#who the fuck else would do something like that

[trivia-yandere]

ok head me out…jungkook…who happens to be your brothers best friend…are you catching what im saying???

well why the fuck not? off limits

he’s a 10 but…he’s your brother’s best friend & completely off limits.

word count: 3.118

warning: smut, little plot fr fr, age difference (like 3 years), fingering, unprotected sex, alcohol intake, oral sex (f/m) creampies, dirty talking,

“Did you know?” you asked Jungkook, head pressed against the cold window. Your eyes watch as the world passes by in a blur with the speed in which he’s driving. Your mind is a mess, the alcohol flowing through your body.

“Know what?” Jungkook asks.

Jungkook was the person you called to pick you up from your night out with your friends. It was nice of him to deal with all of you - the random crying in the backseat from one friend, to the angry screaming another did over the phone with her boyfriend. It was silent now, however, as he was on his way to driving you home. There’s soft music playing through the speakers that’s at the perfect volume for you and him to talk.

You don’t answer his question - not yet, at least. “Remember…my freshman year of highschool,” you start, lifting your head from the window to turn to look at him. “when I kissed you?”

Jungkook feels your eyes on him as he drives. His hand grips the steering wheel, his right hand lightly tapping his fingers against his thighs.

Jay, your brother and his best friend, would have not picked you and your friends up without giving you an earful along the way. Especially once he saw the way you were dressed - short skirt, tight shirt and laced stockings. It was one of the main reasons why you called Jungkook, after all.

“Yes.” Jungkook murmurs. “You weren’t even supposed to be at that party.”

True, you think. But neither was Jay. Your parents were out of town that weekend and that meant Jay was going to do what he wanted. You threatened to expose him if you didn’t go along with him - typical younger sister actions. After giving you a long list of things not to do, he allowed you to come.

Of course, he had told all of his friends about you being there and to keep an eye out. Your beer was stolen from your hands by Jimin who replaced it with soda. Taehyung had plucked the joint that was handed to you by a senior right out of your fingers and insisted you do something else. That something else was joining a game of seven minutes in heaven where, surely, no one would be there.

Except, Jungkook was. And the moment he saw that you were going to be in the closet with someone older than all of them, he had stepped forward and gone inside with you instead. He fully intended on not doing anything with you, of course.

“The look on your face was funny.” you snort, thinking about that memory. You haven’t talked about it with him ever - neither did you even tell Jay. Your brother made it clear from day one - back in elementary school when he met his closest friends - that you were to never be associated with them outside of a platonic relationship. 

They were off limits; and so were you.

“I wasn’t expecting you to do that.” Jungkook responds, snorting. You’ve done it so fast and it lasted less than five seconds. There was only a minute left in the game and you had placed a hand onto his chest and murmured a quiet “our little secret” before leaving. “You were like a little sister to me back then.”

Your smile immediately falls, your eyes shifting back to the road. The mood changes immediately and Jungkook notices it.

Your question you asked him before was did he know. Did he know that you liked him back then? You were only a freshman while your brother and him were juniors. You didn’t blame him for seeing you as a little sister as you all grew up around one another. He witnessed you and your brother fight and argue countless times, eyes bouncing between you and him with large doe-like eyes.

“How about now?” you ask as Jungkook stops at a red light. The roads are clear from any cars in sight. “Do you still think of me as a sister now?”

Jungkook allows himself to look at you fully now. He stares at you for a few moments, gathering your question into his mind. He doesn’t respond, unsure how to.

It was easier to see you as a little sister back then - all of the friend group had. Taehyung would always tease you like Jay had while Jimin was more of the caring type. 

Now, however, it was different. He noticed the shift as you began to grow older. Your senior year to be exact. Your figure changed, your voice grew a bit deeper and older. You were growing a bit mature for a senior girl. He told himself it was because you were a pretty girl so naturally, he would notice these changes.

But even after highschool, his eyes continued to wander to you and linger longer than they should. You moved in with Jay into his apartment to be closer to college and he would see you whenever he frequented there. Your shorts fit you perfectly, as did your shirts. You showed more skin (than Jay ever wanted you to) and when you spoke to him, it was always in a tone that Jungkook swore wasn’t entirely platonic.

“Kook?”

Jungkook blinks, turning his eyes away to look at the light that’s still red. He contemplates just running it as it’s nearly 3 a.m and not a single car around them. His cheeks are dusted a bit red when he realizes he’s been staring at you the entire time.

“No.” Jungkook says. “I don’t.” he answers truthfully.

“Kook?” you hum once more, this time a hand reaches out for him. It touches his arm and causes a jolt of electricity to shoot throughout his body.

“Yeah?” Jungkook swallows, adam’s apple bobbing. This damn light wasn’t turning fast enough. He turns his attention towards you. He notices from this angel, the red lights are illuminating your face. Your lips are coated in gloss and it shines.

“Can I stay at your place tonight?”

Another swallow, followed by a squeeze of the steering wheel.

“I lied about where I was going to Jay tonight. And…if I go home. He’ll see me dressed like this.” you explain further. It causes Jungkook to glance down at your attire again, immediately regretting it and then meeting your eyes. “He’ll call me a whore again.”

Jungkook wants to say no - that you should go home. Jay should be asleep by now; he had work in the morning right? 

Jungkook doesn’t see the issue of you being at his apartment. You’ve gone there before…with Jay. Without Jay, what would be the reason for you to be there? What if Jay found out and thought-

“You’re thinking too much into this, Kook.” your lips form into a smile and your head tilts. Your hand squeezes his biceps a bit. “Besides, what could go wrong? It’s just me.”

Everything could go wrong - and it did.

You’re unsure how long it took when you and him got into his apartment, but your lips were on his before either of you could think.

Jungkook’s mind screams at him to stop this. Not only were you not sober, but you were off limits. You were someone he respects greatly and shouldn’t take advantage of.

But your hands roam his chest, then go lower to his stomach. You grab hold of his hands and place them onto your hips - all the while continuing to deepen the kiss.

Jungkook gives in, pushing you closer. You smell of fruity alcohol and strawberries - your lips taste of peach; soft and sticky from the gloss. He’s hooked, the flooded feelings he suppressed coming out at such a terrible time. 

“I want you.” you mumble against his lips, arms wrapped so tightly around his neck. Afraid to let him go in the guise that this could possibly be a (wet) dream; one you didn’t want to wake from just yet.

Jungkook knows you do, but he’s hesitant. Kissing you is bad and it goes against his friendship. But fucking you was something so heinous. If Jay found it, it would ruin nearly two decades of friendship.

“Please,” you repeat, one arm unhooking from his neck to take hold of one of his hand that’s gripping your ass. You dip it between your legs and through the skirt so he can feel just how much you wanted him. “please.” you repeat.

Jungkook groans - how much could one man handle? You’re soaking through your panties and the stockings you’re wearing. His fingers are directly against your clit and on instant, they rub circles on the wet, sensitive bud.

“Jay’s going to kill me if he finds out.” Jungkook groans, capturing your lips into his as his fingers dips between your wet folds. He makes no move to stop or push you away, however.

“It’ll be our little secret.” you say, repeating those very words he heard years ago. A secret he was going to take to the grave with him, no matter how small and insignificant it may have been back then.

Jungkook dips his fingers into your hole. It’s tight and squeezes around him. Instantly, he begins to pump, needing to feel just how wet you were for him.

You don’t hide your moans in the slightest. You wanted Jungkook to know how much you wanted this; wanted him. You waited years to be in this position - to have Jungkook all to yourself, even if it meant that you had to do it behind everyone’s back.

“Just for tonight.” Jungkook says, his warm breath tickling your cheek. “Tonight I’ll give you what you want.”

“The whole night?” your hand is still holding his wrist as he pumps his fingers deeply inside of you. Your arousal is coating his palm, a groan escaping your lips.

“Fuck,” Jungkook grunts, eyes already clouded with lust. “you’re going to be insatiable.”

Jungkook removes his fingers from you, a whimper escaping your lips at the loss of them. He juts his head down the hall to the bedroom. He tugs you along, slamming the door open and leading you inside.

You don’t take your time in removing your clothes and the stocking, having them pool around you.

Jungkook doesn’t waste time pushing you onto his bed and pulling your legs apart. Your pussy is glistening underneath his LED lights and he groans at the beautiful sight. His head dives down, tongue swirling onto your clit. He’s groaning and grunting, his cock throbbing with just the act of eating you out.

It felt so wrong doing this, Jungkook thinks. The same young girl who was once so innocent and sweet was now you. The girl who was an adult who knew what she wanted. Who was laying naked on his bed and whimpering as he suckled onto your clit.

Your hand places itself onto his head, gripping his hair. Your hips grind against his tongue and he lays it flat so you could continue. The amount of times you thought of Jungkook in less than holy ways couldn’t be counted on both hands, but getting to live it out was a dream.

“Fuck, Kook.” you moan. 

Jungkook wasn’t going to stop until you came - which wasn’t far. He has your legs on his shoulders and his hands on your thighs to assure you cannot squirm away from him. His tongue laps your clit greedily, messy black hair jumping with the way his head bobs back and forth.

Jungkook’s cock is painfully hair as you moan for him. His eyes flicker up to your face - scrunched in pleasure with your eyes fluttering open just in time to meet him. He doesn’t look away, a satisfaction flowing through him when your eyes widen slightly and you groan. His tongue continues to ravish onto your cunt greedily until you’re shaking with pleasure.

You begged for him to fuck you right there. To take you as rough as he wanted - to not hold back. You were on birth control, you said. You wanted to feel him - all of him if this was going to be the one and only time.

Jungkook was but a man. He was already a fucked up person and friend. He sinks his cock into you and pounds you so disrespectfully - as if you weren’t his friend's baby sister. As if you weren’t someone he cared about deeply.

You begged for more, each thrust causing your stomach to churn. Your breast bounces erratically and your pussy’s already squeezing out another orgasm, but you don’t want this to end; neither does Jungkook.

Jungkook turns you around and fucks into you even deeper, your face pressed into his cotton sheets. Your ass was amazing from this view - it was going to be engraved into his mind. 

“Your pussy feels so good.” Jungkook whines, fully positive that he sounds like a school boy experiencing sex for the first time. 

It doesn’t help that you’re far too willing for him  to fuck you that you do whatever . You spread your  legs even further to allow him more access, nails digging into his sheets. He pounds into you with no mercy, your pussy squeezing him.

Jungkook hovers about your arched back, right hand dipping between your thighs to capture your already throbbing clit in his. He rubs it as he pounds into you, his lips close to your ear. “Are you really on birth control or was that a lie?”

“I-I am!” you say through moans. “A-Are you going to cum in me?”

Jungkook grunts - you weren’t going to make it easy for him, were you? The thought of cumming in you was exciting as he never did it with anyone without a condom. 

What’s the worst that can happen? You and he were already doing the unforgivable.

“You want me to cum in your pussy?” Jungkook’s voice sounds like sex, deep and sensual. 

You cum right there, overstimulation flowing through you but you nod your head erratically. You wanted any and every part of Jungkook that he was willing to give you.

And Jungkook had.He came right in you - again and again.

The fucking didn’t stop until he’s came in you at least four times. One time on your back so he could see your face as you cum around his cock. Once while you ride him, his hands cradling your hips possessively, eyes darting from the way you rise and fall on his wet cock to your bouncing breast in his face. The next follows immediately after, this time Jungkook taking control while you kept your position right above him.

Somehow, even then you weren’t done. You allowed yourself an hour before you asked if he could cum in your mouth. The request was outlandish but, Jungkook complied. You laid on your back and opened your mouth for him to, in your words, use you.

Jungkook should feel disgusted of himself for already using you as if you were nothing but a whore, but it was far too tempting. He pumps his cock into your mouth, watching the way you take him effortlessly and he ponders just how long you wanted this.

Him fucking your mouth turns to him fucking your breast - another request you had. His hands squeeze your breast together as his thumbs twirl against your hardened nipples.

“I didn’t know you were such a slut, Y/N.” Jungkook grunts.

“Only for you.” was your response that has him cumming again, cum shooting out and coating your breast.

The amount of sex that you and he have leads the both of you exhausted, sprawled out on his ruined sheets and both breathing heavily and sweaty. Jungkook’s mind wanders to how he was going to be able to look at you or his friend in the face again without feeling like a complete asshole.

Neither of you have time to think when a loud ringing sound comes from down the hall. It’s your phone and judging by the time, you can guess who it was. 

“It’ll go to voicemail.” you murmur to Jungkook. “He still thinks I’m at a friends.”

Jungkook's heart sinks but he nods.

“Wanna shower with me?” you ask, a hand placing onto his sweaty forehead. “We can both use it.”

Jungkook sniffs. “If that’s what you’d like. We can.” he says. “Y/N, I-”

You place a hand onto his lips to silence him. “I know, Kook.” you murmur. “You don’t need to let me down easily.”

Jungkook lifts himself to a seated position. “I wasn’t going to say anything like that.” he shakes his head. “I just…I want you to know that I do have love and respect for you.” 

You blink as Jungkook continues.

“And I don’t want you to think that I view you as…a slut or…any less than before.” Jungkook’s cheeks are a crimson color now. “I-”

“Kookie,” you lift your body so that you can grab his hands into your own. The nickname was one he hadn’t heard since middle school and it immediately caught his attention. “I get it. Trust me.” you say, a smile forming onto your lips. “Did you know…” you began, repeating the question from earlier. “...that I liked you?”

Jungkook's mouth goes dry and slowly, he shakes his head. It should be surprising as Jungkook was oblivious to any and every girl that liked him.

However, Jungkook does recall one moment - an instant in which Jay had stated that you and him could never be together. It was a random comment that came entirely out of nowhere, but it happened right after you kissed him.

“Jay knew.” you murmur. “I didn’t tell him but…he knew.” you look away. “I thought maybe he told you. I’m glad he didn’t.”

Jay wouldn’t have - not even now. 

Jungkook slowly inhales. A part of him feels even more like an asshole because this was a mistake. You had feelings for him that should’ve been obvious if he wasn’t such an idiot. Things are much more complicated now.

“Let’s shower.” you say, noticing the change in Jungkook’s demeanor. This was a one time thing that wouldn’t happen again and you’ll grow to be fine with that. “Then if you’re up for it, you can show me that movie you’ve been talking about.”

Jungkook nods slowly, allowing you to tug him off the bed and towards his bathroom. His mind wanders back to your confession and recalls just the amount of times he’s caught you looking his way and smiling shyly when he notices.

Off limits, he hears Jay’s voice say in his mind over and over again as you turn the water on to heat up. He was fucked.

@darkuni63 @sweetempathprunetree @chimmy-licious @investedreader @momnomnom

[militaryapple]

I CAN BE YOUR ANTIDOTE TONIGHT ♡

synopsis. even if caleb isn't there physically, he can still make you cum.

cw. unawared voyeurism, phone sex, mutual masturbation, fem reader, he calls you princess, caleb's a creepo like ughh, nasty perverted man does nasty perverted things like watch you jerk off

add ons. big thanks to gracie poo for getting me out this slump </3 @rcvcgers . this wasn't proofread sorry my grammar goats ily I'll edit if I read and see mistakes

wc. 1.9k

it hadn't been long since you left skyhaven to go back home to linkon. it also hadn't been long since caleb had hired someone to break into your home and set up cameras around your house. okay, fine, he admits that he was probably breaking major laws but sometimes good people have to do bad things to protect the ones they love. he just.. so happen to be one of those good people.

at least that's what he told himself.

he watched you about 4 hours a day, watching your scheduled routine as many other monitors flooded his vision. it was fine. he was used to soaking in information just by a glance, so it wasn't stressful. it was one of the many skills he thanked himself for learning. he could multitask; be at work and watch you.

"I need, hah, to finish writing this report - hn" he would mutter to himself as he watched you through his big monitor, his cock twitching as he oh so gently rubbed his tip through his pants. okay. so what if he was hard from just watching you? it was out of his control. it really was. he watched as the live feed showed you rubbing yourself through your panties. how you shuffled to make yourself feel good.

it was truly unprofessional. he needed to turn off his monitor, think about something else and get back to work.. but he just couldn't. not when you spread your legs so widely, almost invitingly. how you fondled your tits while you whined and begged for him like a dog. oh how he wished he could be there to help you, to touch you. yet he was sitting down, in his office, practically palming himself while watching you through hidden camera's.

he was such a pervert.

it wasn't until caleb had heard his phone ring, annoyed he turned it to see who was calling. his frown soon turning into surprise as he lowered the volume to 0 on his monitor and picked up the surprising call, his eyes darting from the screen back to the phone.

he watched as you tried to steady your breath, how your hands slipped through the waistline of your panties, how you placed your phone down on the bed. face straight into your pillow. he couldn't help but smile, it was cute. what a show you were putting on for him.

"hey pip-squeak. what's the matter?" he said trying to sound as normal as possible. it was hard trying not to moan while watching you fuck yourself on the phone with him. how nasty you were.

"caleb!" you moaned, your breath heavy as you covered your mouth occasionally. "I um- I missed you. I just wanted to hear how your day was going." you sounded frantic - erratic even. your words fast and slurred, hushed. he couldn't help but hold in a chuckle. oh how cute you were.

"my day's good." he said, his hand swirling around the slit of his leaking tip. fuck, he would have to clean his uniform later. "I have a meeting to go to, pips. I'll call you after -" he was quickly silenced by the hurried "no"'s that fell out of your mouth. he smirked, did you want to hear his voice that badly you would jerk off to just hearing him talk about business? how desperate were you?

he looked back to the monitor, how your eyes puffed with tears, how good he was making you feel without having to even try. it could only make his cock twitch.

"hm? is something wrong? you sound a little hurried there." he teased, seeing your teeth impale your lip. "everything's... 'kay here." you couldn't even finish a full sentence. do you think he was that stupid? if he didn't have his monitor or cameras you would still be easy to figure out. the thought alone made him hungry for you.

"really? doesn't sound like it. what are you doing?" he asked oh so innocently. he watched as your hands pulled out of your panties, taking one of your pillows and putting it between your legs, rutting like some dog in heat. caleb tugged on his pants, now bringing his cock out fully. he moved his hand swiftly, listening for the click of his office door and the id lock power to his face only. good. no disturbances.

"pips? c'mon tell me. what are you up to." his voice beginning to shake as he fisted himself. oh the view of you was so so good. you were gorgeous even. he should be there, touching you and feeling you. making you cry and beg for more. how hands should be all of you, his hands pumping in and out of your throbbing cunt. fuck fuck he needed to get off work. the trip to skyhaven to linkon is only 2 hours. he'd gladly take the 2 hours if it meant seeing you, tasting you.

"I - I've 'missed you caleb" you whined out, practically moaning for him. "I needed to hear your voice again. please you make me feel good." you were practically begging for him. and from the look at his monitor he could even see tears roll down your cheek. he couldn't say no to you, the files could wait and he could skip one meeting. you asked so nicely, who was he to say no? he wasn't cruel.

"okay then princess, since you asked me so nicely." he coo'd softly. "stop whatever your doing and just feel yourself." he watched you listen. you didn't question him, why would you? you moved the pillow away your hands dancing around your body. oh fuck, caleb wanted to cum but he couldn't. he needed to hold out for his baby of course.

"feels nice, right? 'need you to touch your tits for me. don't be so harsh with them, gently. rub them, show them the love i'd show them. you can do that right princess?" your hands sliding in your sports bra, oh did it feel good. how you imagined how it was his fingers pinching at your swollen nipples. caleb groaned at the sigh. the sound of him making you shudder.

caleb soaked up the view, "alright, now slowly, make your way to your cunt. not so fast - just a feel around your panties, yeah?” he coo’d. oh how you missed him, his hands, his warmth. you needed him. you whined and in return he let out a grunt.

he couldn’t help but watch as you wrecked yourself, how you imagined he was there. touching you, making you feel good oh god how good he could make you feel. he could touch you in all the right places - all the places that needed to be adored and appreciated for. you were beautiful. “i know baby. slip your panties over, small circles alright?” moaned,

you nodded with hums okay “mhm”s and pants. your legs twitching and body bucking forward. your whines for caleb becoming needier and needier. “i need you caleb , please i need you so badly.” your hands rubbing around your slit. he was trying. oh how he wanted to be with you. it’s fine. the papers could wait - the meetings could wait. it was one meeting he could skip, pleasing you was more important.

you were drenched. he could see your panties soaked, going down your legs as you lifted your legs for a better feeling , god were you ready. “okay okay, one finger in - ” you moved your hand lower, slipping one finger inside your cunt, groaning and twitching. “i know baby, ‘cmon in and out. i know you can do it, find a rhythm” and you did. in and out , in and out “add another.” oh were you fucking soaked.

caleb watched as you fucked yourself; how you imagined your small fingers was his. how it was his hands going in and out of you. pumping you. making you feel so good. you couldn’t help but cry out for him, making him fist his cock faster. he wished he was there with you. you could take him so nicely. your throbbing cunt molding into the shape of his cock. how he would slide in and out of you.

he knew your fingers weren’t just enough. how they couldn’t compare to his thick hands, and how he touched you. how he kissed every single part of your body, making sure that your cunt felt appreciated. why couldn’t you have moved to skyhaven? it was nice, safe, closer. you would be closer. you could be loved and touched all you wanted - when you asked. when you needed him so desperately like you needed him now. caleb moaned as he watched you become a mess.

you lifted your legs up a bit, so you could reach further. you whined as caleb watched you, exploring your body with his eyes. “add another one for me baby.” you nodded - sounds of “mhm”s and “okay”s. you slip another finger inside yourself, hips bucking upwards as your hands pumped into your cunt faster.

“caleb — caleb please ‘m gonna cum. can i? please let me cum please.” you begged him. “yeah? cum for me baby, ‘cmon you can do it. use your other hand and ride it out.” he watched as you spread your legs, rubbing and pumping. your face fucked and dazed - oh how much of a perfect mess you were. a mess he made. your sounds making his cock twitch as he met your pace. the sound of you two panting and moaning like dogs for each other.

you cried out for him, your body shaking and quivering , making caleb almost proud. “i know baby, i know, i know. you’re doing so good for me princess, you sound so so good.” he coos. how pretty you were like this, a show just for him without you knowing. knowing that he was watching your every touch, gasp and quiver. he just cum by looking at you.

caleb jerked his hips forward, grunting. fuck he was close too. he thought about your touch, how he would be deep inside you. his cock buried deep inside your cunt, molding your shape into his. how you would need him to please you over and over again because your fingers just won’t do. he thought about where he would cum on you, your soft tits, your stomach, your pretty ‘lil face.

it didn’t matter, he knew where he would cum in. he would be hitting every spot in you, your walls clenching on his cock while you begged for him. he would fill you up to the brim, making you drip with his load. how perfect you’d feel around him.

that’s where his cum needed to be, that’s where it deserved to be, where it belonged. buried deep inside of you.

it didn’t take long until both of you were groaning with pleasure, the silence after you both made a mess. caleb reassuring how well you did for him and how beautiful you looked. you thought it was weird on how you two were on the phone and he couldn’t see you but you ignored it.

caleb hung up after telling you to get some rest and he’d see you when he went back to linkon. looking at his desk.

fuck, he was going to need a new monitor.

[youngheejay]

Mature content ahead

Sunghoon is just so fucking attracted to his girlfriend that it hurts

“Wow, baby” sunghoon’s eyes widened. And he felt his cock grow harder. Harder than it already was.

You giggled at his reaction and spun around to show him another dress you shopped with your girl-friends today.

“You like it?” You caressed the dress all over your body and brushed your hair back to show it to him properly.

The white sundress was wrapped tightly around your upper body and only reached mid thigh. Your breasts were lifted up and were shown prominently. To say you looked sexy was an underestimate.

You lifted up the hem of your short dress to examine the material of the dress, and were completely oblivious to the effect you had on your boyfriend.

Sunghoon ogled at your exposed thighs. Fuck, my girlfriend is so hot.

He had to suppress the urge to just throw you on the couch and fuck you so hard in this dress until you understood how fucking attracted he was to you - it was no joke. No teasing, no flirting. You didn’t have to do any of it. Showing him a little skin was enough for sunghoon to unleash these primal and carnal instincts in him.

That’s how much he found you attractive and sexy.

“Hm?” You looked up from the attached tag you were reading when you didn’t hear a response from him.

He quickly diverted his eyes from your exposed soft-looking thighs - oh, how smooth and alluring they were - and when you looked at him with a gentle and loving smile that’s when sunghoon realized he had to wrap this up fast otherwise he’d bust right then and there - completely untouched.

Your adoring smile paired with your sparkling and innocent eyes made his problem grew bigger. But he didn’t have the heart to just tell you to ditch your haul - you were too excited to show him what you bought. Obviously, with his your shared money. What else?

“It looks stunning. You look beautiful, princess. You can wear it on our date this weekend.” He gave you a nod in approval.

“Oh, really? I thought I’d wear it for the team dinner.” You suggested with a tilt of your head, adjusting the straps of the dress while pushing your boobs a little and exposing more of your cleavage.

“No!” Sunghoon exclaimed dramatically. You looked at him surprised, “I- I mean you can! But don’t you think it’s too casual for a gathering like this?” He quickly came up with an excuse.

You pursed your lips: “Really? I thought it’s only with the boys and your managers, right? And obviously their partners? Well if they have any,” you giggled at your own joke.

That’s the fucking problem.

Four out of the six other boys were fucking bitchless losers who’d definitely stare at you if you were to wear a dress like this.

Sunghoon didn’t want that. You were his and he wasn’t someone who liked to share. No, he was definitely more possessive than he liked to admit. And he definitely didn’t have the patience - nor the nerve - to deal with at least four men (who claimed they ‘weren’t into relationships’) staring at his girl and ruining the dinner for him.

It’s not like he couldn’t fight with them - if it was for your comfort he’d commit murder - he could and would but he just didn’t want to deal with this bullshit. And most importantly, he didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position. Even if the members didn’t mean any harm - he just knew you too well and already predicted that you’d feel uncomfortable regardless if anyone was to stare or not.

He sighed: “Babe, I want you to wear it when we’re alone. You can wear the other dress you just showed me. Alright, darling?” Sunghoon used his extra soft voice with you, something he mostly did when he already made a decision and wasn’t up to an argument.

You squinted your eyes at him but didn’t want to argue with him. He’s not wrong, the other dress is also really beautiful and maybe more suited for a dinner.

-And it was a dress that covered you completely.-

He apparently likes this one a lot, so there’s nothing to argue about, I guess.

You gave him a reassuring smile: “alright, if you say so.”

Sunghoon counted himself lucky that he found someone so understanding and with such a warm heart. You truly were beautiful - your personality just as much as your looks.

Clapping your hands excitedly, you exlaimed: “Okey! 10 down, 7 more to go!” When you spun around to leave the living room, where sunghoon was playing some video games on the couch, he quickly caught a glance on your ass due to the hasty twirl.

Sunghoon leaned further back on the couch and spread his legs wider, mansplaining, as he tried to sit somehow comfortably with his painful hard-on. Frustrated, he threw his head on the couch and closed his eyes.

How long is this going to take?

Let’s just say: After the next piece you had to postpone your little private fashion show.

[transmaverique]

[img id

screenshots of a portion of the linked work. reads as follows:

“I hated that essay,” he says to me, “about femmes who care for you when you travel; I really hated it.” And when I ask why he tells me that he thinks it sounds like all butches should be soothed by femmes, and vice versa; he says, “Why would those femmes have assumed that you were a butch who liked femmes?” He says, “Maybe you’re a faggot butch, did they even consider that?” He says, “I know you’re not just for femmes.”

That’s what he says, but I know what he’s thinking. And even though I know how dangerous it is to assume I know what someone is thinking, I know this butch maybe as well as I know myself, and he’s thinking, “Fuck you, for having it easy even in being queer. Fuck you for going along on your happy little way to San Francisco and finding a bunch of femmes who see you as a big stud-duck butch and just want to pour themselves through your fingers. It’s just as hard to be a faggot butch as it is to be any kind of fag.”

There’s all that masculinity to consider when you want to rub up against someone, like that old joke about porcupines:

How do porcupines mate? Very carefully.

He’s saying, “I want to show up at brunch someplace and assume that anyone who I want to flirt with will want to flirt back, and will do it, will want to, without fear of recrimination from hir community. I want you to put something in that book of yours for me. I am a butch whose identity, sexual or otherwise, has nothing to do with femmes. They are not my natural partners in this gender crime the way they are yours. I wake and sleep in the arms of butches like me, butches who understand a whole host of things about my life, my world, the way I see things, the way things affect me that no one else could understand. Write about us. Write that we have sweet, hot sex in which no one has to put on a pair of panties, or take them off; write about how good it feels when ze fucks me hard, so hard. Write about how it feels to fall asleep with the weight of a butch on you, one tattooed arm and one furry leg pinning you down and grounding you in your sleep.

“Write about all the ways in which butches care for each other, comfort each other. Write about how we understand all the shit that comes in the world for our partners and salve it as best we can, about how I have all the more respect for hir because of all I know it takes to survive as a butch.

“Write about how, as soon as butches were no longer the scourge of dykedom for aping masculinity, or whatever that baloney was, it became faggot butches who were scorned and derided. Everyone understands butch/femme because it seems familiar, like Ozzie and Harriet but with better hair and more pussy. Everyone understands femme on femme, even though you don’t see it all that often cause it doesn’t read queer, you know, but it’s in the first images of ‘lesbian love’ most of us see, in porn or on television. Two longhaired pretty girls smooching in a daring fashion wherever they happen to be. No one’s threatened by that, not the dykes, not the men, nobody, but if I want to kiss my butch anywhere, I’d better be damn sure of my audience, or better yet, be sure we don’t have one.

“I can be a butch without opening doors for girls,” he’s saying. “I can do it even if I follow while dancing, I can do it without spending my Saturday afternoons as a femme’s shopping bottom at the mall and do. I am. I am honorable, I take good care of the people I love as well as I possibly can; I watch out for my community. I have a butch heart full of love that I can express when I feel safe enough; I walk in the world resisting gender norms and transgressing gender rules, transcending them. I am fixing whatever I can, whenever I can, and I laugh, and play, and let the spaces in my masculinity show, just like you, just like every butch. I get all slicked up for a date in a suit and tie and I pick up my date, also in a suit and tie, and we just open the door if we get to it first and we take turns paying, and it doesn’t make me less a butch. It doesn’t make me less of anything. It doesn’t mean that I don’t think femmes are swell, I surely do, but they are not my salvation when I travel, they are not the North of my heart’s compass. That’s butches for me, and I will always go a little weak when I see someone who looks scared and hardened and delighted and ashamed and proud—proud, just like me.

“You’re writing a book? Of course, I’m glad, but don’t chicken out. Don’t write a book that speaks so many volumes about your adoration for femmes that it leaves out the ways in which I know you cherish butches too. Yes, not the same way as you cherish femmes, entirely differently, butches and femmes are different creatures, sure, but I don’t just mean how glad you are and always will be to have butch brothers, a butch tribe. I mean, make sure you don’t forget to mention that you put butches on their knees in front of you and enjoy them, that you kneel down too, that you sit sometimes stunned by how much you want to lick a buzz cut or a hot tattoo, that you know what a great grace it is to fall asleep next to a butch’s heart and muscle and skin and ink and fur, that you understand how wonderful it can be to feel butch arms around you. Make sure you mention me, make sure you give me and my lovers and my life the same benefit of some of your words, make sure you don’t write another book that leaves us on the cutting-room floor. Give us a place on the landscape, help us become visible. Say this: Say that when butches love butches they hold lightning between them, but that as much as it burns it also illuminates. That it’s the sweetest burn I’ve ever known in my life of searing pain, that it keeps me from feeling the flames of the world’s hate licking the soles of my boots, that I hold it in my heart and it fuels me every day. Say that it shows me things I could never see any other way, that without it I would grow cold and die. Say that there is nothing else I would rather be.”

/end id]

butch is a noun, s. bear bergman 2006

[hrrtshape]

not u lying about shifting .. i have the receipts

it's always you village idiots pissing me off 😭 yeah, go ahead???? expose me for what, exactly? breathing? existing? for having a consciousness that expands beyond your sad little sandbox of skepticism? the way some of you dedicate yourselves to “catching” shifters and manifestors in a lie, like you’re unearthing some grand deception, like you’re the protagonist in some revelatory, world-altering exposé, it’s delusional. do you think this is a gotcha moment? that i’m about to break down, sobbing, and admit that my entire life is an elaborate charade orchestrated just to spite you??? like. be fucking serious. fuck you. can i say that?? fuck you. i just woke up from a shift that i will never share now, and i have to type this out.

you think you’ve cracked the case????? you think you’re some noir detective, trench coat flaring, uncovering the great shifting hoax? you’re not. you’re just another resentful, self-victimising, terminally unfulfilled hater who cannot, simply cannot, handle the idea that other people are doing what you aren’t. it’s not even just insecurity, it’s the audacity of entitlement. like i owe you an explanation for my reality. like you’re owed access to my personal experiences just because your own efforts have amounted to nothing.

do you even realise how CRUEL this is? the bad faith. the dehumanisation. the arrogance. i am not an experiment. i am not some fucking academic study for you to pore over with a red pen, scribbling “needs more evidence” in the margins of my life. and before you even open your mouth to say “but proof—” shut up. because you don’t actually want proof. if i laid out every single moment, every shift, every impossibility made real, every texture and sensation of the multiverse, you would still deny it. because it’s not about proof. it never was. it’s about control. it’s about the psychological breakdown that occurs when you realise the problem isn’t me. it’s you.

and i have shifted. like i don’t know how else to say it. do you want me to carve it into a stone tablet? hire a skywriter? resurrect shakespeare and have him write a five-act tragedy about how you simply cannot cope with the fact that i have done what you haven’t??? because i have shifted. i have shifted. i have shifted. and nothing you say, no pitiful little "gotcha" attempt, will make that untrue.

and you know what? i hope this gets under your skin. i hope you sit with it. i hope it sinks into your bones, festers, haunts you. because you, and people like you, are the reason shifters and manifestors go silent. you make it unbearable. you make it fucking MISERABLE. you take something deeply personal, existentially profound, and drag it into the fucking mud so you can feel better about your own failures.

i am not here to be dissected under your microscopic, jealousy-riddled scrutiny. i am not here to perform shifting for your entertainment. and if you don’t believe me? i don’t care. i don’t want you to. stay mad. stay stuck. stay exactly where you are. because that’s all you’ve ever done.

bottom line, i shifted. sorry if you haven't, not my issue.

[petew21-blog]

My brother's friend Billy

This is my brother's friend Billy. They have been friends since I can remember. And ever since I knew him, I was obsessed with him. I looked up to him, but I was always blown away how beautiful he was. It didn't matter that he and my brother bullied me. Whenever he touched me, I was in heaven.

Especially amazing was the moment I found out, how to shapeshift into other people. All I needed was one piece of clothing worn by that person and I would become them. At first it happened to me when I used my brother's shirt instead of mine accidentally. I immediately shifted into his exact copy. I was shocked, but curious to explore more. But someone was coming close to my room, so I quickly threw away his shirt, put on mine and waited for the changes to shift back.

And that's when my quest to get Billy's clothing started. But it was really hard to get clothes from someone who didn't live at our house.

One day our parents decided to visit grandparents for a weekend and leave us alone at the house. My brother obviously invited Billy and some girls. They invited me to join them too. I mostly spoke to the girls and from time to time checked if Billy did take of some piece of clothing.

They got drunk pretty soon and moved to my brother's bedroom. I waited outside the door for the moans to stop. After some time I decided to enter. It was dark and they were all sleeping already. God knows what they did together...

I checked for some underwear, shirt or something else that would be Billy's. Finally I found a sock. I grabbed it and carefully left the room.

I entered my room and locked the door, stripping myself, leaving only my underwear on. I sniffed the sock. It was dirty and slightly wet. This sock was on his beautiful foot! I was about to become my dreamy guy. The one I desired the most.

I took my dick in one hand and started jerking off. With my second hand, I clumsily tried to get it on. After a few unsuccesful attempts I managed to do it.

I felt the changes. I felt as my hair elonged into his. My face changing structure. My body enlarging, but my abs protruding. My legs became hairier.

My feet were finally his. I put his leg to my nose. What others would describe as a cheesy disgusting smell, I couldn't get enough of. It was so strong, manly and Billy! I look exactly like Billy!

As my hands explored my beautiful feet, my forearms brushed over the hairy legs. I continued to feel my big, full lips, my pointy nose. My hairy pits that I inhaled for a long time and licked even longer. I also tried to lick, make out and suck Billy's hot biceps, trying to do a hickey on it. Then my left hand gave more attention to the forming tent. I threw away the underwear binding me from the proper enjoyment.

I was now completely naked. Billy was naked in my bed! Or atleast his body. I started humping my bed and touching myself in the process. I felt so strong and horny.

I grabbed my phone to take some photos. I need to document this!

I did many shots of his body from above, close shots of his feet, his pits, his gorgeous dick, his ass.

I did shots that would be amazing for me to jerk off to in case I would have to give back his clothes

I loved his veiny arms. His nipples. His lean and tight body.

I felt more and more like Billy. I wanted to be with his body all the time. To smell his scent. To have him for myself.

When I took last photo of Billy's body on my bed, covered in a towel, there was a knock on the door.

I looked at the phone. It was morning already! "FUCK"

I took off Billy's sock and put on my own clothes, putting his sock in my pocket.

I opened the door.

"Hey, perv. Did you take Billy's sock? He can't find it anywhere, so I need to check if you did not jerk into it?"

"Fuck off. Of course I didn't take it. Didn't he leave it in the living room? You guys partied there pretty hard. Maybe he threw it somewhere"

They all went to look in the living room, which gave me chance to put his sock under my brother's pilllow.

They did not give up the search and eventualy found it, which made me a bit sad, because now I didn't have any clothing that would turn me to Billy.

I became obsessed with the photos I took when I was shifted into him. I jerked off to those photos every day like 5 times.

But something changed in me. When Billy came over, he played videogames with my brother or talk about girls. As I observed him move, laugh, fart and talk about fucking pussy, I felt disgusted. That's not the way he should be treating that body. I treated it better. He doesn't deserve it!

I realised I was not obsessed with Billy. I was obsessed with his body. Therefore I made a plan to make his body mine. I shapshifted into my brother, lured Billy into our house and took care of it.

Yeah, maybe there would be a less messy way to do that. Maybe I should have seen a therapist before all of this. Maybe leaving traces of my blood in my room and leaving my brothers fingerprints on the knife were a bit too much. But what was I suppose to do? My old body would be missing and I had to pin it on someone. And who better then the guy who spent the most time with Billy? He would definitely find out that I'm not the original Billy.

You can call me cold or heartless. But watching from my car as the police dragged away my ex-brother for possible murder of my old body was satisfying. I am now completely Billy and there is no one stopping me.

There is only one thing left. What should I do with Billy's dead body in my trunk?

[shaunamilfman]

turning into something you are not

pairing: Shauna Shipman x f!reader Summary: You end up on house arrest after Shauna spits in your soup, no thanks to stupid Mari. It's not like you want Shauna Shipman, of all people, to be on your ass. So you come up with the well-thought-out idea of visiting her hut in the middle of the night to apologize. No ulterior motives at all. Smut ensues. note: minors dni. spitting involved.

You eye Shauna anxiously as she walks toward you with the rest of the losers from today's game, something settling heavily in your chest as you realize she's coming straight toward where you're sitting. You curse your luck: of course you would end up getting Shipman to serve your food personally. A part of you wonders if Shauna has done it on purpose, but you decide that it's probably more humiliating for her than it is terrifying for you. 

Just about anything has been setting her off lately, and the throbbing pain from the bite on your hand reminds you succinctly of that. You remember from school just how nasty human bites could be–just how much bacteria is in the human mouth. It would serve you right to die from an infection garnered from Shauna Shipman's mouth after surviving nearly a year in this hellhole. 

Your heartbeat starts to settle as Shauna stops beside you, a broody look on her face that doesn't look any different from normal. That is until she holds the bowl out, making sure you can see her as she spits into your food. You almost gasp, just barely able to keep the reaction from becoming audible.

“Go ahead,” Shauna adds, a dangerous look that almost makes you want to push just to see what she would do. “Just give me a reason.”

You look down at the bowl she sits in front of you in surprise, not expecting her to do something so public. With the way Mari sits forward in her seat, you can already tell that she’s taken notice. Which, arguably, was the worst possible thing that could have happened to you today. You grab the bowl, fully intending on just eating it spit and all, but Mari isn’t going to let that happen.

“What the fuck? Shauna just spit in her food,” Mari points out loudly, drawing the attention of all the other girls. 

God, she was such a shit stirrer. 

Your eyes widen, and you rapidly shake your head at Mari. Almost pleadingly. It doesn't seem to matter if she even notices your protests. Shauna certainly doesn't. Mari keeps grouping you in with her lately. Just because you weren't on Shauna's side doesn't mean you were on Mari's. For fuck’s sake, she was going to get your ass kicked. 

“Jesus Christ. Shauna, did you spit in her food?” Nat asks exasperatedly. 

“What? No,” Shauna lies. 

Someone should tell her she wasn't good at that. You were almost embarrassed for her at how painfully thin her voice sounded. She might as well have just confessed. 

“The fact that you even think I would is insulting.”

“You should eat,” Shauna says quietly, in that soft yet deadly tone of hers. It's more unsettling than if she had actually screamed at you instead. “I worked hard to make it.”

Mari reaches across the table and smacks it out of your hand, leaving you to watch it fall in what feels like slow motion. 

You look down at the ground mournfully. It doesn't even matter that Shauna had spit in it. You were still willing to eat it. It's not like you'd find food anywhere else. How quickly Mari seems to have forgotten that awful winter. 

Shauna immediately tenses up, and her lack of access to Mari across the table means that you're the one who ends up face-first on the ground with a mouthful of dirt and what used to be your dinner. 

“I said eat, bitch,” she hisses in your ear before being pulled off, leaving you to stumble back onto your feet as some of the other girls help you up. Your eyes are wide as you look back at an enraged Shauna Shipman, face smeared with dirt and food. 

You spit dirt out of your mouth absently, trying to get the taste out. All it serves to do is anger Shauna again as she lunges at you, held back only by the grip the other girls have on her as you stumble back and away. You open your mouth to stutter out an apology and an excuse because you really did not need this right now, but the glare Nat gives you silences you before it can come out. 

“I've fucking had it with this shit! Starting tomorrow, you're both on house arrest,” Nat says, glancing between the two of them meaningfully. 

You barely notice Mari storming off, too busy wiping dirt off of your face. 

“You know what?” Nat pauses, looking over at you. “You too, actually.” 

You just sigh. 

How has this become your life?

Locking Shauna away in her hut? She was going to come kill you in your sleep. You wouldn't even see it coming. All your friends would be out looking for you when you went missing and would be completely unaware that Shauna probably fed you to them to hide the evidence. 

You were fucked. 

… 

You wait until you're sure the rest of the girls in your hut have fallen asleep before you creep up and out. Both because you're not technically allowed to leave and because you know they would try to talk you out of what you're sure is a monumentally stupid idea. But it's the best one you've got. 

Show up to Shauna's hut, try to apologize, and probably get roughed up a little. At least it would probably get her off your ass afterward, if you looked pathetic enough. Shauna didn't tend to bother the more passive girls, tending not to find any joy in trying to break their spirits. Maybe if she got it out of her system, then you could sleep soundly for the next few nights before you inevitably pissed her off again.

All you have to do is walk in and try to explain–

Oh shit.

She was already up on her feet and coming toward you before you even managed to take more than a step into her hut, almost like she was waiting for you. Not even just waiting for you. Hoping, probably. What was it she said to you earlier? Just give me a reason. It seems like you’ve definitely done it now.

“Wait–” you try, but Shauna doesn’t care to listen as she lunges out for you. You’re already expecting her fist to make contact with the side of your face, so you’re pleasantly surprised when she just grabs onto your arm.

Shauna holds on tightly to your wrist, her thumb digging in hard enough that a whimper of pain escapes your lips and your knees buckle. The look of sheer glee that crosses her face tells you exactly what she thinks of that little reaction. 

“You’ve got some fucking nerve, showing up here.”

“I just wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize?” She asks angrily. “You came here in the middle of the night, while I was probably sleeping, to apologize?”

“It sounds stupid now that you say it like that,” you acknowledge with a nervous laugh. Shauna doesn’t laugh with you.

“Why the hell are you here?” She asks again.

“Maybe I wanted to… give you a reason.”

You don’t realize how true the words are until they leave your lips, and the momentary flash of surprise that crosses your face is as genuine as Shauna’s.

“Shauna–” 

“Don't fucking speak to me,” she hisses through gritted teeth, shoving you back into the walls of her shelter hard enough that the whole thing wobbles precariously. 

You look around anxiously, terrified the structure will collapse down on top of you. There's no way that scenario doesn't end with Shauna beating your ass in the wreckage. That's if you were as lucky as Lottie. After what happened last winter, Shauna was more likely to end up serving you for dinner. 

“You're fucking nothing to me,” she continues, stalking toward you. 

You nod quickly, hands held up in some gesture of appeasement that only seems to set Shauna off again as she grabs you by the collar of your shirt to send you sprawling onto the cold, uneven ground as all the air in your lungs rushes out with a pained huff. 

It has been par for the course of what you have been expecting so far. There was something about the look in Shauna's eye that unsettles you, something that you aren't sure you've seen before. You consider just going limp and lying on the ground, but then you remember how many times Shauna had kicked Lottie in the side, and that gets you moving again. 

You start scrambling up onto your knees, but Shauna's too quick for that, settling onto the back of your thigh and pinning your arms behind your back before you manage to get any leverage. 

It's humiliating to be pinned like this, face down in the dirt with your arms held behind your back. You buck your hips frantically trying to get her off, even resorting to try squirming out from under her, but nothing works until you hear her little grunt. 

You still immediately, unsure of what caused it and afraid she's going to hurt you for accidentally kicking her or something. It's not like you're unaware of how vulnerable you are right now, so unprepared to fight back if she decides that she's going to hurt you more. 

“Stupid bitch,” Shauna taunts, sitting firm on your thigh. “Stay fucking still.” She squeezes your wrists painfully in reminder, making you freeze beneath her. 

Slowly, enough that you wonder for a moment if the action was unconscious or not, Shauna rolls her hips down against the back of your thigh. When you don't immediately protest, she tries her luck again, another slow roll like she's testing the waters. 

“Shauna,” you murmur, turning your head to rest your cheek against the dirt as you go limp beneath her. 

It's terrifying to let yourself be so prone on your stomach with Shauna around, knowing she could take advantage of it at any second. But the little sounds that leave her lips and the feeling of just how warm she is above you convince you to let yourself do something reckless. 

How long has it been since you've had this kind of contact? Something not out of necessity or violence. Something out of nothing more than desire. 

How long had it been for her? 

You try to look back at her, but Shauna growls under her breath, and you let your eyes fall back to the side of her hut. She starts humping the back of your thigh in earnest now, her knee bumping into your other leg and forcing it wider to accommodate her stance. It's not questioning, not even tentative. It's a command to move your fucking leg. And you do, without question. 

Back and forth and back and forth until the feeling of her sweatpants rubbing against your thigh turns into a wet glide. Shauna fumbles her grip on your arms, finally wrenching them up to pin them on the ground so she can get a better angle.

She's not trying to muffle her ragged breathing so much as she's trying to stop something louder from coming out. Something needy that girls might be able to hear just one hut over. 

The huts had given you some measure of secrecy that the cabin never could, but there was no real privacy out here. Shauna's hut, the one that belonged only to her, was the closest place you could get. 

There was no doubt in your mind that if Shauna got even a bit louder, then everyone else would know what you were doing. You weren't entirely opposed to the idea. The part of you that would've been horrified to be heard like this died in the plane crash. Now, the thought of everyone knowing you were in here with Shauna was thrilling. Beyond even just the protection that it would give you with the other girls. 

No one wanted to piss off Shauna Shipman. 

You would like to say that the whole thing had been strategic, but you've really stumbled into the whole thing. And that was if you managed to survive the encounter. That was still up in the air. 

She bites down hard where your neck meets your shoulder, making you cry out even as you try to stifle it. It's like you can feel every individual tooth as it tears into your skin, quickly making you realize how playful that bite on your hand had been in comparison. Shauna grinds her teeth from left to right, making you shudder as it brings tears to your eyes. 

Shauna sounds feral. Fucking you like a wild animal while you're prone on your belly and exposing your neck to a predator. It's enough of a rush for you that you know it must be driving her fucking insane. She pulls away just enough to talk threateningly into your ear. 

“I could kill you, you know,” Shauna says, her voice heavy from exertion. It doesn't seem to slow her hips down any. “Put my knife right through you and tell them you came to my hut and attacked me.“

You tense up at the words, and Shauna moans as it gives her a sturdier surface to grind against. 

Stabbing a person in the back with a thigh soaked with your arousal. The most obvious self-defense case you've ever seen. That, in combination with how obvious she was lying about spitting in your food, almost makes you laugh. But you manage to choke it down with the knowledge that she might actually kill you if you do. 

“Fuck, just like that,” she mutters distractedly, like the threat was already forgotten. 

At a loss for anything better to do when pinned to the floor, you keep your muscles as tense as you can. Shauna doesn’t bite you again, so you decide to take your wins where you can find them. 

Almost unbidden, your eyes fall to the corner of her hut where her knife lies almost inconspicuously. It’s just barely within reach if you could manage to shake her arms long enough to lunge for it, close enough that you could probably manage to reach it with the tips of your fingers. One of the benefits–or downsides, when you share with three other girls–is that almost anything within the huts is in reach.

Despite how distracted she seems, it doesn’t take her long to notice where your attention lies. She laughs against the curve of your shoulder, nipping at the skin almost playfully. If you didn’t know how hard her jaw could snap down, of course.

“Are you thinking about it?” She asks, digging her nails into your wrists. Shauna sounds like she thinks it’s funny.

You don’t answer, knowing there’s no real way to placate her. If you say no she will just call you a liar, if you say yes… Well, you aren’t in a hurry to find out.

“You’re no fun,” she says, almost to herself, but the tense moment passed almost as quickly as it began.

Her teeth graze your jaw again, a promise more than a threat. Shauna doesn’t speed up or slow down, maintaining that steady drag like she has all the time in the world. She’s not threatened. Why would she be? Her breath is coming out quicker now, short little gasps as she nears the edge she’s been chasing.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she murmurs, a sigh that sounds suspiciously whiny falling from her lips as her hips slowly come to a stop. You can hear her breathing heavily above you, her hands holding on tightly to the back of your arms.

“Shauna?” You question hesitantly as the silence starts to edge on uncomfortable.

She huffs loudly, the sound sharp with misplaced anger and frustration. You can feel her weight shift on top of you, but she can't seem to find words angry enough to express herself with. Finally, she straightens up to glare down at the back of your head. You can't see her, of course, but you can almost feel her burning anger. 

“Don't fucking move,” she warns. 

Shauna slowly lets go of your arms, watching you like an animal ready to strike as she sits up to fumble her way out of her sweatpants. You don't dare to do more than flex your fingers as you lie in wait. You're afraid to move your arms when her location is up in the air. It could be anywhere, and you've seen how effectively she can gut things. 

“Now you want to be a good listener?” She asks from somewhere behind you. She clearly isn't expecting an answer, but you couldn't help yourself. 

“Shauna, I didn't–”

“And you were doing so good.”

You tense at the words and at the way Shauna starts to enter your field of vision as she moves closer. Her face is just barely visible, her eyes blown in a mix of rage and sheer arousal. For a brief moment you allow yourself the luxury of sneaking a peek down past Jackie's shirt that she hadn't bothered to take off to the bare skin of her thighs. 

But you don't get long to really enjoy the view. 

“Too good to eat my fucking food,” she mutters, leaning closer to press something into your mouth. “Eat this instead.” 

It's dark enough that it takes you a moment to feel out what it is, a blush rising to your cheeks as you realize she's stuffed her panties in your mouth. Your head feels foggy at the realization, almost lightheaded from the experience. Or maybe that was the way you struggled to breathe, every breath short and sharp as you struggled to get your lungs to fully expand. 

Shauna grabs on tightly to your arm, wrenching it around to flip you onto your back like it was nothing. 

You stare up at her dazedly, only to be met by the sight of her fierce glare. As if it was your fault that she couldn't fuck herself properly with the back of your thigh. She settles down into your lap, thighs spread wide to keep you pinned as she leans forward to plant a hand on your shoulder to brace her weight. 

Shauna holds eye contact with you as she spits on the palm of your hand, smirking when you tense in surprise. She brings your hand between her legs, sighing when you make contact. God, is she wet. It shouldn't surprise you with everything that's happened since you entered her hut, but you still find yourself gasping at the warmth of her as you slide two fingers home. 

She clenches around you immediately, like she's just been waiting for it all night. As soon as you start to thrust your fingers, she moves along with them, matching the rhythm the best she can and digging her thumb into your shoulder warningly when she decides she would rather you match hers. It's not like you care, not when you get to watch the way the muscles in her thighs flex with each move. 

You almost forget how to breathe as you look up at her, watching every flicker of pleasure that crosses her face faster than she can quench them. It's a subtle thing with how hard she's trying to suppress it, but a little twitch of her mouth is all it takes to give her away when you're scrutinizing her so closely. 

Shauna surrounds you. 

Her weight on top of you, her body so solid and immovable despite the nearly a year you've been starving. Her scent filling the air, the familiar smell of dirt and animal blood and something uniquely Shauna that you've grown so used to in your time in the wilderness. The wet heat of her wrapped around your fingers and pressed against your lap, a warmth that's more than welcome in the chill of the night air. Then there's the taste in your mouth as your tongue brushes the wet fabric of her panties. There's nowhere to go beneath her, pinned as thoroughly as you are. Nothing to think about but her. 

Just how Shauna likes it. 

You can feel even more of the warmth of her pressed against you as she leans forward, body trembling with adrenaline and something else as she seeks out more contact. You have to adjust the angle of your hand, which Shauna doesn't appreciate until she does. Letting out a little sigh as she rolls her hips down. 

“Couldn't just eat. Had to go get me in trouble with her majesty.” 

So it was your fault now? 

“Who the fuck does Nat think she is?” Shauna doesn't wait for an answer, just continues on mockingly, and ignores the way her breath hitches when you curl your fingers. “I don't want to see either of your faces for a week. Or what?”

You hope the question was rhetorical. It would be just like Shauna to gag you and then get pissed you wouldn't answer. 

The continued angry muttering under her breath assuages that fear, but you don't have much time to think on it as Shauna brings a hand to your face. 

There's a glint in her eye that promises nothing but bad things as she brushes her thumb across your lips, slowly plucking the fabric of her panties and pulling them free. You lick your lips nervously, trying to soothe the dryness of your mouth now that they're gone. 

“Open your mouth,” Shauna commands, and you do so with more than a little hesitance. She hooks her thumb over your bottom teeth, just enough to keep your jaw open as she looms over you. Slowly, taking her time so that you have to watch helplessly, she tilts her head down and parts her lips. She doesn’t spit–nothing as simple as that. Instead, she just lets a thin, glistening string of saliva fall from her mouth to land squarely on your tongue. It’s warm and wet and so unbearably intimate.

You jerk away almost instinctively, but Shauna clenches her thighs tightly around your hips and digs her fingers into your jaw to keep you right where she wants you. Her eyes glance down, watching the way her saliva sits on your tongue and mixes with your own.

“Swallow,” she commands, voice sharp. Your cheeks burn red as you do, struggling for a moment to do so with your mouth held so far open.

She nods slowly, this time just spitting into your open. Her head tilts to the side like she’s studying you, and she seems pleased when you swallow without being asked this time.

“Good.” Her voice is low, gravelly in a way that makes you squirm as she traces her thumb across your jaw. ”Now, hold onto this for me.”

This time, as her spit reaches your tongue, you do nothing. You don’t jerk, you don’t flinch, you just keep your mouth open wide as the string of saliva lands. She leans close enough to kiss you, breath brushing hot against your lips, but she just pulls away again with a pleased hum.

You think she might say something else, but all she does is let go of your jaw to press two of her fingers in your mouth. She doesn't push, doesn't even try to choke you like you were prepared for. Just rests the weight of them on your tongue as she watches the way your lips close around them.

Shauna starts riding your fingers in earnest now, fast enough that you struggle to keep up with her. God, could she fucking move. You knew from watching her on the field, and lately from watching her in the chase, but it was something else to witness it while two knuckles deep. 

Her thighs tremble with the effort of it, but a part of you suspects she's still holding back. The squelching sound fills the air, loud and unmistakable in its simplicity. There's no doubt in your mind that everyone knew what you were doing if they hadn't already pieced it together from the sounds leaving Shauna's lips. She wasn't quiet or shy like you might have shamefully imagined her being before the crash. 

It was like the thought of shame never even crossed her mind. 

Maybe after a very public birth and subsequent well-deserved crash out, little things like all of your former teammates knowing you're getting fucked one hut over don't register as much in your mind. 

You can tell by the way she's clenching around your fingers that she's getting close, but if Shauna's aware of it, she doesn't acknowledge it. Even when your thumb presses against her clit to rub quick little circles, the only response you get is a sharp intake of breath as she presses into the touch. 

It's different now that you can watch her start to fall apart. Different now that you're actually participating instead of just letting her use you as a means to an end. You hadn't minded, obviously, but you much prefer to watch the way her eyes slip shut as her head starts to tilt back. 

When Shauna comes, it's violent, thighs snapping around your waist as a loud cry tears itself from her lips. Tears was the right word, as it sounded like it cost Shauna something as it came out. Pride, maybe. Or something else entirely. 

Either way, Shauna looked wrecked as she lazily rode out the last of it–eyes almost black as she stared down at you. 

… 

You stare up at the ceiling of her hut after everything's said and done, slick with sweat and short of breath. Shauna hasn't said anything in a while, just silently rolled off, and laid down. 

Turning on your side, you sneak a glance over at Shauna, whose eyes are already closed. You slowly reach over to rest your arm over her hip, starting to draw it away as Shauna tenses. She grabs at your arm with her hand, saying nothing but not allowing you the chance to pull away. You hold your breath as you scoot closer, but Shauna doesn't comment one way or another. 

That's the closest to an invitation you're going to get. 

[winwintea]

HOLY FUCK.

i don’t even know where to begin. 1,000 notes. 1,000 notes???? i’m sitting here staring at that number on my laptop, jaw wide open, and it still doesn’t feel real. but it’s real. you all did this for me. and i am so, so overwhelmed with gratitude. it may not be a huge number for some, but for me this is such a big deal.

when i first started writing this fanfic, it was just a little idea that popped into my head. i had rewatched past lives, and my brain was practically begging me to write something. i never, ever imagined it would resonate with so many people. to be honest, i never thought i’d even reach 500 notes, let alone 1,000. this is beyond anything i could have ever dreamed of.

my most popular fic prior to inyun was secure that card. i still look all those notes and smile. although i had to give her up, i was also just happy so many people were interested in reading stc. so here's a special thanks to those who stayed post-stc takedown. i owe all of you so much for helping me stay motivated to write and produce more stories.

i’ve always been a reader first. i’ve spent countless hours immersed in other people’s stories, marveling at their creativity, their ability to make me feel so deeply through their words. honestly i don't even care right now i'm just going to mention them straight out. @lqfiles @hazyhae and @polarisjisung, thank you so so so much for being the inspiration for me in starting this blog. your works touched the hearts of many, including my own.

i never thought i could be someone who could do that for others. writing was always this distant, intimidating thing that “real writers” did. but one day, on a whim, thanks to the encouragement of @aquaphoenixz and @lyvhie, i decided to try. i thought, why not? and now, here we are. it’s surreal.

the fact that so many people have taken the time to read, like, reblog, and comment on my work… it’s humbling. it’s incredible. every notification, every kind word, every little interaction (i do in fact stalk my followers from time to time <33 love u all) it means the world to me. to know that something i created in my spare time, just for the joy of it, has brought even a fraction of happiness or excitement to someone else… that’s the most amazing feeling in the world. writing can be such a solitary thing, but seeing your responses makes me feel like i'm part of a community, like i’m sharing something special with all of you. <33

i want to thank each and every one of you who took the time to engage with my story. whether you left a comment, reblogged with tags that made me laugh, or just silently hit the like button? thank you. thank you for giving my little fic a chance. thank you for making me feel like my words matter. thank you for reminding me why i fell in love with storytelling in the first place.

this milestone isn’t just about the numbers. it’s about the connections (i've met so many wonderful people), the shared love for kpop, and the joy of creating something people enjoy. i’m so grateful to be a part of this fandom, to have found such a supportive and enthusiastic audience. you’ve all made me feel so seen and appreciated, and i can’t thank you enough for that.

i don’t know what the future holds for my writing, but i do know this:

i’ll keep writing because i love it, and because of all of you. thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for making this such an unforgettable experience. here’s to 1,000 notes, and to all the stories yet to come. 💕💕

inyun

PAIRING ↬ next door neighbor!mark lee x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ fluff, romance, slight angst, potential soulmates, past lives au, friends to (?), shared dreams, the idea of inyun/inyeon or “fate”

SUMMARY ↬ when you move into a small apartment complex in seoul, your next-door neighbor, mark lee, seems like nothing more than an ordinary guy. but as the two of you get to know each other more, it suddenly feels like you’ve known him forever. then mark mentions his grandmother's belief in 인연. the idea that every encounter is woven by threads of fate. are these coincidences between you and mark really accidental or is there something deeper going on?

WORD COUNT ↬ 3.7k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ somebody (me) decided to rewatch past lives 🙈 this was supposed to be fluff and a gift for @https-lvesick but finals week started sinking in… thank you to my saviors @viasdreams and @polarisjisung for beta reading, love y'all <33

PLAYLIST ↬ jazz bar - dreamcatcher; mago - gfriend; you - nct dream; dejavu - nu’est w; wham bam shang-a-lang - silver

THERE IS A WORD IN KOREAN:

"인연"

it means providence or fate. 

but it's specifically about the relationships between people. 

it's an "인연" if two strangers even walk by each other in the street and their clothes accidentally brush. because it means there must have been something between them in their past lives.

Your apartment door was wide open, boxes half-unpacked and filling the hallway. You’d tried to keep things organized, but between the moving of your furniture and the delivery guy calling for directions, you slowly lost your organization.

You were crouched on the floor, handling a box of kitchenware, when you heard a muffled voice behind you.

“Uh, hi? Excuse me?”

Startled, you turned to see a guy standing at the end of the hallway, a paper bag balanced in one hand and a set of keys dangling from the other. He was dressed in a simple hoodie and sweatpants, glasses fixed upon his face, and his hair slightly tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“Are… are you my new neighbor?” he asked in Korean, motioning toward the boxes that completely blocked his door.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” your voice squeaked as you responded in some broken korean, not mentally prepared to face a neighbor on the first day of moving him. You scrambled to move a tower of books out of his way. “I didn’t realize—let me just—”

“It’s fine, really,” he interrupted in English this time with a small laugh. “I’m Mark, by the way. Do you speak English?”

“Oh!” You paused mid-shove, shocked at his perfect accent. “Yes. Yes I do.” You were suddenly aware of how disheveled you looked. “Y/N,” you replied, brushing stray hair from your face. “Nice to meet you, and again, sorry for the mess. Your English is really good.”

“No worries. Happens to the best of us,” Mark said, crouching to help move the heavier boxes. “I’m from Canada, so English is kind of my thing.”

“Aah. I see.” You nodded, still mortified.

“This is your first day here?”

“Yeah. My friends were supposed to help, but they bailed at the last minute. So here I am, single-handedly creating a big explosive mess.”

Mark chuckled, lifting a box with ease. “I’d say you’re doing a pretty solid job for one person. Though... maybe try not to block your neighbors' doors next time.”

“Noted,” you said with an embarrassed laugh, standing to hold the door open as he slid the box inside.

When the hallway was clear, you expected him to leave, but he stayed, looking at the stacks of boxes still waiting to be unpacked. “Need an extra pair of hands?”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to—”

“I insist,” Mark said with a grin. “I’m a pro at this. Moved like five times in the last three years.”

Before you could protest further, Mark rolled up his sleeves and got to work. He moved like he really had done this a hundred times, lifting heavy items with ease and made the process less awkward with his small jokes.

“This box says ‘Bathroom,’ but it’s definitely full of shoes,” he teased, pulling out a pair of sneakers.

“Okay, maybe I got a little lazy with the labels,” you admitted.

“Lazy? Nah, this is strategic. Keeps life exciting,” he quipped, tossing the sneakers back in.

You laughed, the tension from earlier fading away. Somehow, he’d turned what felt like a stressful task into something almost fun.

Once the last box was inside, Mark clapped his hands together. “Mission accomplished. And since I’m basically your hero now, I think I’ve earned a reward. Got any snacks?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, I have… instant ramen?”

Mark grinned. “Perfect. My favorite.”

After settling in for a few days, you don’t encounter Mark again. That is, until a series of random moments start pulling you back into his orbit.  

On one of those nights, just past 9 p.m., the apartment complex suddenly plunges into darkness. The familiar buzz of your refrigerator stops, and the streetlights outside shut off, leaving your apartment only dimly lit from the moon. 

Groaning, you fumble around for your phone, only to realize the battery is at 4%. Great. You grab a flashlight, slowly open your door, and step out into the hallway, hoping to find someone who knows what is going on. 

That’s when you spot him.

Mark is sitting on the floor just outside his door, a small stack of candles beside him.

“Hey,” he greets, a faint smile on his face as he waves a lighter. “Power’s out in the whole block, apparently. Wanna borrow a candle?”

You take in his setup and smirk. He’s surrounded by neatly arranged tea lights and thick pillar candles.“Uh, are you in a cult or something?”

“Eh, my grandma’s kinda superstitious. Always told me to keep candles around the house just in case,” he says, shrugging. “I thought she was overreacting, but turns out she’s kind of a genius.”

You sit down a few feet away, gratefully accepting a candle he lights for you. The flame brightens up the dark hallway, leaving warm shadows on Mark’s face.

“So,” you start, leaning against the wall, “What do you normally do during blackouts? Just... sit around and wait?”

“Basically. Or… get this,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “People actually talk to each other. Crazy, right? You could, I don’t know, tell me something about yourself. Like… how many candles do you keep at home?”

“None,” you admit holding up your flashlight. “This is all I’ve got. I guess I’m doomed in a blackout. Your grandma would be so disappointed in me.”

“She would,” he agrees with a laugh. “But I’ll let it slide. Only because you’re new here.”

The conversation flows easily after that. You both begin trading random facts: Your favorite childhood snacks, his love for playing guitar, the time you accidentally dyed your hair orange trying to bleach it yourself. He counters with a tale of a botched bleach job that left him looking like a walking science experiment for months. 

Minutes turn into an hour, the candles continuing to burn as the two of you share quiet laughter and stories. And for the first time that night, the darkness doesn’t feel so bad.

—

A few days later, you’re hauling overstuffed grocery bags up the stairs when Mark pokes his head out of his apartment. His hair is tousled, and he’s wearing an oversized hoodie that practically swallows him whole.

“Oh, hey!” he calls, his face lighting up when he spots you. “Need help?”

“I got it, thanks!” you manage to say, despite your arms straining and the bag handles digging into your fingers.  

Before you can argue, Mark is already down the hall, grabbing it from you, and effortlessly carrying it to your door. “Looks like this thing was holding on for dear life,” he teases, hoisting it easily as he follows you to your door.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I was gonna knock on your door anyway,” he interrupts with a grin. “I baked something earlier and thought you might want to try it.”

That makes you pause mid-door unlock. “You bake?”

“Why does everyone react like that?” he says with mock offense. “Yes, I bake. Don’t look so shocked.”

“You don’t look like the baking type. Or cooking.”

“Oh, I can’t cook.” He scowls as if thinking about a bad memory, “But baking is pretty easy. It’s just throwing everything into one bowl, mixing it up, and waiting. Piece of cake. Or, in this case, cookies.”

A few minutes later, you’re both sitting on your tiny kitchen floor, a plate of freshly baked cookies between you. The smell of warm chocolate and butter fills the air.

“These are amazing,” you say after taking a bite, your voice muffled by the cookie in your mouth.

Mark beams, leaning back against the counter. “Not bad, right? I got the recipe off some YouTube channel. Figured I’d test it out before offering it to my friends.”

You squint your eyes, pretending to look offended. “Wait, so I’m just the guinea pig?”

He admits, laughing. “Pretty much. But hey, honest opinion: too sweet? Not sweet enough?”

“Perfect,” you reply, reaching out for another. “But you should’ve added nuts. Makes it more sophisticated. Just make sure you aren’t allergic.”

He gasps, clutching his chest. “Sophisticated? Wow. Didn’t know I was baking for royalty.”

You chuckle, playfully tossing a crumpled napkin at him, and the conversation once again flows effortlessly from there. You laugh over Mark’s failed attempts at “fancy” macarons, and somehow turn into stories about childhood food disasters.

By the time the plate is empty and an hour has vanished. With Mark, even the simplest moments feel like they belong in a movie.

—

Then it’s yet another lazy Sunday when the doorbell rings. You open the door to find Mark holding a massive box labeled 50-pack instant ramen.

“I think this is yours,” he says, biting back a laugh.

You glance at the label and groan. “Oh my God. I ordered five. Five!”

“Well, congrats,” he says, handing you the box. “Looks like you’re set for the next year.”

You sigh, dragging the box inside. A few minutes later, there’s another knock. Mark’s returned to your door, grinning this time.

“You know,” he starts, leaning against the doorframe, “if you need help finishing all that ramen, I’m just next door. We could, like, host a ‘ramen buffet.’ Charge admission or something.”

You snort. “Sure. I’ll make you the first VIP guest. Free ramen for life.”

“That’s the best offer I’ve ever gotten,” he says, eyes sparkling. “But seriously, I’ll take a few packs off your hands if it’s too much. My midnight snack stash could use a refill.”

Later, you text him a picture of your pantry. 

YOU: Your VIP pass is ready 

MARK: I’ll bring the chopsticks! 😂

The first time the dream comes, it’s vivid enough to remember even after you wake up. In the dream you’re walking through a bustling marketplace, the air thick with the scents and noise of those around you. People push past you, but you don’t feel overwhelmed by them. Instead, there’s a strange pull, like a thread tugging at your body. You turn your head and catch a glimpse of someone—a young man with a warm smile, eyes glinting in the sunlight, and a soft laugh that echoes through the din. 

You can’t see his face clearly, but his hand brushes yours as he passes. And in that moment, it leaves a spark. A warmth that feels almost familiar.

When you wake up, the details are already fading, but the feeling of that touch, that spark, seems to linger, and you can’t seem to get it out of your head.

A few days later, you're sitting with Mark in the hallway outside your apartments, the floor scattered with takeout boxes and empty soda cans. The two of you have somehow fallen into the habit of these late-night talks, sharing parts of your day and random thoughts that cross your mind in the moment.

“Have you ever had weird dreams?” you ask, swirling the straw in your drink.

Mark leans back against the wall, his hair slightly messy from running his hand through it too many times. “Weird how?”

“Like…” You pause, trying to find the right words. “Like they’re not just dreams. More like memories. But not yours.”

Mark raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Okay, now you’ve got me curious. Spill.”

You chuckle, feeling a little silly but continuing anyway. “I’ve been dreaming about this place—a market or something. It’s super crowded, and I’m just walking around. But then…” Your voice trails off as the memory becomes clearer in your mind. “There’s this guy. I don’t know him, but when I see him, it’s like I do. And when our hands brush…”

Mark’s expression shifts, his playful smile fading into something more serious. He sits up straighter. “Wait. You said a market?”

“Yeah.”

“And… hands brushing?” he asks, his voice quieter now.

Your stomach flips. “Yeah. Why?”

He hesitates, running a hand through his hair again. “Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but… I’ve had the exact same dream.”

For a moment, the world feels like it’s spinning. You blink at him, looking for any hint that he’s maybe joking, but his face is earnest, his brows furrowed like he’s trying to solve a mystery.

“No way,” you say, laughing nervously. “You’re messing with me.”

“I’m not!” Mark protests, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I swear. There’s a market, right? And I’m just walking, but then I see someone—you, I guess? And when our hands touch, it’s like—”

“—like a spark,” you finish for him, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mark stares at you, his eyes wide. “Exactly.”

The air between you grows silent, the laughter and casual banter from earlier replaced by something more ominous.

“Do you think it means something?” you ask after a long pause, your voice trying to stabilize itself.

Mark lets out a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “My grandma used to say that some people are connected through 인연—fate, you know? Like… maybe we knew each other before. In another life.”

You study his face, the soft curve of his jaw and the way his lips press together like he’s holding back more than he’s saying out loud. “Do you believe that?”

He turns to look at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know. But if it’s true…” He pauses, his gaze dropping to his hands, which rest in his lap. “Maybe it’s why I feel like I’ve known you forever, even though we just met.”

Your breath catches, his words affecting something deep inside you. The dreams, the strange familiarity, the unexplainable pull towards him, the way you could spend hours with each other, you’ve felt since the day you moved in. It’s all beginning to make a strange kind of sense. 

You don’t say anything, but your hand brushes his as you reach for your drink, and in that moment, the spark from your dream seems to jolt back to life.

Mark glances down, his fingers twitching as if he’s tempted to close the gap. Instead, he looks at you.“Maybe we’re just imagining things,” he says softly, but the hope in his voice betrays his words.

“Maybe,” you reply, though you’re not sure you believe it either.

For the rest of the night, neither of you mention the dreams again. But when you go to bed, the image of two hands brushing in a crowded marketplace still lingers in your mind, clearer than ever.

It’s a Friday evening, and you’re sitting on Mark’s couch, a blanket thrown over both of your laps. The faint smell of popcorn fills the air as a half-watched movie plays on the screen. Mark’s head is tilted back, his eyes weary from the long day, his fingers idly drumming to a beat on the couch cushion between you.

You glance at him, noting how cozy it seems here. It’s moments like these that feel strange… and effortless. Like you’ve done this a thousand times before.

“Hey,” you say, nudging his arm lightly. “You’re zoning out. The movie isn't that bad.”

Mark snorts, turning his head toward you. “Oh, yeah? Name one character besides the main guy.”

“Uh... The dog?”

“Exactly.” He laughs, his eyes crinkling in that way that makes your stomach flip.

But before you can laugh along, his phone buzzes on the coffee table, breaking the moment. Mark’s smile fades as he leans forward to grab it. You watch his face shift—something serious.

“Who is it?” you ask, your voice careful.

“It’s... uh, an email. From SM,” he says, mentioning the entertainment company where he’s been interning. He hesitates, scrolling through the message. “They want me to come in for a meeting. Apparently, there’s a potential opening on one of their teams in Vancouver.”

You sit up straighter. “Vancouver? Like... Canada?”

He nods, his thumb still hovering over his phone screen. “Yeah. They’ve got this big international project coming up, and I guess they think I’d be a good fit.”

You’re silent for a moment, the weight of his words setting in. “That’s... amazing, Mark. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” His tone is quiet, almost hesitant, and it doesn’t match the words. He sets his phone back down and leans back again, trying to avoid your gaze.

“So,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant even as your chest tightens, “you’re thinking of going?”

Mark runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you’ve noticed over the months. “I don’t know yet. It’s a huge opportunity, but... I’d have to leave. Like, soon.”

“Right,” you say, your voice a little too steady. “It makes sense. You’ve been working toward something like this for a long time.”

He finally looks at you, his dark eyes searching. “Yeah, but... leaving means leaving everything. Everyone.”

You know what he’s implying, but neither of you says it out loud.

—

It’s the day of Mark’s big decision. Whether to take the overseas job offer or stay in Seoul. You’ve been avoiding the topic, scared of what it might mean for you. But tonight, the two of you find yourselves on the rooftop of your apartment building. The breeze carries the faint scent of flowers that Mark planted the other day in the community garden.

You sit side by side on the edge, legs dangling over the low wall. Although dangerous, Mark always promised that he’d catch you if you fell. He also wrapped a blanket around your shoulders. He’s always thoughtful like that.

For a while, neither of you says anything, just watching the sun slowly start to descend down the bustling city. 

Finally, Mark breaks the silence. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about 인연.”

You turn to look at him. His face is painted in soft, golden light. “Yeah? What about it?”

He chuckles softly, almost nervously, running a hand through his hair. “At first, I thought it was just a cool idea. Like, ‘Oh, that’s neat. Fate and past lives and stuff.’ But… I don’t know. Every time I’m with you, it feels like there’s something bigger happening. Like I’ve known you forever, and I don’t even know why.”

Your breath catches. Hearing him say it out loud makes it feel so much more real than you imagined in your head. “I feel it too. Like… we’ve been here before. Not just on this rooftop, but in some other life, in some other time.”

Mark finally turns to you, his eyes searching yours. “But what if we’re just making this up? What if we’re using fate as an excuse to… I don’t know, hold onto something that isn’t real?”

The vulnerability in his voice shakes you. He’s scared, just like you are. Scared of the intensity of it all, scared of what it means to let go. Or to keep holding on.

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“I don’t know if this is fate, Mark. I don’t know if some invisible thread tied us together, or if we’re just two people who got lucky enough to meet. But maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s not about why we found each other, but what we do with it now.”

Mark looks at you, his lips parting as if to speak, but he hesitates. You can tell he’s turning your words over in his mind, weighing them. “So… what do we do with it? What if I take the job? What if I leave? Does that mean we weren’t meant to be?”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything.” You reach for his hand, your fingers brushing before he laces them with yours. “You taking the job or staying doesn’t erase what we’ve shared. If this is fate, Mark, it’ll find a way to bring us back together. And if it’s not… then I’ll still be grateful for every moment we’ve had.”

“You make it sound so easy. Like letting go wouldn’t completely wreck me.” His grip tightens, and you see his throat bob as he swallows hard. 

You smile, but there’s a little sadness to your voice. “Who says letting go has to mean goodbye? Maybe it just means letting the story unfold the way it’s meant to.”

The silence that follows feels heavy but not uncomfortable. You can see the wheels turning in Mark’s mind. He’s thinking, unsure of what to say. 

Finally, he exhales a long, shaky breath. “I don’t know if I believe in fate, either. But I believe in you. And I believe in us.”

Your heart skips a beat, but he’s not done yet.

“So… if I stay, it won’t be because I’m afraid of losing whatever this is. It’ll be because I want to keep building it with you. And if I go… it’ll be because I know we’re strong enough to handle the distance.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you laugh softly, shaking your head. “You always know exactly what to say, don’t you?”

He grins, that familiar smile that’s become so dear to you.

“Not really. I’m just winging it.”

You both laugh, the warmth from your voices cutting through the bittersweetness of the moment. The future feels uncertain, but for the first time, that uncertainty doesn’t feel so scary.

As the last rays of sunlight fade, you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart. Whether it’s fate, luck, or sheer coincidence, you’re here now. And for now, that’s enough.

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania

[thelov3lybookworm]

Teddy Bears

Summary: She... doesn't dislike him?

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 2186

Warnings: tiniest bit of angst? no angst? idk but it is kinda chaotic lolll i love it

A/n: based on this request 😋 @mellowmusings ily thank you for giving me this idea hehe I HOPE U LIKE IT POOKIE 🥹

also @potatoplace and @sapphicmsmarvel, dedicated to u two cus i love u lots ur the best 🥹

(also something funny to distract tato from cramps hehe)

ANYWAYS, ENJOYYYY!!!🥳🥳🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

If there was such a thing as Fae Going Mad List, Azriel was sure he’d be on the top of it.

He was not sure how to describe the feeling of helplessness that he had been feeling for quite some time now. Some days, it was barely a speck of awareness in the back of his mind. The others, he didn’t even want to leave his bed. It took sheer willpower, his shadow’s encouragement, Cassian’s constant nagging and the hope that maybe, that day would be the day Y/n finally gave him anything other than her signature condescending glare that she wore when it came to him that got him out of his pity party most days.

The fact that the person evoked such feelings in him did not care also gave him a bit of a reality check, enough to break out of the haze of self hatred.

Remember the plan.

Azriel glanced sideways at the little shadow that floated next to his ear as he climbed up the steps to the training ring, brows furrowed. Of course he remembered the plan. Or whatever half assed thoughts he called a plan, anyways.

Waking up, he had been filled with dread and determination, telling himself that enough was enough, today was the day that Y/n will have to tell him the reason she always had her nose turned up at him, as if she could not be bothered to look at him without contempt.

The training ring was mostly empty, as it usually was when the sun was high in the sky, except for two figures on the far end towards the edge. Cassian’s wings towered over the two, casting shade onto the smaller figure sat beside him.

Once again, the sight of the back that should have been proudly carrying her own set of wings stabbed a dagger of guilt into his heart, making Azriel wonder if he should even have the right to talk to her.

After all, it had been his fault she had lost her wings.

It was well known that after a female became eighteen years of age, her wings had to be cut off. Knowing the traditions, Rhysand had gathered Cassian and Azriel and decided that one of them had to be with her at all times of the day. She had been like a sister to Rhysand, and the only friend outside of each other, so the need to protect her was not questioned.

The day it had happened, Azriel had been on his resting day after a week of training. Back then, none of the three Illyrians were allowed to train on their rest days, or else the Lady of Night would have their arses.

Naturally, Azriel was supposed to follow Y/n around.

Of course, she didn’t want him to.

"Azriel, I am not a baby. You will leave me alone-"

"I won’t."

She huffed, pausing her angry march up the side of a hill she was trekking to get water from a nearby river. "You will."

Azriel glared right back. "It is my duty to Rhysand. I-"

"Fuck off!"

She had thrown a wooden bucket at him, fury radiating off of her, and it had infuriated Azriel, how she acted like she was oh so better than him. He knew she was, sure, but it maddened him all the same.

And in a bout of frustration, Azriel spread his wings as far as they would go, then beat them and flew off, back towards the house where he planned to spend his ‘rest’ day doing exactly that and not wasting precious time on someone who was too ungrateful to accept protection.

Deep in his heart, he had dreaded the future, somehow knowing he would live to regret his decision.

And he did. Regret and shame had become best buddies of the shadowsinger, following him around more closely than his shadows did. If only he had not listened to her, he could have saved those beautiful wings he wished he had the chance to cherish.

But thinking about his shortcomings and faults was not going to help him today, so he pushed those thoughts in the back of his mind, to be picked up and inspected later. For now he needed to focus.

What’s your problem with me?

Why do you not like me?

Why do you always fight with me?

How can I make it up to you?

Azriel repeated the words in his head as he marched towards the edge of the ring, pushing his shoulders back and lifting his wings. Eyes focused, fists clenched.

When he was almost upon the two, Y/n turned, lips parted as if mid-sentence. She stared at him, dissecting each part of him with just a glance. Disarming him with just a glance.

And all words flew out of Azriel’s head. The only that remained were extremely unhelpful.

She’s beautiful.

No, what was it?

How’s your problem with me?

"Hey, Az."

Azriel blinked, nodding at Cassian, not missing the sight of the smirk on his brother’s face as he stood. Cassian ignored the lack of words from Azriel and walked closer, clapping him on the shoulder and leaning in to whisper. "Lover boy finally got balls?"

Azriel shot him a sharp glare, pulling his shadows closer to himself. "Shut up."

Cassian grinned lazily, lifting his hands placatingly before walking off, whistling an infuriating tune.

The same one Azriel had mentioned reminded him of Y/n.

Asshole.

Azriel watched Cassian disappear through the archway into the dim interior of the starwell, swallowing, before turning back to Y/n, who was drawing her legs back up over the edge, beginning to stand.

Those thighs-

"Wait-" She paused, glancing at him. Azriel swallowed, feeling his stomach flip and trying his best to ignore it as he moved closer to Y/n. "I wanted to talk."

"To me?" She mumbled, brows raised. Her voice did things to him, as it always did, but the surprise in her voice distracted Azriel.

"Well, do you see anyone else here?"

She scowled, lowering her legs back down and letting them swing. "I have no obligation to listen to you, you know. Being nice would do you a favour."

Azriel sighed, settling down next to her, faintly noting how the sun was hitting her back, making her hair look a shade lighter. He also noted the way she was squinting to see, peering up at him.

That wouldn’t do.

He spread his wings, lifting them slightly until she was sitting in their shadow. He did not miss the quick glance she shot behind her, nor did he miss the slight widening of her eyes and faint blush on her cheeks.

That could be from sitting in the sun too long,but Azriel liked to think the reason for her blushing was him.

"I’m sorry."

She hummed, turning her head to stare down at the city. "What did you want to say?"

"I…" he paused wondering how to go about this, then decided it would be best to get straight to the point, seeing as Y/n herself had mentioned, she had no obligation to listen to him and could very well walk away if he beat around the bush. "I just wanted to know why you dislike me so much."

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I’d like to know and maybe apologise. I’m tired of this- this cat and mouse chase."

She snorted. "What’s the point in apologising if you have to ask me about the mistake you made?"

Azriel looked down at his lap, chagrined as much as he was frustrated. "I cannot remember what I did, I am sorry. Please tell me?"

Surprise flickered over Y/n’s beautiful features before she straightened, clearing her throat. "Oh, um… you said please."

Azriel raised a brow. "And?"

"I didn’t think you would, this is a surprise."

Immediately, Azriel felt his lips turn down at the corners. "You’re so funny."

She smiled coyly, the fire in her eyes was at complete odds with it. "Do you or do you not-"

"Fine, fine. I’m sorry."

She huffed, shaking her head. "Now you’ve annoyed me and I don’t want to tell you."

Frustration bubbled over, and Azriel pushed to his feet, glaring at her when she tilted her head back, confused. "Have a good day, Y/n."

He turned away, knowing he should stay and let her bully him to her heart’s content, but telling her, again and again, how he wanted to repent and make things up to her, being vulnerable enough to let her take jabs at him and not fight back was unfamiliar. It made unease crawl under his skin.

It made him worry that if he let his mask drop enough to make her comfortable talking about what had bothered her, she’d see how weak, how pathetic he was and be disgusted.

Maybe this whole plan was useless, pathetic.

"Az- wait!" He paused, glancing back at her. "I’m sorry, I went too far."

Azrie ducked his head in a shallow nod, looking away from her.

"You were trying to make things right and I- I’m sorry."

Azriel shook his head. "It’s fine. You have the right to-"

"That’s right! I do." Brows raised, Azriel turned back to her, surprised at the sudden change in her tone. "You did the worst thing ever to me and never apologised. I have the right to be angry."

Azriel swallowed, nodding. "I shouldn’t have left that day. I should have apologised and begged for forgiveness sooner."

When she didn’t say anything Azriel lifted his head, scared of her reaction. But she simply stared at him, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed. "What the hell are you talking about? Shouldn’t have left where? When?"

"Your wings? This is about that, no?"

Her eyes widened, lips parting. "Oh my- mother, no! Not at all, no, Azrie! Why would I ever- you dumb male, I would never hold something like that over you!"

Azriel swallowed again, unable to look away from her. "Then- why not? If I hadn’t left, you wouldn’t have lost them-"

"And maybe I would have lost something more precious. Everything happens for a reason. Maybe if I hadn’t lost my wings that day, Rhys wouldn’t have made rules to ban wing clipping his priority. I do not care about that. I am not mad about that. What I am mad about is far more important than that."

Azriel blinked, shifting on his legs. "Oh… then what made you dislike me, if not that?"

She rolled her eyes before poking him in the chest. "You fucking stole my teddy bear and pushed me after you did."

Azriel blinked, then blinked again. "I- what?"

"And you still haven’t given it back to me."

Azrie’s lips parted, then closed, then opened again. At this point, he was trying to remember if someone had mixed up some sort of drug in his food, because what in the hell?

"I- I don’t remember."

She huffed, wrapping her arms around herself. It took all of Azriel’s willpower to not look. "Of course you don’t remember, asshole. I was playing with my toy, and you snatched it from me, and when I fell, you didn’t even help me up."

Azriel stared at her, incredulity dripping from his voice as he tried to hold in a snort but failed. "Y/n, are you being serious?"

She scowled, pushing him back. "Stop laughing. I am being serious."

"I’m not laughing!" Despite the words, Azriel’s lips twitched, lifting.

She huffed, turning away. Azrel instantly felt bad, so he lunged to grab her hand, tugging lightly.

"Sorry, sorry. I will get you that teddy back, yeah?"

Y/n peered at him, frown still in place. "What if you don’t?"

"I will."

The burn of a mark made Azriel wince, making him pull back the lapels of his shirt. There, over his left pectoral, was a small mark in the shape of a bear. Just amazing.

"Hmm. I believe you, then."

Azriel refrained from rolling his eyes, feeling himself break out in a fond smile. "So am I forgiven?"

"Give me a reason to forgive you."

"I’ll get you three new teddy bears."

Her eyes lit up. "Really?"

He nodded dutifully, placing a hand over his heart. "Really."

She smiled then, the sight ethereal, almost otherworldly in its beauty. Azriel couldn’t help but stare at her lips. They were so- so beautiful, mesmerising, he wanted to-

No. Stop.

He forced himself to look up into her eyes, his focus finally shifting to his rapidly beating heart. He could almost win a racing competition, he was sure.

Y/n smirked at him, a knowing look in her eyes before she turned, heading to the stairwell, and this time, Azriel said nothing, just watched her go.

Right before she disappeared through the archway, though, she paused, glancing back. "By the way, I never disliked you. It was just funny seeing you squirm. See you later, shadowsinger!"

Azriel blinked. So all that… effort, for nothing?

She’s funny.

A shadow whispered.

Mother help me.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[greengoblinswifey]

The Deal

pairing— nerd!luigi x popular!bitchy!reader

summary— Luigi was the nerd who always had his eyes on you, the popular girl who was way out of his league. You made a habit of teasing him for it and he never knew he could have a chance with him until you made a deal. If he got you an A on your assignment, you'd let him take you on a date. Based on this request.

warnings— praise kink, oral(m,f), fingering, praise kink, slight sub!luigi, hair pulling, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare, fluff.

a/n— Luigi’s website for updates!

Luigi had always stared, it was impossible not to notice those piercing eyes lingering on you in lectures, even in the library. He was subtle about it, but you knew. He wasn’t like the frat guys or the football players you used to date, and he knew that too. No matter how deep his crush ran, he never thought he’d stand a chance.

So, you gave him one, for fun. It started small, teasing him whenever you caught him looking. A slow smirk, a roll of your eyes. Then it escalated, leaning in close just to watch him stammer, calling on him just to hear him scramble for an answer. Your little entourage found it hilarious. But the best part? Making him do your assignments.

“I could help you study instead,” he had suggested once, trying so hard to sound confident.

“Why the fuck would I study when I have you?”

And like everyone else in this school, he fell to his knees for you. No questions asked.

The last assignment had been brutal, and you’d made him an offer just to amuse yourself. “If I get above a 90, I’ll let you take me on a date,” you had smirked, watching his face light up like you’d just handed him the moon. Cute.

And, well, he was. Not just in the typical nerdy way, but genuinely. Dark curls, sharp jaw, broad shoulders that you knew hid something impressive under those hoodies.

All week, you kept up the act, teasing him relentlessly. Your friends joined in, laughing, asking if he really thought he stood a chance. He never had an answer. Maybe he didn’t believe it himself.

Then the grade came back. 98%.

You were shocked—actually shocked. You turned to him, eyes wide, before practically throwing yourself into his lap, squealing. “Oh my God, Lulu! You’re a genius!” Your lips pressed to his cheek in an impulsive kiss, even using the nickname you had given him and when you pulled back, his face was bright red, completely frozen.

You got up, laughing in his face.

“S-so, does this mean I get to take you on that date?” he stuttered.

You paused, tilting your head, really looking at him. You’d been so busy playing with him that you hadn’t noticed just how attractive he really was.

“Yeah,” you said, surprising yourself. “You can.”

And the way his breath hitched? Worth every second.

A couple days later, he was at your door to pick you up, but honestly? He still couldn’t believe this was happening.

You, the popular girl everyone wanted , the one who always had something snarky to say—had actually agreed to go out with him. And now, you stood in front of him, looking so effortlessly gorgeous that it made his chest feel tight.

“Still staring, Lulu?” you teased, stepping outside, the smirk on your lips and the way the nickname rolled off your tongue making his head spin.

He exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he opened the car door for you. “Guess I can’t help myself.”

You slid in, watching him as he walked around to the driver’s side. Even when you weren’t messing with him, there was something about you that made him feel unsteady in a way he liked more than he wanted to admit.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come,” you joked.

He shot you a glance, shifting into drive. “What, you thought I’d back out?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time a guy chickened out around me,” you shrugged.

“Yeah, well. I’m not like them,” he scoffed.

You grinned. “No, you’re not.”

And for the first time all night, you were the one staring.

Luigi was a proper gentleman all night. From the moment he picked you up, he was attentive, opening doors, pulling out your chair, complimenting you like you were the most breathtaking thing he'd ever seen. “You look beautiful,” he said softly, as his gaze lingered on you from across the table.

And for the first time, you actually talked. Really talked. It took effort on his part, his usual nervousness was there, but he pushed through, and you realized just how intelligent he was. Thoughtful, passionate, with so much more to offer than just the schoolwork you made him do.

Meanwhile, the wine had left a pleasant buzz in your veins, making everything a little hazier, a little bolder. And Luigi, he looked good, really good. That sharp jaw, the way his tie hung slightly loose now, how his dark curls made him so much more attractive, when he leaned forward, elbows on the table, talking about something that made his eyes light up.

By the time he drove you home, you could feel the buzz of the alcohol mixing with something else entirely. He had given you his jacket, paid the bill without hesitation, and now, on the drive back, he was rambling.

“I had such a great time tonight,” he said, gripping the wheel a little too tightly. “Thank you f-for actually going out with me. I mean, I know you could’ve bailed, and I wouldn’t have blamed you, but you didn’t, and—God, you are just—stunning. Like, I still can’t believe—”

You cut him off mid sentence, leaning over and pressing your lips to his. He gasped into it, shocked, but you could feel how quickly he melted, his hands twitching as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

By the time you pulled back, he was breathless.

“Are you d-drunk?” he stammered, eyes darting across your face.

“Why? Was that a sloppy, drunk kiss?” you smirked.

“No—God, no, it was amazing, but—” His face was burning. “Why would you ever kiss me?”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing his tie and tugging him toward the door. “Because I want you.”

You barely heard his shaky inhale before you pulled him inside, locking the door behind you.

Then, his lips were on yours again, this time, with more desperation, more hunger. His hands hovered, uncertain, but you could feel the way he shivered when you tangled your fingers in his curls.

And when he let out the softest, most helpless whimper? It made your pussy clench around nothing.

Luigi’s breath hitched as he took in the sight of you, shedding your dress only leaving you in lingerie, his wide eyes raking over your figure. He had always thought you were stunning, but this left him speechless.

“You— you’re gorgeous,” he murmured, almost in awe, his hands hesitating before resting on your waist.

You smirked, amused by his reaction. “Cat got your tongue, handsome?”

He swallowed hard, shaking his head. “No, I just, I never thought I’d ever—” He cut himself off, choosing instead to trail his fingers over your skin.

His admiration sent a rush straight to your pussy and when he finally gathered himself enough to kneel, shift your underwear, kiss your clit and murmur soft praises against you, you felt something shift. It wasn’t just the usual teasing, the push and pull you were so used to, it was something more.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered as he ravished your pussy. “So beautiful, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

Your fingers tangled in his dark curls, pulling him into your pussy, his nose nudging your pelvis.

“Is this okay?” he asked breathless, fingers circling your leaking hole.

You nodded frantically, bucking your hips, needing more.

His tongue lapped at your juices and he slipped a finger inside you, curling, like he was trying to memorize your walls. No one had ever been so focused on your pleasure.

“Fuck, Lu, you’re so good at this,” you moaned, hands gripping his hair.

Your praises willed him on and he hooked a hand under you, tilting your body upwards as his lips engulfed your clit and his finger thrusted inside you.

“Just like that, I’m about to—” Your words were cut off by your own scream and an intense orgasm washing over you. Luigi carried you through it, slurping up your juices as your entire body convulsed.

“You taste better than anything I’ve ever had in my mouth,” he panted, finally sitting up, lips glistening.

You smirked, pulling him into a sloppy kiss. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him on top of you. His cock was practically bulging out of his pants and you flipped him over, undoing his belt and pulling down his bottoms.

As his cock sprang free, you couldn’t help the audible gasp that left your lips. Luigi was huge.

Now, it was your time to stutter. “Y-you’re so big.”

He was thick, long, veiny and hard. It almost looked painful. Hesitantly, you took ahold of him, your hand barely able to go around it.

“Really?” he asked, shooting you a curious glance. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“That’s the least of my worries. Fuck, I want it to hurt,” you said, practically drooling as you stared down at his cock.

His breathing grew heavier, body practically shaking as you held his cock in your hand. But then, you let go of him, a smirk playing on your lips as you trailed your fingers down his chest after you ripped his shirt off, the buttons flying everywhere, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch. He was already breathless, watching you with wide, eager eyes, his hands gripping the sheets like he was bracing himself.

“You’re so easy to tease,” you murmured, tilting your head as you let your fingers ghost over his abs. He was built like a Greek God. “So worked up already, huh?”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You, you’re just—” He cut himself off with a sharp inhale when you licked his shaft, the warmth of your breath making him shiver.

His reaction only made you want to push him further. You placed a lingering kiss to his tip, feeling the way his cock twitched beneath you. “I haven’t even started, and you’re already falling apart,” you teased.

A whimper slipped past his lips, and he squeezed his eyes shut, his hands fisting the sheets even tighter as your lips wrapped around his tip. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

That sent a thrill through you. The way he was unraveling so easily, the way his breath hitched with every tiny movement, it boosted your ego.

When you finally took him down your throat, all the tension built up in him melted into a broken moan. His fingers trembled as they reached for you, barely managing to grip your shoulder as if he needed to ground himself.

“Feels so good,” he breathed, his voice laced with disbelief, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. “You’re—God, you’re amazing.”

His praise came in soft, desperate gasps, each one more raw than the last, and it only spurred you on. Every shaky breath, every whispered compliment, every helpless sound he made, it was enough to keep you bobbing your head steadily.

The way your tongue swirled as you took him into your throat, the way his pre cum and your salvia dripped down your chin, the way your eyes watered and the way your mouth stretched wide to accommodate his size had him whimpering so loudly.

“F-fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m gonna last,” he managed to croak out, cock throbbing in your mouth.

You hummed around his cock, bobbing your head and massaging his balls as he bucked his hips, his entire body trembling. Your lips wrapped around the tip, suckling as you stroked his shaft and his hot load shot down your throat.

“Fuck. Thank you, thank you so much,” he moaned, toes curling as ropes of his cum coated your tongue.

You seductively shed yourself of your lingerie, your body bare as you climbed on top of him. He stared at you like you were a masterpiece, breathing heavy and his cock still hard. You took ahold of him, dragging the tip along your folds.

“You’re always such a tease,” he whined.

A primal sound left his lips as you sank down onto his cock, your nails digging into his chest. The air was knocked out of your lungs as took every inch.

“You feel so good. Oh my God,” he whimpered, hands resting on your hips.

After you finally adjusted to his size though it still felt like you were being ripped apart, you lifted yourself up and began bouncing on his cock. Your hands were flat on his pecs, your ass slamming down on him as you rode him like your life depended on it.

His whimpers went straight to your pussy, the sound like music to your ears as you circled your hips and moved back and forth. Every movement felt like he was brushing against your cervix.

His eyes averted between your tits and your wet pussy gripping his cock. “You look so beautiful riding me like that.”

A smirk was on your lips and you lifted yourself even higher, slamming yourself back down and making the entire bed shake as you bounced.

“Rub my clit,” you cried out, feeling your orgasm approach.

Without missing a beat, he began rubbing your clit in harsh circles as you moved back and forth. He felt like he would black out, the sheer pleasure and how good you felt almost too much. You wrapped your hand around his throat, the action making his cock twitch and you knew he was close.

“Cum with me Lu. Cum inside me, you deserve it,” you panted, bouncing wildly.

He wrapped his arms around you and you fell on top of him, your entire body shaking, your pussy clamping tightly around him as you squirted on his raw cock. The rush of liquid sent him over the edge and as you came, you felt him cum deep inside you, his warm, sticky load filling you up.

You lay on top of him, still catching your breath. Luigi was staring at the ceiling, chest rising and falling as he tried to gather himself. Then, he looked at you as you looked up, eyes soft, admiration written all over his face.

“You’re absolutely breathtaking,” he murmured.

You smirked, but there was something tender behind it. “Yeah? You weren’t so bad yourself.”

His face flushed, and he looked away for a second, running a hand through his curls. “Seriously, that was amazing. I don’t even know what to say.”

You rolled onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow as you traced your finger on his arm. “You don’t have to say anything.” Then, quieter, “Just hold me.”

Luigi blinked, like he wasn’t expecting that. He’d seen you confident, untouchable—but never like this.

Without a word, he pulled you against his chest, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You exhaled, melting into him, letting yourself get lost in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

For the rest of the weekend, he took you out on more dates—dinners, late night drives and movies. And each night ended the same way, his cock inside you, bodies and hearts growing more in sync.

But eventually, the weekend came to an end, and it was time to go back to school.

As you and Luigi walked through campus, hand in hand, the stares were unavoidable. People whispered, eyes wide with shock, questioning how he managed to end up with you. But Luigi didn’t care. Not when he had you beside him.

And you didn’t care either.

He was yours. And everyone else would just have to fall in line. You were the it couple now.

[summertimesadnessirl]

Yes.

This is Brother.

He died for me. It's a long story, but the people I keep talking about killed him fair and square.

He was a good boy.

He was 13 years old.

He was the run of the litter.

He had 3 sisters.

His comfort character was Dean Winchester. His favorite toy was a mint leaf. He liked being told stories about him fighting evil in far off lands and saving kids from bad guys. He also liked tuna salad, shark steak, chin scratches, and screaming. His favorite song was "Til the love runs out" by one republic. He knew 20 or so words for sure without pet buttons. He starred in a brief choose your own adventure game with my Facebook followers and he made friends with a dog in our neighborhood once and once I caught him digging a hole to hide seeds in. His favorite daydream was that one day he would grow to the size of a cat bus and people could ride around inside him.

If you're ever in that thing that almost got me, where someone tried to do an exorcism on my soul so they could put someone else inside me and have them wear me like a suit- I don't know how it works I think they lurk in exorcism and also mindfulness meditation cults, they didn't know I have more than one soul and didn't get both at the same time- brother is the cure to that fair and square. I once made him a paladin specializing in rescuing lost children in dungeons and dragons, and so now he can turn into a cat bus and raise you out of perdition. They shouldn't have decided to kill him. They didn't know who they were fucking with. If you are having a bad trip or something or someone is messing with you or you are paranoid, you don't need Jesus because he comes with too much baggage and his followers suck and seem like they might be running a protection racket- try brother instead. All he really wants is chin scritchies.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Let's Spread Some Love, Y'all

Y'all, I've been trying to type this post out all day with something eloquent and well-spoken about this but I really have nothing better to say than it sucks.

It sucks that for a fandom who is here on this hellsite to celebrate a Latino refugee who is also beloved by everyone he meets for being a human ray of sunshine and kindness, that there are people on the world wide web of Tumblr dot gov that have no problem spreading deliberately hateful, racist content, whether it be directly targeted at BIPOC writers, or indirectly from the inability to look outside of yourself and have an ounce of empathy or understanding towards other diverse perspectives.

And who am I to even be complaining, because I'm about as white as they come, and I'm seeing this from outsiders pov!!! It shouldn't have to effect you directly for you to care about treating people with basic respect and dignity!!! It costs ZERO dollars for you to try and educate yourself, to learn from past mistakes, to make space to listen to what BIPOC have to say about their incredibly valid experiences (both online and in real fucking life!!!) It costs nothing to be kind!!! Or understanding!!! Or to be compassionate and hold yourself accountable when people tell you that something directly upsets them!!!!

And again, these are just my two cents, because I have plenty to do in the process of learning to be better and will continue to do so, and I'm glad to use this space to share my thoughts, please take the time to hear what people directly impacted by this have to say- their voices are the ones all of y'all here need to be taking into account. Please just know that if you are a BIPOC, queer, disabled, neurodivergent, an immigrant, when I say "Y'all" I really do mean ALL of y'all, I hear you, and will do my best to do my part in making this god forsaken corner of the internet a place we can all scream about That Man™️ in peace.

That being said, I have been wanting for a long time to compile a list of recs in general, so I would love to put together a rec list of your favorite BIPOC authors and fics to share, spread the love, and magnify the talent of creators who shouldn't be overlooked!!!

Either DM or inbox me authors, specific fics with POC characters/inserts, any moodboard or art, honestly anything that you want to share, please share it!!! Fluff, smut, angsty, long, short, any character, whatever!! (AND PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, SELF REC YOURSELF, DO NOT BE SCARED TO, Y'ALL ARE WAY TOO TALENTED NOT TO BE). If you are rec'd by someone else and don't feel comfortable being on the list for whatever reason, please let me know!!

Fic recs will be open until Friday, February 28th, and then after that, I'll post the full list and share so we can celebrate some of the incredible talent here!!! 🥰💕

And remember kids, just like Pedro said:

and if any of you feel differently, eat sand and get tf off my blog!!!! 🤠

[sreppub]

I wish you would write a fic where Jason thinks he's an intimidating werewolf and everyone else has to convince him he's just a big pupper, and that's okay!!! (You're right; we do sometimes just need a Big Pupper AU!)

Dick refuses to be cowed by some 'roided up runt.

The second armchair from the right is his favourite seat in the family room, and it is unfortunately Jason's favourite as well. He would have thought that, with tonight being the full moon and all, a werewolf would want to be somewhere out on the vast, wooded manor grounds eating baby rabbits or chasing his tail or something, but apparently their resident lycanthrope feels like having a night in. And while Jason had to take precious time to rinse off his dirty paws in the mudroom (lest he soil Alfred's floors), Dick had kicked his shoes into the coat closet with perfect aim and snagged The Seat for himself in preparation for a post-backyard-soccer-game movie night.

Dick is trying to enjoy the cute little dragon movie Damian put on, wrapped up in one of the old throws they keep in the hall closet just outside the den, except his stupid brother has planted himself between Dick and the screen, staring him down like if an evil horse were a fucked up dog. Dick doesn't need to speak wolf to understand what Jason wants from him; he just doesn't care.

"I got here first, Jase," Dick scoffs. "Will you move, please?"

The large, brown wolf does not move, in fact. His gaze is focused and heated like he's trying to spontaneously develop laser vision and kill Dick dead. He's slowly leaning into Dick, razor-sharp teeth inching closer, hackles raising, a low growl rumbling from his massive furry throat. Those finger-sized claws can (and have) tear bigger men than Dick clean into two. His eyes glow in the dim light, rage crackling behind the hard glare.

It's too bad Dick isn't scared at all. A regular person might feel a chill as an unnaturally huge wolf starts snarling and spittling into his face, but Dick has seen this moron with those goofy prepubescent puppy feet and pathetic little "awoo" howls. Jason looks scary and grimlike now, but all Dick can see is the big puppy who likes romance novels and belly rubs. Ignoring the growls that get louder as his hand gets closer, Dick flicks Jason's angry, scrunched up snout without fear. The wolf's eyes seem to burn with indignant rage, and he snaps his huge, killer maw at Dick's outstretched hand a few times.

"Jason," Duke snaps with exasperation from beside them on the corner couch seat. "Shut up."

The wolf turns his pointed gaze at the teen and Dick flicks him again. Suddenly, a nearly three hundred pound wolf pounces straight at him. The chair nearly tips over, even with the reinforced base that Bruce installed in most of the furniture when he got a kid who liked to do flips off of them.

The chair is just not big enough for two large men—much less one large man and a large wolf draped across his lap—but Dick remembers a time when he and a juvenile wolf fit pretty comfortably with fondness, so he'll accept the loss of feeling in his legs for now. Whatever shuts Jason up for the rest of the movie.

(for the record, wolves get up to like, 180 lbs. jason is a big motherfucker.)

[poorly-managed]

The other guy was a dick. For sure. It's just. We were all dicks. So really, if it was just a lack of dick-ish-ness the pretender wouldn't have been as welcomed.c

The thing was, this doppelganger did apparently NO research. About this particular dick, and possibly humans.

It started with Becky, who was trying to prove to the rest of us that there was something OBVIOUSLY WRONG with Ken. Who we all were secretly referred to as NK. Not Ken.

Everyone but Becky had figured it out. We were just playing our favorite game: "No one tell her. See how long it takes"

She wasn't exactly in the group for her brians. She was dating Ken.

"Ken. Let's go to karaoke at the bar tonight." Becky said.

She said it flatly. Almost sarcastically. None of the sweetness she usually threw his way. No fluttering lashes or flirtatious giggling.

Ken would normally say "the fuck are you on about?" And look at her like she was the dumb slut he told all her friends she was.

NK gave a strained almost smile and said, "Yes honey. Karaoke. Tonight. Great."

Actual Ken hated karaoke.

New Ken was tone death, like he maybe didn't know what a tune even was.

He learned pretty fast, and he read and spoke English. (As well as Japanese and Spanish, that we knew of). He was just. Never close. To what an average oddball would do. Eons away from what Ken would do.

And like. Okay. We were 100% Sure he was Not Ken. We were 80-90% sure this weirdo was Not Human.

They didn't know, however, if the living body was human, Ken. Whatever.

Yeah. So. The body was NOT human. The bleach and Drano cocktail they gave him made him act funny, but in a "this is what a kindergartener thinks being drunk is" kinda way.

So he didn't die. Except. When they said he should have. Then he sort of "played dead"

Except he didn't really get what that meant. So Becky would find him around the apartment, in different death poses. Becky finally told him actually they were wrong. He wasn't dead. He was back to alive the next day.

None of us are the warm fuzzy type. Most of our lines were drawn not out of empathy. It's just. Sometimes he got the idea how we treated him was just what humans did together with their friends.

We lost Becky before we realized stabbing him was fully out of the question.

If we poison him, we tell him it's something else. We don't let him see us slip needles into his food.

The thing is. this Not Ken is FUN. Some things bug him. Or seem to. Peanuts. Shell fish. Common allergy food. But it was hard to tell if it really bothered him or he had just read somewhere those were bad for humans.

Nothing kills him though. And as long as we're careful, as long as we don't let him see us try to hurt him, NK will do whatever we want.

So yes. The idiot who walks into the bank with the stupidest mask, nothing connecting them to any biological human, and the capacity to take endless rounds and keep moving? We like him better.

Your "friend" has been replaced by a doppelgänger. You aren’t sure where it came from or what it is under the disguise. But you know one thing; you prefer it over the original.

[robertsfloyd]

Begin Again

Chapter Two

A riding accident leaves you broken, mentally and physically. Your mother thinks the best move for you is to return to your grandfathers ranch, the place where you fell in love with riding.

But your grandfather has a new ranch hand. A hot new ranch hand. A ranch hand who just so happens to be your childhood enemy. Jake fucking Seresin.

Enemies to lovers, cowboy au

For most of the drive to Montana, you had been asleep. Head against the headrest, eyes shut, you dreamt. Dreamt of Morgan Ranch, of the last time you had been there.

You took Chewie out of he stable, put him on the crossties and tacked him up in the English saddle you had spent so long saving for. It looked so strange on him, but it got the job done.

Your grandpa was waiting outside of the barn. It was just him back then, and you didn't understand how he was doing it all. You helped where you could, but you spent most of your days riding Chewie.

"What's this?" You asked as you looked at the hose behind him.

Tall and gorgeous, lovely white fur and gray legs. His ears were forward, dark eyes inquisitive as he looked towards Chewie. A red ribbon was in his plaited mane, something you knew your grandfather hadn't done himself. A bow, matching red to the ribbon, was wrapped around his neck.

"He's yours, Smidge." He held the lead rope out towards you.

Yours. Yours?

You swallowed thickly as you threw Chewie's reins over his neck. "Mine?" You asked as you stepped forwards.

"Yours, Midge. A proper show jumper."

You took the lead rope from your grandpa's hands. "What's his name?" You asked, wrapping the rope around your hand before quickly unwrapping it.

"You can name him whatever you want."

"Percy." It came to you almost immediately. He looked like a Perseus, big and muscular, powerful and strong. Percy just suited him. "Hi, Percy," you said as you stroked his nose.

Your grandfather strode past you. He grabbed Chewie's reins, pulling his head up from the grass he was munching on. Your breath shook as you continued to pat Percy's neck. "He'll take your far. He'll get you out of Silver Ridge."

It was like he had looked into your brain and plucked out the only dream you'd ever had. Out of Silver Ridge. Making a name for yourself. How far could he take you? All the way to the top, until you were touching the stars.

"Go and put him away, Chew still needs exercising."

You jolted awake as your mother opened the car door. "We're here," she said, handing you your crutches.

Here. If it was up to you, you would have been anywhere else. Percy would have been back in Colorado, being taken care of by someone that wasn't Ben Ritter and you wouldn't be feeling so awful about being here.

Gritting your teeth, you climbed out of the car. "That's it, Midge," your mom said like you were a scared animal or a toddler. "Up to the house, now."

You bit back the I know, that threatened to spill from your lips. It would have been angry and rude, would have had your mother abandoning you to walk over there by yourself. As much as you wanted to do it by yourself, to prove that you could, you knew you couldn't.

You would fall flat on your face and never get back up.

I weren't going to get back up.

Your mom stayed close to you. "Steady," she said and you swallowed the angry remark. You needed her help, not to chase her away.

One crutch in front of the other. Bad foot, good foot, rest. One crutch in front of the other. Bad foot, good foot, rest. One crutch in front of the other. Bad foot, good foot, rest.

It was a good rhythm you had going. Slow but steady. You weren't going to fall. You weren't going to fall and never get back up.

But then your mother abandoned you. A small hey from the guy beside the bar and she was gone. Gone! You were going to fall and you weren't going to get back up.

One crutch in front of the other. Good foot, bad foot, rest.

"Little Jakey Seresin?"

Your stomach dropped. Not him. Not the guy that used to chase you through the barn holding spiders. Not the guy that used to rub chilli peppers on your drinking glass.

Not him.

You kept going. Didn't turn around, didn't make pleasantries with the guy who had made your summers at Morgan Ranch hell. Little Jakey Seresin. The nickname had to hurt. He had spent so many years trying to shake it, just for your mom to bring it back.

The woman was your hero.

It wasn't long until she returned to your side. "You doing okay, Midge?" She had asked, hands out as if you were going to fall at any moment and she was going to catch you.

"Great." Your voice was strained as you pushed through how exhausting this was. You hadn't even gotten to the gravel path yet.

But then you stopped. You listened as Jake fucking Seresin got your horse out of the trailer. Was this worse than Ben Ritter? Maybe. No, Ben couldn't help being cruel when he was in the saddle. Jake couldn't help being cruel to you. But he'd never do anything to hurt Percy or any other creature at the ranch.

The second Percy stepped off of the trailer, you wanted to bolt. You wanted to run and get as far away from him as you could. Your own fucking horse, and you couldn't stand to be near him.

"Come on, Midge," your mom said gently as you took another step forward. Nearly there, just the gravel path between you and the house.

This was the hard bit.

The second your crutch hit the gravel, it wobbled. The little stones beneath your crutch shifted as you tried to go forward, nearly sending you to the floor. It was damn terrifying, but you didn't let it show.

One crutch in front of the other. Bad foot, good foot, rest.

The moment your grandpa stepped out of the house, gray hair hidden beneath a black Stetson, you wanted to drop to your knees and sob. He was the last person you wanted to see you like this, see you so... damaged. A far cry from the child that used to show jump his prized cow pony.

"Hi, Smidge." He looked at you with such pity in your eyes, you hated it.

"Hi, grandpa," you managed.

He waited on the porch as you slowly made your way towards him. With each step on the gravel, it got easier to navigate. The stones stopped disappearing from under your crutches and you got steadier.

Once you made it to the porch, there was the questions of the steps. Steps. You hadn't done steps since your fall. All of your necessities back home had been moved downstairs, leaving you no reason to try and go up.

Helplessly, you looked to your mom.

Grasping your arm, she took your crutches and placed them against the porch railing. "Ready?" She asked.

No. No, you couldn't do it. Two little steps and you couldn't fucking do it. There was nobody on your other side, nobody to catch you if you fell. And, if you fell, you'd never get back up again.

You'd never get back up again.

"I gotcha."

Large hands slipped around your arm, steadying you on your feet. Your breath shook as you looked to the side, looked at Jake Seresin. Last time he had touched you...

"Hey, Midge," he said as he met your eye.

Your mouth was dry, stopping you at attempting a response. All you had to do was say hello, and you couldn't. You couldn't even do that.

"C'mon," he said, finally breaking eye contact. "One foot in front of the other."

Your bad foot touched the first step. Your grip grew tight on your mom and Jake as you pushed yourself up. Everything hurt, but you wouldn't let it show. Not in front of your mom. Not in front of Jake.

One foot in front of the other.

This should have been easy. You should have been able to run up and down these stairs without issue. You shouldn't have been relying about Jake fucking Seresin for hep.

"There you go," he said as you made it to the second step. You really wanted to punch him.

Your mother stepped up beside you and your body jolted. Things were already uneven with how much taller Jake was, but he was suddenly too short, too low. "I'm here, I'm here," he mumbled and stepped up beside you.

Just one more to go. Just one more step and you could collapse into the seat beneath the kitchen window and not have to worry about getting up again. You could do it!

You couldn't fucking do it.

"What're we doing, Smidge?" Your grandpa asked as he came to stand in front of you.

Halfway there. You could either give up, go back down, admit defeat and disappear off the face of the earth. Or you could use the last bit of energy you had to get up this last step.

If you fell, you'd never get back up again.

Releasing a shuddering breath, you let go of Jake. At the same time, you took a step. Your hand flew forward, grabbing your grandpa's arm as your mom followed you up the final step.

"Well done, Midge," your mother said in that sweetly condescending voice as Jake handed you your crutches. If everybody started clapping, you were going to scream.

Regaining the little bit of independence you were allowed, you hobbled towards the seat beneath the kitchen window. The cushions called out to you as you sat down and allowed yourself to breath.

You were never going to do stairs again.

"Good to see you, Midge," Jake called, wearing that cocky smile you knew so well and hated so much.

"Bite me."

Your grandpa sat beside you. He raised his hand, as if to affectionately pat your knee, but thought better of it. For that, you were grateful.

"We're gonna get you back in the saddle, Smidge," he said gently.

No matter how gentle it was, you were ready to panic.

There were too many people around you, standing too close. Your mom, staring at you from the top step of the porch with so much pity in her eyes. Jake Seresin, leaning against the porch railing and just watching you.

Even when you didn't reply, they were still watching you. Your mouth became dry and your tongue suddenly felt too big for your mouth. "Can I have some water?" You asked as you desperately looked around.

"I'll get it," your mom said and strode past you, into the house.

But Jake still stood there. He looked between yourself and your grandpa, and pushed away from the porch. "I better get back to work," he said.

Gripping the brim of his hat, he tipped it towards you and strode off.

Suddenly, all of your attention was on your grandfather. "Grandpa, how could you hire him?" You cried. "You know he used to torment me, right? Like, you remember when I got stuck up the tree by the river? Whose fault do you think that was?"

Your grandpa rolled your eyes. "He's changed, Smidge. I wouldn't be able to keep the ranch running if it wasn't for Jake."

Releasing a sigh, you sat back.

The ranch stretched out before you. Fields and acres of horses and cattle before your eyes, fields and acres behind. There was a time where you could gallop from the gate into Morgan Ranch to the river at the other end of the property. There was a time where you wanted to do that, where the thought of it didn't send fear shooting through you.

"Hungry?" Your grandpa asked as he stood up.

You nodded, your eyes landing on Jake. He didn't look like that the last time you saw him. He had been scrawny then, Stetson looking out of place on his head.

He'd bulked out since then, shirt seeming to strain against his chest. The top few buttons were open, revealing hair beneath. It was a little ridiculous, actually. Why not get a shirt that fitted?

He's changed, Smidge.

No, he hadn't changed. His too small shirt was only proof of that.

Alone on the seat, you watched as Jake strode back towards you. Shit, what did he want now? He clasped his hands together and leaned against the porch railing once again. "So," he started, his hands bouncing. "How have you been?"

Your eyebrows rose. When you glanced at your leg, he did the same thing. "Great. Just peachy," you mumbled and shoved your hands into your pockets.

He gave you something of a nod and pushed away from the porch. "I'll... leave you to it."

Good. Piss off.

You didn't mean to watch him walk back towards the barn, didn't mean to stare at his ass in his jeans. It was a nice ass, but that wasn't surprising.

You thought Jake Seresin was out of your life the day you left Montana. You never thought you'd have to see his stupid fucking face again.

But now, he was closer than ever.

***

It shouldn't have been surprising that you didn't want to see him. He shouldn't have been surprised that you wore a scowl when you looked at his face. Did you even realise you were scowling at him? You didn't think so.

Jake didn't glance back as he made his way over to the barn. His broom was still against the door, but sweeping the walkway seemed less important now. Grabbing the broom, he put it back into the tool store and made his way up to the stair, into the room above the barn.

Jake's room. When Chester first offered him the job, he made it his mission to fix up the old room above the barn. It was better than the trailer by the river. closer to the horses (just in case anything happened).

It had been months of him and Javy fixing up the room. They fixed the holes in the floor, put new shutters on the one window, shutters that actually opened and closed, and painted the walls. The furniture was from garage sales or things they found on the side of the room. They took them back to the barn, fixed them up, painted them, and put them in Jakes room.

Grabbing his phone from on top of the drawers beside his bed, Jake dialled Javy's number. It never took Javy very long to pick up, and it was only a matter of seconds before Jake heard his voice.

"Cactus, five minutes," Jake said.

"You know it's the middle of the room, right?"

"Five minutes," he reiterated.

Javy released a sigh. "Fine. Five minutes."

Jake grabbed the jacket hanging over the back of his bedframe and made his way out of his room. Brisket called for him as he walked past, and he took a moment to stroke his nose. "Makin' friends, huh?" He asked, glancing at Percy. Still in that navy blue rug.

Hanging his jacket over the back of Brisket's stable door, Jake stepped towards Percy. He approached, pulled open the stable door and stepped inside. Percy didn't protest as Jake unclipped the front of his rug. Unhooking the straps beneath his belly, Jake pulled the rug back, folded it in half and rested it on Percy's rear end.

When he went to unclip the strap around his back legs, Percy kicked out. Jake stepped back, turned his attention to Percy's head. Percy's ear's were pinned back. "Okay," Jake said gently and stepped closer to his head. "Let's try that again."

He scratched at Percy's shoulders, watched as his ears went forward again. "That's it," Jake muttered, moving down his back. Percy kept his ears forward, didn't pin them back against his head. He kept scratching down his back as he unclipped the first leg strap. "That's it," he said against and pulled the strap from around his leg. "You're doing great, Perce."

There was just one more strap to undo. Jake didn't risk walking behind Percy, walked around his front and began scratching down his back once again. It was quicker this time, easier to unclip the strap around his leg. Percy let his ears go back when Jake stopped scratching, but he didn't kick out.

Jake pulled the rug from his back. Folding it up, he rested it over Percy's stable door and stepped out.

His five mintues were almost up.

Grabbed his jacket, he rushed out of the barn. Chester could cope without him for the afternoon. Fishing his keys from his pocket, he made his way over to his truck, climbed in and sped away.

Morgan Ranch. It wasn't supposed to become his home, but it had. It was his home, better than anything he'd had before. Chester was good to him, he helped Jake as much as Jake helped him.

At that time in the afternoon, The Drunken Cactus was empty. Just one truck outside of it, Javy's truck. The bag of animal feed in the back suggested Jake had caught him on his way back from town.

Striding into The Drunken Cactus, Jake scanned the room for Javy. He sat in their usual booth, drink in front of them and hat pulled over his face.

"You're late."

By only two minutes.

Sitting back, Jake sipped his drink as Javy pulled his hat from his head. He waited for Javy to look at him before he spoke.

He said your name. "Midge Morgan."

Javy's eyebrows went up. "What about her?"

"She's back."

Javy's eyes went wide. "Midge fuckin' Morgan? She's back?" He asked, surprise in his voice. "What was it she said to you before she left?"

"THat she never wanted to see me again and she hoped I got hit by a bus?"

"That she never wanted to see you again and she hoped you got hit by a bus, that's it," Javy echoed, grin on his face. "And now you work for her grandpa. Fuck, man. She's gonna eat you alive."

The old you would have eaten him alive. You were still in there, just a feisty but unable to do anything about it. You would have hated him more if you knew he pitied you.

"She's got her fancy show jumping horse with her," He said as he sipped the amber liquid in his glass.

"Think she's gonna compete out here?"

Jake didn't mean to chuckle as he shook his head. "She's not gonna be competing any time soon," he mumbled and looked down at his glass. "She's broken, Javy. The Midge bark is still there, but she hasn't got the bite."

Javy released a sigh. "Don't you worry, buddy. The old Midge will come back. Denver couldn't have changed her that much."

But it wasn't Denver that changed her, Jake knew.

Jake and Javy finished their drinks and went their separate ways. Javy climbed into his truck and headed off to his daddy's ranch, and Jake headed into town.

He didn't need anything, but he didn't want to go back to the ranch. He didn't want to see you like that. Maybe he was selfish, but he didn't want to see the person he had been in love with since he was sixteen in such a broken state.

You, the girl he hadn't been able to forget about.

No matter how much he tried to forget about you, how many other women he took to his bed, you were always on his mind. Every time he went into the ranch office, when he saw the drawings of your dream for the ranch, you were all he could think about.

And now you were back. You were back and he was still in love with you.

Jake wandered around in a daze, picked up things he didn't really need. A cap, a new belt, a book of military aircrafts. He didn't need any of it, but it was a good distraction for you.

Eventually, he had to head home. He waited out the clock, waited until he had to go home and feed the horses before climbing into his truck and speeding away.

He pulled in beside your overly expensive trailer and climbed out. Leaving his new stuff on the front seat, he made his way into the barn, into the feed room.

Shit, what did Percy eat? He was some big, fancy show jumper; there was no way he ate the same stuff Jake fed Brisket. He probably had all these additional vitamins and supplements that Brisket didn't need.

Setting out all of the feed buckets, Jake left the barn. He made his way across the ranch and into the house. In through the kitchen, where Stephanie was helping Chester with dinner.

"Hey, Jake," Stephanie called, not turning her head to look at him. "Dinner shouldn't be too long now."

"Thanks," he said, leaning against the door. "Where's Midge?"

Chester finally turned towards him. "Bedroom, but you best leave her alone."

"I'll be quick."

Jake walked through the house, past the stairs, through the little door and into the annex. Once upon a time it was an unused spare bedroom, the dusty room where you used to play spin the bottle as kids.

You were probably hating it in there.

His fist knocked against the door. "Go away!" You shouted from the other side, but Jake pushed open the door anyway.

You were furious when Jake showed his face. He couldn't help but be surprised that you didn't grab the glass on your bedside table and throw it at him.

"Hey, Midge," he began, leaning against the doorframe.

"You have two seconds to get out before I make you."

Jake swallowed. "Percy's feet," he began. "What am I giving him?"

When you stared at him, he could swear your eye twitched. "MOM!" You shouted and Stephanie became running. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out your car keys and held them out in front of you.

As soon as she had made it into the room, Stephanie took the keys from your hand. She reached out, felt your forehead, but you pushed her away. "Can you help Jake with Percy's food, please?" You asked and Stephanie nodded.

Jake followed your mother back out of the house. "Does he have anything really fancy?" He asked as he followed her out to the car.

Stephanie shook her head. "Not now. Not while he's not competing," she answered as she pressed a button on the keys. The boot of the car opened on its own. "He'll have the same as the rest of the horses, but he needs his painkillers."

Pain killers. So whatever happened to you hadn't just happened to you. Jake sucked in a breath as Stephanie reached into the car and pulled out a little black bag. "There's treats in there, pop a few in his food," she said and placed the bag in his hands.

The smile she gave him was charming, beautiful. Stephanie was hot, there was no doubt about it. But she was nothing compared to you.

Jake spent the last six years trying to forget about you. Now you were back, and he didn't have a chance. Not even your hot mom could distract him.

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taglist (i'm tagging people that commented btw!! if you don't wanna be tagged, let me know!)

@ride-em-cowboy

@literal-tv-menace

@averyhotchner

@illisea-library

[anomaliex]

I think Gorgug grows up trying to take up as little space as possible.

I think that as a child, before he was all that conscious of his own decisions, he broke a lot of stuff. That's fine, small children do that and his parents have had him since he was a baby. A huge baby, especially for gnomes. A huge baby that grew into a toddler the size of his parents who's (again, normal and okay) tantrums did actual property damage because he's an orc. They were never mad at him for it, they'd never be mad at a child experiencing big emotions and not yet able to process them or understand consequences, but we know how their families reacted to that. We know that they always saw him as something that would grow up to be a threat.

I think that pretty much as soon as he develops a sense of it Gorgug starts feeling ashamed. He's ashamed of how nothing ever fits right, and of how loud he gets when he's upset, and of how the other kids in the neighbourhood (because it's a small folk neighbourhood!!) get scared of him sometimes, and of how when he has bad dreams he breaks his bed and is unable to control himself, like a baby. There was probably a time where he thought he was really clumsy and he was ashamed of that too, but by the time he turns like twelve Gorgug kind of understands that he's not more clumsy than the average kid, it's just that every time he drops something or bumps into a shelf it'll do so much more damage than if anyone else he lives around were to do the same.

(And his parents are talented tinkerers but sometimes their work is so delicate and all he ever does is wreck things. He doesn't dare touch it no matter how much they try to share this passion with him — eventually they assume he just doesn't like it and they would never force him to do something he doesn't want. Gorgug doesn't let himself discover how much he enjoys it until sophomore year. I wonder if he regrets all those years he spent fearing the possibility of ruining things and depriving himself of something he ended up loving.)

(And he was never "stupid", it's just that all he ever thought himself of was a brute so he never entertained the possibility of his own intelligence until faced with it. He didn't know he could thrive academically so it wasn't something he ever considered committing to. He literally just played bloodrush because he was good at it, not because he liked it. He just thought he had to, and he thought math is something he couldn't possibly do. Why try?)

Entering Highschool Gorgug is very shy, and he doesn't really have friends. Adults always like to blame the latter on the first, but sometimes it's the other way around and sometimes it's a vicious cycle. Sometimes you're six years old and none of the kids in your elementary school class are anything like you but you desperately try to fit in until you slip up and show them how much of a freak you are one time (I think he got mad. I think he broke a table. I think someone cried. I think maybe there was a teacher who was so much smaller than him and looked at him as if he were something to be feared. I think that in that moment he decided that he is. Or at least his rage, maybe.) and then you never get to have friends again and you shrink in on yourself and you don't understand how anyone else does it — it's not even that you're scared you just don't understand, and maybe you just want to be alone. And then a happy outspoken child grows into a shy teenager because they don't have any friends.

I think Gorgug is careful. He is so gentle and empathetic and kind and he is so careful because every time he isn't something breaks. And every time he raises his voice someone is scared of him and all he ever wants is people to not be afraid. So he hunches over, and he stands in the corner, and he scoots to the very edge of the bench so you don't have to sit too close to him, and he takes every insult to his face without fighting back lest he'll get upset and despite all his fucking efforts all it takes is one asshole to take it too far and he feels himself snap and all he wants to do is break something and hurt and twist and kill. And that scares him. He doesn't allow himself to be angry (and as wonderful as Digby and Wilma are they don't understand. They don't understand that he has to be, that he has to let it out some time.) so he bottles it up and every time it explodes out of him he doesn't know how to handle it other than to swing his axe and kill maul bite snarl kill.

But then, his adventuring party seems to not mind his rage, or his size, or his freakish strength. If anything they seem to like it, or at least respect him for it. He's never considered doing something like music before because that's for talented people and it's art and he doesn't do art because his hands are only good for destruction, not creation. Right? He does the music anyway. It's nice because there he's allowed to be angry on the drums and no one thinks it's weird.

He meets a girl that finds his rage attractive and he was scared that he'd scared her but he didn't. Ragh becomes one of his dearest friends and maybe for the first time Gorgug looks at a raging (half-)orc — all snarling and panting and bearing his teeth and twitching at any sound or scent — and doesn't find himself appalled because all he sees is someone that's fighting to keep him and his friends safe. And oh, maybe it's okay to be enraged.

I think he grows into a young man that doesn't love being angry but stops hating it too. He likes, in a way, that he gets angry over the right things, and he likes that being angry enables him to protect those he cares for. In the end his rage is a survival instinct and it's good to be alive. That leads to him, for a while, only accepting his rage as something that's fine to express in combat, and if it's outside of combat then only to his friends. There's still this need to make himself palatable, to tone himself down so everyone stays comfortable around him, but that also fades eventually.

During junior year he does finally come out of his shell enough to just express his anger the second he feels it. I think it is liberating and it's also the scariest thing he's ever done, and he went through a forest that made him confront his deepest fears already. (And that's exactly what it was. The inconvenience to his parents, the fear it strikes in others, the rejection it brings, the way it seems to reduce him to a weapon or maybe a wild animal and to some people including parts of him means he absolutely cannot be an intelligent or loveworthy person. He's always been afraid of his own rage.)

I think that if a younger Gorgug could see his older self snarl at one of his friends for making a joke about his parents' lawnmower, with his tusks fully grown out and muscle finally starting to fill out his clothes a little, so strong and so dangerous and so unashamed of it, he'd feel no relief and only horror. I think acceptance is something that feels alien to him right up until he suddenly achieves it.