#wille finds his sweater and there is TEASING.

[ancnymcnzjy]

Mistletoe

Synopsis: Heeseung and y/n are arguing about a useless topic again. Only this time, it’s at a holiday party.

~ Where Heeseung and y/n are caught standing under the mistletoe after finishing up their pointless argument about a ugly holiday sweater. Will the two be exempted from the mistletoe rule becuase of their hatred for one another, or will their friends be too persistent to let this moment of a lifetime pass up?

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Seeing each other from the distance, we spot the exact same ugly holiday sweater we were both wearing.

Hushed whispers travel around the crowded room as Heeseung and I make our way to one another with fierce glares.

“What the fuck are you wearing, y/n?” Heeseung spits out.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I say as I look up at him dead in the eyes.

With pure disdain floating in his eyes, he trails after me when I begin to walking away to bombard me with his useless arguments about why we shouldn’t be wearing matching ugly holiday sweaters.

As I round the corner to get away from Heeseung, I turn around to tell him, “can you shut up and get away from me?” I huff out, matching the same frustration in his voice.

He shakes his head but still quiets down as he follows me into a hallway leading to the kitchen.

The bright, flourescent lights of the hallway blur my vision midway through, and it wasn’t until the kitchen doorway that I stop walking and close my eyes to readjust them to the new lighting. Just behind me, I also hear Heeseung stop walking to do the same.

Looking up and opening my eyes, it takes a second for the white spots to disappear. When they do, they reveal a sprig of mistletoe hanging directly above Heeseung and I.

“Shit.” I whisper under my breath. Heeseung opens his eyes at the same exact time and follows my gaze towards the ceiling. Registering what we’re both looking at, he mirrors the stunned expression on my face.

It’s an unwritten rule in our friend group that if two people were caught standing under the mistletoe, they must kiss—regardless if the two victims were willing to do so or not.

Heeseung and I stare at each other with wide eyes before quickly attempting to sprint in opposite directions.

We were both stopped by our friends—I was stopped by Sunghoon and Heeseung was stopped by Jake.

“Not so fast,” a voice says from behind us, making Heeseung and I jump.

We quickly turn around to find Jay smirking at us, “you guys know the rules, we’re waiting.” He says in a teasing manner.

My breath hitches and I lick my lips out of nervousness. I look up at Heeseung only to see his eyes staring intently at my now wet lips.

In one swift motion, Heeseung places his hand on the back of my head and pulls me in for a soft kiss. I expected him to pull away a second later, but instead, I feel him deepen it.

I begin to roam my fingers up in his hair and slowly moving it down to his clothed chest and stomach. Getting a gasp out of Heeseung, I take that moment to bite his lips and deepen the kiss even further.

We make out until we’ve fully run out of air. We slowly pull away but still maintain eye contact.

Everyone in the room could see the lust in our eyes.

Too uncaring of the shocked expressions and gossip beginning scatter around us, Heeseung only smirks before pulling me closer to him. With his hands just below my waist, he leads me up the stairs and into one of the vacant rooms.

As our kisses get heavier and more clothing garments are taken off, our uneven breaths and loud moans echo simultaneously off the bedroom walls.

The hatred that once filled our eyes has been replaced with waves of lust, and the touches of playful banter have transformed into nothing more than sinful scratches of pain and pleasure.

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{Unedited}

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[mymitochondriaforpresident]

I was really looking forward to the continuation of the Wille Sweater storyline, as well as the third installment of the Fish Trilogy. :(

[jewishrat420]

No one has ever flirted with Steve the way Eddie flirts with Steve.

And it's not like no one flirts with Steve. God, no, it's not like no one flirts with Steve. Steve can't walk into the grocery store without at least three sets of heads turning and focusing all their attention on him.

And he's not even trying to be cocky about it. That's just the reality he was gifted when he came out of his mother's womb looking like the world's freshest Adonis. Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if they changed the colloquialism to "Steve."

Regardless. For as many people like to flirt with him, make themselves known, filtering in and out of his orbit like willing planets, no one knows quite how to get him going like Eddie. Maybe it's that they're not as confident as he is, maybe they're scared of the rejection Eddie was born facing and will die knowing.

Maybe they're scared of ruining their chances. Maybe Eddie isn't.

For whatever reason, Eddie doesn't seem like he's scared. Even though there was a long time before he knew Steve was bi, was just as into the flirting as Eddie was, even though there was a chance (not like it'd ever happen, but the unknown was there) that Steve could have beaten him up just for calling him "sweetheart," he did it anyway. He got right up into Steve's space, close enough that Steve could get high off the remnants of the joint he'd smoked earlier, and gave him a look that offered everything.

And, God, Steve wanted it. He wanted it all.

And so that began months of what Steve has so aptly referred to as torture. Apt, because he knows what it's like. He has the scars and the fear of ice cream and needles to prove it.

But this... this is a different kind of torture. Mental, emotional, spiritual, whatever you call it-- this is meant to tear him apart from the inside out, meant to make him want to rip his own bones out from his body and offer them to Eddie if it meant the other man making a fucking move.

And Steve would, is the thing. He would absolutely make the first move-- it's what he usually does, anyway, and he's got a pretty damn good success rate for it.

But, for whatever reason, this feels different. This back and forth they have, the constant teasing, the sliding in and out of each other's orbits, unable and unwilling to refute the most fundamental laws of gravity... it's something special, at least to Steve. Something sacred.

Which is why, when Eddie calls Steve "Harrington" for the first time in months, his first response is to pout.

They're about halfway through splitting a joint, the sweet smoke curling around wisps of hair and parted lips and filtering in and out of the holes in their sweaters. The air outside is getting colder, thinner, sharper, as the winter months dreg on. But inside the trailer, it's comfortable and warm. Safe.

Steve's being a bit of a hog, and he's man enough to admit that. But he had a shitty day at work and all he wants is to feel nothing other than the weightless relaxation of a good high buzzing through his bones. Sue him for taking a little more than his fair share of the good stuff, even if it is Eddie's.

"Steve," Eddie whines, reaching his hand out and curling his fingers in request. "Give it over."

"No," Steve responds, just on the edge of whiny. He brings the joint to his lips and takes a long, slow, deep drag, feeling the sweet heat of the smoke burning in his lungs, taking up the space where oxygen should be. He goes a little dizzy with it, feels his eyes lower. "Mine."

Steve can't see it, but he knows Eddie's rolling his eyes. Can sense the shift in the air, can sense every little fucking thing about Eddie at any given moment.

"C'mon, Harrington, you're being a brat."

And, normally, Steve would find another aspect of that sentence to freak out about. Would zero in on the word brat and relish in the flare of heat it sends shooting up his spine like firework sparks. Would squint his eyes at Eddie and tilt his head in the way he knows makes him look good, would give him his cutest little smirk and say, "Who, me?" and would preen in the response it gets.

This time, though, he's much too focused on the other name Eddie used for him. The one he hasn't heard come out of Eddie's mouth since before he realized that Steve was, as he put it, "actually a good dude."

He doesn't realize he's pouting until the sudden silence in the room starts to creep in, make a home in the buzzing in his ears. He didn't realize that he didn't say anything, and neither did Eddie, and now they're sitting in a mess of their own making. Of Eddie's own making, really.

His next words come out without effort, without intent.

"Don't call me that."

He chances a look over at Eddie, at the risk of appearing as vulnerable as he feels, and to his distress, he can't get a read on the man. His dark eyebrows furrow, brown eyes squinting slightly, and his lips part like he wants to speak. He licks them. Steve's eyes follow the motion unintentionally.

"Call you what?" Eddie says on an exhale. "A brat?"

Steve shakes his head. "Harrington. Don't like it when you call me that."

Eddie kind of softens, then, and Steve didn't realize he had stiffened until he isn't anymore. He sort of sinks into the couch, spreads his legs imperceptibly wider, and Steve wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't for the way his left knee brushes against Steve's just barely. Just enough for those heated sparks to send a couple pinpricks across his skin.

"No?" he says, looking over to meet Steve's gaze. His cheeks are flushed, whether from the weed or the heat of the room or the heat between them, and Steve's sure that his look the same. "What do you want me to call you, then?"

Steve's definitely blushing now. He looks away from Eddie, tucks his chin to his chest, lets the joint between his fingers burn away. Eddie takes it from him, gently, and brings it to his lips. Steve hears the paper crackling as he inhales.

His voice is quiet, almost meek, when he speaks. It's completely unlike Steve, completely unlike the persona he used to so proudly take on-- but then again, Eddie is completely unlike anyone that Steve has ever met. He's more real, more human, and in turn, Steve is too.

"...You know."

Eddie makes a little noise, then, something in the back of his throat that was born and died within the very same second it was released. Something soft, almost pained, like his body couldn't help the reaction it had to that sentence.

Steve watches the thin, long line of Eddie's arm reach forward and press the joint into the glass of the ashtray. He follows the motion until Eddie's hand settles into the rips over his knee, fingers intertwining with the thread. His pinkie is dangerously close to Steve's own sweatpant-covered skin, and he feels the contact as if Eddie were touching him.

Eddie's hand twitches like it wants to move, and Steve resists the urge to grab it, hold it within the warmth of his own palms.

"Do I?" Eddie says, his voice quieter than it was a moment ago. That thick silence fills the trailer once more, settling in between the soft buzzing of the lightbulb in the kitchen and the muffled humming of the crickets outside. Steve hears Eddie take a stuttering breath. "Tell me."

Steve sighs, feeling his chest burn as his heartbeat picks up. His throat pounds with the pulsing of it. He places his own hand on his right knee, pinkie finger edging closer and closer to the space where Eddie's meets his. Eddie's hand twitches again.

"Like it when you call me sweet things," he says on an exhale, as though getting it out all in one breath would make it easier. "Like how it makes me feel."

Eddie lets out another one of those noises, then, something more like a cut-off groan. His hand curls into the fabric of his jeans for no more than a second before he releases it, and Steve gets to watch as the blood blanches and then returns to his knuckles.

"Sweet things, huh?" he muses, voice only slightly strained. If Steve didn't know any better, he'd say Eddie is nervous. "Like... Stevie?"

Steve hums. "Yeah. I like that."

Eddie's pinkie moves closer. Barely. Imperceptibly, if not for the way Steve is tuned into his every movement, like a dog to the sound of their owner's keys.

"Yeah?"

Steve hums again.

"What about... sweetheart?"

Steve closes his eyes. Lets out a shaky breath, inhales a smoother one.

"Yeah."

Steve feels something brush against his pinkie. Something warm.

"Honey?"

Steve nods, biting his lip. "Mhm."

Eddie lets out a quiet little laugh. "Even big boy?"

Steve returns it helplessly, feels the edges of a smile pulling at his lips. The air feels cold on his teeth, as though he's burning up from the inside out and anything outside of his own body is a cooling salve.

"Especially big boy."

Eddie laughs a little louder, and the jostling of his body brings his pinkie even closer to Steve's. Completely pressed against his own, now.

Steve swears he can feel his heartbeat through it. Or maybe it's his own.

"What about..." Eddie takes a breath. "Love?"

Steve's own breath hitches. He opens his eyes, looks at where their skin is touching in more than one place. He feels it, feels every point of contact where the cells that make Eddie are existing with the cells that make Steve. Wonders, maybe, if they stay here long enough, if they'll merge and mold over time. Become one.

"Yeah," Steve breathes. "I like that one a lot."

Eddie hums, and the room falls back into silence for a moment. Steve's skin burns where their fingers are touching. He moves his hand to the right, just barely, just enough to let Eddie know that he feels it. Just enough to ask Eddie if he does, too.

His response is overwhelming.

Eddie moves his hand to the left, solidifies all the points of contact between them, and Steve feels like he's exploding. Feels like a bubbling pit of lava that's set to burst, to overflow, like it can't hold back anymore. Like it's tried for so long that it's hurting, now, pressurized and boiling and hot, way too fucking hot.

And then, Eddie crosses his pinkie over Steve's, and Steve thinks he's dying.

He takes in a sharp breath like it's the last one he'll ever get, and he doesn't even have it in him to be embarrassed about it. He knows Eddie is right there with him, knows he's not the only one feeling this irrefutable pull like gravity between them. Knows, hopes, it's only a matter of time before they collide.

Eddie hums again. He taps his pinkie once over the smallest of Steve's knuckles, almost like he's making a decision. He takes a long, slow breath before he speaks.

"You know which one's my favorite?"

Steve's throat clicks. "Which?"

"Look at me."

Steve turns his head to the right for no more than a second before Eddie's lips are on his.

It's hungry, it's indulgent, it's immediately addictive. It feels like breathing.

Eddie presses his whole body against Steve's, and he can feel the way his tendons flex where his hand is covering the back of Steve's. Where their pinkies meet, their fingers intertwine and cross over one another like the roots of a tree, their bodies the whole mycorrhizal network.

The next word is spoken against Steve's lips, and Steve can feel the way his mouth forms around it. Decides, from this moment on, that he never wants to hear it another way.

"Baby."

Steve's exhale is more of a moan, a dying sound that, like Eddie's before, lived for only a moment in his throat before pushing through the wall of his lips. Eddie takes it, holds it in his own mouth, swallows it down hungrily and slides his tongue against Steve's as though asking for more.

"That's--" Steve pants, getting his hands on Eddie's hips and pulling until he's seated in his lap. "Mine too."

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, his lips still pressed against Steve's. Their words are muffled against each other, but they don't need to hear them to understand. They only need to feel the outline of them, the shape of the consonants and vowels against and around each other's tongues. They only need to press their bodies together and know, intimately, the meaning in each other's hearts.

"Yeah. Want you to call me that forever."

This time, Steve feels Eddie's laughter against his lips. His chest. Feels it bubble up in the space between his ribs, feels it flow into his mouth like a river, swallows it down like the first glass of water after a run. Feels his own creep up behind his teeth in return, gives it back to Eddie like an offering, who takes it greedily. Hungrily. Gratefully.

"Think that can be arranged, baby."

[luveline]

could i request spencer x bombshell!reader where maybe spencer and the team meet reader’s ex boyfriend / a guy she used to be interested in and he’s sooo different from spencer so he assumes her flirting is a joke but really she never had a type until she met spencer n now she’s only into nerdy, sweater-vest wearing sweethearts <3

love ur work sm i only read spencer fics but i read all your characters bc the writing is so intoxicating !!

thank you for your request angel! <3 1k, fem

Spencer looks adorable today. You’re not sure if he knows, but that can be easily rectified. 

“Spencer Reid,” you say sternly. 

He’s immediately wide-eyed and sorry. “What?” he asks, pouting. 

“You have some explaining to do.” You glare, taking your compact from your pocket. You open it, check your appearance, fighting a huge smile as you flick the mirror on him accusingly. “So, what do you have to say for yourself?” 

“I don’t get it.” His eyes jump between the mirror and you. “Sorry?” 

“You should be sorry. Do you see how nice you look today?” He rolls his eyes. “Hey, don’t act like you don’t know what I mean.”

You and Spencer have known each other for years now, and you love him. You’d die for him easily in the field, and out of it too, but you’re not together and he’s bad at accepting compliments, so he shrugs you off like you’re only teasing him. 

“My handsome partner,” you say. Even if he isn’t your boyfriend, that’s your loophole. You and Spencer get paired for everything these days, because you’re best friends and Hotch has given up on separating you (though professionally there’s no need). “I could eat you.” 

“Still mildly threatening, then,” a voice says. 

You spin in your chair, shocked and a little horrified to find the last person you wanted to see here in Connecticut. “Cory!” you say, knowing he’ll believe you’re enthusiasm if nobody else. 

“Hi, beautiful. You weren’t gonna call me?” 

Your lips pop as you reply, “I was definitely going to, just as soon as we weren’t on the clock. How are you?” you ask, standing to receive the hug you know he’s going to give. 

Cory is… well, he’s gorgeous, though that hadn’t been why you had fun with him when you were here last. He’d seemed nice enough and plainly interested in you at the time, and you’d been sort of lonely, so really he was a necessity of the soul rather than a want. Plus, he was very rich. 

Gorgeous he may be, but Spencer Reid he is not. You don’t deny it to yourself —the genius behind you has completely changed your type, the kind of man you vy after, and if you’re honest, he’s the one for you. So hugging Cory and pretending you’re going to call him for drinks after the case is over isn’t easy. You lie rather than reject him.

“He seemed nice,” Spencer says in the awkward silence Cory leaves behind. 

“Sure!” you say, blowing out a hot breath. “Was I embarrassing myself? I didn’t expect to see him.” 

“You were the same as usual.” 

You tilt your head back as the door opens again, worried it’ll be Cory back for a last word. Emily smiles at you knowingly, a bag of takeout in hand. “God, did you see that?” she asks, eyebrows rising. “He was perfect.” 

“If you like the Greek god motif,” you joke. 

Spencer’s frowning at his files when you turn back to him. “Spence, what’s wrong?” you ask. 

“Mm? Nothing.”

“You sure?” you ask. 

He maintains that he’s okay as the rest of the team flood in for lunch. You pretend to believe him, not sure what you’ve done to upset him but willing to figure it out. You unwrap his food for him and place his plastic cutlery on a napkin as you know he prefers, sorting through the cup drinks to find his diet lemonade. “Here, handsome,” you say, touching his shoulder gently as you sit down next to him. 

He bristles. 

“Spencer?” you ask. 

He looks around the table. Hotch and Rossi are talking about something with shared smiles, while JJ and Morgan debate the case. Emily’s on her phone with a straw between her lips. They aren’t listening, and so he says, “It’s not a fitting nickname.” 

“What, handsome? That’s not a nickname, it’s a pet name, and it’s true. You’re one of the most handsome guys I’ve ever seen,” —you laugh and grab his elbow when he shakes his head— “are you kidding? Spencer, you could be a model. I’ve told you this a hundred times. You have amazing cheekbones, just dreamy, and your lips–”

“Oh, god, please don’t start,” he says, covering his face with both hands. He sounds like he’s smiling. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

Hotch shoots you a don’t tease look. You send him a vehement I’m not back, waiting for him to look away before you prod Spencer again. “You’re so cute, Spencer, you don’t get it.” 

“I don’t wanna be cute, cute isn’t your type–”

Your eyes flare. “What would you know about my type, Spencer? Is this– is this about Cory?” 

“Of course it is,” he says, face pink as he drops his hands. 

“Spencer, he is not my type.” 

“But you dated.”

“One date. And that was before I realised I liked dorks in sweater vests,” you say. You’re both acting like this is half a joke, a skit, in case you’re overheard, but you’re also both well aware that it’s serious and vulnerable and flustering to confess certain things right here and now. Too bad it has to be done. “I miss your glasses, babe, they really added to your charm.” 

Spencer shakes his head, picking up his styrofoam boxed lunch to ignore you. 

You sidle close to him, your pinky finger rubbing the slightest hint of his bare wrist. “Wanna get drinks with me tonight? I need a cover story in case Grecian Cory tracks me down. And, you know you get that really cute blush when you drink. What do you say?” 

“No,” he says with a smile, which means yes in this instance.

You kiss his cheek, giggling at the lipgloss left behind. “You’re my type, handsome.”

[uc1wa]

18+ minors dni

tags: fem reader, kids, penetrative sex, breeding

"she’s really good with kids," roy smiles widely to his best friend, a smile that turns into a smirk when he looks over to the raven haired man. cheeks dusted pink while a stupid, love-struck grin covers his lips.

that is, until it’s not and is quickly wiped off when he feels the gaze on him and a bump to his shoulder. "don’t ya want some of your own?" the red-haired man asks, and jason rolls his eyes. "can’t stand kids, basically have some of my own with all the other shits," jason says annoyedly thinking about his one-too-many siblings that he had grown up raising alongside dick. raising kids as siblings and vigilantes has a tendency to make the average man not want children

but, he can’t help but to feel a pang in his chest when he watches you pick up roy’s baby daughter, lian, from your place in the park a little bit aways from the two men. your arms wrapping around her tiny frame as you hold her close to your chest, pointing to jason and roy while encouraging her to wave at the two men. something of a wave, more of a grabbing fist is executed as she matches the smile that you’re wearing, and jason has never thought about getting you pregnant until this very moment.

like a flick of a switch changes in him. he imagines it’s what animals feel when it's mating season; something primal and deep within him that says he needs to be the reason for a bump on your belly and he needs it to happen immediately.

"c’mon, if you get her pregnant now, lian and yours can grow up together," roy pushes more, waving to his sweet baby while doing so; contrastly speaking to jason about impregnating you like it was as normal as he made it sound. "y’know you want it, big man. plus your babies would be so fuckin’ cute," he fonds, "well, her traits would make your babies cute, i don’t know about yours," roy teases with a laugh, hitting jason’s back.

bidding a farewell to your best friend in law and his daughter, you made your way back into your home with jason following behind, locking the door and making his own way in.

"how many kids do you want?" your boyfriend asks, and it’s hard not to take you by surprise. usually these conversations stemmed from previous important conversations, or something that brought overwhelming intimacy. To say the least, this wasn’t the average conversation that’s spoken as soon as you walk in the door.

this wasn’t the type of conversation to follow spending time with your best friend.

"why’re you asking?" you question, turning on your heel with a pointed look and jason shrugs with a roll of his eyes. his keys rustle against the counter as he walks towards you, his cold hand finding yours and leading you quietly to your bedroom.

“i think you’d look good with my baby,” he says, helping you take your sweater and then shirt underneath off. gently, and without rush, like he has all the time in the world if you’re willing. raising your arms to assist the man with his task at hand, you smile teasingly, “somebody’s got baby fever ‘cause of lian, huh?” and jason scoffs with a small laugh, “something like that. also wanna continue our family if you'd like to help,” he insists with a tease while your hands now find his top, doing the same as he did to you. 

his movements are slow tonight, matching the one of two ways you find him in bed. either fucking or making love, and when the latter occurs, you find yourself relishing in every touch that feels louder than they’ve ever been. touches that are soft but with force to be intentional, kisses that are meaningful, especially the one jason presses with soft lips to the spot right under your belly button. his movements that are languid, slow, and rhythmed with every moan and word that he whispers in your ear, say in your neck after he’s kissed the skin there.

months later when he sees your swollen belly, he feels like he’s won the lottery. he feels like you're a prize he’s won and just needs to show off; realistically, he’s keeping you home as much as possible and going out with you in times of needing outside air. your lower back hurts? he’s watched youtube tutorials on massage techniques that help during pregnancy. you have a strange craving? jason’s running out at midnight to get precisely what you’re crazing. oh, your tits are sore after you’ve finally delivered your baby? there’s nothing to worry about when jason asks a quick, “you want my hands or my mouth?”

[charliemwrites]

Unhinged obsessive Johnny Thoughts™️? Unhinged obsessive Johnny Thoughts™️.

Johnny didn’t mean to. He swears he didn’t mean to, please understand.

You’re his favorite server at his favorite bar. He finds every excuse he can to drag one or all of his team there. Yes he likes their company, of course. Likes spending time with them, laughing and joking and building bonds outside of life or death situations. But you are the highlight of those nights.

You smile so sweetly, a little cheeky twist whenever he gets all of the 141 there together. You know all their names - or their callsigns at least. Call Price “captain” with a giggle whenever he groans at you to stop calling him that.

Johnny adores you. Sometimes when he’s alone at the table - the others off smoking or playing pool - you’ll stop by. You don’t have to, but you do, chatting until one of the other servers teases to stop flirting and help bus.

You always blush when they shout that, but never deny it. Leave him with one last warm smile and a promise to top up his drink for listening to you ramble. As if he couldn’t live with your voice in his ears all the time.

You tell him about your masters program. Complain about shitty customers. Admit you broke up with your last boyfriend for calling your hobbies a “silly waste of time.” The movies you’ve seen or watch for nostalgia. He knows when your playlist is on at the bar because you spend your entire shift bouncing and mouthing along whenever you’re not handling a customer.

It’s a slow infection. A creeping, insidious thing that seeps into his blood and corrupts him from the inside out. This awful, twisting devotion for you.

He knows to be careful, loathe to be one of those men you avoid like the plague, trading with other servers to handle. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He’s happy with the flirting and the little kindnesses, happy that you always light up when you see him. That you breathe a quiet “thank you” and squeeze his arm the one time he steps in one a handshake customer on your behalf.

It’s enough. He reminds himself that it’s enough. He doesn’t deserve more than you’re willing to give. He can’t give you the life you deserve yet.

But then one day things go wrong. So, so wrong.

There’s been a rowdy group of men that have been harassing the younger servers all night. You stepped in, older and more experienced, practiced at not giving them the reactions they want. It’s another of the things Johnny loves about you. You don’t need a mask like Ghost to hide your face.

One them especially tries antagonize you, even manages to earn a sharp word when he says something crass. Johnny tenses when the guy (buddies following suit) starts getting loud, aggressive. Towering over you when he knocks over his barstool, trying to intimidate.

Johnny shoves the guy away from you before it can get much farther. Relief washes over you as the owner, a big burly man, finally makes an appearance and kicks the lot of them out.

“A whiskey on the house for Soap,” you ask the bartender, hand pressed to your chest. “My knight in a cotton sweater.”

He smiles for your sake, mind buzzing to see you so shaken up.

“Alright, lass?”

“Yeah, just spooked me is all,” you sigh, a hand to your cheek now. “Think I’m gonna step out for some air. Thank you again, John.”

He lets you go, even though every molecule in his body urges him to bundle you up under his arm, safe and sound. Take you somewhere quiet to smooth your feathers.

Something doesn’t feel right.

He manages to wait exactly one minute and seventeen seconds before he tells a blasted Gaz that he’s going to the bathroom. When he steps out the back door, you’re being cornered by the man, two of his friends hanging back telling him to “leave it alone” but not actually doing a fucking thing to stop him.

So Johnny does. Honestly, he blacks out for a second. The next thing he knows, he’s cradling you in his arms, his knuckles stinging and bloody. The men are nowhere to be found but there’s a pool of blood in the alleyway. You’re unconscious, fainted sometime in the scuffle - or maybe hit your head.

Johnny isn’t himself. He’s not thinking. He’s used to keeping his cool with guns pressed to his head, but this is different. This is you.

He doesn’t mean to. He really doesn’t but it’s the best he can come up with when he just got a firsthand look at how dangerous the world is for you when he’s not around.

Please understand. He has to keep you safe.

[stevenose]

contains: gender unspecified reader; reader with a vagina; dry humping; makeouts

your clit keeps catching on the rough denim of steve’s jeans. feels so fucking good. your hands rest on his shoulders, fingernails biting into his forest green sweater. his lips wrap around a nipple, gently biting, swirling his tongue, doing everything he can to convince you that you’re too empty. that you need to sit on his cock and let it stretch you out. that you have to let him take care of you.

the button and zipper to his pants are open. steve’s cock still strains under them. he adjusts his grip on your hips, ruts his cock as nonchalantly as he can against your knee, pressed between his legs. like a bitch in heat, he wants to hump it. wants to fuck you so bad it makes him feel stupid.

to you, it’s funny. steve goes from a strong-willed gentleman to a dumb puppy in five minutes when you have him like this. he’s lost, doesn’t know how to take control, nor does he really want to. he likes when you call the shots, until his cock starts hurting and his need to be buried in your hot cunt increases tenfold.

he lets go of your nipple with a little pop!. he looks up at you with wide eyes, mouth agape. he can’t help it. “honey,” he says, real sweet with it, voice hoarse. “want - i want to give you more.”

you grind hard on his thigh. he looks down. the wet spot you’re leaving makes his balls ache.

“just want this,” you breathe. not true. you just like seeing him all pathetic. “you feel so good.”

sometimes you wonder if he’ll ever snap. you don’t think he really has it in him. he at least doesn’t have it in him today, doesn’t manhandle you onto the couch and tsk at you for being a tease.

he swallows hard, looks back up at you, dazed.

“my fingers,” he whimpers. “don’t you want that? all full, gettin’ stretched out? doesn’t that sound good?”

you know his game. you adjust, pushing your knee into his cock again, and he has no restraint this time. just grinds against it, fingers on your hips going slack, groaning deep. his hands move to cup your thigh between his, rutting himself against you.

“oh, christ,” he groans, so deep it makes your chest hum.

“yeah, steve.” you lean down, kissing him. he leads. messy, tongue sliding against yours, teeth clashing, weakly bringing a hand to the back of your neck to keep you close. you find a break, pulling back just enough to murmur against his lips, “if i can get off on your thigh, you can get off on mine.”

[darlingchronicles]

JJ AND THE GOLDEN GIRL HEADCANONS

pairing: jj x fem!goodgirl!reader

word count: 3.2K

based on this and this post that i made. enjoy !!!

✔︎JJ's habits

always watching her. not in a creepy way, but in a curious and somewhat protective way. she's either reading, studying, watching a comfort show or doing something she likes. jj finds her just fascinating not matter what she does. he admires her so much and the fact that he finds her absolutely beautiful is a plus. her mind is always working as well. always thinking. the way she picks her bottom lip or twirls her hair with her finger whenever she's concentrating just drives him wild and sometimes he wish he could read her mind just to find out what's got her attention. however, she also has a tendency to read while she walks or gets distracted by something she's concentrating on and it has lead to his hyper-vigilance. he's caught her after she trips on her own foot almost thirty times since they began dating and pulled her from walking across a busy street more than five times already. he's also had a hand in shielding her from people who seemed suspicious or invasive at keggers. not that he's complaining, he enjoys being her knight in shining armor at times since he usually believes he's the villain.

always willing to lend a hand. no like literally. lend her his hand. she has a tendency to fidget when she's nervous or bored or just in general is always moving in some manner. she was also a chronic nail biter when she was younger and has been trying to kick the habit since. therefore, she's always chewing gum or has a jolly rancher on hand or twirls her rings and bracelets around (if she wears them). one day, she forgot all of the above when she went to hang out at the chateau with jj, john b and pope and was not feeling her best. jj noticed and put his hand in hers and she immediately began to play with his fingers, his rings and bracelet and it calmed her down. now whether she has gum or her accessories, jj always lends his hands whenever he notices her cracking her neck more than twice or shaking her leg. he could be mid-conversation with someone and he'd just hand his hand over and continue talking. she always leaves a thank you by kissing the palm or back of his hand.

always willing to dress up. as they continue dating, she ends up having a preference with how he dresses. she loves his sleeveless shirts, when his hair is messy, his rings, his long gray crewneck sweaters, his red hat and the bandana he wears. she loves all his outfits, really, but these items are just the cherry on top. he notices it (she tends to cling to him more when he wears his sleeveless shirts or stare at him a little longer when he has messy hair) and ends up trying to wear these whenever he has the chance. he likes the little twinkle in her eye whenever she sees him in one of these outfits (or has the accessory). eventually he began to tease her about it and she never admits it but he knows. he just knows.

always ready to hug. growing up, he's never really had physical affection and he's never been in a long-term relationship before so affection is kind of hard for him in the beginning. however once he realizes that she loves to hug him, not just in a romantic way but in a platonic way; it's like she's telling him that's she's there for him and she feels safe around him, he's ready to give her a hug. if she even indicates for a second she wants one, he's already got his arms around her. heck, sometimes she just reaches behind him to grab something and his arms wrap around her waist and pull her in. she appreciates it ever single time. and it also heals a part of jj as he begins to believe that he's not unlovable.

always willing to learn. okay so jj and the golden girls aren't totally similar. in fact, they're pretty much opposites. pope has more in common with her (at least in the beginning). she studies when she has to and as she becomes friends with the group, she does it at the chateau. eventually, one day she asked jj to help her and although he'd rather get day drunk and pay for it the next day, he sucks it up and helps her. he ends up learning a little bit about the history of the King Henry the Eight and his six wives and the way to write an AP Lit. essay and although he can hardly understand any of it, he does it ever single time she asks. eventually he is able to pick up on certain things she's saying and can comment on it. he learns that a way to her heart is through paying attention to her and what she says and he does it without even thinking anymore. he also learns that she's different from the girls he's fooled around with or even somewhat liked, so he learns more about her and her likes, dislikes, hobbies, beliefs, work ethic, love language and more. he wants to learn and for once, he agrees with the saying "learning is fun". in return, she makes an effort to learn more about him.

always willing to teach. golden girl is inexperienced to say the least. it doesn't make her inferior, it just wasn't time and she wasn't comfortable having her firsts with someone who she wasn't in a relationship with. jj notices, in the beginning, that she's hesitant to make the first move when it comes to kissing. she later confesses (through massive coaxing on jj's part) that he was her first kiss and she doesn't know if she was doing it correctly or if she was doing something wrong or if he didn't want her to kiss him as much as she wanted to so she got nervous. jj just chuckled and offered to teach her. it started off slow and then...intense. turns out she's a fast learner and jj's somewhat suspicious on how she caught on so fast, but then again, he is the one to pull her away from where they are in order to have some alone time, so yeah. (although they haven't taken that step yet it's only a matter of time). this ended in multiple makeout sessions in different locations - his room at the chateau, in the living room when no one was there, in the corner of the beach during a kegger, in her room when her parents weren't home, the twinkie (john b doesn't know about this one and they don't want him to know). turns out, he's a pretty good teacher when he wants to be.

✔︎ JJ's quirks

lays on top of her. jj has a tendency to collapse on whatever surface or bed there is when he's tired. he doesn't even look at the bed. just falls and he's out. she's napping in jj's room at the chateau when he comes in, exhausted, from hauling around groceries for heyward. he made money, but he's beat. he took a shower, didn't even bother to put on a shirt and fell onto the bed. right onto her. he doesn't really notice the body underneath him and just wraps his arms around her and knocks out. however, she notices, waking up from the weight off jj on her chest. she tries to push him away and eventually maneuvers her body so she's on top of him and he's beneath her. this doesn't end well as jj always sleeps on his stomach. and this isn't the last time it happens. she swears that he does it on purpose. (maybe sometimes he does).

calls her the most absurb nicknames. her name is reserved for certain and rare moments and everything else has certain timing. he calls her troublemaker as a contrast to her actual behavior, and also when she's coming along on his little adventures. he calls her goody-two-shoes because well...she is. he calls her baby or babe whenever he wants her attention. he calls her princess in those very rare and private moments, but also he also uses it when he's teasing her. he calls her little lady whenever he's trying to be a gentlemen. and then...there's the other ones. he calls her wormy because she's a bookworm and he thought it was funny. he calls her grumpelstiltskin whenever she's extra grumpy or annoyed. he also thought it was funny to call her flounder when he found out she was scared of sharks. it's not all one sided though because she has a book full of nicknames and some are just as ridiculous. they try to one up each other constantly.

loyal to the end. jj finds loyalty to be the thing he wants most in friendships and eventually, his relationship. that's because jj is loyal beyond belief. it could be counted as his fatal flaw. his friends are his family and family is meant to be protected and something to defend no matter what. she becomes a part of that. he can and will fight if he needs to or even if he wants to. she doesn't find some thing willing or worthy of fighting, but she doesn't see it how jj does. he sees it as disrespect on his family, on his girlfriend, if someone made a comment or even looked at her weird. heck even if john b would to get pissed off and start a fight and jj would be cheering for him even if john b was wrong. and with her? someone who chose him? someone who wants to be with him no matter what? his loyalty is undying. she could be wrong, she could be right, she could be wining or losing, whatever it was, he was by her side, supporting.

ఌ Golden Girl's habits

always looking five steps ahead. jj is not in need of babying. she knows this. he's sixteen and knows there are consequences to his actions even if he's not in favor of those consequences. however, she gets to know that he is reckless because he thinks he knows everything will turn out like he plans it out. but, sometimes it doesn't. and when he's cornered, she already had a way out. sometimes she laughs with smile because she loves his adventures and how he plans with a childlike imagination. but even then, she likes to plan in her head in case anything goes wrong. she doesn't want jj to end up in jail or in major trouble (or any of the pogues) but even she admits that running from the cops is kind of fun and although she may have had a minor anxiety attack the first time, she was glad she already planned and knew the local back roads instead of the main highway. she tends to always have a food or a first aid kit in her bag in case of anything and if she's not there when the boys get stupid, her phone is always turned on. she knows she can depend on him when she's in trouble and jj knows he can depend on her.

always reassuring. she grew up a pogue so she understood bad and horrible home lives. she didn't have it all that bad, but it wasn't always pretty. jj on the other hand. she's heard and eventually seen the results of him and his father fighting. this resulted in jj having a deep rooted belief that he was unlovable. he believed he had to earn love. she quickly picked on it and tried to show him that he wasn't. she did things for him, never asked questions if he didn't want to answer, gave him space, gave him words and affection with reassurance wrap in it. he once asked if she ever got tired of him and she merely answered with "i could never be tired and i never will be". she said it with such confidence that a part of him began to believe it. little by little they were both healing parts of themselves, but her habit of reassurance always helps him stay ground. and in return, she has his undying devotion and admiration that includes reassurance of his own.

always willing to try something new. she's not that fond of getting into trouble and jj's middle name is trouble (and he calls her troublemaker ironically) but when jj suggests they go and do something kind of illegal like spend the night in one of the "in-progress" kook houses, she sucks up her fear and goes along. she's worried, but is willing to be apart of jj's recklessness because it's a part of him. she can't fight it so she'd join him. little by little, she gets more comfortable as she begins to understand that jj would never endanger her and if he had to, he'd take the blame for everything if it meant she'd stay out of trouble. and little by little, she enjoys getting into trouble with him and him only. after their little adventures are done and they're resting for the night, she only smiles and wonders what the next one is.

always leans towards him. the golden girl is use to the dangerousness of the southside as she lives there, but sometimes, even she gets scared or worried. it's just the world we live in. whenever they go out, she began a habit of leaning towards jj or moving near him. she knows that he would always protect her and would die trying to do so. of course she has a mean can of pepper spray and a punch that could send a grown man to the floor, but having jj next to her has her more relaxed. even if she wasn't afraid or in danger, she tend to grab his hand or lean her head on his shoulder without even thinking. having the physical contact with him makes her so happy because he's allowing her into his space and she's touch starved so much that it just makes her so giddy. and jj always puts his arm around her, holds her hand, kisses her cheek or pushes her hair out of her face. he leans towards her as well.

always smiles at him. her smile is something jj sees constantly. and she doesn't fake it at all. she happy to see him, hear his voice, watch him try some stupid thing with pope and john b. and jj is also funny guy and although he says the most absurd things, she can't' help, but smile. it's just an impulse. the joke could be the worst thing or could be a repeated one from the week before, but she always smiles. she learned that jj tells jokes to those he deems worthy of hearing them and they could be in the worst situation and he'd try to lighten the mood. he hated things being tense and worrisome, so he told jokes. she always smiles to show she appreciates them and she never wanted him to stop. jj has begun to recognize all her smiles - the coy ones, the teasing ones, the genuine one, the sarcastic one.

ఌ Golden Girl's quirks

watches and speaks to jj as he sleeps. it began with a romance book she read while having a sleepover at the chateau. the characters reminded her of the two of them. the boy was wild but sweet and the girl was independent but ambitious. it was a wonderful love story and she felt so grateful that she ended up with someone like jj. she ended up sleeping with jj in his room and she just watched him breath. he slept on his stomach with his arm splayed across her waist. his lips were slightly parted. his hair sticking out everywhere because he moves. he looked so peaceful and calm. it's one of her favorite moments with jj when she can admire him without him noticing. just a small moment where she can speak beautiful things out into the night. how she was grateful for him. how she thought he looked like an angel sleeping. how she couldn't believe he chose her and tries everyday. she tells him how she notices everything about him. she'll whisper to him until she falls asleep, hoping that her words will melt into his dreams. and sometimes it does but he doesn't know it's because she's talking to him as he sleeps. he wakes up with a smile and turns over to look at her sleeping, deciding to just admire her for a little before he wakes her up.

connects him with songs and stories. any love story you can think of, she's thought of jj and her in it. any love song whether it be taylor swift or frank sinatra, she danced in room thinking of her and jj. it's so cute and she hopes that jj never finds out because he would totally tease her. it's without provocation at this point. the other day, she heard "paper rings" on the radio and nodded in agreement as she thought of it with her and jj. she went for ice cream after work and jj was working with john b and she thought of allie and noah for a moment, agreeing with the notion that she'd have a long summer romance with him if she was a touron, but they'd make it in the end, and continued on with her day. some called her lovesick or just a teenager, but she doesn't care. it's her first love and she's also his, so she allowed herself those thoughts and moments. a part of her knew that it would end well. she just knew.

gets him little gifts. she works, but she also likes the little home made gifts. she got really into origami when she was younger and likes to take the gum wrappers after she popped the gum in her mouth and make hearts with them. the first time she did it around jj, she handed it to him and went on studying. jj still has it in his wallet next to polaroid of the two of them sleeping together on the hammock during a sunset (taken by sarah). she's made him a bracelet. she saw a hat she thought he'd like and put it in his room to find. she noticed his shoelaces wearing out so she got new ones and replaced the old ones. she's made him a mixtape of all his favorite songs on a CD so he could listen to it in the Twinkie. she's written him a love letter before, but she refuses to give it to him. yet. she made a little plate during her pottery class in high school and put it in his room so he had a place to put all his rings and bracelets so he didn't loose it. she even made him a few origami cranes, swans and other animals because he kept asking. (he wants to ask her to teach him one of these days). he notices and feels touched, but he doesn't know how to express it because she clearly doesn't want a thank you. she just wants to do it. so he repays her in certain ways. once she grabbed a random rock from beach and ended up drawing on it with sharpie. she left it in his room for him to find with a little note saying she named it "rocky" and he would live with him. (jj ended up making "rockette" and she lives with golden girl in her room. they make jokes about sharing custody all the time).

thedarlinglore: this concept of jj with the golden girl (or good girl) just has my damn heart. like it makes me wanna giggle and write for hours. soooooo a FIC IS COMING SOON! i'm drafting rn and i am not busy this week so hopefully it only takes like 3 days bc i like to write longgggggg fics (my last was 18.8k). you might enjoy that one while i write this one. hope you enjoyed!

➣ my last "jj" work | "oh schroeder"

[shiroisotto64]

Fionna & Cake hcs

Fionna

She’s and adrenaline junkie. No questions asked. She loves to bring you with her on adventures! Fighting is already fun, but it’s so much better with company. (Especially if you’re dating)

You’d have to help her keep the apartment in check. It’s a mess when she’s not reminded to tidy it up. Put on some music and she’ll be more willing to get up and clean.

KEEP HER OUT OF THE KITCHEN. This woman CANNOT cook to save her life. That’s why Fionna and cake each sandwiches and take out. She’s tried but Fionna has a track record for burning water so…

Really affectionate and doesn’t mind PDA. She gets flustered but will return you’re affections without question. She’s also always hyping you up. New outfit? She’s the first to comment. Killed a bad guy really quickly? She’s quick to pull you into a strong hug afterwards.

Date nights are anything under the sun honestly. Cuddling in bed? Yeah. Going to a concert? Absolutely!

You could go skating, swimming, anything really but it’s best to do something that can keep her occupied. If she gets bored she’ll kinda space out. She doesn’t mean to though and will apologize later.

Simon

He likes to read to you. In fact he’ll lend you his books to read so you can both talk about it afterwards. He gets really excited to do this and tends to ramble. So you’ll have to excuse him.

Once you say something he’s more conscious and tries not to do it anyone unless your encourage him. He still has his dark days but it’s way easier with you. However Simon hates feeling like a burden.

So he’s not the best with communicating his problems. He tends to lock them away until he snaps. He always feels horrible and leaves for a bit to calm down and clear his head.

He’s an introvert. But if you want him to go with you he’ll try at least. But he will be vocal about it if he feels uncomfortable and wants to go back home. Date nights are pretty chill honestly.

Baking, watching movies / documentaries. Reading or talking about books together. He likes when you talk about you’re interests! He’ll listen and ask questions so he gets it to. He gets real flustered with PDA so keep that in mind to.

Marshall Lee

Real laid back and chill. He plays his guitar while y’all hang out. He has and still will write songs about and or inspired by you and his friends.

He’s really supportive. He encourages you to go after you’re dreams and do whatever makes you happy. Marshall finds it real cute when you wear his shirts or button ups.

Hell he encourages it even. He vents to you about his mom sometimes. He really appreciates you listening and is even more appreciative if you give him advice on how to properly talk to / get through to her.

Has a sweet tooth. You can easily bride him with sweets of any kind. Want him to wash the dishes for you? Whip out a box of his fav cookies from the store. He’s never washed dishes faster in his life.

You’d end up paying for a lot of stuff, sorry. He tries his best to get money singing on the corners and streets of the town yet it only pays so much. He really appreciates it if you’re patient with him.

He’s ok with Pda and will reciprocate you’re affections but doesn’t expect to not be teased in the process.

Gary

He’s like a mother hen. He gets worried if you don’t answer his texts within 10 minutes honestly. It might get annoying and if it does? Gently tell him how you feel and he’ll do his best to be more patient.

He likes cooking and baking for you. And it makes his whole week if you praise his skills and tell him how much you love it. Bonus point if you can bake or if you give him constructive criticism!

He likes it when you play in his hair. He loves it when you pull his head into you’re lap and run you’re fingers through his pink hair. He’ll be out in minutes honestly.

Gary swoons whenever you put on his sweaters. He has bought the both of you matchin ones. And he is also the type to wanna get matching couples outfits. Just putting that out there.

He likes it when you to clean together. He cleans the dishes and you rinse them off. You both finish that much faster and after he goes up behind you to embrace you. He’ll stay like that for as long as you let him.

Gets flustered by PDA but welcomes it anyways. And Gary is super affectionate at night. He doesn’t care if he’s big or little spoon just hold him.

Finn

He’s affectionate and tries to be as honest with you as he can. But Finn isn’t the best with negative feelings. We all saw how he struggled to help Simon and was a bit awkward while doing it.

Another adrenaline junkie. He likes to go camping and adventuring with you. Anything fun and active and he’s in. Finn Is also very considerate of the things you like and will get you something that reminds him of you while he’s out. Or something he knows you’ll like.

Really playfully. He’ll sometimes just pick you up and throw you over his shoulder before walking off to go knows where. He has complete faith in you and is real happy if you feel the same!

Doesn’t get jealous, like at all. Like I said complete trust in you. He doesn’t question you’re actions and just goes with the flow. He’s very comfortable with you’re bond.

He’s chill with Pda. If you hug him he’ll hug back. You want a kiss? You got it. No questions asked. He is protective of you though. Yet is also confident in you’re abilities but if you need help he’s there in the blink of an eye.

Winter King

Loves to sing to you! He’ll declare his love to you in and out of town. He loves to spoil you. Anything you want is yours. He always smiles at you whenever he catches you looking at him.

Will pull you in to dance with him. You both go ice skating all the time and if you don’t know how he’ll teach you. He’s real patient with you, so don’t worry. He tries to impress you. He’s very subtle about it but if you pay attention you can see it.

He’d melt if you sat on his lap while he sat on his throne. He has introduced you to ice Marcy. I think you’d all get along pretty well. Kinda like a little family. Also his two guards love hanging out with you.

Training and skating you name it they’re in. Simon chuckles while he watches them drag you around. He’s really affectionate to. You both are attached at the hip! He has to have a hand on you at all times or he’ll explode.

Winter king can’t help but to flush if you pull him down to press kisses to his face. He also loves when you run you’re fingers through his silky hair. He lets you go in his lab. He answers you’re questions if you have any.

Candy Queen

(I couldn’t find any gifs I’m sorry)

She’s the clingiest. You’re not allowed to go anywhere without her. You can barely get alone time in the bathroom. She’s always writing new songs to sing to you.

She’ll put on a show to win you’re praises and affection. Like i said she really affectionate. She’ll take naps on you throughout the day. She does drool a little but you’ll be ok.

Not much to say I feel like shes really straight forward. She’s not ashamed of the pictures she has of you in her room and openly flirts with you. Dose not mind PDA she heavily encourages it even.

Gets all giddy if you annotate affection. She’d be chill to watch cartoons with you while you both laze around doing nothin in particular.

[fairycheol]

enhypen as boyfriends

이희승

Heeseung is the type of boyfriend who likes to playfully flirt with you in public just to get a reaction out of you. It’s a habit he’s had since before you started dating.

But with his teasing comes his never ending urge to protect and take care of you, doesn’t matter if it’s pulling you to the inside of a sidewalk, tying your shoes for you, and making sure you are eating regularly.

And trust if he finds out you’ve skipped a meal, he’s sitting you down and personally hand feeding you everything.

Arguments between you two rarely occur and when they do happen it’s usually over something small, like forgetting to text him good morning or give him a kiss goodbye.

This man is so dramatic he once ignored you for an entire week because you mistook one of Jake’s hoodies as his (｡-_-｡)

All in all he just wants you to be happy with him, and he’s willing to do pretty much anything to make sure you feel that way.

박종성

Jay I think is more of a silent lover. He’s not screaming “I love you!” in your face 24/7 like some of the other members, but that doesn’t necessarily mean his love for you is any less.

He prefers showing his love for you by putting his black card to use no matter how much it may annoy you. Jay’s rich tho, so he has no problem dropping 1k dollars for you when he wants.

And while the expensive bouquet of flowers and fancy restaurant dates are nice, Jay also knows how to plan a more relaxed dinner date.

He’ll put his cooking skills to use and make a cute little picnic just for you, complete with activities like painting or stargazing.

You also didn’t hear this from me but, Jay is an extreme cuddlier. I’m talking straight up will put you in a chokehold just to keep you from getting up and leaving him in the freezing cold.

Kind of want my own silent lover Jay now ☹️

심재윤

Oh lord where do i even begin with Jake.

I guess i’ll start off by saying that he loves showing you off. I’m talking will go up to random strangers in a 7/11 to say things like,

“this is my girlfriend? isnt she so pretty?” and then he proceeds to get upset if the person agrees or says nothing at all like okay 💀

Then you have to yell at him for drawing to much attention to you when you have on disney pajama pants and the first sweater you could find from off your dirty floor, but he still insists you look great.

Apart from that he’s not afraid of being affectionate in public, he’ll hug you, hold your hand, and kiss you at any given moment. He still knows when to keep a respectable amount of distance between you two, especially if you begin to show signs of discomfort.

This man would be so in love it’s actually sickening, he stares at you like you made the universe. (cue Niki dramatically gagging in the background)

박성훈

The two of you are either polar opposite’s or the exact same in terms of personality but otherwise, star-crossed lovers. That’s exactly what you guys are.

Sunghoon I think is a perfect combination of what Jay and Jake are as boyfriends. He’s quiet but can get really loud with his affection whenever he wants.

Café dates are a must. He enjoys the peacefulness of sitting together drinking coffee and talking about how you’re both feeling.

I get the feeling his favorite form of physical affection is hugging you, getting to feel the warmth from your body and the way you nuzzle into his neck makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

He’ll never admit this to you but he loves being woken up with kisses onto the moles that decorate his pale skin. He’s faked being asleep at least 10 times just to get some kisses and bask in the warmth of it all.

김선우

Sunoo is probably the most energetic lover out of all the enhypen members. Nothing and i mean absolutely nothing can stop him from letting it be known just how happy he is to have you in his life.

He loves any and all kinds of dates, baking dates? loves it. stay at home dates? he’s got snacks ready. fancy dates? oh he’s going ALL OUT.

Taking pictures of the two of you is another favorite of his. His camera roll is 90% just you. He tears up a little when he has to make room for camera storage cause he wants to cherish your memories together on his phone.

I think he’s also very big on keeping you well fed. He’s always making trips to the store and buying your favorite snacks so you never run out.

Physical affection is another big thing for him, he wants you to feel his love not just through his words and actions but quite literally through his body too.

He’s a perfect boyfriend.

양정원

Jungwon, Jungwon, Jungwon, our lovely leader is def a shy lover. He’s quiet but his actions speak a lot louder than words.

He basks in the warmth of your love and affection. He’s exactly like a cat, YOU kind of have to do all the work but it’s honestly not as bad as it sounds.

He lives for dates in the park, getting to walk around and find a good place to set up your picnic makes him very happy for some reason.

And trust me when i say he has fallen asleep on your lap a good number of times, but he can’t help it! he just gets all warm and happy around you.

I do think because of his leader instincts he’s very protective of you. One time you scraped your knee at the park and my guy was running around almost in tears ready to fight the pebble you tripped on.

He eventually calmed down enough to get some bandaids from a near by store and fix you up. He insisted on carrying you all the way home and was some how successful on doing so.

西村 力

He’s your concert/trip buddy. You two will go anywhere and everywhere together it kind of annoys the members but hey, young love.

He once spotted you at one of their tour stops in the U.S. and he almost lost his mind. Fans got suspicious as to why he began to pay so much attention to the section you were sitting in.

Niki likes to facetime you at random parts of the day just to annoy you, jkjk he does it cause he wants to talk with you. Being around the hyungs for so long makes him miss you and feel lonely but he’ll never admit that.

He more often then not will sneak you into the practice room to show off his dancing and will ask for your opinion afterwards.

It’s mandatory that you give him a kiss everytime he does something good or else he gets upset 😠

All in all he’s just happy to have someone to call his home away from home.

[pin-k-ink]

maelstrom // miya osamu & miya atsumu (pt. 1)

tw ⇢ dub-con, mutual pining, teasing, sexual content, strong sexual tension, suggestive themes, polyamory/threesome implications

wc ⇢ 12.3k

part one | part two

The summer heat enveloped you like a warm embrace, thick and heady in the late afternoon air. Your skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat as you chased after the twins, breathless laughter tumbling from your lips.

Atsumu glanced back at you over his shoulder, a mischievous grin stretching across his face. "C'mon slowpoke, you're fallin' behind!" he teased, dark brown hair whipping in the breeze as he ran.

Osamu shot you a playful smirk, easily keeping pace with his brother's longer strides. Even at nine years old, the competitive spark between the twins burned bright.

You huffed out a breath, cheeks flushed from the exertion as you willed your shorter legs to move faster. The sound of Atsumu and Osamu's rambunctious laughter echoed through the park as you gave chase.

Finally, you caught up to the twins under the broad canopy of an old oak tree. Doubling over with your hands braced on your knees, you gulped in deep lungfuls of air.

"You jerks...waited up..." you managed between pants, shooting them a half-hearted glare.

Atsumu propped his hands on his hips, eyes dancing with poorly concealed glee. "If you can't keep up, maybe you shouldna played tag, (Y/N)-chan."

"'M faster than you," Osamu piped up, sticking his tongue out at his brother in a show of childish teasing.

You watched the familiar bickering unfold with a fond smile, their back-and-forth already an ingrained fixture of your childhood. Atsumu and Osamu had been your best friends for as long as you could remember, partners in crime and constant companions through thick and thin.

The first day of your senior year started off like any other. The piercing trill of your alarm sliced through the heavy silence of your bedroom. You groaned, blindly reaching out to slam the snooze button before reluctantly peeling yourself out from under the cocoon of warm blankets.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you trudged over to your closet and began the familiar routine of getting ready for school. You pulled on your uniform skirt, smoothing the soft plaid fabric over your thighs. Next came the crisp white button-down, which you tucked neatly into the waistband before fastening each button one-by-one.

As you stood in front of the mirror putting the final touches on your look, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of melancholy. This marked the beginning of your last year of high school - your last year before everything changed. Soon you'd be going off to college, leaving behind so many cherished memories and faces.

The sound of the front door opening and closing echoed up the stairwell, followed by a muffled "I'm here!" Sparing one last glance at your reflection, you grabbed your backpack and hurried downstairs to find the Miya twins waiting in your entryway.

"Well don't you look as radiant as ever?" Atsumu purred by way of greeting, leaning casually against the wall. His dark blazer hung open to reveal the trademark navy sweater vest, sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

You felt your cheeks warm at his bright smile and unabashedly appreciative once-over. Even after all these years, Atsumu's shamelessly flirtatious remarks never failed to flustered you.

"Ignore him," Osamu chimed in with a good-natured roll of his eyes. The gray haired twin stood beside his brother, hands tucked into the pockets of his neatly pressed trousers. "Ya know he's always been a smooth-talkin' little shit."

"Oh c'mon 'Samu, don't be jealous that I actually know how to compliment a lady," Atsumu shot back with a devilish grin.

You bit back a laugh at their playful back-and-forth, shaking your head in amusement. "You two are too much. Are you ready to go?"

With a final shared look, the twins followed you out the door and down the all-too-familiar path towards Inarizaki High for the last time. You couldn't help but savor each familiar sight and sound - the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees, the rhythmic tapping of your footsteps, Osamu and Atsumu's animated chatter.

These small moments had been the steadfast backdrop to your life for as long as you could remember. And soon, everything was going to change. You tried not to dwell on how much you'd miss this comfortable routine...and how much you'd miss the twins.

The walk to school passed by in a warm, familiar rhythm. Atsumu and Osamu bickered good-naturedly as they always did, trading barbs and insults that held no real bite. You chimed in occasionally with a teasing comment of your own, relishing in the easy camaraderie between the three of you.

All too soon, the gates of Inarizaki High came into view, signaling the end of your short reprieve. The open courtyard buzzed with students carrying on conversations and laughing amongst themselves as they began to filter inside for homeroom.

You lingered back, letting the twins stride ahead a few paces as you drank in the atmosphere around you. This grand entrance, these precisely trimmed hedges, the cherry blossom trees lining the walkway - they had become such ingrained sights over the past three years. You wanted to commit every detail to memory before it all slipped away after graduation.

"You comin', (Y/N)?" Atsumu called back to you, snapping you from your reverie.

You blinked rapidly, offering him what you hoped was a convincing smile. "Yeah, I'm right behind you."

As you moved to catch up with the twins, Atsumu fell into step beside you. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body as your arms brushed together with each stride. Up close, you noticed the strong line of his jaw had become more chiseled, his cheekbones sharper and more refined. He really had grown into a handsome young man.

"See something ya like, (Y/N)-chan?" His voice was a deep rumble laced with amusement. When you turned to face him with furrowed brows, Atsumu's piercing eyes danced with mischief. "You were starin' pretty hard there."

You felt your face grow hot with a blush. "W-What? No, I wasn't staring! I was just...lost in thought."

The lie tumbled clumsily from your lips as you averted your gaze, silently cursing your inability to be honest - with Atsumu or with yourself. Because the truth was, you had been drinking in every detail of his appearance, admiring the way his perfectly tousled hair seemed to glow like sunlight in the morning rays.

Osamu scoffed from your other side. "Sure ya were. That's what they all say."

You shot the gray-haired twin a halfhearted glare. "Oh, put a sock in it, 'Samu."

The three of you continued your playful banter, but you were hyperaware of Atsumu's presence beside you. The cadence of his voice, the subtle spicy aroma of his cologne, the casual brush of his arm against yours - it all flooded your senses in a dizzying wave. You swallowed hard and tried to push away the fluttering feeling blossoming in your chest.

Was it possible you were developing feelings for your best friend, after all this time?

The thought was dizzying...and more than a little terrifying. Atsumu and Osamu had been permanent fixtures in your life for as long as you could remember. To complicate that bond with romantic feelings felt like an overstep, even if Atsumu's own flirtatious behavior seemed to egg you on.

No, it was better to just bury those confusing emotions. Your friendship with the twins was too precious to risk over a passing infatuation that may not even be reciprocated.

The school day passed by in a whirlwind of lectures, notes, and mindless doodling for Atsumu. His thoughts kept drifting, wholly consumed by you and the inexplicable pull he felt in your presence.

During lunch period, he spotted you walking across the courtyard alongside Osamu, deep in conversation. Atsumu's breath hitched in his throat as you threw your head back with unbridled laughter at something his twin had said. The way the sunlight kissed your features, illuminating the jovial crinkles around your eyes and the bright flush in your cheeks - you looked positively radiant.

Atsumu felt that all-too-familiar ache blossom in his chest as he watched you from afar. An ache that had plagued him more and more over the past couple of years. At first, he mistook it for typical teenage infatuation, but lately the feelings had only intensified into something deeper...something he couldn't quite put a name to.

All he knew was that he never wanted to miss another moment of your smile, your laughter, your easy way of existing in the world. You were his harbor, the one thing that kept him grounded amidst the chaos of school, volleyball, and the looming pressure of an uncertain future.

"You're starin' again, ya big creep," Osamu's gruff voice dragged Atsumu from his reverie. The gray-haired twin slid onto the bench across from him, already digging into his perfectly triangular onigiri lunch.

Atsumu felt a rush of heat flood his cheeks at being so brazenly called out. He tried to play it cool with a nonchalant shrug. "I wasn't starin'. Just...observin'."

"Is that what yer callin' it these days?" Osamu quirked one brow skeptically before taking another massive bite of his rice ball.

Atsumu's eyes drifted back over to where you still stood near the vending machines, laughing at something on your phone. The sound was light and airy, so full of pure, unbridled joy - he wished he could bottle it up and keep it safe forever.

With a resigned sigh, Atsumu dragged his stare away to meet his twin's knowing gaze. "It's nothin', okay? Don't go readin' into it."

But even as the words left his lips, they both knew it was a lie. There was no use denying the truth any longer - Atsumu was well and truly enamored with you.

The realization should have been earth-shattering. You were his closest friend, his confidante, the one person who knew him inside and out and stuck by him through everything. To risk that connection by developing romantic feelings seemed like the highest form of idiocy.

And yet...Atsumu couldn't bring himself to regret it. Not when every shared laugh, every brush of your hand against his, every softly murmured inside joke set his heart aflame with purpose. Being around you simply felt right in a way he couldn't explain.

Maybe there would never be a way to act on these feelings. Maybe he was destined to keep them locked away, a melancholic ache to carry through life.

But still, he decided as he watched you rejoin them with that brilliant smile, it was worth it to bask in your light...even if doing so risked getting burned.

The final weeks of senior year passed by in a bittersweet blur for Atsumu. Each familiar routine and milestone carried a melancholic weight, knowing it would all be ripped away after graduation.

As he strode through the halls of Inarizaki for the last time, memories seemed to assault him from every corner. There was the spot under the old oak tree where you used to enjoy lunch together, trading jokes and playful barbs. The student lounge where he and Osamu would lounge around after practices, making up ridiculous games to stave off boredom while they waited for you.

And then there was you - an omnipresent force that had been woven inextricably into the fabric of Atsumu's high school experience. Your radiant smile, your effervescent laugh, your quiet strength that grounded him even in his most unhinged moments.

He tried not to dwell too hard on the ache that blossomed in his chest whenever you were around lately. The nagging feelings that had started as a tiny spark but had grown into a raging inferno, threatening to consume him whole.

Atsumu knew, in that deep part of himself he refused to acknowledge, that his feelings for you had long surpassed the boundaries of a platonic friendship. You weren't just his closest confidante, his partner-in-crime of sorts. You were...everything. The very axis around which his world seemed to pivot and spin.

But he could never admit that out loud, could never even entertain the notion of exposing those feelings to the harsh light of day. Because to do so would be to risk fracturing the precious bond you'd all cultivated over years of shared history. You were too important - what you had was too important.

So Atsumu carried his burden silently, stuffing those unruly emotions down until they plaqued his very bones with a dull, relentless ache. He watched from the sidelines as you laughed and joked with Osamu, intimate in a way that simultaneously warmed and shattered Atsumu's heart.

Did his brother feel the same forbidden longing that seemed to consume Atsumu more with each passing day? He could never tell - Osamu had always been the quieter twin, opting to express himself through subtle gestures and lingering looks rather than brash words.

All Atsumu knew was that with each tender brush of Osamu's fingers against your arm, each murmured private joke you shared, another tiny fissure seemed to splinter his foolish heart wide open.

He couldn't begrudge either of you for something so inexplicably human as emotional attachments. You had both been the two pillars propping him up for as long as he could remember. To lose one of you would reverberate through his entire world like a flash-bomb detonation.

So Atsumu simply swallowed down the persistent lump in his throat and basked in your presence for as long as he was permitted. He drank in the sight of you crossing the courtyard, head thrown back in uninhibited laughter at something Osamu murmured in your ear. He committed the melody of your voice to memory as you cheerfully called out to him during breaks, always including him.

Because as long as he could revel in these small moments, maybe the hollow ache of unrequited love wouldn't completely devour him. Maybe he could subsist on the lingering crumbs of your friendship and admiration from afar.

As their high school years faded into memory, a new looming question began to worm its way insidiously into Atsumu's mind:

What would he do when simply being near you was no longer enough to satiate the relentless hunger burning inside him?

The day of graduation dawned bright and cloudless, the perfect sunny backdrop for the class of Inarizaki to bid farewell to their high school years. As Atsumu donned his crimson gown and mortarboard hat, he couldn't help but feel a surge of melancholy.

This moment marked the end of an era. No more shared classes or inside jokes scribbled onto desk tops. No more rambunctious locker room celebrations after winning the championships. Atsumu's indelible memories were forever trapped behind these walls, preserved like insects in amber.

As he made his way across the manicured quad towards the auditorium, award-winning volleyball skills moving his long legs with an innate grace, Atsumu scanned the milling crowd for your familiar face. His breath hitched in his throat when he finally spotted you.

You looked positively radiant swathed in the rich burgundy robes, the sunlight catching on your glossy tresses as you laughed at something one of your friends said. Atsumu felt that familiar swooping sensation in his stomach as you tossed your head back, entire body alight with uninhibited joy.

In that moment, he made a silent vow to etch every curve, every plane of your face into his memory forever. The delicate sweep of your lashes fanning across flushed cheeks. The dimples that appeared whenever your smile stretched wide enough. That lopsided grin he'd fallen tragically in love with over the years.

Atsumu wasn't naive enough to think this wouldn't be one of the last times he saw you look so unburdened and carefree before the pressures of the "real world" came crashing down. He wanted to soak in this moment for as long as he was permitted.

A gentle hand on his elbow pulled Atsumu from his reverie. He blinked rapidly, only then realizing he'd been unabashedly staring. Osamu stood beside him, dressed in his own graduation robes with an inscrutable look on his features.

"You're doin' it again," was all he said, letting the unspoken words hang heavy between them.

Atsumu swallowed hard, feeling a flush of embarrassment warm the tips of his ears. Before he could formulate a pithy retort, you suddenly appeared in front of them, all sunshine smiles and breathless excitement.

"There you guys are!" you exclaimed happily. "I've been looking everywhere for my two favorite people."

You reached out to playfully swat at Atsumu's bicep, and he was struck by how utterly at ease you seemed - as if the joy of this momentous occasion coalesced around you in a glowing aura. How he longed to bottle up that radiance, keep it tucked away for himself to admire whenever the world drained the color from his periphery.

"Aw, ya know ya don't gotta flatter us like that, doll," Atsumu drawled out with a roguish wink. "We were always the favorites, even if you won't admit it."

You stuck your tongue out at his teasing, eyes sparkling with mirth. And just like that, the familiar song and dance resumed between you three. Banter and jokes filling the empty spaces, temporarily soothing the sting of all that was ending.

As you pulled both twins in for a group photo, arms looped casually around their shoulders, Atsumu was struck by the sudden realization of how small you seemed tucked into his side. He breathed in the intoxicating floral notes of your shampoo, allowing it to temporarily saturate his senses and blot out the rest of the world.

This was the feeling he longed to chase endlessly - the comforting warmth of you beside him, both temporally and physically close. With you tucked against him, nothing else seemed to matter in that moment. Not the pressures of the future or impending loss of this routine. All that existed was your smile, your laughter, your essence.

As Osamu's hand came to rest on the small of your back, pulling your trio into an even tighter warm embrace, Atsumu couldn't ignore the dull flare of _something_ igniting in his chest. It was a spark threatening to raze him from the inside out if he allowed it to fully fan into flame.

Jealousy? Longing? Desperation?

He wasn't sure, and he was too afraid to inspect that conflagration any closer. All Atsumu knew in that moment was that he didn't want this feeling to ever end - even if the fire consuming him was the only thing keeping him warm.

With a few clicks and flashes, the impromptu photoshoot came to an end. You stepped back from the twins, smoothing down the sleek crimson fabric of your gown with a beaming smile.

"I can't believe this is really it," you said, letting out a slightly breathless laugh tinged with disbelief. "The end of an era."

Atsumu felt his throat constrict slightly at your words. You weren't wrong - the life and routines you'd all become so accustomed to were coming to a definitive end today. The demon of change loomed on the horizon, refusing to be ignored any longer.

Before he could dwell too much on the creeping sense of melancholy, Osamu was suddenly there, his larger hand engulfing your smaller one in a warm grip.

"C'mere for a sec," the gray-haired twin murmured, voice pitched low enough that Atsumu had to strain to catch the words.

You shot Atsumu a quizzical look over your shoulder as Osamu began to gently tug you away from the crowd of meandering graduates and their families. Atsumu could only offer a halfhearted shrug, that ever-present lump forming in his throat once more.

He watched with a strange sense of detachment as Osamu guided you under the secluded alcove of a tall oak tree, its thick canopy of leaves providing a sheltered respite from prying eyes. You came to a stop before him, the two of you bathed in shards of filtered sunlight as you stared up at Osamu with clear confusion.

But Atsumu knew his twin, could read the set of Osamu's shoulders and the slight downward quirk of his lips. He was working himself up to something, expending that extra energy to gather his thoughts in a way Atsumu had never been able to do himself.

Slowly, reverently, Osamu lifted his free hand to cup your cheek, calloused thumb tracing the delicate curve of bone there. You seemed to freeze under the tender ministration, lips parting slightly on an exhale. Atsumu found himself holding his breath right along with you, the world around him reduced to a dim buzzing while he waited for whatever would happen next.

Then, as if in slow motion, Osamu leaned down to press his lips against your forehead in a lingering, achingly intimate kiss.

The gesture was shockingly gentle, a sweetness Atsumu didn't know his rough-edged twin was even capable of. He couldn't tear his widened eyes away as you lifted your own hands to settle against Osamu's chest, fingertips lightly bunching the fabric of his gown.

For a fragmented heartbeat, it was as if Atsumu wasn't even there - just two bodies frozen in a private embrace, conveying everything words could never hope to fully encapsulate. It was beautiful and heart-rending all at once.

Just as quickly as the moment began, it was over. Osamu pulled back ever-so-slightly, eyes flickering over your features as he drank in your awestruck expression with an indecipherable look of his own.

Then, the spell was broken by the sound of Atsumu's mother calling out to them, gesturing with her camera for the trio to regroup for more pictures.

You stepped backwards, mouth still hanging open as if to speak before visibly collecting yourself. Osamu's expression had already smoothed back into his usual impassive mask, but that muscle in his jaw ticked with some undefinable emotion as he followed your lead out from the shade of the tree.

All three of you rejoined the crowd without a word spoken about what had just transpired. Atsumu fell into step beside his twin, throwing furtive glances towards Osamu's stoic profile out of the corner of his eye.

What the hell was that? The thought battered around his skull like an insistent, droning pulse he couldn't ignore. Did Osamu have feelings for you too? Unrequited, seemingly unspoken feelings if the tortured longing in that chaste embrace told Atsumu anything.

The realization that your friendship may have permanently shifted should have been earth-shattering. But in that moment, Atsumu couldn't bring himself to process the full weight of it. Not when you stood there looking so bewildered and ethereal, the last rays of afternoon sunlight setting your very skin aglow.

Change was inevitable, he supposed. And no amount of clinging to the nostalgic innocence of the past could stop the inescapable march of time.

So he simply closed his eyes, letting the radiant warmth of you sear itself into his memory alongside the phantom imprint of Osamu's lips against your forehead.

It was a picture he knew, deep down, that he would never be able to recreate or find again.

A few weeks after the bittersweet pomp and circumstance of graduation, you found yourself standing in the cozy kitchen of the Miya household. The air was thick with the aroma of simmering rice and freshly chopped vegetables as Osamu methodically prepped ingredients.

"Told ya I was gonna put ya to work," he called over his shoulder with a teasing lilt. "Can't have ya leeching off my hospitality for free, (Y/N)."

You stuck your tongue out at the back of his head, momentarily forgetting he couldn't actually see the childish gesture. In the weeks following your high school sendoff, the three of you had fallen back into that familiar, effortless rhythm. Spending time together was as natural as breathing - a fact you were infinitely grateful for.

"I'm happy to help however I can," you replied easily, tying one of Osamu's spare aprons around your waist. "You know I'd do anything to support your dream of opening that onigiri shop."

Osamu's shoulder hitched in a half-shrug, but you caught the way the tips of his ears tinged pink at your earnest proclamation. For all his put-upon gruffness, the gray-haired twin had a surprisingly soft underbelly when it came to vulnerability.

"Just don't go gassin' my head up too much," he finally muttered, turning to face you with a bashful smile. "I'll start to think yer tryna butter me up for free food or somethin'."

You opened your mouth to refute his teasing claim, but your retort died on your lips as Osamu closed the distance between you. He moved with that same innate grace he exuded on the volleyball court, casual confidence rolling off him in waves until you were cast in his looming shadow.

Up close, you were struck by the intensity simmering in his half-lidded gunmetal eyes, the slight protrusion of his sharp cheekbones accented by the strong angles of his jawline. All boyish softness had faded from his features, giving way to an arresting maturity that stole your breath.

When did Osamu become...this? You found yourself wondering with no small amount of bewilderment. Sure, you'd always known the twins were outrageously handsome, but that acknowledged fact had seemed almost irrelevant in the grand scheme of your close-knit friendship.

Now though, as Osamu's broad palms settled on the counter on either side of you, effectively bracketing you against the solid line of his body, you were hyper-aware of how big he was. How undeniably masculine in a way you'd somehow missed until this very moment.

The barest whisper of his sandalwood cologne infiltrated your senses as he leaned closer, deep timbre reverberating against your skin.

"A'right, enough flirtin'," he murmured, the barest hint of a smirk playing on those full lips. "Let's get cookin' before this rice gets any older."

You could only nod dumbly as he guided you through the familiar rhythm of onigiri preparation, his body a scorching presence against your back. Each brush of his calloused fingers against yours as he adjusted your hand positioning sent electric jolts of heated awareness dancing along your nerves.

And when he bent even closer, the deep rumble of his laughter ghosting across the sensitive skin of your neck while he murmured instructions, you struggled not to shiver. The dizzying blend of cedar musk and the salty tang of dried seaweed filled your senses until Osamu was all you could perceive.

In the periphery of your vision, you caught a glimpse of Atsumu lingering in the kitchen entrance, watching your intimate exchange through narrowed eyes. You tamped down the slight lurch of guilt at the realization he'd witnessed your proximity to his twin.

Surely there was nothing untoward happening here - just Osamu teaching you a skill he'd perfected through hands-on guidance. This closeness and physical ease was natural for your long-standing friendship... Right?

Still, you couldn't help the shiver of heated awareness that trickled down your spine at Osamu's every touch, igniting your nerve endings like driftwood catching the first lick of flame.

This felt decidedly new, unfamiliar...and more than a little thrilling in a way that should have been deeply unsettling. Yet you found yourself sinking into the unfurling warmth of Osamu's proximity with little protest, chasing that smoldering spark of tension.

As the rhythmic kneading and shaping of the onigiri filling continued, the heavy silence that blanketed the kitchen only seemed to grow thicker with tension. You were hyperaware of every minute shift in Osamu's body behind you, the whisper of his exhales fanning across the back of your neck.

His hands felt searing against yours as he firmly guided your movements, broad palms engulfing your smaller ones entirely. You struggled to focus on his softly murmured instructions, the deep timbre of his voice reverberating through you with each rumbling syllable.

"There ya go, just like that..." Osamu's praise was a low purr against the heated shell of your ear. "Yer a natural at this, doll."

You bit back a full-body shiver at the endearment, all too aware of how easily those simple pet names rolled off his tongue nowadays. There was an undeniable undercurrent of suggestion woven into each word, blatant flirtation thinly veiled behind their usual banter.

When had his teasing comments started to evolve into something more heated, more weighted with implication? You couldn't pinpoint an exact moment, but the shift was unmistakable now.

A large, calloused palm skated up the length of your arm to splay possessively against the dip of your waist, effortlessly drawing your bodies into complete alignment. You felt surrounded, enveloped by Osamu's solid heat and earthy, intoxicating scent.

"Gettin' a lil handsy there, aren'tcha 'Samu?" The familiar lilt of Atsumu's voice shattered the heated tension like a bucket of ice water.

You startled slightly at the sudden intrusion, tearing your eyes away from the expanse of tanned forearms bracketing you against the counter. Atsumu stood in the kitchen doorway, hip cocked lazily as he regarded the two of you with an inscrutable expression.

There was an edge to his Usually playful smirk that bordered on something darker as his piercing gaze slowly raked over the suggestive lines of your bodies. You suddenly felt unbearably overheated under the weight of that stare, heat licking up the back of your neck in a flush.

"Can't have my favourite taste tester gettin' cold feet now," Osamu replied without missing a beat, not even bothering to extract himself from your intimate position. In fact, his fingers flexed ever-so-slightly against your waist, pulling you somehow even closer in a subconscious gesture of possession.

The air felt weighted, charged with an undercurrent of challenge that had your pulse thrumming in your ears. Osamu's confident indifference only seemed to sharpen the intensity of Atsumu's regard.

When the blond finally spoke again, his voice carried a strained edge that had your mouth going dry with unnamed tension. "Is that how yer plannin' to taste test? Gettin' real...hands on with the process?"

It should have been an innocuous statement, laced with Atsumu's trademark cockiness that you'd come to expect. And yet tingles of heated awareness sparked along your nerve endings at the subtle growl woven into those last few words.

You were abruptly, viscerally reminded that these were not the same unruly teens you'd grown up alongside all these years. Somewhere along the way, the easy camaraderie and roughhousing had evolved into something darker, heavier - an intricate magic act of push and pull and simmering, unspoken tension.

Osamu simply cocked one brow in response to his twin's barb, the barest of smirks playing at the corner of his lips. "That a problem for ya, 'Tsumu?"

The challenge hung thick and palpable in the air as Osamu let his palm splay even wider across the dip of your waist, thumb grazing the exposed sliver of skin where your shirt had ridden up.

You felt like you were suspended in the eye of a storm, caught in the crosshairs of some secret battle waged entirely through subtle physicality and heated stares. The energy swirling between the brothers was suffocating, heady, triggering your fight-or-flight instinct.

Part of you wanted nothing more than to flee this suddenly stifling kitchen and catch your breath. But the other part - a deeper, primal part of your psyche - was entranced by this unfurling dance. You were transfixed by the raw, unbridled maleness suddenly radiating from two men you'd known your whole life.

"Y'know, on second thought..." Atsumu's voice dragged you from your daze, lower and edgier than you'd ever heard it. He pushed off from the doorframe with one last lingering look, jaw flexing subtly. "I'll leave the two of ya to it."

Then he was gone, disappearing back down the hallway from whence he'd come. Yet the heated imprint of his stare seemed seared into the very air around you, an inescapable phantom presence.

The tension didn't dissipate even after he departed. If anything, it ratcheted up several precarious notches as Osamu's gunmetal gaze slid over to you. A beat passed where you simply stared at each other, the weighted silence stretching taut.

Then, before you could even process his next move, Osamu dipped his head until his nose brushed against the sensitive skin just below your ear. His gravelly exhale fanned across your throat as he murmured, "Where were we, doll?"

Osamu's words seemed to release whatever fragile hold you'd maintained on keeping this heated situation at arm's length. The rough timbre of his voice coupled with the scorching brand of his body against yours proved to be your undoing.

You couldn't resist leaning back into the solid wall of his chest, seeking out that blissful fusion of hard planes and masculine warmth. A quiet, needy sound escaped the back of your throat as Osamu's hands roamed with more insistence - one splaying across your lower abdomen to tug your hips flush against him, the other skimming featherlight patterns up your ribs.

"That's it, sweetheart," he rumbled in approval, lips brushing the shell of your ear with each ragged syllable. "Don't overthink this..."

His palms felt scorching even through the thin cotton barrier of your top as they mapped every dip and swell of your torso. You shuddered at the overwhelming rush of sensation sparking along your nerve endings, body instinctively arching into his touch like a flower seeking sunlight.

This went against every sensible part of your being that understood intimate moments like this between friends could lead nowhere good. That little voice of restraint had been drowned out entirely by the molten lava flow of want and need thrumming through your veins.

All you could perceive was the hot brand of Osamu's body weighing you down, the dizzying amalgam of his cedar musk and the salty tang of rice. The rough pads of his fingertips skating higher, higher, until you were certain he could feel the frantic staccato beating of your heart.

"So responsive for me," Osamu growled in approval, sounding almost awed. "Been wantin' this for a long time, haven'tcha doll?"

Had you? The question should have given you pause, allowed some semblance of rationality and self-control to creep back in through the hairline fractures.

But Osamu didn't give you that opportunity. His palm finally cupped your breast in one scorching caress, kneading the soft flesh with confident surety. The brush of his calloused thumb over your pebbled nipple right before he pinched it punched a shuddering gasp from your lips that he instantly swallowed in a searing kiss.

There was nothing gentle or tentative about the way Osamu's mouth moved against yours. Just raw, unbridled hunger and need as his tongue swept between your lips in a blatant claim of dominance.

You surrendered to the dizzying onslaught of sensation without a shred of resistance. Fisting your hands in the front of his shirt, you pulled him even closer until there was no space left between your bodies. Just prussian lines and valleys molded seamlessly together in a perfect, blissful fit.

Osamu's free hand threaded through your hair to angle your head, deepening the kiss until your shared breaths mingled in harsh pants. His taste, his scent, the dense weight of his body crushed against you - it all blended into a mind-numbing, euphoric loop.

Only the jarring thud of something clattering to the tiled floor penetrated the hazy lust-soaked pocket you and Osamu seemed to have crafted. You startled slightly at the sudden noise, lips parting with Osamu's on a shallow gasp as you blinked back to reality.

Atsumu stood frozen in the kitchen doorway once more, eyes blown wide and jaw slack in astonishment. One of the ceramic canisters that usually lived on the counter had fallen from his grip, rolling across the tiles in his wake.

For a beat, the three of you simply stared at each other through the thick silence, tension crackling like a livewire. Then Atsumu seemed to visibly collect himself, scooping up the fallen canister as he slowly backed out of the kitchen without a word.

Only the dull thud of the pantry door slamming down the hall gave any indication of his hasty departure. Yet in the stillness that followed, you couldn't fight the premonition that the earth had irrevocably shifted on its axis - consequences be damned.

Several days had passed since that heated, unforgettable encounter with Osamu in the kitchen. Yet no matter how hard you tried to go about your daily routines and pretend nothing had fundamentally shifted, you couldn't quite meet either twin's gaze directly.

The memory of Osamu's calloused palms mapping every swell and valley of your body, his demanding kiss swallowing your shuddering gasps - it all replayed through your mind in vivid flashes. Stoking an insistent, smoldering burn low in your belly whenever you dared dwell on the implications.

You knew you should have been mortified by your lack of self-restraint, disgusted with yourself for nearly throwing away a lifetime of close friendship over some sordid tryst. But you couldn't seem to muster up that sense of appropriate shame or regret. If anything, some deeper, more primal part of your psyche only ached for more.

That confusing internal tug-of-war came to a head when Atsumu texted you late one evening, asking if you were free to come by Osamu's new onigiri shop the next day. Apparently, he needed an objective third party to blindly taste test some new menu items he'd been working on.

You really should have said no, claimed you were too busy or had other plans. Put some healthy distance between yourself and the tangled web of heated tension now straining your connections to both brothers. Yet the words of refusal couldn't find purchase on your tongue.

Which was how you found yourself sliding onto a barstool across the service counter from Atsumu the following afternoon, stomach aflutter with an undercurrent of trepidation you refused to examine too closely. Osamu was conspicuously absent, having said he needed to run some errands and leaving you both alone with a veritable buffet of onigiri prototypes.

"Aren't ya a sight for sore eyes," Atsumu purred by way of greeting, all traces of his typical shit-eating grin notably absent. Instead, his honeyed gaze roamed over you with an unsettlingly weighted intensity that raised gooseflesh across your skin.

You tried your best to swallow down the sudden lump of nerves clogging your throat, mustering up an awkward chuckle. "Don't go getting fresh with me. Your flattery won't sway my taste bud honesty."

That, at least, earned a quiet huff of laughter from the setter. "Wouldn'ta it any other way, sweetheart."

God, that pet name should not have sent a shiver of heated awareness skittering down your spine the way it did. Yet here you were, unable to tear your eyes away as Atsumu methodically rolled up the sleeves of his fitted black tee to expose tanned, corded forearms and the flex of sinewy muscle.

He caught you staring, lips ticking up ever so slightly at the corners.

With a subtle shake of your head, willing away your treacherous thoughts, you nodded toward the array of rice offerings spread out before you. "So, where should we start?"

"Let's start with this lil number." Atsumu slid a plate with a beautifully shaped onigiri towards you. "New flavor combination 'Samu’s been wantin' to try out."

You reached for the rice ball, but Atsumu's hand shooting out to wrap around your wrist stalled your motion. You glanced up sharply to find him regarding you with an indecipherable gleam in his eyes.

"Allow me, (Y/N)."

The deep rasp of his tone sent tingles sparking across your nerve endings like licks of flame. You could only mutely nod in assent as Atsumu brought the onigiri to your parted lips, gaze boring into yours as he murmured, "Open up for me, sweetheart."

Electricity crackled down your spine at those loaded words, a visceral thrum of heated want coiling low in your abdomen before you could stop it. But you refused to shy away from his challenge, parting your lips to allow Atsumu to slowly feed you that first succulent bite.

As your teeth sank into the fluffy rice, flavors exploded across your tongue with dizzying complexity. Savory soy sauce notes mingled with the brine of salted plum and whispers of toasted sesame in a harmonious fusion. It was heavenly and utterly sinful all at once.

"Oh my god..." you breathed around the bite, eyes fluttering closed in order to better focus all your senses on the flavors. "Atsumu, that's incredible."

When you reopened your eyes, the blond was keenly watching you from beneath hooded lids. There was a tension wired through every harsh line of his body, thrumming in the corded tendons of his wrist as he clutched the onigiri in an almost punishing grip.

"Got a lil carried away there for a sec, didn'tcha doll?" His timbre dripped like molten honey, viscous and weighted with undisguised heat.

You swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond beyond giving the slightest shake of your head. There was a frisson of something dark and intoxicating swirling in the depths of Atsumu's piercing gaze that threatened to rob you of rational thought.

As if slowly waking from a trance, Atsumu brought the onigiri to his own lips for a tantalizing bite. He held it between his teeth while reaching for another one, making a soft sound of approval around the mouthful.

"Try this one next."

You didn't miss the challenge glinting in his eyes as he brought the new rice ball to your mouth. Nor the scorching graze of calloused fingertips along your jaw as he cradled your face with his free palm, thumb swiping blatantly over your bottom lip.

The soft whine that spilled from your throat was utterly involuntary, as was the way you instinctively leaned in to chase the tantalizing scent of Atsumu's cologne mixed with the briny sweetness of the rice.

"That's it, sweetheart..." His rumbling purr seemed to reverberate through you, stoking the steadily mounting embers of want low in your belly. "Let go and just feel for me."

You were utterly intoxicated by this side of him - self-assured and ravenously potent in a way you couldn't help but crave. So you readily obliged when Atsumu guided the onigiri between your parted lips in a torturously slow glide, eyes locked with yours in a scorching display of dominance and challenge.

What should have been an utterly innocent affair - taste testing new menu items alongside a friend - had swiftly devolved into something far more sinister under the dual onslaught of Atsumu's seductive ministrations and your own inability to keep those floodgates of hunger tightly sealed.

Another breathless moan spilled against the pad of Atsumu's thumb as the flavors burst over your tongue in a euphoric explosion. You didn't even register the complexity of the seasonings, too thoroughly subsumed by the spell his mere proximity wove over your senses.

In that heated trance state, you reached for the next rice offering with a steadier hand than you felt. But instead of simply proffering it to Atsumu, you found yourself mirroring his earlier move - cradling his chiseled jaw to swipe a maddening path over the lush swell of his bottom lip.

A punched-out sound rumbled from the setter, pupils swallowing up the warm honey of his irises as you guided the onigiri between his parted lips. You didn't miss the way his lids fluttered or the sharp flare of his nostrils as you stroked the pad of your thumb over that lush expanse of plush skin in a blatant tease.

"What did I tell ya about sweet talkin' my customers, ya sleazeball?"

The rough growl of Osamu's voice felt like a bucket of ice water down your spine, effectively shattering the ephemeral bubble of heated tension you and Atsumu had spun trance-like between you.

You sprang apart with a harsh jolt, whipping around to find the gray-haired twin observing you both from the end of the counter. His expression was unreadable beyond the faint twitch of that muscle feathering along his jaw - a nearly imperceptible tell that betrayed the depths of his tightly controlled displeasure.

An oppressive silence seemed to blanket the small shop, thick and loaded like the calm before a storm. You felt suspended in its grip, caught between twin infernos of intensity radiating from Osamu and Atsumu.

The weight of your actions - the heated flirtation, the flagrant disregard for boundaries - crashed over you in searing waves of guilt and something far more primal that you couldn't put a name to. Part of you wanted to slink away in mortified shame. But another part felt locked in the thrall of that precarious simmer, utterly unable to look away from the unfolding confrontation.

"This how you been tastin' yer new menu items?" Osamu finally spoke again, a ragged edge fraying the depths of his gravelly timbre. His gunmetal gaze pierced into you with laser focus before sliding over to pin his twin with equal scrutiny. "Gettin' real hands on with the process?"

There was a challenge laced into those words that raised the fine hairs along your nape. You found yourself momentarily frozen, mouth working soundlessly as your brain struggled to formulate a response, an excuse, anything.

Of course, leave it to Atsumu to recover his wits and asshole bravado first.

"Maybe if ya finally learned how to properly season things, I wouldn'ta had to get creative," he countered with a blasé shrug, full lips quirking into a smirk that bordered on taunting.

The muscle in Osamu's jaw ticked dangerously, but otherwise he didn't so much as flinch at his twin's barb. You, however, felt like the floor had dropped out from underneath as dread and arousal swirled nauseously in your gut.

"That so?" he murmured after a loaded pause, low and lethal in a way you'd never heard from the typically unruffled twin before. "'Cause from where I'm standin', looked an awful lot like ya were just tryna get yer rocks off with our best friend."

The bluntness of Osamu's accusation hung viscous and weighty in the air. You were paralyzed, every rational brain cell screaming at your damning silence in the face of such inflammatory words.

Yet still, you couldn't seem to find your voice. Couldn't will your limbs into action and flee from the escalating situation like any sane person would.

It was almost as if some primal, id-driven part of your psyche was reveling in the heated tug-of-war unfolding between the Miyas - being the focus of their piqued attention and unresolved tension in a way you never had before.

"Maybe I was," Atsumu countered at last, straightening to his full towering height with a boldness bordering on bravado. His smoky gaze slid over to scorch a path across your body, from the flush blazing high on your cheekbones down to where your thighs strained against the thin cotton of your shorts. "Ya got a problem with that, 'Samu?"

The sudden forcefulness of his regard, coupled with the molten heat dripping from Atsumu's words, sent a thrill of pure, undiluted arousal sparking down your spine. You watched, utterly transfixed, as the brothers stared each other down from across the counter.

The air felt charged and heavy, loaded with the promise of an impending storm front about to break. You shouldn't have wanted to remain tethered to that maelstrom any longer. Should have fled before this rapidly escalating situation obliterated the final tattered remnants of the world you once knew.

But as Osamu slowly rounded the counter towards you and Atsumu with a look that could peel paint, the only thought reverberating through your lust-addled brain was how grateful you were to finally be feeling the full force of the tempest.

No more skirting the edges of that swirling vortex, content to simply catch glimpses through the fractures of the world you'd built around yourself. You were about to become fully subsumed by its churning intensity - consequences be damned.

When Osamu finally came to a halt mere inches away, you could feel the raging heat of his stare like a brand searing your very bones. His pupils were blown wide, swallowing up the pale silver of his irises almost entirely as he drank in your flushed, parted lips and subtly heaving chest.

"I think," he began slowly, each word seeming to catch like gravel in his throat. "The real question here's whether our best friend's got a problem with it. Don't ya think, (Y/N)?"

Both twins swiveled their heated stares your way in uncanny tandem, effectively trapping you in the crosshairs of their unspoken stand off. You felt like a gazelle cornered between two starving lions, completely at their mercy yet unable to summon up any rational sense of self-preservation.

Because the plain truth was, surrendering to the raging storm of want consuming you sounded like bliss itself. All you wanted in that moment was to succumb to its swirling chaos completely, no matter the consequences awaiting on the other side.

Your lips parted around a trembling exhale, the sound seeming to echo loudly amidst the fraught stillness. Then with an audible swallow, you allowed your gaze to drift between the two men, barely daring to hope at the spark of undisguised hunger mirrored on each of their handsome features.

"No," you finally rasped, surrendering to the inevitable pull of their combined gravity. "No problems here."

The stifling tension that blanketed the onigiri shop in the wake of your breathless confession stretched on for several beats, loaded and electric. You watched with bated breath as the twins silently sized each other up before Osamu ultimately turned back and left.

Then, as if an unspoken decision had been made, something inside Atsumu seemed to detonate. In the span of a blink, he surged forward with unchecked purpose, muscular forearms bracketing you bodily against the counter. The solidity of his frame crushed against yours punched all the air from your lungs in a harsh exhale.

"Fuck, sweetheart..." he rumbled, voice already wrecked with need as he cradled the nape of your neck. "'M gonna make ya feel so good, yeah?"

Any coherent response you might have mustered was effectively swallowed by the punishing crush of Atsumu's mouth against yours. There was nothing gentle or tentative about the devouring slide of his tongue sweeping past your lips to lick hotly into the cavern of your mouth.

You could only whine against the unbridled onslaught of sensation, hands fisting in the front of his shirt as if to anchor yourself against the riptide threatening to pull you under. Everywhere your bodies melded together felt feverish and electric, stoking the steadily mounting blaze of arousal smoldering in your core.

Atsumu was all sharp angles and wiry power as he pinned you with his weight, one calloused palm drifting down to catch the flare of your hip and grind your hips flush. The undulating roll of his lower body against yours in tandem with the harsh suction and nips of his teeth against your bottom lip punched a broken keen of pleasure from your very core.

"That's it, let go for me sweetheart," he growled against the swollen seam of your lips before dipping back in for another dizzying taste.

There was no room for conscious thought beyond chasing the euphoric haze of sensation after burning sensation. Your very nerve endings were lit up in a constant loop of overload, every inhale filled with the heady, masculine blend of Atsumu's cologne and sheer musk.

You were utterly consumed, strung out by the steady build of blinding want coiling ever tighter and hotter at your center. Nothing else seemed to exist in that endless stretch of moments beyond Atsumu's sculpted body weighing you down and his punishing mouth claiming you as his own in a blaze of possession.

Only the harsh clatter of something solid striking the tile underfoot finally allowed the smallest fragment of clarity to pierce the lustful fog. With a broken gasp, you wrenched your mouth away to glance wildly over Atsumu's shoulder.

Osamu stood frozen in the entry to the kitchen, the plastic crate he'd clearly dropped at some point now lay scattered across the floor along with its contents—a selection of carrots and rice balls spilled haphazardly.

His pupils were blown wide in shock, pale irises swallowed up almost entirely as he watched you and Atsumu slowly untangle from your fervent embrace. The air felt supercharged and stiflingly heavy, weighed down by the newfound awareness and implications of what he'd just witnessed.

For several dragging beats, nobody spoke or even dared to move a muscle as the three of you simply stared at each other through the weighted stillness. Then, with a measured inhale, Osamu bent to slowly retrieve the scattered items with jerky motions, gaze averted.

"Don't mind me," he muttered once the crate was repacked, voice tinged with an undercurrent of something that made the hair on the nape of your neck prickle. "Just...carry on."

With that, the gray-haired twin pivoted on his heel and stalked back through the kitchen without another word or backward glance. You and Atsumu remained frozen in place watching his retreating form, the atmosphere between you now so fraught and overpoweringly awkward, it was practically suffocating.

The air felt viscous and stifling, as if you were both suspended in an airless vacuum that sucked all residual heat and excitement from the confined space. After another weighty moment, Atsumu finally cleared his throat and shifted away, careful to maintain a respectable distance while straightening his rumpled clothes.

"I should..." he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck while stoically avoiding your probing gaze. "We'll pick this up another time, yeah?"

And just like that, the subject seemed to shut with an almost resounding finality. Whatever simmering, unspoken tension blazing between you just moments prior was swiftly smothered and packed away without ceremony. No acknowledgment, no discussion - just a desperate pivot back towards the familiar status quo as cleanly as possible.

You could only mutely nod your assent, still reeling from the emotional whiplash of the past few minutes. With one last indecipherable look, Atsumu collected his bag and swept out the door, leaving you alone in the empty shop to vainly attempt collecting your scattered thoughts and tremulous emotions.

It took some time for the harsh pounding of your pulse to finally recede, thrumming in your ears like the steady beat of retreating waves. As the swirling chaos quieted, it brought with it a sudden, sweeping ache - an insidious phantom longing that had taken root deep in your bones.

You were utterly unprepared for the hollow, aimless melancholy that would linger even after the smoke and heat dissipated entirely. A melancholy that was only sated by continuing to greedily chase those ephemeral moments of blinding, tempestuous bliss.

No matter the inevitable devastation that awaited in the aftermath.

In the days following the emotionally charged encounter with Atsumu at the onigiri shop, you found yourself perpetually off-kilter, like the very ground had shifted beneath your feet.

Interactions that should have been lighthearted and routine felt weighted down by countless unspoken words, lingering glances filled with undisguised longing neither party dared voice aloud. An inescapable tension blanketed every moment the three of you occupied the same space.

You tried in vain to stem the rising tide of heat that furled low in your belly whenever you were near Osamu. The memory of being consumed by Atsumu's passion was still so viscerally fresh, every graze of his calloused palms against your oversensitized skin replayed in high definition.

But it was more than that – your reawakened desire also thrummed with flashes of Osamu's masculine presence surrounding you that day in the kitchen while crafting onigiri. The memory of being utterly enveloped by his cedar musk and the scorching brand of his solid frame pressed flush against yours was enough to have you trembling.

Worst of all were the times Osamu would catch you watching him from across the room, gunmetal eyes boring into you with an intensity you couldn't decipher. In those infinitesimal pockets of stillness, you could have sworn his pupils blew wide in a mirror of your own hunger. As if he was an inch away from abandoning his rigid self-control entirely.

The atmosphere was a powder keg just waiting for an inevitable spark to detonate it. So perhaps it was foolish, but some deeper desire within you found itself carelessly fanning those smoldering embers whenever you could. Offering Osamu lingering glances through your lashes, or pressing just a bit closer into his space under the guise of tasting a new menu item.

If he noticed your provocations, the twin gave no outward indication. Stoic control was second nature to Osamu, an unbreakable dam allowing just the barest trickle of turbulent undercurrents through the cracks. Yet for the first time in your life, you found that steadfast composure began to grate under your skin in a viscerally infuriating way.

You recognized the spiral of your behavior, the desperate goading to elicit a reaction – any reaction – from Osamu. It was like poking a slumbering beast, shoving and prodding until it lashed out in snarling hunger. Conscious thought took a backseat to compulsion as you rapidly gave yourself over to that primal hunt.

The breaking point came, inevitably, one sweltering afternoon in the cramped supply closet tucked behind the kitchen. You'd ducked inside to retrieve some extra rice containers only to nearly run headlong into Osamu's solid frame, ensconced in the tiny space.

"Shit—" you started, instinctively flinching backwards as muscular forearms shot out on either side of you to brace against the shelving units. The sudden cloying proximity of his sheer mass surrounded you in an inescapable cage, radiating heat like a furnace.

Osamu watched your startled reaction impassively, seemingly unruffled. However, his pupils had blown wide, irises reduced to smoldering iron rings locked on your own.

"You're gettin' reckless," he growled after a drawn pause, deep baritone reverberating over your heated skin like a physical caress. "Those little stunts o' yours ain't as subtle as ya think."

Your breath stalled somewhere high in your chest at the dark promise in his tone. In that moment, this close and utterly trapped in his orbit, the twin was not nearly as unaffected as he liked to project. You could practically taste the hunger bleeding out beneath those hairline fractures in his control.

"Maybe I'm getting tired of being subtle," you heard yourself replica before rational thought could kick back in. Having him so near, caging you in, sent a frisson of blatant challenge licking like flames over your nerve endings. That same feral, desperate compulsion to break through his composure drove you to keep pushing.

"Ya don't know what yer asking for, princess." The pet name rasped off Osamu's tongue, completely devoid of its usual lightheartedness. He seemed to swell even larger in the confined space as you watched that muscle in his jaw tic in agitation.

Fuck, he was going to consume you – a conquering king who refused to be denied his due any longer.

The notion shouldn't have been nearly as electrifying as it was, sending a spiral of molten arousal thrumming hotly outward from your core. You surged forward on pure reckless abandon to meet him halfway, searching for any type of friction.

It was Osamu's turn to inhale sharply through his nose at the sudden contact, every rock-solid plane of his torso now sealed flush against your softer curves. Neither of you spoke or dared to move any further as the miniscule space crackled with unbearable tension.

"How'dya know what I want?" you finally provoked, lifting your chin boldly despite the way your pulse thundered in your ears. "Maybe this is exactly it."

The implication hung hot and heavy between your bodies for all of a split second before Osamu's carefully leashed restraint finally shattered. With a guttural growl that reverberated straight to your center, he roughly grabbed your jaw in one large palm and crushed your mouths together.

Every ounce of pent-up hunger and yearning seemed to explode forth all at once in a clash of lips and teeth and questing tongues. The shock of it all momentarily robbed you of higher brain function as you jolted against the steel shelving at your back. Pinned between two scalding, inescapable surfaces with no hope of reprieve.

Osamu swallowed your resulting gasp with another plundering sweep of his tongue, cradling the back of your head with rough possession to angle you deeper into the maelstrom. His lips claimed yours in a searing brand you could practically feel etching into your very bones.

Not to be outdone, you quickly recovered enough dexterity to wind your arms around his neck and draw his weight more fully onto you. This time it was Osamu's turn to groan at the steady friction of your bodies meeting in an instinctive, rocking tandem.

You were utterly consumed from all sides by his scorching heat, the earthy cedar musk and briny tang of dried seaweed filling every fraught inhale. It should have been suffocating, that level of utter possession. Yet all you craved was diving deeper into the tidal wave's undertow.

Only the unmistakable creak of the main shop door being eased open from the front room shattered the electrified bubble you'd constructed. With a wounded noise, Osamu wrenched his mouth away as if burned, eyes blown wide and wild in the shadowy dimness of the storage closet.

For a handful of harrowing moments, you both remained frozen, sharing rapidly shallowing breaths as your straining ears caught the telltale thud of Atsumu's heavy footfalls somewhere out front.

"Yo, Samu! Ya back here?" the blond's smooth call ricocheted down the hallway preceded by the sound of more of his swaggering steps moving towards the kitchen.

You and Osamu sprang apart like repelling magnets, chests heaving as if coming up for blessed air. There would be no speaking of this, no dissecting the maelstrom currently ravaging every logical brain cell left to you both.

With twin looks of wild desperation, Osamu turned and eased the door open just wide enough to admit a sliver of illumination from the kitchen. Then with one last anguished look over his shoulder, he disappeared back towards the front to greet his twin.

You remained rooted in place for several minutes after, back pressed against the shelving units and hands fisted at your sides to quell their incessant trembling. Each labored inhale flooded your system with the lingering traces of cedar musk and sweat that felt seared into the very lining of your lungs.

Only once the thunderous pounding of your heart eventually subsided to a dull throbbing ache did you finally feel stable enough to emerge from the shadowy closet on shaking legs, purposefully avoiding the kitchen and front room entirely until your body no longer vibrated with need.

As you settled adrift in the churning seas of the unknown, one excruciating fact became eminently clear - there was now no possible way to turn back from that hairline fracture which had first allowed the darkness to creep through.

You'd irrevocably shattered the dam holding everything at bay. And the resulting flood waters would drown you all without mercy unless you surrendered to their relentless pull completely.

Despite your best efforts to maintain some semblance of normalcy in the aftermath of that heated encounter with Osamu, an undercurrent of heated tension seemed to permeate every interaction between the three of you.

Simple, innocuous moments that should have passed without second thought now felt loaded with unspoken implication and promise. Like the powder keg you'd inadvertently lit was still smoldering, waiting to detonate once more at the slightest spark.

Which was likely why your pulse kicked up a furious staccato when you found yourself alone in the kitchen with Atsumu a few nights later, wrist-deep in sudsy dishwater. The familiar domestic scene should have been comforting in its mundanity. Except the blond setter didn't seem interested in keeping things light.

"Y'know, I've been thinkin'," he began conversationally, sliding up to lean one hip against the counter beside you. "We never did finish that little taste-testin' session properly, did we?"

You did your best not to visibly react, keeping your gaze trained on the ceramic plates you were rinsing with poorly-feigned nonchalance.

"That was years ago, 'Tsumu. If I recall, your brother walked in on us getting a little too...comfortable with each other," you replied, mouth dry. Out of your periphery, you watched Atsumu's smirk deepen at the obvious implication.

"Yeah? Well, what 'Samu don't know won't hurt 'im."

The blatant suggestion in his tone raised a flush of heat along the back of your neck. You struggled not to dwell on the mental imagery of Atsumu slowly stalking closer like a predator sent your arousal thrumming in your veins.

"That so?" you croaked out, pulse kicking up another notch when the cotton of his t-shirt brushed your upper arm thanks to his proximity. "Whatever happened to keeping things professional, Miya?"

Atsumu simply chuckled, deep and wicked against the heated shell of your ear as his chest fitted snugly against your back. You drew in a sharp inhale at the brand of his torso pressing flush with yours, palms stalling in the dishwater.

"Does this feel very professional to ya, sweetheart?"

The low rumble of his words vibrated straight through you, searing pleasure lancing bright and hot to your very core. You fought not to shudder at the barely-there rasp of Atsumu's early-evening stubble trailing down the slope of your neck.

"'Tsumu..." The plea fell in a trembling whisper as your eyelids fluttered closed of their own volition. You were undeniably powerless against this all-consuming riptide of tension he'd steadily mounted, body singing in electric want.

Warm, calloused palms settled at your waist, fingers flexing possessively as Atsumu's nose skated across the rapid flutter of your pulse point. The sensation of every exhale fanning blistering heat across your damp skin robbed you of all coherent thought.

"Let go for me, sweetheart," he rasped in your ear, the words more a physical caress than verbal command. "We both know ya want this as bad as I do..."

And suddenly you were seventeen again, young and reckless and utterly enthralled by this beautiful boy with the sly smirk who'd watched you grow up. How many times had you privately longed for him to turn those heated golden eyes on you in the way you craved? For Atsumu to finally shuck off those layers of carefully curated aloofness and claim you as his own?

The answer was too many to quantify. But in that moment, it no longer mattered.

With a needy whine that may as well have been torn directly from your soul, you leaned back to finally fully seal your bodies flush together. Atsumu let out a punched-out sound of approval as your back arched instinctively into the solid planes of his chest and abdomen.

"That's my girl," he crooned in a low, wrecked rasp before finally sealing his mouth over the thundering pulse in your throat.

You cried out at the first scorching sweep of Atsumu's tongue, hands scrambling wildly for purchase. One fist caught in the front of his shirt while the other knocked a few remaining dishes from the counter with a telling clatter.

There was nothing tentative or gentle about the way Atsumu kissed you - just pure liquid heat and consumptive want as he staked his claim with lips, teeth and questing tongue. You were utterly, blissfully adrift in the roiling tides of sensation.

A desperate, broken noise very nearly punched its way past your lips when Atsumu's large palm settled at the nape of your neck, angling your head for even deeper exploration. It was wildfire, molten lava being pumped directly into your veins, and you willingly, greedily burned from the inside out.

Everything beyond the scope of Atsumu's questing mouth, the heavy drag of his teeth scoring delicious friction as he mapped every soft plane, simply ceased to exist. You floated outside the mortal realm of space and time, enveloped in a lush, honeyed vacuum of pure blinding pleasure.

It could have been seconds or eons before Atsumu eventually slowed the maddening pace, gradually reducing you both to panting, open-mouthed exhalations against bruised lips. You struggled in vain to come back down to earth as the setter slowly, reverently brushed his nose against yours in an intimate eskimo kiss.

"Good god, darlin'," he husked out on a ruined exhale, "the things I wanna do to ya..."

His bestial words seemed to momentarily fracture whatever daze you'd slipped into. The lingering echoes of reality, of inescapable consequences, finally began to pierce through the lustful haze swirling around you.

With a tortured mewl, you pushed half-heartedly at Atsumu's shoulders in a silent plea for respite. The precipice you both currently teetered on was far too dizzying to grapple with right now.

Atsumu, bless him, seemed to instantly grasp your sudden reluctance. He cleared his throat roughly before easing back, peppering one last torturously soft kiss to the corner of your swollen lips.

"Easy there, sweetheart," he gentled, calloused palms skimming up and down your ribs in a soothing caress. "We don't gotta take the plunge just yet..."

Chest still heaving from the overwhelming intensity, you watched with a swirl of conflicting emotions as Atsumu slowly backed away and straightened his disheveled appearance. The atmosphere between you thrummed with the echoes of your heated exchange, alive with lingering arousal and unspoken questions.

"For the record..." Atsumu rasped out, voice utterly wrecked in a way that raised goosebumps along your skin. His honeyed gaze burned with undisguised hunger as it roamed your flushed, kiss-swollen features. "Soon as you're ready to let me drown ya proper, just say the word."

You could only nod shakily, fingers still gripping the edge of the counter for stability as Atsumu's suggestive promise seemed to caress every raw nerve-ending. With one final, searing look that pierced straight to your soul, the blond pivoted on his heel and strode from the kitchen without a backwards glance.

You remained frozen in place for several moments, struggling to regain your equilibrium as the phantom echoes of Atsumu's passion slowly started to dissipate. Only once you heard the soft thud of the back door swinging shut did you finally sag backwards against the counter, chest heaving with steadying inhales.

Unbeknownst to you, Atsumu barely made it a few paces down the darkened hallway before a solid weight slammed into his shoulders, propelling him back against the concrete wall with a harsh grunt.

"What the fuck d'ya think you're doin', 'Tsumu?" Osamu growled, stormy eyes glinting like steel as he pinned his twin with one forearm braced against his collarbone. "Fuckin' around with (Y/N) like that right under my goddamn nose?"

Atsumu glared back defiantly even as his windpipe strained against Osamu's unrelenting pressure. "Since when did I need your permission, huh?"

"Don't play stupid, you little shit." The muscle ticked rapidly along Osamu's clenched jaw as he pressed closer until they were nearly nose-to-nose. "We both know what's really goin' on here."

A tense silence stretched between them, electrically charged and weighted with too many unspoken truths. Osamu's glare bored into his brother's unflinchingly as his free hand fisted in the collar of Atsumu's shirt until their foreheads nearly touched. When he spoke again, his deep timbre emerged barely above a gravelly rasp.

"She doesn't just belong to you, 'Tsumu. I've loved that girl just as long as you have."

The raw admission seemed to detonate the fragile tension encasing them both like a powder keg. Atsumu's piercing stare dimmed briefly with something that looked remarkably like resignation before his lips peeled back in a sneer.

"Yeah, well at least one of us finally found the balls to make a move," he spat back with no real bite.

Osamu's eyes slitted dangerously at the jab, but he made no move to further escalate as the brothers simply glared at each other through the weighted stillness. A strange sense of defeat seemed to gradually wash over them both like an outgoing tide, leeching the residual anger away until only a weary brand of acceptance remained.

With a measured exhale, Osamu slowly loosened his grip until he could fully step back, straightening his broad shoulders as if physically shrugging off the confrontation. Atsumu watched him cautiously, throat working around a dry swallow.

"We can't keep goin' like this," the older twin said at last, scrubbing one large palm over the back of his neck as he purposefully avoided Atsumu's probing stare. "Sneakin' around, steppin' on each other's toes over her every damn minute..."

He trailed off with a mirthless chuckle, shaking his head as he finally locked eyes with his silent counterpart. "It ain't right, and you know it. No matter how we twist ourselves up tryna make it okay."

Atsumu held his twin's gaze for a long moment, every muscle in his chiseled jaw and throat working subtly beneath the surface as the painful truth settled in his bones with leaden finality.

Finally, with a deep, shuddering inhale, he gave the barest dip of his chin in assent. "What're you proposin' then?"

The challenge was clear in Atsumu's carefully neutral tone, an obvious gauntlet thrown for Osamu to pick up and take the reins. And for a fleeting second, the blond could have sworn he glimpsed naked longing warring with resignation in his twin's pale eyes. But then it was gone, shuttered behind that same impenetrable wall of impassivity.

"We deal with this thing head-on," Osamu answered at last, tone resolute and free of its earlier bite. "No more sneakin' around, no more holdin' back - we put it all on the table and let the pieces fall where they may."

He held Atsumu's alarmed stare with an inscrutable mask of his own, leaving no further room for argument or avoidance.

"Either we go for broke and finally have it all out...or we walk away from this for good."

[lilbunnis]

❛ ♡. header credit. ⎯⎯ 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲. ❜

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭᛬ michael gavey as your boyfriend.

author’s note᛬ hii ! ♡ first time posting a concept on here--- & first time writing for my boyfriend, michael gavey. [also… i know we haven’t seen michael smoking cigarettes in the film; but it’s my canon that he does!] i hope y’all like it…& please, reblog & give me ur feedback. thank u! 🍒

warnings᛬ mdni! mentions of smut, profanity, she/her pronouns, afab reader, pussy whipped!michael, mentions of oral sex (m + f), demeaning names, [slight] mentions of bullying, pet names, romance, fluff. any grammatical errors are my own--- in advance, i sincerely apologize.

word count᛬ 591.

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝑭𝑼𝑪𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃.

꒰ ⋆ ♡⃘ michael gavey would be the most perfect, adoring and loving boyfriend--- though he could also be quite cruel sometimes; a bit of an asshole, too… all due to him being a cocky, little smartass. michael gavey is head over heels in love with you. like, obsessive--- ‘will do anything you ask of him’ in love with you. michael gavey can be a complete and utter menace; one moment, he is a total dick to you because you’re not understanding what he has been trying to explain to you [for almost two hours now], from a class you both share--- and the next, he’s apologizing with a bouquet of a dozen red roses and his mouth on your cunt for hours. afterwards, romantic words from your favorite poets would spill from his soft, naturally curved mouth, while he’d casually hand feed you cherries, occasionally lighting up cigarettes for himself. michael gavey is so ridiculously smart, he finds it quite unbelievable how utterly dense you can be whenever he compliments and flirts with you, though you'd think he's just joking around, or being a tease--- honestly, he thinks it’s kind of cute how oblivious you can be to his affections.

michael gavey might not look like it, but he’s the type of man to fuck you nasty style; can be quite possessive over you, too. most days, when your boyfriend michael gavey is studying for an upcoming exam, a lit cigarette hanging loosely from his plush lips, while his nimble fingers continued skimming through page after page of his massive textbooks, studying nonstop. sneakily, you’d go into his dormitory and drop down to your knees, before taking him into your mouth and eagerly sucking him off, causing a shout from him when he eventually comes down your raw, sore throat--- “my poor, little baby girl… such a naughty fucking thing,” he’d coo mockingly, clenching both of your blushy cheeks together with his long fingers, before he’d claim your mouth in a dirty, deeply passionate kiss.

michael gavey adores seeing you wearing his clothes, especially his oversized sweaters, because that way he can ruthlessly rut into your weeping cunt while fucking you from behind; with you only wearing his sweater. michael gavey loves the taste of your strawberry flavored lipgloss [nearly as much as he loves the taste of your sweet little pussy]--- he loves kissing your plump, juicy, glossy lips whenever he can; and fuck, having your glossy lips wrapped around his cock? let’s just say, it’s embarrassing how quickly he shoots his load down your willing, suffocating throat.

michael gavey loves the way that you smell--- like red roses, strawberry lipgloss, vanilla perfume, sweet scented candles [courtesy of you lighting them all around his dormitory], and your skin… fuckin’ hell; soft as satin and sweet as honey, always smelling of the lavender body lotion he bought for you one random day that the two of you were out shopping [yes, he was holding all of your bags like a perfect gentleman]. michael gavey might be called on the daily a loser or even a freak, but he knows that regardless of the name calling; you’ll always stand by his side, defending him with your foul [glossy] mouth. michael gavey thinks of you as his soft, delicate little angel with a heart made of glass that he must protect at all costs. michael gavey would do absolutely anything you ask of him, he is just so fucking whipped for you; you’re his first love, and hopefully, you’ll be his last.

[kai-anderson-whore]

Ghost boy (Tate langdon x fem reader smut) kinktober fic 6

Summary: you and your friends go to the abandoned murder house, where you met Tate

Warnings: smut, sex against a wall, sex with a ghost, teasing, clit stimulation somewhat public sex (since it’s a abandoned house 🤷‍♀️)

Word count: 1,5k

A/n: this was shit and the ending was so rushed, I’m so behind on this so I might not post the full ten fics but if I do they may be some after Halloween

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•.

You heard all the rumours about the infamous murder house, how it's haunted, people who step foot there get killed, how the ghosts that live there aren't really ghosts they're just like humans only cold 'bullshit' you thought. You were always a sceptic about all that paranormal stuff, never believed in it one bit.

So when your friends came up with the idea of visiting the murder house you were more than willing to go and see. You wanted to prove your friends wrong, there was no such thing as ghosts. Now outside the old run down building, wooden barriers barricaded the windows except for one on the side of the house.

"So we going in or what" you spoke up unfazed by the eerie sight of the abandoned house. Your friends on the other hand looked if so they already regretted coming here. "Maybe this isn't a good idea, I mean have you heard the stories y/n, once you go in there's a high chance you never get out to tell the tale" your friend Chelsea's scared tone making you chuckle.

"Yeah and that's what it is a tale, it's just to scare kids from going in here and get drunk, all bullshit" you laughed climbing into the house. "What are you doing, are you crazy!?" Your other friend Oliver hissed. "Oh come on you two wanted to come here in the first place now your chickening out" you scoffed your leather jacket nearly getting caught on an overgrown branch connecting to the brick wall.

"Yeah it's fucking creepy" Oliver admitted you just laughed once again one of your legs on the ledge of the old window, the other inside the house barely touching the ground. "Fine I'm going in, I bet I'll make it out alive" you mocked dismissing them and jumping fully into the old house.

You heard their pleas for you to come back, never did you listen once you got something on your mind you do it. Going further into what you expect to be the dinning room, nothing was really out of place like someone had been living here. Dust was collecting on some parts of the house, no graffiti on the walls or smashed glass like other places you been to 'weird?'.

Nothing really sparked your interests downstairs, deciding to take your attention upstairs. Searching room to room all you found were some old photos of the Harmon family that lived here. Entering another room all dark 'this is probably a boys room' you thought to yourself looking around the room.

Spotting a record collection mostly grunge and rock music nirvana, Alice and the chains, hole and some artists who inspired the grunge scene. "Good taste" you hummed to yourself out loud. "Thanks" a voice chimed making out yelp in fright, clutching your chest.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" You snapped turning your head to find a boy with blonde hair with a amused smile and arms folded over his chest. "Didn't mean to scare you" he defended holding his hands up. "Who are you?" You asked not feeling scared anymore. You couldn't help but find this mysterious guy attractive he wore a knitted sweater with baggy jeans and converse.

"I'm Tate, I live here" he shrugged.

"What you live in a abandoned house yeah right" you scoffed not believing it. "I'm a ghost so yeah I live here" he says in a serious tone. "Sure and I'm the pope, did Chelsea and Oliver set you up for this, if they did nice try" you laughed which only made Tate a little bit frustrated.

"No" Tate unfolds his arms taking a step towards you. "Okay Tate prove your a ghost" you challenged standing from your kneeled position. "Why would I need to prove I'm dead" he scoffed rolling his eyes. "Because your not dead, but you are kinda cute" you smirked, Tate couldn't help but blush at your compliment. "Well thanks I guess, not so bad yourself if I may add" he returned his voice somewhat dulcet but a smirk always playing on his lips.

"Thanks Casper" you smiled biting your bottom lip. Standing up from your kneeled position. Leaving the room exploring more parts of the house. "You know shouldn't really be here alone" Tate speaks up you turn your head, raising an eyebrow. "And why's that Casper?".

"Because you never know what's in here" he shrugs. You chuckled dismissively, "oh yeah the boogeyman is going to get me is is". Tate smirked at you he couldn't lie he thought you were beautiful, with your leather jacket, the way your hair would flow as the breeze of the house swished past you. He oddly felt nervous around you but wanted to be close to you.

You notice his nervousness, smirking to yourself. "Do I make you nervous Casper?".

"What no" he blushed.

"I do" you laughed stepping closer to him, you could practically feel how nervous he was, swallowing a lump in his throat. You smiled seductively at Tate standing in front of him, "maybe just a little" Tate chuckled blushing. A new wave of confidence washed over you, you couldn't deny he was extremely attractive even if it was weird that he was randomly in this abandoned house.

"And why do I make you nervous Casper?" You teasingly asked using your newfound nickname. Tate swallowed a lump in his throat "w-well your really pretty that's why" he mumbles. Now face to face with him. "Oh really I'm pretty?" You teased now playing with the hem of his flannel.

"Yeah" he chuckled, you couldn't deny your attraction to the boy. Now with the sudden wave of confidence you kissed him, feverishly. Tate's eyes blown wide at your sudden action, but responded to your lips nonetheless. Your hand cupped his cheek deepening the kiss.

A moan left your lips feeling Tate's hands on your body, he was cold but you assumed that it was because of the cold air in the abandoned house. Tate grew the confidence to pin you to the nearest wall you gasped feeling the cold wall come in contact with you.

A smirk crept on his lips, his hand on your waist now slowly creeping under your skirt, his thumb coming in contact with your clit, you let out another gasp and he rubbed you through your nearly soaked panties. You grew wetter by the second, your hand gripped his shoulder to steady yourself. "Your so wet" Tate chuckled retracing his hand from your underwear.

His lips attacked your neck leaving purple marks along your delicate skin. You sighed your hand cupped his bulged rubbing him through his jeans. Before unbuttoning the button. "Eager are we?" Tate chuckles. "Just fuck me" you sighed. Tate pulled down his jeans and underwear just enough for his cock to string free.

His hands on the backs on your thighs signalling your to jump, which you did. Your underwear moved to one side he lined himself up with your entrance teasingly. "Don't tease me" you whined. Tate chuckled slowly pushing himself into you. Your eyes rolling back in pleasure your grip on his shoulder tightened.

Tate bottomed out inside you before retracting his hips from you, thrusting in you. Moans slowly crept their way out your lips, he stretched you out perfectly. Your head resting on Tate's shoulder, "harder" you panted your body jolting with each thrust, "I don't think you deserve it yet" Tate grinned, you immediately felt frustrated with his disapproval of your request. "Please, please Casper, I need it please" you begged, Tate's thrusts got even more slower.

"You know that's not my name, say my name and I'll maybe consider it" Tate's voice was more deep and dominant, "I'm sorry Tate, please fuck me harder please tate" you pleaded. “Well since you asked so nicely” he smirked.

His hips thrusted into you in a much faster pace, you almost screamed out in pleasure and pain, it felt so good. Tates hips were erratic the pace they went you were sure he would split you in two. Your head resting on the wall behind you. Your legs pulling him closer.

You felt dangerously close to the edge, Tate could tell “you close?” He asked, you nodded your head humming in response. “Use your words” Tate coaxed, smirking wickedly. “I’m so close” you panted out. Feeling that knot form in your stomach.

“Let go baby” he whispered, you let go over his cock with a loud moan. Your nails digging into his flannel, your orgasm triggering his own release. He pulling out of you spilling his seed on your thigh. You panted trying to catch your breath.

Tate set your feet down on the floor, you fixed your underwear and skirt. “That was fun” Tate smirked tucking himself back into his pants . You smiled nodding “yeah I gotta go my friends are outside waiting on me” I giggled. “Oh okay maybe I’ll see you around?” He asked. “Sure I’ll see you around” you smiled Leaving Tate.

You made it outside seeing your friends by the gates of the abandoned house. “What took you so long we were about to send a search party out for you” Oliver says. “Keep your head on, I’m here now I just found some cool stuff that’s all” you smirked blushing a little. “Come on let’s go” Oliver sighed, the three of you walked away from the house you looked at a window seeing Tate. You smiled and waved as you walked away.

[enjoythesilentworld]

more than just a minute

in honor of 500 (!!) kudos on one of my favorite things I've ever written, just if for a minute, aka the fake marriage-friends to lovers au, here's a short little drabble I wrote about what those two (not) fake married boys are up to now 💜 and thank u so much for 500!!! wtf!!!

“Baby?”

Simon’s voice comes back slightly muffled from across the apartment, “Yeah?”

“Have you seen that blue button up of mine?” Wille calls back, shuffling through their mess of a closet. “The nice one with the stripes?”

There’s a pause, then Wille hears a loud sigh and the quiet pat-pat-pat of Simon’s socked feet on hard wood. One moment later, the exasperated face of his darling husband — husband! — appears in the doorway.

“Wille,” Simon says softly, as if speaking to a naughty child. “Darling. Light of my life. It’s a beach vacation. Grab two pairs of swim trunks and call it a day.”

“It’s not just a beach vacation,” Wille pouts.

With another small sigh and fond shake of his head, Simon steps fully into the room and loops his arms around Wille’s neck. Though Wille is still pouting slightly, it’s mostly for show, and his hands find their place on Simon’s waist, thumbs slipping under his sweater to rub small, gentle circles into warm skin.

“You’re right,” Simon nods, tucking his face into Wille’s neck. “It’s not just a beach vacation. But seeing as it is our honeymoon, that makes clothes even less of a necessity.”

The teasing tone in Simon’s voice and small nip of teeth on the sensitive skin under his ear pulls a giggle from Wille, and he buries his face in Simon’s curls, inhaling the calming scent.

Two months. Two months since their wedding, which had started out fake and very nearly been a total disaster but was saved at the last minute by a long-overdue (and luckily mutual) love confession. Two months since their wedding, which is altogether not very long at all, in the grand scheme of things, even if they had technically been in love with each other for the past few (many) years.

As such, the fact that Wille is standing here, in the bedroom of their shared apartment—shared before but is now shared in a wholly different way—with Simon, his husband, all wrapped up in his arms still makes his head spin. And, technically, it’s their second bedroom, formerly Simon’s bedroom which is now more of an office space—also, the very handy storage place for summer clothes while they’re in the thick of Swedish winter.

The words husband and shared and honeymoon swirl around in Wille’s brain as Simon wiggles out of his arms and turns to search for the shirt Wille’d asked about. Simon is right, it’s a beach vacation, and though they have been married for two months, the holiday season has been a whirlwind, and Wille has not been able to have Simon all to himself as much as he’s wanted to. This honeymoon will finally allow them to have that, a week and a half in the sun and sand, clothing optional.

“Did you pack that new sunscreen I bought today?”

“Oh, so I’m not allowed to bring clothes, but you can bring seven tubes of sunscreen?” Wille teases, following Simon as he slips out into the hallway and across to their bedroom, with their bed, that they sleep in every night together. His husband.

“The fact that you’re not allowed to bring clothes,” Simon retorts, “is the reason for all the sunscreen, Dracula.”

“Hey!” He pinches at Simon’s hips, then gets tackled back onto the bed in retaliation.

They roll together over the winter quilts, laughing and wriggling fingers under sweaters to tickle at soft spots of skin. Simon yelps when Wille gets him on the bum and quickly manages to win the wrestling match, pinning Wille back to the bed, wrists over his head and pressed into the pillows. He hovers over Wille, cheeks flushed pink and chest heaving, a big, proud grin on his face.

Wille smirks at him. “This is not the win you think it is,” he says, glancing down at where Simon has settled into this lap.

Fondly, Simon scoffs and rolls his eyes, starting to move away, which simply won’t do. Using his newly freed wrists, Wille loops his arms around Simon’s waist and flips them, wrapping himself around his husband like a koala.

“Wille!” Simon squeals, squirming and giggling. “We’ve got to finish packing! Our flight is in the morning!”

The last few words get partially cut-off by breathless laughter, but he stops trying to get away when Wille murmurs, “Just a minute or two more,” into the skin on Simon’s neck, nuzzling his face there.

They’ll probably stay there a bit longer than a few minutes, but they don’t mind. Simon is right, anyway; it’s their honeymoon, being clothed is way further down on the list than just being in each other’s arms as much as possible.

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

can you write relationship headcanons for hyugo please? he's so underrated oh my god- btw love your blog, i'm so happy there's more people in the tkatb fandom <33 thank you for your service!!

My Exaltation (Hyugo x MC/Reader - Relationship HCs)

Thank you for the ask, Anon! And especially thank you for the kind words! :D

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer Exaltation: a feeling or state of extreme happiness. Trigger Warnings: NSFW and sexual mentions (nothing too crazy though).

A/N: (Check down the bottom for more info: but here's the server skeleton I've made: Link: TKATB Server).

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SFW

I see Hyugo as somebody very affectionate, like a puppy. (He literally gives puppy-dog eyes like c’mon). Also is capable of becoming as feral as one.

Definitely will be the type to walk up to you randomly and beg on his knees request to do something, considering I feel like part of the reason he has so much on his plate is due to the fact he can't stand having the same routine day after day. He needs spice. And you'll happily oblige.

Also very protective. Hell, this guy killed someone(s), so he’d be more than willing to defend you if it comes to that. Owns weapons 110%. Is also very capable at using them.

Hides all his suspicious activity from you. Not because he doesn't trust you, but mostly due to the fact he doesn't want you to get involved.

When If you move in together, he will make sure to enroll you in self-defense/weapon training classes (or he'll teach you himself, who cares about the law he's committed about 56 crimes in the span of a month /jkjk).

Is alarmingly strong, for someone of his stature and build, he often ensures to work out, because, well, he never knows when someone will come after him now does he?

Is paranoid about your safety 25/8, he's alert and vigil every waking moment. Ever since the cinema incident, he's been freaking out internally. (What if they find out about you? What if you go missing too?). Will hide it though, he can't afford you to be scared of him, now can he?

Crime hustles aside, Hyugo is genuinely a very loving and #goldenretriever boyfriend. Will use petnames as much as humanely possible, usually the flirty ones like 'darling'.

If you are a clothesnapper, expect him to start stealing back, eventually both your wardrobes will be swapped. You both don't care though, because both your horny asses will be relishing in the smell of each other in secret teehee.

Will be pulling the biggest 'Aww you look so adorable!!!!!' face known to man the first time you stole his clothes (probs a sweater or overshirt). Will tease you about it.

Makes puns 24/7, actually a master at them, it's kind of unnerving.

If you're ticklish, do not, under ANY circumstance, let him find out. You will be on the verge of dying each time he tickles you.

Hyugo's heart melts if you wanna watch his favourite movies with him: "Uh...Oh my God! MC! The new *insert movie title* came out...wanna watch it together this Sunday?" *insert massive puppy dog eyes, a cutesy little pout and two slender hands clasped together in a praying motion*

You agree, because...of fucking course you will.

Doesn't care enough to cook most of the time, but will try for you. :]

If you're cooking (or baking desserts), he'll spawn right behind you and hug you.

Will make you game with him, you don't have a choice, this guy needs action in his life (totally not like he doesn't already have any right-)

He's the little spoon, loves being smushed into your tits/pecs pressed against your torso, it means he can hear your heartbeat. It means he can fall asleep knowing you're safe.

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NSFW (I am aware these may seem short. But. uh. I'm rusty cut me some slack).

I see Hyugo as a power bottom, or even a switch. (Emphasis on the 'power' part, this guy is strong).

Is capable of serving cunt/cock scarily well. Like you have no clue how he got this good.

Don't pull his hair too hard, a bit'll make him whine groan, but he doesn't seem the type to be into hair pulling unlike Sol and Crowe teehee

More funny during sex imo, depending on how intimate it is. If it's a sudden need then he'll be silent as the grave and going all out on dishing his horniness out, but if you're both chill and happy then he's much more jovial.

Masterful at aftercare, will murmur praises for how good you were, how much he loves you, etc. into your collarbone.

You are everything to him, his lover, his vehement source of peace, and his exaltation.

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A/N: So, @hayooni mentioned that we should probably have a Discord server or something, so I made one. It's pretty mid so far, and I'm definitely going to hand off admins to other people who're superior when it comes to Discord server making, but hell, how about we make sure this community is as nontoxic and interconnected as possible. We're the OGs and veterans of this fandom; we might as well make it a fucking good one.

Link: TKATB Server

[highvern]

Sales Pitch II

Pairing: Moon Junhui x fe!reader, feat. Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: Smut, 21+

Warnings: consensual voyeurism, exhibitionism, cum eating, spitting, unprotected sex, cream pie, snowballing, dom/sub themes, masturbation, multiple sex positions, impact play, choking, take me to paris wonhui!

Length: ~5k

Note: for all legal purposes, im still on semi-hiatus! this is just more torture for my bestie @wenjunehui patterns is still shelved until further notice, don't ask me about updates pls :) as always lmk what you guys think! also please ignore any errors i cracked this out in a lust fueled haze for pathetic bratty sub jun

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

Read part I

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Your back meeting the cool wood of the door muffles the click of the lock. All you can feel is Wonwoo; the weight of his body, his lips trailing across your jaw, his hair curled around your fingers. A sharp tug lets you feel more, urging him to grind his half hard cock into your core.

Darkness encases your intertwined figures on all sides. Only the faint light about the stove casting a hazy yellow that fails to reach the far corners of the room. You like it better this way. More anticipation in every touch. A flash of Wonwoo’s pale skin when your fingers drift under his sweater, or the dim shadow of his form dancing across your shut eyelids as he moves you further inside.

He doesn’t waste any time rushing towards the counter, lifting you up easily and shoving a hand up your short skirt. Wonwoo finds what you both knew he would; soaked and pantiless with arousal smeared between your thighs. You’d played the game all night, biting your tongue each time his finger tips skimmed the inside of your knee during the movie. Or at dinner when he watched you with an unimpressed gaze over the rim of his wine glass. All of it built up to this. 

A finger dips in; barely breaching your entrance before retreating. The tease makes you desperate; tightening around each thrust to convince him to stay and press deeper only for Wonwoo to chuckle and leave you gaping again and again with more slick dripping down his digits each time. 

“C’mon,” you huff. You're quick to snag his wrist, using every ounce of strength to force in place as your hips grind up. 

Wonwoo needs no more encouragement after the first sharp whimper of satisfaction you release. Instead, he presses hard with another finger until you can feel him in your lungs. The suffocating heat of your top results in its swift removal. But the relief is short lived as teeth nip at the curve of your breasts before dropping to suck a nipple through the lace. Thighs muffling the debauchery, you pant into his hairline while his own mouth focuses on bruising your chest.

Skirt belting your hips, Wonwoo drops more fervent kisses as he descends lower and lower. The granite of the counter is cool against your sweat back but unforgiven when you arch at the first timid flash of his tongue through your folds. The mess between your legs turns obscene under his mouth, lips smacking with each lash against your clit.

But it’s all still a tease. Nothing but a show to prove he can give and take and give and take until you’re willing to cry for more. Or at least until the man watching from the shadows caves and blows the illusion. 

In your peripheral, Jun stands out in the arm chair at the far end of the room. If you didn’t know he was there then you’d never guess. The kitchen and living room connected in what is really a singular large space, uninterrupted by anything that could distract the view. And what a view he has; you topless, nipples shiny and spine curled while his roommate eats you out on the counter. 

You won’t look where you know he’s sitting, no doubt cupping himself over his jeans in desperation. Jun is a good boy. He touches when he’s told and sits on his hands when he can’t help it. But you’re spread like a feast under Wonwoo’s mouth and Jun is just a man.

Wonwoo plucks and strokes, nips and sucks, driving you inch by desperate inch to the brink. Warm and worn under his mouth, another finger sinks in easily but Wonwoo goads anyway.

“Fucking tight,” he jests a little too loud for the small space between you but he wants Jun to hear. It’s sick. 

Especially when you hear a sharp inhale from where he sits.

The flat of Wonwoo’s palm lands on your stomach, skin sticking to skin as he forces your hips down. You don’t take to the warning. With your coworker slash friend with benefits who you occasionally go on dates with but not saying anything, you call all the shots. If you want to hump his face until he passes out from lack of oxygen, Jun will beg you to do it. If you want to sit on his cock while he counts the register, well it might take him five times to get the numbers in order but what his queen wants, she gets.

Wonwoo isn’t as eager to let you take charge and lets you know with the impact of his hand on your cunt.

“Fuck!”

He massages away the sting, thumb dipping to replace his tongue at your clit. “Stop moving.”

“Fuck off.” You bite.

The air cracks with tension. You’d take the amused twitch of Wonwoo’s lips as a challenge if it wasn't for the plan hatched during the car ride home. A sure fire way to get Jun so riled up he’d ruin his record of perfect behavior and give you and Wonwoo the chance to punish him the best way possible.

Your back talk goes as planned. Wonwoo rises, a tight grip at the back of your neck while he drags you up. It looks worse than it is. Another tease at Jun, taunting him with the idea of you giving him the same treatment.

But instead of fucking you over the counter like originally discussed, Wonwoo fumbles towards your room, out of Jun’s sight. You can hear him rise to follow with rushed footsteps but the door slams shut in his face before he can stop it. The lock clicks just as quickly and your left stifling amused cackles with Wonwoo doing the same.

“What the fuck guys?” Jun calls from the other side, rattling the door knob desperately. 

Is it better to acknowledge his frustration or pretend he doesn’t even exist? Jun calls again, a timid knock punctuating his plea. 

“Yeah?” You call, back settling against the door louder than necessary. Wonwoo takes back up the work at your chest, sucking a taunt nipple between his teeth while you do all the talking.

“I’m locked out.”

Your head thuds back as Wonwoo licks his way to your neglected breast, responding with more breath to hint at what's transpiring out of his line of sight, “We’re kinda busy.” 

“But—” he starts, only to be silenced.

“Oh, Wonwoo! Fuck.”

His fingers aren’t as deft as Jun’s and neither is his tongue but you’re spurred by the frustration in Jun’s tone. The metal of the knob continues to rattle, more erratic with every whimpered plea for more from the man in front of you. Turning around, your face melts against the wood while Wonwoo unzips his pants and presents himself.

“You’re so big,” you coo. 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes at the obvious bait but plays right along. “Yeah? Think you can take it?”

A bang near your head sends you into the air. 

“Let me in!” Jun demands.

His voice is hard. Steeled with a tone you’ve never heard before and it sends a chill down your spine. 

But Wonwoo seems undisturbed as he bends you at the waist. “She’s busy.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Jun bites before melting softer. “Y/N, you said I could watch.”

The head of Wonwoo’s cock nestles against your entrance. He waits while you figure out your next move. Wonwoo agreed he’d go along with whatever you decided but the ghost of being split full makes all the choices bleed into one. 

“You’re not even asking right.” You say. “Maybe if you ask like a good boy we’ll let you in.”

“Please? Please let me in. I’ve been good. You said I could watch, baby. Please.”

“I don’t know. What do you think, Woo?”

Glancing over your shoulder, he shrugs. And then Wonwoo spits where his dick rests and rushes inside.

You know Jun hates it. He can feel Wonwoo fuck you into the door, every thrust leaving the wood to groan under the additional weight. If that wasn’t enough he can hear everything too. Your breathy moans, the slap of hips against your body, the sound of your sopping pussy. 

The few times he’s worn a blindfold proved he doesn’t like to be teased; a trail of broken cuffs and other restraints left in his wake. He’d rather be overstimulated until he’s cross eyed and barely breathing than edged. The one time you tried left your ass sore for days from bites and spanks. 

With each ticking second a repeat inches closer. And maybe with Wonwoo in the mix, Jun will be even more possessive. It certainly sounds like it as he grows exasperated in his pleas.

“Shit you’re so wet.” Wonwoo groans. “Bet you wish you could see it. Don’t you?”

“Fuck you.” 

You catch the telltale rasp in his voice too easily. Jun isn’t even trying to pretend. 

Smacking your fist against the door, you fume. “Are you fucking serious?” 

Wonwoo freezes. A trickle of fear he’s over stepped rushes his spine until your ass pushes back into the cradle of his hips. Your reprimand isn't’ for him. It’s for the brat jerking himself off like you don’t own his cock. 

“You didn’t let me in.” Jun teases, moaning boldly.

Jun gets what he wants. The door unlocks and you find him with his pants around his thighs, the tip of his cock shiny as it peeks through his tight fist. He doesn’t even stop the flutter of his wrist when your eyes find his face, ready for whatever punishment you might throw his way.

You step into his space. So close his length digs into the softness of your belly while your hand traces along his neck. Jun isn’t stupid enough to think you’re apologizing but your next words make him shudder.

“You’re gonna regret that.” You bite, teeth digging into his neck to leave a mark. 

Wonwoo’s eyes burn across your body from where he sits on the bed, watching every move. You won’t be bested by Jun while someone else is around to witness so your touches turn possessive; nails raking across his skin, fingers pinching his nipples until he cries for mercy. The beginnings of a bruise blooms across his throat. And Jun’s wrist still never stops. 

“Go sit on the bed.”

A trail of clothes flutters in his wake. About a foot of space sits between him and his roommate. Wonwoo maintains his cocky expression while waves of frustration waft from Jun. But neither speak as you dig through your side table for a bottle of lube. 

You approach where they wait, turning so you back meets Wonwoo’s chest as you sink into his lap. He curls both arms over your stomach and traces your shoulder with his nose. 

“Jun, come here.”

He’s in front of you in a second, cock bobbing right at your chest.

“Wonwoo is gonna fuck me and you’re gonna watch.”

“No.” Jun states.

Even Wonwoo stops at the sudden refusal. “No?”

“I wanna touch you too.”

His fingers twitch at the idea, desperate to feel you on him after being denied the promise to watch.

You hope your idea will calm his disobedience for now. Gazing with soft features, your hand finds his hip and strokes gentle circles into the skin. “But you broke the rules, baby.”

“So did you!”

You circle his cock in your hand, slowly working him just the way he likes until the quake in his legs nearly sends him to the floor. 

“If you don’t cum, then you can fuck me. But if you do, then you don’t get to touch me the rest of the night. Deal?”

He opens his mouth to object but you beat him to the punch.

“Or Wonwoo and I can have fun and you can go sit in the living room until we’re done.”

Maybe it's the way your thumb swipes at his tip, or the dip of your head to lap away the mess. Or it could be how you look at him, hopeful he’ll agree because you’re not done playing with him yet. But it's probably because you leave a gentle peck on his stomach to hide the whispered ‘please’ for his ears only.

“Okay.”

Before you can praise him, Jun pulls you up into a searing kiss. It’s messy and sloppy in the best ways. His tongue licks into your mouth, gliding across yours and lapping away any noise you both make. Not even the discomfort of his nose burrowing into your cheek manages to distract you from the new dynamic. The heat makes your toes curl embarrassingly; like a teenager getting her first kiss with the boy she’s crushed on for months. Maybe it's a closer description than you’d like but you don’t dwell. Just rise on your knees to chase him for more, more, more until you're floating.

And considering how his fingers curl around the arch of your jaw, Jun clearly plans to stay a while.

But it also makes you remember it’s not Jun’s hands at your chest. It’s definitely not Jun’s cock sinking inside you because you still have him leaking in your hand. The image of Wonwoo sitting beneath you, watching as you and Jun dissolve into a matching set of needy desperate messes brings you back down from the clouds.

The bottle of lube enters the playing field again, its contents cold and slimy as you squirt it over your breasts. Wonwoo jostles you in his lap with every stilted grind as he searches for his own pleasure. Roused by the commotion, Jun sits back to see what you have planned. His love for your tits excels beyond casual interests and verges on perversion. A hand raises to help massage the soft skin but he stops short and remembers what you asked. But the drool slipping out the corner of his lips can’t be helped when squeeze them together and the flesh bounces.

He knows you have more up your sleeve than a lewd show although he’d happily empty his load on your chest and watch you rub it into the skin as well. Mark you as his even if Wonwoo gets to dump his spend in your cunt. Jun’s done it before and he’ll get to do it again and again long after Wonwoo’s out the front door.

Hot and wet, the tip of his cock grazes your nipple when you lean forward; both twitching at the contact. Jun steps up and lets himself rest on your sternum, releasing a pained breath while you press your tits together to squeeze him tight. More lube helps the first slide and leaves his pre-cum dappling against the hollow of your throat. 

“Jesus—shit,” he puffs.

Wanting to hear more, you lap at the head of his cock on the next downstroke and are rewarded with your chin glossed in pearly white. 

Wonwoo paws instantly at your ass and hips, refusing to ask for you to dedicate an iota of attention to his blight. Wedged so deep inside you, you nearly rise all the way up on your knees before sinking back down. Every drop leaves you stuffed with two cocks and you can’t help but wonder if more preparation could make you even more full next time. 

“Want you to cum, kitty.” You coo, lips puckered on the next suck.

His head drops back, lip bruised between his teeth. “Can’t.” 

“But I want you to,” you hiccup in a feign of innocence. “You’ve been so good. You deserve it baby.”

Your words are sweet like honey. Jun wants to cave, it's painted so plainly on his face. Eyes screwed tight, lip quivering, hands fisted at his sides while his body wages war with his mind. But one lube slick finger dipping beneath his balls and going for the soft spot just before his ass finishes the battle.

His stomach caves as he cums, rogue without aim. You manage to catch enough on your tongue to satiate your need for him but the rest drips and trails across your face and torso as you continue to bounce on Wonwoo’s cock without so much as a missed breath.

Sweat beads along your back and Wonwoo’s chest suffocates your skin even further. Leaning back, he accommodates your wish and falls to his elbows without missing a beat; feet planted on the floor so he can buck up into you. 

Jun can only stand and watch, the evidence of his failure shinny across your chin, neck, and chest. Rounded eyes brimmed with disappointment meet his own as he falls to his knees to clean up the mess.

He’s breaking the rules again but you honestly can’t care with the way he sucks away his own cum. You’re not too keen on it going to waste so before he can swallow you pull him up, split his lips open with your thumb, and get a taste for yourself. 

Your chest is covered with his mouth again before he rises and spits his haul into your waiting tongue. Jun keeps going. He doesn’t stop until there's nothing left and even then he presents his own tongue for you to spit on when he’s done.

“You’re so nasty,” you pant as he gulps down your present.

Jun focuses on leaving a brand of his teeth below your jaw, grunting when you grab for his limp cock again. He can give you more. He always does.  A final kiss satisfies Jun’s needs before you send him back on his haunches to wait.

Wonwoo barely registers as an afterthought, his presence eclipsed by Jun’s desperation and your eagerness. But he deserves to get what he came for. The quicker the better because you still have unfinished business with your coworker turned fuck buddy.

Slipping from his lap, his cock falls against his stock. Rigid and coated in your arousal, you rush to face him and sink back down.

He sighs at the relief, “finally” before dropping fingers to your clit while the other circles your throat. 

Your back meets the sticky sheets swiftly. Wonwoo presses deep and firm, stretching you to the limit. Jun still sits in the back of your head even if you can’t see him. You know he’s watching and it's enough to make you shy. But there's no room for it as Wonwoo hooks your knees in the dip of his elbows and spreads you wider, no doubt making Jun privy to your wrecked cunt.

“Harder,” you choke.

Wonwoo gets lost in the motions and nearly crushes you into the bed for it. Your fingers find his stagnated ones, brushing them aside to swipe against the raw bundle of nerves.

Teeth tug at your earlobe, biting into the softness as the end breaches over his spine. You retaliate with the sting of your nails down his back, digging harshly when you reach his ass to force him deeper. 

“Fuck, yeah.” He groans, voice breaking. Another harsh press of his hips sends you up the bed from the force. “C-c-cuming. Fuck, I’m cuming.”

Hot rope after hot rope creams your insides as Wonwoo works through his orgasm. You feel something dripping down your slit to your ass and assume he’s stuffed you with more than you can take. 

He pecks your cheek in thanks, signing off with a press of his nose before rolling away and leaving you empty. And the other discussion from the car comes back.

“I can’t believe it was Jun’s idea for me to take you on a date.” Wonwoo snorts.

“Why?”

“Because what guy wants another man taking out his girlfriend.”

You sit in uncomfortable silence, unable to admit the truth. Jun isn’t your boyfriend. And the entire charade tonight doesn’t seem to point that his interests even point remotely in that direction.

“So you and Jun aren’t dating?”

“No.”

“Well this is gonna go great.” Wonwoo quips.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You can’t help but be defensive but before you can get an answer he’s pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant.

The wet of Jun’s lips glide across your ankle, up your shin and over your knee. His hands find the crease and he pushes until your legs dangle over his shoulders. Every touch is devout, an attempt to soak in your presence without the previous interference. One of your palms finds his cheek and Jun is quick to drop a lazy kiss to it before setting to work between your legs. 

He doesn’t rush. If Jun wanted you wailing and twitching he’d have you there already. Instead, slow strokes bring you back to life bit by bit while his hands keep kneading the meat of your thighs and stomach.

Melting under the attention, you don’t even notice Wonwoo begins to rise until he speaks.

“That was fun.”

Neither of you acknowledge him. Too lost in one another, if you focus hard enough you can completely ignore the sound of him collecting his clothes. 

But Jun can’t.

Every shuffle earns a harsh lick against your sensitive clit. He doesn’t stop when your thighs nearly crush his head or your fingers tug at his hair. For the first time, Jun doesn’t listen to your silent instructions at all.

His fingers lack the same timidity as his mouth. Three spear you immediately, curving and scissoring until your vision goes fuzzy at the edges. More of Wonwoo’s cum leaks out and Jun is quick to lap it away and spit it into the bed sheets away from where you lay. 

“Now that’s just insulting.” Wonwoo calls. You find him lent against the door frame, dressed with his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

Jun doesn’t let up. If anything, the sound of his roommate's voice spurs him on. 

You gesture vaguely towards the door with a gasped, “get out,” before you fall back under Jun’s spell.

He focuses on cleaning away any proof Wonwoo was ever there. His fingers soak in your ruined cunt to pull away the excess before his tongue sneaks inside 

“Oh my god— J–Jun.”  You beg, body kicking in a tantrum while tears curl in your eyes.

He offers a hand to hold on your stomach while he continues to prove whatever point he hopes to make in the crux of your thighs. You grip on for dear life, nails leaving crescents on his skin while his thumb brushes against your palm in time with his tongue teasing lower and lower.

“Tell me I’m better.” 

You barely make out the words muffled in your cunt. Immediately you think he’s asking for more praise, the kind he gets when he cums twice within minutes. But you can’t wax poetically about how good he is with the way brands his tongue into your heat. All you can do is moan and whine with gusto and hope it's enough.

Jun rises, face coated in your arousal and eyes lazy. He doesn’t reject your kiss, or the shy way you prod the seam of his lips with your tongue. Tonights different in a million ways and the fact you feel nervous underneath him makes you even more skittish. 

Hips cradling his, Jun slides his cock deep without the usual stretch thanks to the hours of play. Jun anchors your legs wide to watch you take him inch by inch. Curiosity gets the better of you, and your chin dips to see the display as well. Not the first time he’s fucked you raw but the constrate of his skin against your own never grows dull. Trailing your eyes up further, you observe the twitch of his stomach every time you clench around him until Jun crushes you into the sheets.

You're both desperate. Breath puffing into eachothers mouths as you meet in a pathetic kiss. Sweat slicks your belly against his own. Jun covers every inch of your body he can like he wants to melt together and stay that way forever. 

“God, Jun!” You cry. “Shit, shit. G-gonna cum.”

Riled beyond belief, you need to cum. If it’s on his cock, or his fingers, or his face, you don’t care. As long as he’s there to help you through it. 

“I’m better than him, right? You want me more?”

He’s right in your ear, clear as day. Hours of build up freezes and shatters in half a second.

Your legs lock around the smell of his back, slowly his frantic pace until he’s calm enough to take a breath. His embarrassment hides in the curve of your throat. Jun paints apologetic kisses across every stretch of skin he can find while you wait for him to speak. 

“Jun?”

Nose cutting into the soft space under your jaw, he whispers, “I don’t want you to sleep with other people.”

Your gut tugs defensively. How dare he? Wonwoo was Jun’s idea, not yours; his roommate who made one joke about hearing you two fucking into the early hours of the morning. It was Jun who asked to invite him in. But before you can remind him of the fact, he frees his next truth.

“I want it to be just us.”

Hot and cold flash on your skin and a pit the size of an elephant explodes your stomach. There's too much ambiguity in such a statement. Too many what ifs. Considering his cock is still pressed between your legs, you refuse to be hopeful he’s asking for more than exclusive permission to your body.

“Okay.”

He jumps away from his hiding place, face wide with amazement. “Really?”

“Sure,” you swallow. “We won’t fuck anyone else.”

“That isn’t…I want it to be us. Us? You and me?”

“Like dating?”

He nods mutely.

A smile tilts the corners of your mouth, splitting your face ridiculously. You whisper again, “okay.”

Shy smiles and avoidant eyes are out of place giving what you’re doing. Given everything you have done. But you like Jun and he likes you and now you're both nervous because being naked means more now than it did twenty minutes ago.

You forge the courage to kiss him with gossamer drags of your lips over his jaw. He giggles when your breath ghosts over the shell of his ear, folding his head down to his shoulder to stop the maddening sensation and you can’t help but glow from the absurdity.

Pouting playful, you rope him into the fun with a taunt.“Kiss me.”

Jun doesn’t play around the demand. He seals his lips over yours, only interrupted by a grin that turns the connection into teeth from the twin smiles illuminating your faces. 

After the initial giddiness dims, Jun seems to remember he’s still inside you with a cursory thrust. It’s the same way he was fucking you before but now there are feelings and everything has an indecipherable edge.

His mouth avoids the sensitive parts of your chest, focusing on rubbing his lips across your skin and soaking in the feeling rather than soliciting a response. He’s aimless in his pursuits but you enjoy the attention all the same.

A sigh of your name signals his end. But Jun won’t cum a second time. Not while you still haven’t had your first.

Steady on one arm, he sucks his thumb into his mouth before slithering it where you meet. Everything quakes under the pressure, hours of teasing rising to a boil without preamble. Tremors ripple from your sore clit through every muscle. Growing stronger and stronger until you're bucking wildly. 

“Please cum, need it baby.” Jun whimpers, veins raising on his neck from the strain to hold back. “Been so good. I listened! Please, please, please.” 

He’s pathetic. Weak for good pussy and a dom who’ll give him the direction he needs to please. And you’re even more pathetic because you’re cumming on the next whiny breath he releases. 

Jun tries to fuck you through it, but the lewd mix of lube, arousal, and cum proves to hinder rather than help. He slips out and leaves you aching at first, two sets of hands scrambling to slip him back home. In the deep end of bliss, you crave the closeness rather than need it but it doesn’t stop Jun from huffing with frustration.

You grow boneless and pliant through the next strokes, eager to see him make another mess. Nothing feels as good as he does on your skin. Managing two handfuls of ass, you pull him deeper until he cries. 

“Wanna feel you make this pussy yours.” You beg into his shoulder. “Will you do that for me? Fill me with your cum?” 

His response is a raw moan, pathetic at your offer. The flutter of your walls around him unravels the knot of his second release until he’s rushing forward, forcing you down until you can’t breathe while he ruts every drop of his spend as deep as possible. 

You already know what he plans to do when he attempts to slip out. He's a freak in the most predictable ways. But a ghost of your foot along the sensitive back of his thigh and a coo for his return quell the hunger for further depravity. 

Relishing in the silence, you both find places to stroke and explore. The calloused pad of Jun’s thumb follows the bow of your lips, swirling across the sensitive skin with an occasional pause; only to start again when you bestow a gentle kiss. 

“Can we sleep on the couch? It’s fucking nasty in here.”

Scoffing, you force him out of your chest with a palm to his forehead. “I’m sorry, who was the one spitting cum earlier?”

“Shut up.” Jun pouts, kissing his point across.

Dozing on the couch, Jun lights the pre-roll from his overnight bag. A few puffs are all it takes to melt the lingering jitters from his confession. Somehow this Jun, cozy in his sweats with damp hair and a lazy grin, is more imposing than the one who left the mess still staining your panties. But he doesn’t let you stay at the far end of the couch for long. Planted between long legs, back to his chest while his fingers tangle together on your stomach, you find it all feels right.

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