bedroom, tearing you apart in every way she knows how. 

the light shining in your eyes makes her think you’d let her. 

“y-yeah, i do.” abby makes home between your thighs, standing at her full height, stammering six feet tall. firmly grabbing your legs before wrapping them around her torso. “bet you do, sweetheart. i’m sure you think about all sorts of things, especially about me.” 

your breath hitches as abby removes her hat, shaking her blonde hair to the side, sunkissed skin even more exquisite up close. freckled cheeks, the adorable bump in her nose, her nipples hard and now poking through the tank top, chest nearly against yours as she wedges herself impossibly close to you. perfectly shaped lips moving closer to yours. 

“why don’t you tell me what you think about when i’m riding the bull? when my hips roll, my head tossed back, and my back arched. be a sweetheart and tell me, darling.” her hat is placed in free hand while the other softly grips your chin, thumb smoothing over the soft skin.

“be real good and tell me.” 

you pause for a moment, doing your best not to fumble over your words, just this once. 

“most of the time, i can’t stop looking at your hips. how in control you look, so confident and my mind just…drifts.” you linger, eyes meeting her baby blues and fuck. fuck. fuck. 

you’ve never been so doomed to fall. 

“darling, don’t leave me hanging. what does it drift to?” abby asks, dipping her lips to your neck, ghosting over the access point, until she lightly kisses at your collarbones. so light, it makes you question if this is just some cruel, fever dream you’ll wake up from.

“shit.” abby takes it as a sign to continue her lips dip into your chest, hardly divulging to where you need her, before she’s ascending back up to your neck. “you gonna be good for me?” she whispers in your ear, her breath calm and even. 

you nod and abby bites your ear playfully as you moan, pulling her in by your legs. “hm, if i keep whispering pretty little things in your ear? can you handle me, sweetheart?” her southern accent further cementing you in her honey grip. 

“maybe? i don’t know. fuck, yes?” abby giggles, her voice dropping an octave as she goes in for the kill. “oh sweetheart. i might just kill this pussy of yours with what i have to say next.” on instinct, your hands tangle themselves into the root of her blonde hair, tugging her closer to you. wanting to suffocate her in your scent, but she’s already halfway there. 

“abigail, just say it. please?” she nods, loving how you’re already using your manners. fuck, so good for her already, not even having to ask twice. abby feels the heartbeat of her clit stirring in her pants as it chases the sound of your voice. she’s so feral, already. yeah, you may feel like a goner but if only you knew she is by far so much worse. 

“i noticed you the first night. those pretty fucking eyes staring at me. wouldn’t fucking leave me for anything, even when the bartender was trying to get your attention. those bambi eyes on me, bright eyed and practically begging for me….” abby’s purposely whines in your ear, causing you to grind into her. she can’t stop the chuckle leaving her lips. 

“you’re being mean. just tell me.” abby pauses as she grins like the cheshire cat. you tug her hair back tightly, the moan she emits is loud. her eyes nearly roll back into her head, but she’s able to stop it before it goes too far. before you push her to the subspace she can so easily get to when push comes to shove. for now, she’ll bask in the dominance. 

all of it so new, so fresh. “oh, i’m being mean?” abby threatens cockily. “i have  been awfully mean, huh? letting those pretty girls flirt with me right in front of you.” she kisses lightly underneath your ear before continuing.

“been thinking about you the last couple of weeks when i’m riding.” abby teases.

“you do?” your jaw slacks, your grip on abby’s head releases. “sure have, darling. m’thinking about how you want to ride me instead. pretty thighs rubbing together when you’d look my way.” abby’s hand drops to your thigh, rubbing your inner thighs with her thumb. basking in how you open them even wider, unprompted. just a small mention and you’re right back to her riding the bull. whimpered out for her, needing her to do anything, something. 

“why don’t we get out of here and you can come home with me?” she pleads, pressing a kiss to your temple. sweet and sultry with half-lidded eyes looking at you. your eyes looking at the hat in her hands. 

you nod, “yeah, i’d like that.” shyly, scratching the nape of your neck. 

“are you going to put your hat back on?” 

“mhm, not sure.” abby bites the inside of her cheek, anxious as the next thought plagues her mind. you won’t know what a big deal it is, but everyone in the bar will know. she will know, but you won’t and somehow it makes it easier when the request flies off her lips. 

“you could wear it? if you want, sweetheart.” abby asks sweetly. you’re quiet for a moment, pondering. “who knows. might be too big or too small.” you shrug your shoulders as if you’re not interested. 

“well, why don’t we try then, sweetheart? won’t know until you do.” she maneuvers the white cowboy hat, placing it carefully in your head. 

you smile happily at her. “look! a perfect fit.” 

abby knows there’s not a damn soul who looks better than you. “yeah, sure is perfect.”

DAILY CLICK + DONT BUY TLOU + DONATE

[obsessedwrhys]

THE CUT THAT ALWAYS BLEEDS...

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ (modern au!!) Being in a toxic relationship with her. angst, some fluff in a fucked up way? common toxic relationship things, arguments, this song is her song idgaf what anyone says. reader is fem!! Didn't proof read cuz im sick and lazy ☹

ᯓ★

It still shocks you how you and Ellie were in a 2 years long relationship. Maybe that was one of the main reasons why you felt reluctant to end things with her. And adding on the image of your relationship built around your friends, you felt the pressure to keep it going because everyone thought you two were happy together.

They envied you.

They wanted what you two had.

If only they knew what you two really had...

"What the fuck was that?" Ellie cursed at you after slamming the front door shut behind her.

"You're the one saying that? I fucking saw you cuddling with your ex!" You said as you went in your shared room to put away your bag, she follows after you.

You two had just come back from one your friend's party but it seemed like things took a turn when you walked in the living room to find Ellie cuddled on the sofa with her ex, cigarettes and drinks in hand while they chatted like old friends. Not to mention a flirty smile on her face as you'd catch her staring down at her lips. It was enough to make your stomach twist.

"So what!? I already told you we're just friends! You fucking embarrassed me when you stormed off like that!!"

"And that gives you the excuse of cuddling with her?! You were flirting!!" You raised your voice at her after turning to face her.

"Why are you being such a fucking bitch?! You do that shit with your friends and you don't see me complaining about it!!"

"That's because I never FUCKED ONE OF MY FRIENDS!!" Your words making her scoff out of disbelief. Almost like the situation was too much that she was now finding it ridiculous.

"You wanna talk about fucking? How about we continue this conversation when you're not a slut?" She walks off, going to the bathroom to open the shower.

You were speechless. Your lips were parted but you didn't know how to respond. It was like you were too overwhelmed with rage that your brain couldn't even think of what words to form. Soon your body collapses on the bed and you ran your hands tiredly across your face.

The sound of the shower running in the background indicating that Ellie was really bathing after what she said to you. You were upset. You had the right to. But it wasn't only her words you were upset at, it was the realisation that this was your life now, this wasn't the first fight and will never be the last.

You were too focused on your emotions to even notice your eyes burning with tears. You were trying to stop yourself from letting them pour out but your mind was encouraging it to with the amount of sad thoughts they were making up. You tried to be quiet but it didn't matter either way because the shower was soon turned off.

You tried to cover your face with your hands the second the bathroom door opened. You couldn't bring yourself to look at her. To show her the effect she had on you. It was quiet for a painfully long minute until you heard her approaching you.

Surprisingly she sat herself on the bed beside you and wrapped her arms around your body, she was making you rest your head on her chest. You were still angry but somehow some part inside of you liked the warmth. The feeling of her gently running her hands through your hair and brushing them off your face seeming to make your frown fade.

"I'm sorry baby... I didn't mean that... I don't know what came over me" She said, her tone completely different from her tone from before.

"It's just I get frustrated when you start accusing me of things like that. I would never leave you for someone else. You mean everything to me"

Her words made you feel guilty.

Maybe you were overthinking it.

Maybe you were the problem...

"... I'm sorry. I was just scared that she might try something on you" You apologised as you changed your position to get closer to her.

"It's okay baby... don't cry... nothing will happen... I'm yours" She comforted.

You didn't bother thinking if it was a lie or the truth because you were too delusional to even see things realistically. The next morning you'd find yourself awake, laying alone on the bed. You were confused and sort of heartbroken...

Where did she go?

Did she wake up early?

You got up and wandered the house and the second you went in the kitchen, you were greeted with the smell of food. Your heart melt when you realised she had made you breakfast. Once she finally notises you in the kitchen, she smiles almost pleased with your reaction alone.

"Morning baby... thought I'd cook your favourite" She said and you didn't say anything but just kiss her on the lips which she happily kisses you back.

"Woow now... I have work later. You don't wanna make me late now" She grins at you but you simply ignored her by wrapping your arms around her neck.

"I love you" You smiled radiantly.

"Love you more"

Almost like the argument never happened, the next few days went on as it usually does. You two spending time on dates and doing whatever stupid things you'd be up to. Apparently your birthday was soon and you couldn't help but think of some plans. Your first plan was to choose to hangout with some friends the day before so you could spend your birthday with your girlfriend. It was perfect.

Who knows, maybe she'll even have plans for you?

Possibly a surprise?

The thought made you excited that you felt you couldn't wait anymore. Soon the day came, you had told Ellie about your plans with your friends and she seemed fine with your idea. Before you left she gave you a kiss on the cheek and a hug, the feeling making you all warm inside.

"Stay safe baby, I'm gonna miss you" She uttered.

"It's only for a day Ellie you're overreacting" You joked which she just shrugs with a sheepish smile.

"Whatever, just have fun" She said.

Just like that, you waved her goodbye as you left to the mall where you've agreed to meet up with your friends. You did multiple activities together, from playing go karts to exploring a cat cafe. It was everything you had hoped for. Eventually the activities ran out and you didn't expect the day to end that fast, with your gifts in hand, you bid all your friends farewell before heading home.

It was still 3 in the afternoon since you had thought it would take until 7 in the evening to try out all the activities you've planned out. But oh well, that means you'll have more time to spare. As you opened the front door, you noticed there were clothes scattered across the floor. Some clothes you didn't recognise. You consciously put your gifts on the coffee table before making your way further into the room.

The clothes acting as a trail for you to follow... into the bedroom? You noticed the door was opened slightly so you carefully opened it. The sound of it creaking making it more suspenseful than it should be. Your heart drop once you see the sight before you. It was Ellie, naked, on the bed with another woman. Her face couldn't be seen since she had her face nuzzled into her neck.

They were too dead asleep to even notice you standing at the doorway. Your body felt like it was burning from the amount of emotions you were experiencing all at once. You couldn't believe it. Again and again, you chose to forgive her, hoping she had changed but the reality was that you were just too much of an idiot for thinking she'd actually change for you.

Your hands clenched into a fist and from the rage, you grabbed the glass of water on the nightstand to pour it on them. The second their face came in contact with the water, they were jerked awake. The girl got up and you could see now it was no other than her ex. You scoff at the sight.

"What the fuck?! Who—" Ellie stopped talking once she realises it was you who did that. Her ex just staring at the two of you with a worried expression... cause you caught them... you caught her cheating.

"You told me she wouldn't be back early" She whispered to Ellie who quickly shushed her to shut up.

"You're fucking kidding me" You managed to say from the rush of the adrenaline pumping through you.

"I can explain all of this" Ellie said as she quickly puts on her shirt. You take a step back when she tried to approach you.

"No! Don't! I won't let you sweet talk me out of this!" You said which she made her stop herself from walking towards you. She stares at you, vulnerabilities in her eyes.

"I-It's not that. Baby I do love you, you mean everything to me"

"Cheating on me the day before my birthday..." You said that had her look away with a defeated sigh.

"I mean that little to you huh?" You smile weakly, tears already covering your burning cheeks.

"I wasn't cheating on you—"

"Shut up, get the fuck out of my house" You said and for a split second, the sadness in Ellie's eyes changed to pure anger.

"This is my fucking house too, I paid for this as well...!"

"It's under my name Ellie!"

"Bullshit!"

"Go ahead!! Gaslight me 'cause that's all you've ever been good at!"

"Oh so I'm the bad guy?! Do you have any idea how hard it is to put up with your shit?! You should be thankful I actually love you because nobody else would!!" She raised her voice. Her words like knives gutting you open.

"I think you should leave (Y/N)" Her ex, who's still on the bed had the nerve to speak. You glare at her but she just rolls her eyes away like she's playing innocent.

"... I can't do this anymore... not with you... we're done..." You stomped off and guilty enough, you had hope she would try to stop you from leaving... but she never did.

The next few days you'd find yourself living at a hotel. It wasn't too expensive or anything but it was enough to live for a while. You tried to get her off your mind by taking care of yourself but no matter how happy you felt, you would always find yourself at your lowest again. You couldn't even enjoy your favourite show without thinking of her.

Your favourite game.

Your favourite song...

Fuck you can't even enjoy anything at this point.

What's worst was that Ellie was trying her hardest to contact you after a day of leaving her. From texting you through your number to your socials, she wouldn't give up. Although you've told yourself to block her and forget it, a tiny parasite inside you was dying to see what she had to say. Eventually one night where you were too lost in your thoughts, you decided to unblock her to see the messages she sent you.

~

Ellie: Hey baby, I'm sorry for what happened. If you're ready to talk I'm here

~

Ellie: I didn't mean what I said

Ellie: I'm also sorry for shouting at you

Ellie: I know how much you hate it when I do that

~

Ellie: Please reply, I can't eat or sleep knowing what I did wrong

Ellie: I still care about you

~

Ellie: -Deleted Message-

Ellie: -Deleted Message-

Ellie: Ignore that

~

Ellie: Are you okay? I hope you're still okay

Ellie: I miss your smile

~

Last online a few minutes ago, you stared at the messages but your mind was elsewhere. Should you respond? What should you say? You chewed on your bottom lip as you thought of what to say until suddenly a phone call came in. You felt your soul left your body when you realised it was Ellie. She must have seen you were online.

With not much to do, you weigh your choices and decided to just answer. It was quiet as you had the call on speaker. Maybe this was a bad idea... you wondered until the sound of shuffling could be heard over the line.

"Hello? (Y/N)?" Ellie said, her voice sounded like she's been crying but she was trying to pull it together at the moment.

"Hi" You simply responded.

"Are you safe? You've been ignoring my calls" She said. There she goes again... acting like the fight never happened....

"We need to talk" You said with your eyes shut from how overwhelmed you were becoming just by hearing her voice.

"Okay..."

You took a deep breath then let it out slowly. Your mind repeating the words you've been rehearsing everytime you were in the shower. The words you've been dying to tell her ever since what happened.

"This isn't gonna work anymore. I think we should part ways, for both our sakes" You said. The line was dead silent for few seconds.

"I know I know baby... and I'm sorry for letting it happen but we can try again—"

"No...! You... ugh... you don't get what I'm tryna say. We can't. We never will be happy together. It's never going to work" You said and you could hear her voice shivering a bit when she takes a breath to process your words.

"Oh... huh... you're saying we should never see each other again?" She asks.

"Yeah..."

Her lack of response was killing you. Even though this was happening over the phone and not in person, yet her presence was still strong. You gripped on the blanket to use it as a way to ease your nerves.

"Are you sure that's what you want? Have you even thought it through? What if you regret this" She started blurting out questions before you could even answer.

"I won't—"

"And what about your things? You're just gonna abandon everything here? Abandon me?"

"I've already asked my friend to help me get my things tomorrow..."

"What about me? Please baby I need you" She cries on the phone and you couldn't help but feel yourself almost pitying her.

"You don't... you don't need me... you just needed someone to make yourself feel less alone. I've realised that now..." You said with all the strength left in you as your voice quivers.

"Sometimes I wish we never met... then I wouldn't be put through half this shit... that's why I'm ending things between us now... goodbye Ellie... and please don't make this harder for anyone" Without waiting for her to respond, you ended the call. Now you were in your hotel room, crying to yourself as you tried to muffle your screams.

After the messy breakup and getting your things back with the help of your friend, you were able to get a fresh start. Though there were some bumps on your road to healing, you didn't let that throw you off. With the good things going on in your life, you decided to go out with your friends to a party. You haven't gone to one in forever but you thought you deserved it after being so kind to yourself.

"I told you it was a good idea to come out with us" Your friend nudges you with a smile and you smiled back.

You felt happier as you finally wore the dress you've always wanted to wear, your makeup done perfectly according to your features and some cute earrings to finish the look. If the old you saw the new you now, she'd think you had gone mad. During the party, you decided to walk around meeting new people and getting yourself a drink. It was then you locked eyes with someone familiar.

Your eyes widened as you saw her.

It was Ellie and she still looked the same.

Despite seeing her again after all these months of healing, you were surprised to find yourself handling the situation well. Your chest was definitely burning but it didn't burn as bad as it first did in the first month of your post break-up, where even the thought of her made you want to have a meltdown. Instead of running away, you simply smiled at her.

Ellie, who was standing on the other side of the room watches as you smile at her before you turn to talk someone else. You were smiling. Laughing. Happier than you ever did when you were with her. It actually made her heart ache knowing she wasn't able to be the one to make you that joyful. Instead she was the one who tore you down.

With her drink in hand, she leans against the bar as she watches you continue chatting with your friends. A bittersweet look on her face. Maybe you were too good for her. Maybe, all she's ever good for was ruining a good thing like you. And in the end, that chapter of your life is soon over. You'll forget about her... but you will always be in her dreams...

[ketaundkrawall]

Keta und Krawall ☽｡⋆ Joost Klein

Summary: a stupid accident leads to something you didn’t expect to happen.

Warnings: 18+ but read at your own risk, smut (lmao), alcohol consumption (mentioned), drug use (don’t do that guys), oral (m! receiving), public shenanigans in a club toilet and I guess that’s it

WC: 1k

A/N: abow guys here we are this is my first EVER published work lmao so pls bear with me. This shits not proofread bc I’m lazy. Also pls bear with me bc English isn’t my first language 👹

18+ under the cut!

To say the music that was blasting through the speakers in club was loud would definitely be an understatement.

“Want another one?” Helen, your best friend, screams over the music.

A nod and she was gone, leaving you swinging your hips to the music alone.

Nights like these were your favorite. Sweaty bodies moving in sync together to the beats of the music, mixing with the feeling and the high of just being free.

The sudden feeling of wetness against your back pulled you straight back out of your little bubble into reality.

Turning around you were met with a pair of blue eyes, widened in shock. “WHAT THE FUCK?!”

You could barely hear him say a sorry, since the music was way too loud.

“Fuck!” Giving him one last glare, you stormed off into the restrooms of the small club you were at.

It was small and definitely looked like it had seen better days. But you didn’t care.

Taking off your soaked shirt you let out a deep sigh, leaking against the sink.

“Hey.”

Startled, you turned around to look at the source of the voice coming from somewhere.

The guy who just poured his whole drink over your outfit was standing there in the doorway, scratching the back of his head. His blonde hair was messy, hanging in his eyes.

Sweat was covering his face as he looked at you. “I’m sorry about- uh that.” He said, nodding at the shirt in your hands.

“Oh it’s fine.”

He could definitely hear the venom in your voice. “Can I make it up to you somehow?”

That was surprising. Eying the man up and down you couldn’t suppress a grunt forming on your red colored lips.

“You’re Joost Klein.” That wasn’t a question.

Joost let out a small chuckle. “Alive and breathing I guess. So? Can I?”

Nodding, you grinned at him. “Actually yeah. Got 5€?”

Taking a small baggy out of your back pocket you looked up at him.

“Uh yeah sure.” Joost did look kinda confused as he looked at the small baggy in your hands while handing you the bill.

“Ever took ketamine?” You asked as you poured out a line on sink.

Seeing his adam’s apple bop in nervousness you knew what answer was coming. “No.”

“That’s okay. You don’t need to.” You said while sniffing the line, throwing your head back and closing your eyes before looking at him.

Holding the rolled bill out to him you grinned. “Unless you want to?”

And he didn’t need to be told twice. Laying out another line, you watched him sniff it.

Biting your lip as he threw his head back, exhaling softly.

The smile on your face didn’t fade as he looked into your eyes, making you both laugh.

When the laughing slowly started to bubble down, neither of you knew what was happening next.

Joosts hands were suddenly on your hips, pulling you into his lap while your mouths clashed together into a heating kiss.

Feeling his tongue on your chapped lips, you opened them, giving him permission to slip it inside, fighting for dominance with your tongue.

And then your brain stopped working.

His growing hard on was suddenly very prominent against your thigh, only being separated by your tights and his jeans.

Pulling away your eyes met his again, silently asking for permission.

“Fuck.” He mumbled. “Go for it schatje (baby).”

Not breaking eye contact you got up from his lap and let yourself fall to your knees in front of him, pulling at his belt and opening it with shaky fingers.

Helping you, Joost opens the button of his jeans and pulls the down to his ankles along with his boxers, freeing his erection.

Your eyes widened in shock. How was that even supposed to fit in your mouth?

“Are you okay?” Joosts voice brings you back to earth.

God, you probably just looked like an idiot staring at his cock.

“O-oh yeah just- fuck!” You exclaimed. “Never had one this big.”

That made him chuckle. “Well then better go for it before someone comes in. Suck my dick bitch.”

Rolling your eyes you wrapped your hand around his shaft, pumping it slowly. Keeping what he just said were lyrics from one of his songs.

He looks even more angelic from the spot you are in right now. His hair still messy, eyes closed and head drawn back against the wall as you worked him in your hand.

Dipping your head down you finally worked up enough courage to take him in your mouth.

The taste of salty precum hit your taste buds instantly, making you moan out around him.

His hands are now both on your head, holding your hair out of your face into a messy ponytail.

“You like that don’t you? Sucking my cock in a bathroom where everyone could just walk in.”

And then he thrusted his hips upward, taking you aback and making you gag in surprise.

Joost slowly starts to fuck your throat. And you liked it.

He slowly gets faster, your hands gripping his thighs, eyes watering as he starts chasing his high.

Letting out a breathy moan, he looks down at you, watching his dick disappear between your lips.

Suddenly he pulls you off. Wrapping a hand around his thick shaft he strokes himself a few more times before spilling his seed all over your beautiful and fucked face. “Here it comes prinses (Princess).”

As the first drops of cum hit your cheek your lips turned into a smile.

Opening your mouth you try to catch some of it before he lets go of you, slumping back against the wall and covering his face.

“I usually don’t do this you know.” The embarrassment was visible in his voice.

Getting up, you take a wipe to clean yourself up. “Neither do I.”

Leaning against the sink again you watched him putting himself back into place. A soft sigh escaping your lips as you turn around to leave.

“Hey.” His voice is soft. “What’s your name?”

Stopping you turn around one last time “Y/N.”

And with that you leave him alone.

The sound of Keta und Krawall by Ikkimel is all you can hear again as you walk back into the club.

—

A/N: if you made it to the end, thank you. Hopefully there’s more to come 🥹

[solbaby7]

… can i have an old fashioned/long island neat?

i already did long island neat, sweets. so i’ll whip you up a quick old fashioned instead—here’s some snacks while you wait 🧁🍿🥜

[ “no, no. leave your clothes on for me” + azriel ]

-> BLURB BAR <-

It’s not very often that Az gets in these kinds of moods.

The kind where he allows the darkness of his job in Hewn to bleed over into the bedroom. To be fair, he’s significantly subdued but that cloudy storm in aureate irises is unmistakable—he craves. Desires the thrill of a hunt that’s more satisfying than whatever remains in those dungeons. “Rough night?”

He hums in agreement, hands flexing at his sides as a breeze cuts through a cracked window. “Want you to do something for me.”

“Anything.” It should be shameful how eager you are to please, already shuffling away from the safety of warm sheets and fluffed pillows just to stand before him.

There’s still blood on his leathers but the bulk of his weapons are gone, neatly set aside for now. Small ones remain, little daggers, easily concealed switchblades, throwing knives tucked in most if not all of the little pockets sewn into his fighting gear. “ ‘M a little wound up,” Azriel confesses tersely, his stance too rigid; his touch too restrained when a thumb grazes the line of your cheekbone. Unbound hair is nudged away from your shoulder and you only watch the darkness in his eyes grow when the palm of his hand splays around the length of your neck. Your pulse flutters against his fingertips under the gentle claiming, grip applying enough pressure to make your lids go a little lazy. “Looking for a chase—think you can run for me?”

He can feel you swallow, the roll of your throat in his grasp as your sleepy brain arouses at the implication. So much power you surrender over to him; trusting that he won’t abuse it. There’s no request he’s ever asked for that you haven’t given. “Can I get a head start?”

There’s a fondness in the way he looks at you when he nods, shadows teasing around the bulk of his shoulders, resting against him like a prowling panther. “Sure pretty, only because you’re smart enough to ask.” The praise makes you forget to bother with a coat and excitement bubbles in his belly when you snag an elastic to tuck your hair away. “Make it good for me.”

A brow raises, gaze seeking him out over your shoulder. One finger dips under the straps of your nightgown, flimsy fabric beginning to slide down your frame when he tuts his tongue. “No, no. Leave your clothes on for me.” Greed stains his tongue; shows its head when shadows writhe in barely controlled restraint—predators salivating for suitable prey; for a satisfactory hunt. One that leaves his blood pumping and adrenaline soaring through his muscles; casting iron around his bones and shifting him from male to beast. “I’ll take them off once I’ve caught you. It’ll be my prize.”

A devilish grin spreads across your face. “You mean if catch me.”

[everythingisromant1c]

p2: three reasons why you can't stand co-star!james potter

co-star!james potter x actress!reader

summary: you were finding the first days of shooting your new TV show to be absolutely amazing, aside from the fact that you absolutely could not stand your co-star James Potter. unfortunately for you, you spent enough time around him to narrow down his most irritating qualities to only three:

a/n: hey so this took waayyy longer than i would've hoped to release, but i promise this series is not going anywhere, so tysm for all the loveee and all ur guys' patience <33

also pls pls pls feel free to send in prompt requests for this series i am so all ears

full series: Trouble in Hollywood - masterlist

1. He was insufferably good at his job

You wished you could say working with James Potter was such a challenge because he was simply bad at his job. But the thing was: he wasn't. It turned out he was really the impeccably good actor that your director Minerva seemed to swear he was, as if the talent truly was seeping through his veins. Somehow, that only made working with him more frustrating to you.

"Aaron, you've got to believe me."

James had come to you during the middle of hair and makeup and asked you to rehearse lines with him even before official rehearsals for the day's shooting began, saying it would make him feel more prepared. And, as much as you hated it, you felt the same. Your only regret was thinking you'd be able to stand him and his arrogance before seven in the morning.

"Why should I, Cassidy?"

The brunette responded to you fully in character, leaning back against a nearby vanity with his long legs crossed in front of him as you sat in your cushioned chair. He apparently got out of hair and makeup in under a matter of minutes, looking effortlessly put together with his curls hanging perfectly over his forehead—you didn't have the same luck. Your lovely makeup artist Mary seemed to be unbothered by the interruptions, continuing on with your makeup as you rehearsed your lines, though you caught her amused smile every once in a while from her reflection in the mirror.

"Because..." you began, trying to stay in character as your brain scrambled for your next line.

"You're supposed to say," cut in James, "'-because we can only trust each other right now.'"

"Please stop telling me my lines, James." You repeated the irritated request you'd uttered all morning to him as you put a tired hand to the bridge of your nose, one that Mary moved away hurriedly.

"Watch your makeup," she pleaded with a powder-filled brush to your nose , and you winced apologetically.

"Did you just want me to stand here and wait for you to remember them?" James's voice poked at you irritatingly as you stared up at him from your seat.

"Yes, that's exactly what I want." You fought from rolling your eyes. "You could at least give me a second. I didn't even ask for my line."

He raised his brows with an acquiescent sigh. "Whatever the lady wants."

Ignoring him, a skill you were growing like a muscle, you cleared your throat in focus, trying not to move too much as Mary blended some product on your neck. "Because we can only trust each other right now."

James quickly jumped back into character, right on time. "That didn't mean anything to you the other night."

"I already told you I'm sorry for that. When I heard all the rumors, I ..." you cursed at yourself as your mind drew another painful, embarrassing blank.

"-I didn't know what to think." James looked anything but guilty as his voice met your ears once again, finishing your line for you without fail.

"James!" You glared at him, doing your best to stay out in your chair and not storm out of the trailer he'd so brazenly infiltrated. You shook your head to yourself through your reflection in the brightly lit mirrors . "You're impossible."

James shrugged innocently. "I don't get why you're mad at me for trying to help."

"I'm not."

He scoffed, putting a dramatic hand to his chest. "So is this what you look like when you're happy with me?" The corner of his aggravating lips lifted along with his shoulder in a small shrug, before turning away again. "Isn't very much like how I've pictured it."

You didn't miss the way Mary let out a small breath of laughter from her nose as she switched over to doting on your hair. You gritted your teeth.

"I mean, I'm not mad at you for helping. I'm mad at you because you're annoying."

He crossed his arms defensively, his lips still quirked up, and you fought against the urge within you that had your eyes following the movement of his biceps. "I'm annoying?"

The feigned disbelief in his voice snapped your back to your right mind.

"Yes," you answered plainly. "You and your posh accent."

Maybe you'd stopped making sense, but it was too early for you to care. James was watching your meltdown with what you could only identify as merriment, his unfortunately unignorable presence taking up too much space in the cramped makeup trailer.

Thankfully choosing to ignore the part about his accent, he put up his hands innocently. "Last time I checked, I wasn't the one who keeps forgetting their lines."

"We just got the updated script for this episode last night." You shifted in your chair to face him, and you heard Mary wince from behind you, probably getting fed up with how much you were moving around, though you were too annoyed to stop yourself. "How the hell are you already off-book?"

James shrugged smugly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he leaned forward. You squinted your eyes at him. "An actor never reveals his secrets, love."

You twisted your mouth in disgust at his words—because you definitely felt something as he said them, whether it was disgust or not you didn't want to think about—and probably only made him more satisfied. "Mary," you groaned, looking at her through the mirror in front of you. "I think I'm going to be sick."

She shook her head and gave your reflection a sharp look back. "Not in that freshly ironed shirt you're not."

You sighed, settling back into your chair and sparing another glance at the man to your right. He tipped his head at you, almost tauntingly, and you felt your jaw tighten. It was going to be a long day.

2. Everyone else seemed to love him

You'd been going about your Thursday innocently, filming scenes when called upon—finally having memorized all your lines properly—and somehow getting through the morning without any irritating interactions with your least favorite person on set at the moment. That good feeling, of course, could only last so long.

"What's this?"

Minerva, your director, had been walking around set with you until you both stopped at the sight of a crowd forming outside one of the sets. You followed her, making your way through the crowd of your fellow actors and crew members until you were met with a nauseating sight: James Potter.

At the sight of your director, his already proud smile grew to a beaming one, almost blinding, as he greeted her. "We've all been really busy with this week's filming schedule, Minnie, and you mentioned what a hassle it's been ordering enough food for everyone every day with our budget, so I pulled some strings and got my family's chef to cater our lunch."

Your jaw slacked as he nodded his head to his left, where a number of tables were set up with what looked like pizza ingredients, a moustached-man in a chef hat standing behind the scene proudly. You couldn't believe your eyes. Apparently, neither could the woman next to you.

"Oh my- James this is ... amazing!" Minerva—or Minnie, as James somehow had grown accustomed to calling her—turned to your co-star, expression as bright and beaming as James's crowd-pleasing smile was. "But you shouldn't have gone to all this trouble-"

"It was no trouble at all. Francis was more than happy to help."

He waved a hand at the chef, who you assumed was the 'Francis' in question, who nodded back at him happily with a pizza cutter in his hand. It was like something out of a movie, the way everyone clapped for James who stood at the front of the crowd like the beloved man he was. You felt sick to your stomach.

"What's wrong? Do you not like the pizza?"

You'd taken your lunch shamefully, making sure to hide your amazement at the endless selection of pizza toppings that James had arranged at the build-your-own-pizza station, and were sitting with Remus, who you'd met at auditions for the show and luckily got casted in a role other than one that'd gone to James, and Sirius, another one of your co-stars who you'd quickly become friends with since you spent practically all your time on set nowadays.

You looked up at Remus briefly before returning your gaze to the pizza in front of you, the perfect slice underneath the sun seeming to taunt you. "No," you grumbled. "The pizza's amazing."

Sirius chuckled. "You'd think you'd be happy about that."

"I would, aside from the fact that it was Potter who brought it in."

The black-haired man tipped his head at you curiously. "What's your problem with James again?"

You shook your head forebodingly. "Don't tell me he's brainwashed you both with his hundred-dollar pizza too."

"I doubt the pizza's that much money." Remus bit into the slice in his hand, talking through the bite. "But it is pretty delicious."

"It is," Sirius nodded. "It was pretty nice of him to cover lunch for the day. If anything, you'd think you'd like him more for this."

You groaned. "He brought in his family's private chef, for God's sake. It's not like he rescued a cat from a tree or something."

Sirius and Remus shared a look as you spoke. You knew you sounded ridiculous, but you currently lacked enough dignity to care as yet another slice of pizza sat on your plate, ready to be eaten.

"James is actually a really nice lad," reasoned Sirius. "Take it from us. We kind of grew up with him."

That fact had yet to escape you as soon as you'd met the two of them. According to the stories they'd relayed to you, Remus's mum had been an on-set tutor to James growing up when he was acting in some movie, while Sirius's parents had been producers for some of James's parents' films. Safe to say, the three of them certainly left you feeling inexperienced in the world of acting.

"James should be the least of your worries," urged Remus. "He's harmless."

"If he's so harmless, then why has he gone out of his way to be a pain in my ass since I met him?"

Sirius snorted. "We said he's harmless, not that he's not an idiot sometimes."

"But," Remus added, "whatever James has done, just know that it always comes from a good place. The man doesn't have a mean bone in his body."

You sighed inwardly. The James Potter you knew seemed to be very different from the one that everyone else seemed to be familiar with, and it was driving you crazy.

3. He was an obnoxious flirt

When you said 'flirt', you not only meant that he flirted with you—unfortunately—but that he seemed to flirt with anyone in sight, whether he realized it or not. In fact, you'd been forced to watch as he smooth-talked one of the hairstylists on set for the past ten minutes.

You couldn't hear everything they were saying, thank god, but you were sure she was probably more charmed by the fact that his last name was Potter than anything he could remotely come up with to win her over. You'd had enough conversations with him to know that the movie-star smiles he offered were enough to charm people before they realized just how insufferable he was.

After what felt like hours, he said something to the woman in parting and left her looking flushed and smiley as he strolled away. You sighed, happy to finally be rid of distractions, and looked back down at the script on your lap that you were trying to memorize but stopped almost immediately as you felt an unwelcome presence lingering from in front of you. You looked up and fought a groan.

James tipped his head at you innocently. "You wanted me?"

You tensed at his phrasing and did your best to go back to ignoring him as you focused back on your script. "I did not."

Not taking the hint, as usual, he stayed put, shoving his hands in his well-tailored pockets. "Well, you've been staring at me for the past ten minutes, so I just assumed you had something to say."

"Well, you assumed wrong." You gave him a tight-lipped smile from where you sat. "And I wasn't staring. I just miraculously found it hard to concentrate on memorizing lines when you were harassing that hairstylist right next to me."

He squinted at you quizzically before shaking his head, finding your banter more amusing than you probably were. "Admit it. You're obsessed with me."

You scoffed, blinking rapidly to truly portray your disbelief. "You wish. Reality is, Potter—I think I hate you."

James peered at you with a glint in his eye like he'd never heard anything more amusing, leaning back against the wall next to you. "You think?"

You shrugged tightly. "The jury hasn't come to a decision just yet." You thought back to the unfortunately delicious pizza he'd provided, and all the things that Remus and Sirius had said to you that stood in stark contrast to practically every other experience you'd had with him.

James grinned, finding teasing you the most entertaining part of his day, even on set for a TV show. "So I still have a chance?"

His eyes glistened and you reeled. "A chance to what? Did you not hear the 'hate' part?"

"Hate is a strong word, don't you think?"

You shook your head. "Strong, but appropriate."

"Ouch." He touched his hand to his chest in that dramatic way he always did, something you blamed on his actor roots. "Your words hurt, you know." You rolled your eyes, truly trying then to get back to memorizing your lines so James would have nothing over you during filming the next day, but he didn't seem to care. "Look, I get it. You said you hate me. But really, I don't think you do."

You sighed, setting your script aside as you looked up at him with finality. "And why is that, Potter?"

"Because," James began, and you didn't like the tease in his tone as he looked down at you. "A little birdie told me you had some say in whether or not they cast me in South Bay. And that you actually encouraged it."

Your lips parted, those words being the last ones you expected him to say after weeks had gone by since the chemistry read. You didn't know who'd ratted you out, but whoever did would be getting a stern talking to. Or a partially stern one, since they were more than likely your boss.

You shrugged weakly at him. "That ... that doesn't mean anything."

James's thick brow lifted effortlessly. "So you're not denying it?"

At his challenging look, you relented with a drop of your shoulders. "I'm not. It's true; I told Minerva I think they should choose you to play Aaron becuase you are good at your job, James. As much as it annoys me. I mean, you're clearly a great actor, you get all your lines memorized overnight, not to mention the entire crew is in love with you for some reason-"

"Oh, I see."

You paused, looking at the way James's slight grin turned into a shit-eating one. "What?"

He tipped his head at you tauntingly. "You're jealous."

You let out a laugh harsher than you meant it to be. "Please. There's nothing about you I could possibly waste my energy being jealous over."

The brunette tutted, and you hated the feeling it sent through you. "For such a great actress, you're not a very good liar."

You felt your breathing shallow for a moment, not knowing what to do with the compliment that flowed so easily from his lips like he hadn't given it a second thought. You pushed the thought aside, focusing on the insult part of his statement instead, and rolled your eyes.

"Look," James continued at your expression. "Jealous or not, we're going to have to work together on this show for God knows how many more months. Years even, if it gets renewed for a second season." The thought both filled you with excitement and dread as it came from James's lips. He looked down at you with an honest curiosity. "How much longer can you go on pretending to hate me?"

You noted that what he was saying was true, letting the words sit in your chest for a moment, but you also noted that you had more fun being petty. You tilted your chin up at him. "Funny that you think I'm pretending."

James put a hand on the table you were sitting at, leaning forward slightly and making you freeze up. "Funny that you're still not a good liar, love."

Your throat felt tight with something you wanted to again dismiss as disgust at both his proximity and the delicate word that fell from his lips. You let an unpleasant pinch form between your brows. "I thought I told you not to call me that."

James felt something warm, almost giddy, form in his chest, and it didn't matter that you looked like you were considering slapping him right then. He let the corner of his lips quirk up. "You're adorable when you're mad."

"Don't call me that either." You huffed, picking up your still un-memorized script and standing. "I'm going to my trailer."

James quirked a brow, following you with only his eyes. "Is that an invitation?"

You rolled your eyes, walking away and calling over your shoulder. "Absolutely not."

taglist:

@ilovejamespottersomuch @empath-bunny @santaasi @veysxrge @bitterspoons @ladyhestiaa @rorybear14

[xoluvx]

*not* casual; b.eilish

part one smut

Your bodies stumbled into your apartment, pushing her jacket off her body, never once breaking the kiss. It was a desperate kiss. A kissed fueled by frustration. Frustration that you wanted this girl so bad, but she always pushed you away. 

She bit your bottom lip and you groaned pulling away for a brief second. Your eyelids fluttered as she pulled your dress down. A trail of clothes laid on the floor leading to your bed.

“Fuck me,” you whimpered. Billie happily nodded. The course of events that had taken place at the restaurant clouded your brain. Not what had happened in the bathroom stall, but what had followed. They way she’d kissed the back of your hand. For fuck’s sake, she'd looked at you with a pair of eyes you’d never seen before. 

Cupping your face, she kissed you with a softness you were unfamiliar with. She held the back of your neck, cradling your head as she towered over you on the bed. Getting lost in the kiss you allowed her hand wander up your thigh and between your legs. Her thumb running between your folds, the kiss still so sweet and pure. It was messing with your head.

“Wait,” you stopped her abruptly pulling away.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, bewilderment plastered on her face. 

“What’s wrong?!” You asked. There was something about those words that made your blood boil. What’s wrong? What’s not wrong? The fact that she said it was casual, but you spent more time with her family than your own. The fact that she kissed you like you were the only person in this world, but to everyone else you were just some girl she fucked on her couch. 

Your chest was hurting. You felt like your blood was lacking oxygen and you needed air. You couldn’t breath.

You paced your room searching for something to throw on over your partially naked body. Hyperventilating, you stormed to the porch. The cool air felt fresh and relaxing on your clammy skin and you clung to the rails as you took deep breaths.

Billie stood behind you; pantless with her t-shirt on.

“What are we?” Your voice cracked not bothering to look at her. You weren’t going to be weak this time. You couldn’t. You knew that if you looked into those eyes you were just going to crawl right back in bed with her. 

“I-“ Billie started and stopped. She had no words. To be frank, she didn’t fucking know either.

“Why are you here?” You asked searching for a reaction, for anything. Something. There had to be something. There had to be a reason for her to be here. In your room. Half naked. 

“Cause I don’t think I can do this anymore, Billie.” You turned to look at her with sadness in your eyes. Tears trickling from the corners of your eyes.

“I can’t just be some girl you keep around because you-“ you swallowed your sobs and Billie cut you off. Her hands moved behind your head rapidly and her lips caught yours in an unexpected kiss. 

You tried wiggling out of her grip, you wouldn’t fall for it again. But she held you in place. She kissed you roughly and you couldn’t not kiss her back now. You were drunk off her taste. Your fingers buried themselves in her hair as your tongues fought for dominance.

“I’m stupid,” she replied between kisses. “I’m an asshole,” she continued. Your noses clashed as the kiss continued.

“Is that what you want to hear?” her voice was rough and husky as she held you in place devouring your mouth. 

You pushed her away. The words she’d sputtered settling in. 

“That’s not what I want to hear,” you replied. Her hands were now holding your wrists, eyes wild.

“Fine. I’m scared. I’m fucking terrified,” her eyes bore holes into your soul. Your mouth hung open at her confession.

“You’re not just some girl,” she shook her head remembering all the times you'd cozied together and she'd scoot away trying to form space between you. Physical and metaphorical. 

"You're my girl," she whispered letting her forehead rest on yours. Her shoulders slumped and defeated (𝚊/𝚗: 𝚢𝚞𝚙, 𝚒 𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚊'𝚕𝚕).

“I am stupid and selfish for hurting you. I-“ It was your turn to cut her off. She let go of your wrists and your hands found their way to your favorite place; tangled in her dark locks. Your lips molded together like the first time you kissed and your heart soared like the first time she held your hand.

“I want this to be real, not casual-“ she mumbled between kisses and you shut her up by wedging your leg between her thighs. She groaned holding your hips. 

“Not casual,” you agreed out of breath pulling away. With your fingers entwined you pulled her back towards your bed. You let her remove the little bit of clothes that still hung on your body and you removed her shirt. 

Climbing on top of her, Billie held your thighs. Your lips found each other again and you kissed gently as you moved your hips on hers. That sweet pure feeling returned as your bodies molded into one. Hips movings, moans growing louder, hands lingering on skin as your tongues touched and lips smooshed.

There familiar tight feeling was coiling in your belly sending shocks down to your toes as you held her shoulders securely. Her hands held your hips helping you move on top of her as your movements grew sloppy.

"I-" you swallowed gasping for air, lips parted. Eyes shut tight. Billie watched your face scrunch in pleasure as bucked her hips moving in sync hitting all your sensitive spots.

"I-I love you," you hummed blissfully furrowing your brows opening your eyes weakly. The feelings were spilling out of your heart, your mouth, your pussy, everything was overwhelming and glorious and-

"I love you too," she breathed holding your jaw, eyes focused on yours. Two pools of ocean blue that stretched for miles. You could get lost in them and not care.

She met your lips halfway. Kissing like it was the last time. Or rather the first time. The first time you were really indulging and sinking into this feeling. That feeling of falling in love and it was totally not casual.

[naomijoestar]

⋆.ೃ JJBA SCENARIOS ࿔*:･

Main Masterlist

Genre: comedy, fluff, platonic

Characters: bucci gang

Warnings: none!

Notes: ahhh writing block ;( I have been trying to come up with something for my Jolyne story but I got nuthin’. So feast on this because the idea popped outta no where and I love it <3

GN!reader and this is completely platonic

Bucci gang getting woken up by you dying your hair in the middle of the night

It’s one in the morning. The reasonable part of your brain knows you should be asleep, but who listens to that part? The chaotic part of your brain, the part that’s whispering, “Dye your hair bright pink,��� is clearly the better choice. And in your sleep-deprived, slightly unhinged state, it feels like an excellent idea.

You rummage through the bathroom drawers and miraculously find a box of hot pink hair dye—where did this even come from? No time for questions; the dyeing begins.

It takes about an hour, but finally, the masterpiece is complete. You stare at your reflection. A vibrant pink explosion is sitting on your head. At first, you’re speechless. Then reality smacks you in the face like a truck.

“WHAT HAVE I DONE?!” you scream, the sound ricocheting through the halls of the gang’s shared hideout.

Bruno is the first to respond because Bruno is always the first to respond. He storms into the bathroom, his pajamas neat and crisp like he somehow anticipated this chaos.

“What’s going on? Are you hurt?” His eyes dart around for threats until they land on your hair. He stops. He blinks.

You turn to him, panicked. “BRUNO, I LOOK LIKE A PEZ DISPENSER.”

Bruno sighs the sigh of a man who has been through too much. “Why… Why didn’t you just wake me if you were having a crisis?”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

Bruno pinches the bridge of his nose. “We’ll fix this in the morning. Go to sleep.”

By the time Bruno is trying to calm you down, Abbacchio is dragging himself out of bed. He leans on the bathroom doorframe like a disgruntled vampire.

“What… the hell is going on?” He glares at you, then at Bruno, then back at you. His eyes narrow at your hair.

“Is that…” He pauses for dramatic effect. “…a cry for help?”

“It’s a mistake!” you wail.

Abbacchio snorts, then turns around. “Not my problem. Deal with it yourselves.” He starts walking back to his room but mutters, “Pink suits you, though.”

Mista is next, and he’s a mess. His sleepwear is mismatched, and he’s holding a pillow like he’s ready to fight someone with it.

“Who’s dying?!” he shouts, eyes wide. Then he sees your hair.

“Oh. It’s worse than dying. What the hell happened to your head?”

You groan. “I had a moment, okay?”

Mista grins. “You look like a flamingo, bro.” He laughs so hard he almost drops his pillow.

“DOES THIS LOOK FUNNY TO YOU?!”

“Yes,” Mista wheezes.

Narancia stumbles in next, rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on? Is it breakfast time?”

“MISTA CALLED ME A FLAMINGO!” you shout, pointing accusingly at the laughing Mista.

Narancia blinks at you. “Oh, wow. You look like one of those highlighter pens Fugo uses.”

You groan louder, throwing your head back dramatically. “I’M NEVER GOING TO LIVE THIS DOWN!”

Narancia pats your shoulder. “I think it’s cool. You’re, like, glow-in-the-dark now.”

Fugo is one of the last to arrive because, unlike the others, he actually needs his sleep. He shows up scowling, his hair sticking up in all directions.

“Why is everyone screaming?” His voice is sharp enough to cut glass.

You turn to him, frazzled. “Look at my hair!”

Fugo stares at you for a solid ten seconds. Then he mutters, “I woke up for this?”

“You look like bubblegum,” he deadpans, then walks away. “Don’t wake me up again unless someone’s bleeding.”

Finally, Giorno emerges, looking… annoyingly perfect for someone who just woke up. His hair is still immaculate, like he was born immune to bad hair days.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is calm, soothing. Too soothing.

You gesture wildly to your hair. “THIS. THIS IS WRONG.”

Giorno tilts his head thoughtfully. “I think it’s nice. It’s bold. Confident.”

“IT’S PINK.”

“Yes.” Giorno nods, as though you’ve just made a profound observation. “You’ve made a statement. That takes courage.”

You slump against the wall, defeated. “I hate this.”

By morning, you’re still rocking the Pepto-Bismol look, but you’re slightly calmer. Bruno helps you schedule a salon appointment, Giorno keeps insisting it’s a good look, and Narancia starts calling you “Highlighter” as a new nickname.

Mista, of course, makes bird noises every time you walk past him.

Anyways, I hope this is enough to feed you guys because I know I’ve been keeping yous hungry :p sorry about that. If you enjoyed this make sure to check out my other posts, and if you’d like anything specific written for a jjba character/squad you can request it if my requests are open!

[alphabetboyluvr]

landslides - 001 | goldrush - jjk

part title credit: goldrush - taylor swift

everybody wonders what it would be like to love you... i can't dare to dream about you anymore... it never will be...

pairing: officeworker!jungkook x female reader (coworkers)

premise: jungkook asks you to dog sit over chuseok. he doesn't ask you to steal the empty spaces in his head, the dreams he's yet to have, nor the idea of you always just being 'you' to him - and yet, like a thief in the night (with his own damn dog as your accomplice), you do.

warnings: fluff more than angst, but it's not clean cut - there's also a touch of smut. office worker jk, fuck boy (but kind!) jk, mentions of his workplace escapades, oc is dating mingyu (yay), oc sorta fancies jk (boo), solo masturbation (m), vivid thoughts of shagging (jk is a perv! wow! unlike me to write him as randy bastard!), lots of facetime calls, oc and jk are fundamentally flawed as a pairing, genuine friendship, daddy kink? ig? but like kinda sweet?, jungkook has a complex brain house and you've been banished to his annexe!! he also has a thing for claw clipped hair lol

wordcount: 6.8K

note from holly: so... i dogsat (? idk if thats a word) for my friend last chuseok and this was the result hahahaha. my friends dog (boba <3) is so tiny and small!! but i've always been a big dog girlie so bam was fun to write. i really love this one and have recently found all of my old notes from around that time detailing the rest of the couples lives, so pt. 2 is in progress.

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

Bam notices the storm roll in before you do. His ears twitch, head lifting from its rested perch on his paws.

“What’s up, baby? Hey?” You coo, his sudden shift obviously prompted by something. His snout begins to twitch, too, and his bottom lip shakes as a small growl vibrates from his throat. His eyes are on the window, stalking the clouds as they roll past. “Hey.”

You sit up a little straighter to lean forward and scratch behind his ear. He leans into it, but doesn’t take his eyes away from the sky.

“You see the rain, huh?” You hum, looking between the pup and the window ahead. You can’t place it yet - it’s too far in the distance - but you find yourself coming to sit beside him. He doesn’t lean up against you like he usually does. Just continues to lightly growl.

There’s no threat behind his noises, no malice - he’s just shouting back at the thunder you can’t hear. When you see a bolt of lightning flash in the distance just beyond the city skyline, you know that it won’t be long until Jungkook’s apartment block is drenched in the weather.

It’s just gone midnight when he calls. His face is a little puffy, smile a little lopsided.

“Hey Bammie,” he coos into the camera. You’ve got it angled down to where the pup is resting his head on your knee, peacefully unwinding after his long walk. Bam doesn’t stir at Jungkook’s voice, so he tries again. “Bammie?”

The way he elongates his puppy’s name is sweet - a tone of voice reserved only for his most trusted companion. He sure as hell has never spoken to you like that.

“Sorry, bud,” you say as you lift the camera up to your face. He’s pouting. “I don’t think the vibrations sound the same through the phone.”

“I miss him,” he says not even caring to acknowledge your thought process. “Is he okay? Was he good on his walk?”

“He’s all good,” you smile. “Best boy in the world. None of the other dogs you mentioned were down at the park, so it was just us two.”

He nods into the camera and purses his lips. “They might all be away. Visiting family.” He rolls over in his bed and lets out a yawn. “How’s the apartment? Got everything you need?”

You nod back. “All good. Might have eaten my way through your cheese stash already. I’m gonna shower then head to bed in a minute.”

“Make sure you leave the bathroom door open a little,” he says. “He’ll whine if not.”

“Will do.”

“Thank you,” he says. “I really appreciate you doing this. He hasn’t been too much work, has he?”

“He’s good as gold,” you say as you switch to the back camera. The view is serene, and Jungkook’s lips instantly settle into a smile. Bam is up on the sofa with you, snuggled against your lap. The skyline twinkles through his window, the reflection of his mood lamp obscuring some of it - but he’s quietly pleased that you’re using it. It’s how he normally winds down, too. Main lights off, galaxy on his ceiling. Must make Bam feel a little more at ease. You go to scratch behind his ear, and he huffs a little, all content and cosy. “Thanks for asking. He’s never too much work. You trained him well.”

“Hmm,” Jungkook hums. “Could have trained you a little better, though.”

He laughs when you switch the camera back to your face, mouth open, brows knitted together. “Me?!”

“Yes, you,” he grins now but tries to hide it; to restore the stoicism to his face. It doesn’t work. “What did I tell you about the sofas?”

You purse your lips together as if you’re not smiling. He’s got you there, admittedly.

“Look, he’s just so cute!” Despite the fact you’ve turned the camera back onto Bam, Jungkook can tell you’re pouting. “How could I say no?!”

“Easily!” Jungkook laughs. “That’s how he became so well trained! I leave for one night and-”

“Shuuuush,” you laugh, and when the camera switches back to you, Jungkook can’t help but let his smile persist. You look tired, and so does he, but there’s something about the call that has made you forget all about the fact you were planning on going to bed soon. “My swamp now. My rules.”

“My swamp,” he protests, but the look on his face is so saccharine that you can’t take him seriously. He thinks the same could be said for you. “Anyways, it’s late. Go get your shower. If you need more towels, there are some in the cupboard by the boiler. Don’t forget to turn the vent on - it’s the switch next to the light.”

“Alright, will do,” you nod and then yawn. Bam pricks his head up. “Hey baby,” you speak to him. “Did I wake you?”

“Show me him.”

You switch the camera around to where you’re scratching at Bam’s ear. He leans his head into the scratch, thoroughly enjoying it, your long nails far scratchier than Jungkook’s. It’s not the same - Jungkook is far stronger, so is a little rougher which suits Bam just fine. Still, he likes your scratches better than no scratches at all.

Jungkook whines. “I miss him.”

“He misses you, too. Want me to call in the morning?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “We’re up early tomorrow, heading over to Haedong Yonggungsa in the morning. Probably be up before you. Send me pictures though.”

“Will do. Night, buddy.”

“Night gremlin,” he smiles, and then begins to coo. “Night Bammie. Daddy misses you.”

He wishes you wouldn’t look at him in the way that you do when he says that; lips turned upwards at the very corners, dimples pressing into your cheeks, eyes bright.

“Shut up,” he says, but you’re already laughing.

“Daddy.”

“I am his dad!”

“Daddy.”

“Oh my god, fuck off,” he laughs. “Have nightmares, gremlin.”

“Sweet dreams, Daddy.”

“Fuck off!”

You hang up before he can protest your taunts any more, though he does text you one final ‘fuck off,’ and a reminder that you can bolt his front door if it will make you feel safer.

His apartment is in a high-rise, and his neighbourhood is far nicer than yours. You do the bolt up regardless, and think that it’s sweet that he considered your comfort enough to remind you about it.

Bam sits by the sliding door of the bathroom, the tips of his paws just teetering over the line of the door frame. He rests his head on his legs, snout angled towards the hallway. It still makes you feel a little weird. You don’t really want a dog watching you shower, even if he is a dog and has no real understanding of what’s happening - so you turn your back to him and just reassure yourself that Jungkook showers with the door open wide.

It’s a funny thing, to think about your co-worker’s showering habits. Not one that you’ve ever thought to indulge in before - but Jungkook would go ballistic if he heard you refer to him as your ‘co-worker.’ You’re friends. Pretty good ones, at that.

You’re level players at your company; earn the same wage, hold the same rank. There’s not really any competition between the pair of you - you work in different departments - but are often paired together when the two sections merge for joint projects. You make for a good team.

Over the years, you and Jungkook have also learned that you’re a highly capable team when it comes to playing beer pong against your colleagues on Friday nights, and at the mixed-doubles tennis tournament that your company insists on you participating in every year. It’s either that or be on the Christmas Party Planning committee, and you know which you’d rather do.

Thinking about tinsel in August? No, thank you.

There is however one crucial flaw to your partnerships: how you live your lives. How you manage your money.

See, Jungkook is frugal. He makes big investments - his apartment, his cars, games consoles, Bam. Doesn’t spunk his cash away on the small shit. His apartment is in the heart of the city, only a few floors from the very top. He gets a birds-eye view of the world around him. You don’t even want to imagine how much his deposit cost.

Probably more than you have in your savings. You do spunk your cash away - on the small shit, no less. Clothes, cafes, that sort of stuff. Nothing that holds permanence. It frustrates Jungkook to no end. He thinks you could have a better life if you just used your money wisely - but you’re happy in your slightly cramped apartment, happy when the serotonin of a shopping spree boosts your mood, happy when you’re laughing with your friends over coffee and cake.

You wouldn’t be happy if you felt restricted. You think that Jungkook is.

He disagrees. He has enough in the bank to buy whatever he wants. He has financial freedom.

But there’s a difference. You’re both free in your own ways.

It’s for that reason you’d never work as a couple. Would infuriate one another far too much. Everyone who is close to you both knows this; how badly suited you would be. They’ll joke about all of the women in the office trying to get their mitts on Jungkook - even the married ones - but not you.

It’s funny because they’re right. Everybody wants him.

He collects stars from their eyes and accumulates them in his own. The girls blush and giggle about how he looks at them with galaxies, but they don’t realise what a thief he is. Don’t realise he’s stolen their shine, and incorporated it into his own. A spotlight follows him, and you enjoy watching the show unfold with an amused grin whenever a new secretary catches his gaze for the first time.

It’s not intentional. You don’t think Jungkook realises he does it. In fact, he hadn’t realised that it was such a pattern of behaviour until the midnight squalor of a dive bar had you talking about office conquests, and how the photocopier room had seen his bare ass more than it had seen toner changes.

“Shouldn’t shit where you eat, Jeon,” you’d grinned.

“Firstly, that’s a horrible phrase - and secondly, it takes two to tango. They’re just as much to blame as I am.”

But they’re not. He’s the only repeat offender.

“And anyways,” he had deflected, sinking down the final dregs of his beer. “Don’t act like you’re some kind of saint. Everyone’s fucked a colleague at least once.”

You’d just raised an eyebrow.

“You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“Like I said - shouldn’t shit where you eat, Jeon.”

Now, if he’d have said housemate, you would have folded. Downed your drink. Ordered a repeat round.

Something about a shared space - domestication - really gets you. It’s joint laundry loads, shared dinners, movie nights; grocery shopping, D.I.Y. furniture, arguments about who gets the bigger room. More often than not, it never matters, ‘cause you just end up staying in theirs.

You live alone now. After the third time, you knew better than to let yourself fall into the trap once more.

He learns about your affliction a few months later, and goes on tease you relentlessly.

In fact, he mentions it when he propositions you a few weeks before Chuseok. You had both spent the last couple of holiday periods overworked, slogging through the festivities. For the first time since either of you can remember, your workload has eased up.

You’ve already told him you’re planning on doing sweet, sweet fuck all. You’ve told your family you will be working, because you just want to finally breathe for a while; stay in with a tub of ice cream and your favourite films. Speak to no one. Do nothing.

“I’ve got a favour to ask you,” he had said as he approached your desk before the end of the day. It was a Friday, but you weren’t heading for after-work drinks with the usual suspects like you typically did. You had a date, instead. A third one with the same guy - Mingyu - which felt like a miracle. Even Jungkook was a little shocked that the poor guy wasn’t sick of you.

“Go on,” you had mused as you checked over your to-do list for the following week.

“You gotta promise me something first.”

“Promise you what?”

“That you won’t fall in love with me.”

You’d swatted him away the ruler on your desk, and told him to get his head out of his ass. “Been able to resist your charms this long, Jeon. Give me some credit.”

“It’s only ‘cause you know I’d reject you, you little gremlin.”

“I thought you wanted a favour? Funny way of going about it.”

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right,” he had conceded with an apologetic smile. “Forgive me.”

“What do you want?”

“How would you feel about potentially staying at mine over Chuseok to look after Bam? My parents want us to head down to Busan for the weekend and see relatives seeing as I’m finally free and know it’s a big ask but I-”

“Oh my God, yes?!” You had smiled so wide Jungkook thought you might fracture your jaw.

You love Bam.

In fact, he might just be your favourite thing about Jungkook.

Occasionally you walk him with Jungkook on the weekends, when you’re both hungover and need to get out of a slump. You’ve grown up with pets, but moving to the city in your early twenties to pursue your career meant apartment living.

You’re a rural girl deep down, and would never want to keep a pet in a high rise.

Jungkook manages it, but he goes home at lunchtime to walk Bam during the winter. In the summer, when it’s too hot, he goes home at lunch regardless, to lounge around with Bam under the air con.

Sometimes, you go with him. Bam is always pleased to see you.

Jungkook lied and said he asked around because he didn’t want to inconvenience you.

Truth is, he wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with his baby. He’d never spent a night away from Bam. Hated the idea. Despised it, in fact. He would have just taken Bam with him to Busan, but didn’t think it would be fair to force him on the journey from Seoul.

Over in Busan, when Jungkook hangs up, the conversation isn’t over. It continues in his head.

“Hey, wait…”

“Mhhm?”

“You just… look nice tonight, that’s all.”

He thinks you’d blush. Would tell him to lay off the soju. Accuse him of getting too drunk for a family get-together. He’d let you. Would take the beating of your false accusations, because it would be far easier than admitting he’s not had a single drop.

He thinks of the hug he’ll give Bam when he gets home; how wild his tail will waggle, how he’ll jump all over the place, and how you’ll be giggling. In his mind, you’ll be smiling just as wide as he is.

You’d stay for dinner. Jungkook would order from your favourite place to say thank you. Bam would snuggle up to Jungkook - on the sofa - and you’d be on the other side, stroking his back. He’d be happy. Bam, not Jungkook. But also Jungkook. Hopefully you, too.

When the time would approach for you to go home, you’d offer to help. Rinse out the containers. Hair up in a claw clip, t-shirt off your shoulder like it so often is.

Jungkook doesn’t notice, but his hands begin to trail down his body as he thinks of you. His phone is still on his chest, rising and falling with every beat of his heart. The tips of his fingers stroke against his skin.

He thinks of you laughing with him about something inconsequential. You’d flick water in his direction when he’d make some joke at your expense. It’d all be in good humour.

But then he’d flick some back at you, and water war would break out. Bam would run excitedly between the pair of you, Jungkook chasing you around the kitchen island with wet hands - and you’d do the exact same back. You’d flick water over the counter, tap still running and he’d call you a gremlin.

There’s a smile on his lips as he thinks of his. His hands roam further south. He’s ticking at his abdomen. It’s nice. Feels calm. He likes to engage his senses when he thinks of scenarios like these. Makes it feel more real.

But then he’s thinking of your shirt and the fact it’s white.

And then he’s imagining catching up with you, holding you captive as he angles the tap towards your face. You’ll be shrieking and scrambling to get away, Bam by your feet, Jungkook laughing.

He’d relent, but only enough for you to twist to face him.

Jungkook’s fingers are by his thighs. Stroking. Caressing. He’s avoiding his cock. Knows it’s firm. His index finger spreads to his balls. Teases.

And then he thinks of your body pressed against his torso, your ass to the counter.

You’d both be soaked.

He’d look at your lips. Look in your eyes. Feel your chest against his. He’d swallow hard.

It’s at this point he forgets about Bam in the scenario. It’s just you and him.

His palm rests over the length of his cock. Presses down. His hips roll.

He’d tell you that you’ve made a mess. You’d tell him to clean it up. His heart would be racing. So would yours.

And it’s funny, because his heart actually is. It’s beating so fucking hard in his childhood bedroom, that he thinks his parents must be able to hear it through the walls.

He’s in a far-too-firm single bed, but in his head, he’s with you in his kitchen.

He begins to grip his cock, long fingers wrapping around his shaft. He pulls up. Pushes back down. Says your name. Whines.

He doesn’t even really realise he’s doing it.

Just thinks about you.

Thinks about the way it would feel to sink his lips into yours; the first bite of a forbidden fruit. Thinks about that quick tongue of yours, and if it would be just as quick to find its way into his mouth. Thinks about your manicured nails that Bam loves so much, and how they’d scratch against his scalp instead. Thinks about the way his hips would rock against you, kind of like they are now; pulsing beneath his duvet.

His mind jumps. Skips the foreplay. Doesn’t mean to - but the thoughts are intrusive. Insidious. Insatiable. He can’t help it.

He pushes up into his hand. Pauses. Waits out the feeling. Retracts. Repeats.

In his head, it’s you that he’s pushing into.

The sensation is entirely different, granted, but - fuck - he hasn’t gotten himself off all week and hasn’t had sex in far longer, so it all feels the same to him.

He hasn’t worked out the mental logistics.

His imagination is jumping from the kitchen to his bedroom and then back to the kitchen again. Can’t decide where all of this is happening - and then suddenly, he finds himself railing you in the utility room.

You’re perched above the washer, held in place by him. He can smell the laundry detergent. He’s got spotlights in the room, but they’re turned off. Only lights from the hallway and the city skyline illuminate you.

It’s obscure. The shadows in his head conceal you a little. He’s gripping your waist beneath your shirt. The baby gate which keeps Bam out of the laundry room is closed.

You’re not talking, just fucking, fucking, fucking and -

“Fuck,” he whines, hand is jerking at his cock, heart rate stuttering.

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this.

Shouldn’t let his mind jump again to a point where you’re fucking naked, and your sodden shirt is on a pile of yet-to-be-done laundry.

But then it jumps again, and one of his towels is on the floor. He’s laying down, back against it. The same position that he’s in now in his childhood bedroom - but he’s thinking about you. The silhouette of your body. The warm curves of your body. The way you bounce on his cock and then-

Oh god, it’s torture the way his cock throbs. Pre-cum leaks from his tip as his speed builds. It’s just a fantasy. Nothing more nothing less. But it’s you. And then he’s thinking about pulling you down for a kiss, and the scent of your perfume and the way you’d moan into his mouth and then his legs are shaking, torso tensing.

He’s taking it too far. Too fucking far. You. Fuck. He can’t. But he doesn’t stop. Just keeps going. Fucks his hand like it’s your pussy.

He’s pulling himself closer, closer, closer, and then he thinks about your voice, and the way you called him Daddy, and he can’t help himself. The pressure that releases in his stomach is catastrophic. Jungkook mewls your name. Calls you baby. Unloads all over himself. White hot cum paints his belly. Seeps into his belly button. Makes a mess of his hand as he coaxes the last few ropes out. It’s been a while since his last nut, but the amount he produces is not fucking normal.

It rolls down the side of his toned torso, Jungkook swallowing harshly as he tries to regulate his breathing. He doesn’t think he can. Doesn’t know what to do with himself. Just kind of lays there. Curses. Knots his brows together. Is frustrated with himself.

You’ve been friends for years. He’s never done anything like this before. He chalks it up to nothing more than him just being a little too horny for his own good. Cleans himself off. Puts his phone on charge. Berates himself for being a piece of shit. Spends a good ten or so minutes staring at the ceiling with an empty head before he falls asleep.

And it’s funny, because when you wake up in the morning, panties damp, the dream you had about Jungkook railing you in his own damn bed, you find yourself looking across the space where he usually sleeps. You reach ouch. Stroke the emptiness. Curse. Spend the rest of the day unbearably horny. It frustrates you. Makes you snappy with Jungkook when he calls.

He asks if you’ve seen Mingyu. You tell him no. He says maybe you should - but makes sure to add, “He’s still not allowed in my apartment.”

“I’m not gonna bring anyone into your space, Jungkook.”

It’s something he knows, and something he trusts you not to do, but he’s still reinforcing boundaries. Making sure that there are still some left. He thinks that if he pushes you closer to someone else, it will sort his brain out. Alleviate him of the guilt that he’s feeling.

But you don’t see Mingyu.

When Jungkook calls again that evening to find you walking Bam alone, he’s pleased. Doesn’t want some guy you’re fucking anywhere near his most prized possession. Bam, that is. Not you. But now that he thinks of it, he finds he doesn’t want Mingyu anywhere near you, either.

“Good day?” You ask, voice a lot lighter than it had been earlier.

Jungkook nods, but he doesn’t really smile. “I miss Bammie.”

You pout. “He misses you too. He’s gonna be so excited when you get home.”

The camera switches to the back camera so he can watch Bam bound along the path. He’s on his lead, snout sniffing in all the flowerbeds. It’s dark out, but there are enough lights on the trail for him to be able to see clearly.

“How is he? Eating okay? Going to the bathroom okay?”

“Eating like a champ, and producing shits to confirm that,” you say flatly. It’s definitely your least favourite part of animal ownership - but the reward is so much greater than having to pick up shit off a sidewalk.

“That’s my boy,” Jungkook grins, before turning his focus to you. “You all good? Seemed a little stressed earlier.”

Jungkook’s expression doesn’t change when the front camera flips back to you, but he finds his heart racing again. When you turn your head to check the car that’s driving past, he notices your hair is up with a claw clip. Just like it was in his… thoughts about you the night before. He likes how attentive you are - how you checked the source of the noise. You’re protective. Follow your instincts. Thinks you’re the best person he could have asked to look after Bam.

“I’m all good,” you say, and you really are.

“I know it’s not exactly the relaxing Chuseok you were planning-”

“Jungkook, it’s fine,” you smile. “It’s been nice. I like Bammie far more than I like you.”

“Understandable.”

You both smile, and Jungkook begins to babble about his day, telling you stories about his parents, and his weird cousin who never knows when to not say inappropriate things, and the aunt who keeps trying to set him up with all of her friends’ daughters.

“Don’t shit where you eat,” you remind him. “Sounds too close to home. Your auntie would never be out of your business.”

“I know, I know,” he rolls his eyes. “And hey - it’s been, like, a year since I last did that! Cut me some slack, gremlin. Anyways, Mingyu works in our building. You’re basically shitting where you eat.”

“I’m actually… I think I’m gonna cool things off with him.”

“Oh?”

“It’s like not a big deal. I’m just not really feeling it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, you’re right. I’m not,” Jungkook admits, but is sombre as he does so. He remembers how happy you’d seemed after the first few dates. “But I am sorry that you haven’t found the right guy yet, gremlin.”

“Who knows, maybe I’ll find the love of my life at the dog park tonight.”

“You are not allowed to use my baby as a flirting tactic.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Too late - I’m already here and there is an absolute DILF. Byeeeee.”

“Wait, no-”

You hang up before he can finish, with a grin on your face to rival a Cheshire cat.

The park is empty. Not a single DILF in sight. You ignore his call when he rings back. Will let him sweat it for a bit.

Jungkook lies awake that night.

Doesn’t do much.

His family are still chatting in the sitting room, but he can’t draw himself away from the sanctuary of his own private space, where your voice is still echoing around the room. He’s starting to understand why you’d been craving your space so much for the holiday period.

He doesn’t wanna have to return to the room with a false smile, and a feeling in the pit of his stomach that could rival the ache of getting the ferry across Busan harbour during monsoon season.

Doesn’t want to form cognitive thoughts that distract him from his mindless reflections of you.

Jungkook’s mind works like a house, and right now he’s in the annexe.

He rarely ever goes in there.

Finds he gets too comfortable and neglects the rest of the house. He’s got a garden to tend to, a kitchen to clean, and beds to make - but why would he leave the annexe when it has everything he needs? He’s comfortable there.

It’s normally reserved for the hyper-fixations he’s trying not to fixate on. He locks them away. Hasn’t really visited since he got hooked on GTA5 when he should have been studying for the University Entrance Exam. It’s still there, and he knows better than to pop it in his games console - but there’s someone else on the couch, now. It’s not just him in his mind-annexe. Someone’s in his space. He daren’t let himself go further into the room.

In fact, he’s desperately trying to jump across to the main house. Get himself out of the thoughts that are gonna consume him. He needs to close that God damn door.

But he watches the figure like a car crash. He’s scared. Unable to look away.

Not for fear of it being a monster hidden in the depths of his mind.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Monsters don’t wear their hair up with butterfly-shaped claw clips, or let the clasp of their necklace trail down their spine like that. Monsters don’t twist their back out of habit just to make it click. Monsters don’t spend their days doodling in a journal like the figure on his couch is doing.

But you do.

An iteration of Bam rests up against Jungkook’s leg in his mind, nose wet, tail lightly wagging, so he puts his hand on his pup’s shoulder for comfort. To support him. To guide him away from the annexe and back into the damn main house.

“C’mon,” he says to Bam, expecting him to leave. Expecting him to follow his commands.

It’s his head, after all - but Bam doesn’t heed his commands. Instead, his claws click against the hardwood floor and towards the figure on Jungkook’s couch. A palm outstretches, and Bam leans into it. Hums in content as a set of dark nails scratch at his ear.

“Hey, baby Bammie,” the figure sings and Jungkook knows that voice. Knows it so well that it’s hardly a surprise it’s embedded into his brain so perfectly.

And he knows.

He knows if he lets the person turn around exactly who it’s gonna be. He knows that he can’t let it happen. He won’t.

Because he and you are friends; nothing more, nothing less. Incompatible at best. A match made in hell; so wrong it could never be right.

Jungkook sits up. Shakes his head. The world in his mind tears away into darkness. He stands and tells himself to get a grip before joining his family. He needs the distraction. Needs to have cognitive thoughts. Can’t let himself get trapped. Can’t let him kid himself into thinking that you’re anything more than his friend.

It’s just cause he’s missing Bam, he reasons. Emotions are getting all mixed up. It’s the affection he feels for his beloved best friend that is getting misplaced onto you - although, if he thinks about it (which he won’t (knows better by this point (knows his mind can’t be trusted to behave))), he’d realise that you are his best friend.

It’s unfair to compare you to Bam because you’re an entirely different species, but there’s no other human he likes better than you.

One more day, and he’ll be home. One more day, and he won’t have to call you when he’s all sleepy and confused over his feelings. One more day, and things will be back to normal. One more measly day.

And then he’ll be reunited with Bam, and he won’t have the stress of family or thinking about the week of work ahead to contend with.

One more day. He can do this.

He will do it. Will barrel home at the speed of lightning; will stop only for red lights and maybe the occasional gas station snack, potato spirals on a pointed wooden skewer and deep-fried chicken slathered in a sauce he can never quite figure out the recipe for.

He’ll think about picking you up some bungeoppang - the ones filled with choux, not red bean paste - because he knows that you adore it so. There have been occasions when you’ve begged him to drive you out of the city to the large gas station out West just so you could have bungeoppang from one specific stall.

The signage is faded, and the prices haven’t changed since 2009, but that’s how you know it’s the good shit. A family recipe batter passed down for generations. The woman who makes it is always the same, and though she never remembers you, you always remember her. Beam so brightly Jungkook thinks he’s going blind whenever you spot her.

It’s only because of that one time you’d showed up with the sole mission to retrieve some of the delicious delicacies, only to be confronted with a handwritten ‘closed today, back tomorrow’ note taped to the menu. You never know when the next family emergency or trip out of town might be for your beloved bungeoppang-making Ajumma.

It’s a little after midday when Jungkook’s car rolls into the gas station. He’ll be home soon.

He tells himself that he’s just doing as he always does. Will get his tornado potato. Wolf it down. Go back for some chicken, maybe some tteok.

He’s stayed out of the annexe today. Doesn’t even think about the doorway because he knows the magnetic pull is far too strong for his cobalt heart.

Had ignored your call this morning - sorry, just saying goodbye to everyone. will see you later. - and had pushed all thoughts of you to the side. He’s even tried to stop thinking about Bam because thoughts of him will inevitably lead to thoughts of you and Jungkook is getting dizzy, quite frankly. It’s like he’s chasing his tail, never knowing when to admit defeat.

At least Bam gets enjoyment out of it when he does it. All Jungkook gets is lingering feelings of remorse.

But as he hits the home straight, a small paper bag full of choux bungeoppang cooling down on his passenger seat, his head starts to clear. He’s fixed the lock on the gate that leads to the annexe. Won’t go down that path.

Jungkook arrives ahead of schedule. Parks his car, and doesn’t tell you he’s arrived. Leaves his bag in the boot of the car, but picks up the pastries from his passenger seat.

Opens the door of his apartment quietly. You don’t hear it. Are too busy dancing around the living room with Bam to some mid-noughties classic.

“Hey,” you laugh a little breathlessly as finally notice him. He’s leaning against the wall. Is wearing his glasses, to make up for the long drive. You think it’s a crying shame he doesn’t wear them at work, too.

“Was I interrupting something?”

“No, not all,” you say. There are deep creases below your eyes, testament to the size of your smile. “Me and baby Bammie-” you reach over and stroke at his sides, a little rough and tumble, but perfectly joyous “- were just burning off a little energy before you got home.”

Jungkook crouches, arms outstretched for Bam. The puppy knocks into Jungkook’s chest, legs all moving slightly out of coordination, excitable whines sounding in his throat. His tail wags so fast you think he’d be able to produce electricity if he really tried.

They match each other’s energy; delirious happiness, content only when in one another’s presence.

“Hey buddy,” he coos. “Daddy’s home. I missed you. Missed me too, hey? C’mere.”

His strong hands stroke Bam’s sides, and you watch how playful they both are with unadulterated awe. It seems absurd how similar the two of them are; man and his best friend.

“He was lost without you,” you confirm.

“It’s that right?” Jungkook pouts as he scratches behind Bam’s ears, cradling his face in his hands. “Did Bammie miss Daddy?”

Bam barks. Yes.

“Hey, I’m sorry, boy. I’m home now, though. Daddy’s home.”

Yes, you think. Yes, he is.

The night dissolves much like Jungkook thought it would. You stay for dinner. Watch crappy entertainment shows, and laugh at how absurd people can be. There’s warmth in his apartment, even though he hasn’t turned the heating on.

“You’ll never know how much I appreciate this,” Jungkook says softly as midnight approaches. Bam sighs. There’s rain on the windows, but the storm doesn’t bother him tonight. Not in the slightest. “Thank you.”

Your head shakes. Smile perseveres. “Happy to do it. You know how much I love Bam.”

Silence wraps around your words like a velvet bow, pulled taut. There’s no double knot, but there needn’t be. It isn’t unravelling any time soon.

“So,” you change topic. “How long do you reckon it will take the new secretary to fall in love with you? I’m thinking maybe four days.”

Jungkook wants to make a joke; tease you about how your mind jumped from how much you love his dog, to the idea of loving him. Not you loving him, granted, but it only took a few electrical signals between neurons for you to get there. Must associate him with love pretty closely.

“Four days? Far too quick.” Jungkook pauses. “You’ve been staying here for four days. Reckon that’s an appropriate amount of time to fall in love with someone?”

He’s being facetious. It’s all in jest and yet you feel your heart beat a little faster. Only for a moment. There’s a mild concern in your features, fearful that he can somehow sense the thoughts you’ve been having; the fantasies, the daydreams, the moments of weakness.

You look at him with eyes he doesn’t recognise. Your lashes are low. Sultry, even. Suggestive. Teasing.

And then, they roll.

“Jeon, you have those poor girls on their knees within a single ‘hello’. Don’t act like you don’t know it, you big old flirt.”

“If Bam wasn’t so peaceful, I’d kick you,” he mumbles, stroking at the dark fur behind his pup’s ear. Bam sighs, content to have him back. There’s a smile on Jungkook’s lips. Both are perfectly content. Both are happy to be with the people they like the most in the world.

“He’d just defend me,” you taunt. There’s a serenity to your jokes, and light-hearted banter that means nothing more, nothing less than just enjoyment of one another’s company. “I’m his favourite now.”

Jungkook laughs. Scratches a little firmer behind Bam’s ear. “You hear that, boy? Gremlin really thinks you’d choose her over me.”

You pull your torso back. Turn your body to face his. Let disbelief wash over your features, as if Jungkook saying shit like that’s a surprise. The movement alerts Bam, his head lifting, the chain links of his collar rattling. He looks over to you, then back to Jungkook.

“He LOVES me.”

“I thought dogs are supposed to take after their owners, though?” Jungkook teases. “And I can’t fuckin’ stand you.”

Your playful shock dissolves into narrowed eyes and a suppressed grin. Bam’s looking at you again, so you cup his dainty face and scratch the underside of his jaw. “You hear that, baby Bammie? How are you so lovely when your Daddy is such an asshole?”

Jungkook’s steady gaze lifts to you from Bam. You’re still cooing at the puppy, scratching beneath his snout, but Jungkook’s back in that damn annexe again. He isn’t smiling - but his eyes are unbelievably soft.

So, so velvety. Like satin, maybe; ribbons tied around ponytails. Brushed cotton, perhaps; his still-warm bedsheets fresh out of the tumble dryer.

Soft, like he imagines your hair would be; released from its claw clip, falling around his face. Soft, like he imagines your lips would be; pressed against his, in the privacy of his bedroom. Soft, like he imagines your laugh would be; soundtracking the living alarm clock that is Jeon Bam, as he bundles onto Jungkook’s bed at just gone six-thirty the following morning.

But then you look up at him, and his stare is hard. Still sparkling, yes - but diamonds, not stars. Concrete speckled. Pennies tossed in an empty well; the steel bolt of his door which keeps the outside world at bay.

Hard, like he imagines your teeth would be; tugging on his bottom lip in the shadows of his bedroom. Hard, like he imagines your nails would be; leaving a trail of ruby red sin down his back. Hard, like he imagines your laboured breaths would be; lips resting ajar against his, your very essence pouring into him as he pushes into you.

Hard. Soft. Confusing and conflicting, and just so unbelievably him.

“What?” you question, bemused by the way his demeanour changed. “‘Daddy’ really gets you, huh?”

“Does fuck all for me,” he says with a little temperance, but there’s a smirk on his lips. His tongue runs along the inside of his cheek.

A few have tried the moniker on him, but it never fit well. Would fall from their lips and crash to his bedroom floor. He’d just kiss them to shut them up.

But you… You have him reconsidering. Have him a little hot beneath his sweats.

It’s not really the idea of being your Daddy, but the concept of being one full-stop that has him adjusting his legs slightly. He’s a man of big investments, after all. No greater investment than starting a life with another person. He likes the idea of it.

Makes him think of you talking with a toddler - I’m not sure, baby, go ask Daddy -and the pitter-patter of feet across the hardwood floors of his apartment. Makes him think how gentle you are with Bam, and how wonderful he knows you’d be with a kid. Makes him think all kinds of shit he’s never let himself indulge in before.

When he goes to bed that evening, and his sheets are seeped in the scent of your perfume, he thinks of it all over again.

Thinks of you.

And realises he can’t think about you without his heart racing, any more.

The door of the annexe in his mind is broken, now. Off its hinges.

And apparently, so is he.

Shit.

part two (x)