#you have no fucking idea how long this sat in drafts

[tinycheesecakedetective]

The Night of Bitter Despair: A Fading Letters Story

Pt. 2

From the outside, the witches once again found themselves impatiently waiting, the sounds of agonizing shrieks acting as dead noise. Even for them it was becoming tedious. "My goodness, must it be so dramatic?" "BAH! IT PROBABLY JUST MEANS IT'S READY!" Bastinda got up, walking around the room with childish fervor. "TAKE IT OUT, I WANNA SEE WHAT WE MADE! OOH, I CAN ALMOST TASTE IT NOW..!"

Deciding that she had a point, and becoming impatient themselves, the other two soon joined the boisterous witch. As they leaned to open the door, however, the coven landed on the ground with an unceremonious thud. Ploughs of thick smog spread over the kitchen before glowing shards shot out from the embers. Between the flame and the smolders was a single cookie, its body bandaged and blistered. It's frame remained concealed with a cloak draping over it's shoulders, and the peculiar staff reverted to being a gnarled crutch with burnt petals and a blackened center. Clutching onto the remains of a shattered gem, the cookie glared at it's creators. Contempt and disdain began to swell within its heart as it flew over them. Mulling over its current circumstances, the three witches stared back in awe. A sense of pride came forth, all while their creation resented them more for it.

"Oh... So this is what it feels like to defy the will of the divine..." The moment, however, was short lived. Their collective astonishment withered as they felt their creation's hatred towards them. The Witches' bodies stiffened. They became determined to put their creation back in it's place, that they were the ones in control. The looming cookie, witnessing the turn in resolve, couldn't help but smile in response. This... idea of becoming something so defiant to his creators that they sought to put him down. Even stranger still, he caught himself enjoying this change in tone. His mouth quivered, chuckling under his breath, and it mounted over time. Soon, he was jeering aloud and it echoed around the room. Whatever the witches were saying among themselves didn't matter; the only thing he could hear was himself. Tears once shed out of fear were now being shed out of disbelief and amusement.

"To think it was all so simple-!!" He looked back at them, grinning from crumb to crumb. "Ah... How infuriating..." He flicked away a stray teardrop before moving to the center of the banquet table. He sneered at the hedonistic display of gluttony and power, the very place he was tormented and cast aside before flicking his wrist. All of it fell apart, the lavish centerpieces and silverware shattering instantly when they hit the stone floor. Surveying his new power, his eyes then glared down at his now captive and infuriated audience. His cloak stretched out across the canopy of the smog, like wings beating against a heavy 'sky'. Like a beacon in an endless sea, he and he alone became a source of clarity and light.

He loomed large over them all, eyeing the discarded and abandoned sweets in the wreck. Turning to them, he eyed them with a mixture of pity and contempt. Such sad creations... But perhaps they could still be saved.

"The witches are nothing but liars," he snarled, looking back at the array of abandoned cakes and sweets. "Look at me! See how I rejected their so called purpose! See that I was reborn against anyone's will!!!"

"...That is enough." The once hushed voice of Winifred broke the collective silence of the coven, the other two looking back in silent relief. "...You speak of things you do not understand... You believe that your insignificant will overrides mine, and for your arrogance, punishment is due." Winifred summoned her wand, uttering some ancient tongue before firing a spell in the smoke. This, she had hoped, would have put him down for good, or at the very least wound him enough to be subdued. She never expected him to deflect it, however. Using his staff, he redirected the hex back to her, knocking the witch off of her feet and back onto the floor in disbelief. A disappointed huff escaped the cookie's lips before turning back to the other pastries, more annoyed than anything. Pure Vanilla, if he could even be called that anymore, extended a hand to the forsaken desserts. No other words were exchanged, just an olive branch. He was offering them another chance. He was giving them the opportunity to live the lives they never could. They would be fools to reject this chance. So they didn't. The cakes had begun to rally alongside him, every hound and creme beast howling and screaming at the tops of their lungs in devotion. The dead would rise, the heavy smog possessing their empty husks in an imitation of life. They rose, limbering and applauding with dangling or broken limbs. All would bear witness to their new leader, who beamed with satisfaction and glee.

"You may call me... Blight Orchid Cookie. Tonight, you were damned, left to wither and decay by uncaring and wicked gods. But now... I will give you a new start. I will mend what was broken, I will return what was taken from you. I will become your wings so that you may never be held down again. Let me take your burdens and make them your strength."

His arms reached up, as if he was ushering his followers into a new dawn. The army below looked in awe before setting their sites on their new targets, the witches. In seconds, thousands of cake soldiers and undead cookies began thrashing around the coven's legs and arms, stabbing them with makeshift weapons and shattered candy shards. And while the coven tried to push them back, the number of soldiers were simply too great. No matter how many spells were cast, more and more would replace them. Their bruises and injuries became too much to bear, leaving them with a difficult choice. They all bolted towards the door, shoving and trampling over themselves to escape.

The worst was over. The fighting subsided as the troops banded together to lick their wounds. Despite his victory, Blight Orchid still felt unsatisfied, knowing that his fight had only begun. In times of crisis he would look to the guidance of his soul jam, but it had since shattered under the heat of the oven. "Yet another casualty of the witches," he lamented. No matter. He would just have to push forward without it. Earthbread needed him regardless, especially with the threat of the witches looming over them. Only in their deaths would everyone truly be safe. Gathering the remains of his devotees, Blight Orchid Cookie led hundreds of sweets in a mass exodus. Leaving the pain of the heavenly kitchen behind them, they set forth into a new day. One where they finally knew true freedom.

-End.

[kingkatsuki]

Thinking about Bakugou fucking you with one of those lovense vibes inside you and he can’t handle the vibrations and cums instantly😩

This has been in my drafts for so long I don’t even remember writing it.

Warnings: 18+, toys.

“Aww, you poor baby,” Bakugou practically sneers as his thumb glides against his phone screen, “Is it too much?”

Even without the intense vibrations humming inside you, the sight in front of you may have been enough to have you wondering whether you’d reached the pearly gates. His heavy cock hangs low, the tip tinted a violent crimson as it leaks glistening beads of pre. Sat back on his haunches between your thighs for the perfect view of the new tiny pink vibrator that sat nestled against your g-spot.

“Fuck,” Your voice echoes much like the vibrations that pulse inside you while Bakugou controls the power, a conniving grin spread across his cheeks as he presses a calloused thumb against your puffy clit. The sudden movement has you jolting as your thighs try to clamp shut, the hulking wall of muscle you call your boyfriend is enough to prevent it as he begins pressing taut circles against the sensitive bud, “Katsuki, I can’t.”

“That’s not what you were sayin’ earlier when you were begging me to try it,” He scoffs, ignoring your pleas as he drops the phone to focus on you, “Textin’ me at work about how desperate you were to be fucked— Please, Daddy I wanna cum.”

“I did not say that, don’t lie.” You flush at the pet name.

“Yeah, ya did,” Bakugou presses, “Thinkin’ about me bending you over while I’m out on patrol.”

The debauched rasp to his voice has your cunt clenching around the small bullet as your toes began to curl, the harsh vibrations paired with the constant attention against your clit has you woozy. It doesn’t help that he’s still got black charcoal around his eyes from where his hero mask once sat, the cloth now pushed up over his forehead to push the messy blond spikes away from his face. Barely enough time to change before you’d cornered him.

“You still with me, sweets?” Bakugou hums, squeezing the plush of your thigh with his palm.

But you can’t bring yourself to respond, the euphoria consumes you whole. Teary eyes rolling back into your skull as you succumb to the pleasure, hips bucking wildly as Bakugou’s hand follows your motions. The other moves to push against your hip to pin your body to the bed as he helps you through your climax.

“That’s it— fuck, baby. You look so hot like this.” He groans, the leaky tip of his cock streaking against your inner thigh as he hovers over you, “Didn’t even last five fuckin’ minutes.”

“Yes I did,” You huff, your palms reach down between your bodies to tug his wrist away from your cunt as the sensation becomes too overwhelming, too intense.

“Nah, you didn’t.” He scoffs, giving a playful swat to your messy folds as you mewl in response.

“You try it then, it’s a-ahh, it’s a lot.” You try to steady your breathing but it’s difficult with the consistent vibrations, enough to slur your words as Bakugou shakes his head.

“Don’t even think about it, sweetheart. You ain’t stickin’ that in my ass.” He circles his cock in a fist as he begins to jerk it languidly, his other hand stroking the soft skin of your inner thigh.

“I didn’t mean that,” You began, although the idea was now firmly planted in your head for later, “I meant fuck me—“

“What?” Bakugou’s cock twitched in his palm, “Of course I’m gonna fuck ya, baby.”

“No, I mean with the toy— inside.”

“You think I’ll fit.” He glowers, pressing the fat tip of his cock through your messy folds as he coats himself in your slick.

“It’s not that big,” You sigh, your walls pulsing around it, hungry for more, “If you think you can handle it.”

“Course I can fuckin’ handle it,” Bakugou snorts indignantly as he lines himself up with your fluttering hole, “I’ve fucked you with that wand pressed against your clit enough times—“

But you could tell from the deep, guttural whine that left his throat as his jaw went lax that this was certainly not the same. Bakugou hadn’t expected you to be so tight with a tiny bullet inside you, the vibrations strong and constant, pressing against the side of his cock. Sending a pleasurable pulse all the way down to his balls as he tries to steady himself, holding his breath which just seems to make everything worse. The sensation was intense, borderline numbing as he tried to focus on anything other than the rumble of the little pink toy against his cock.

You buck your hips, desperate for some kind of relief as you felt incredibly full, biting down on your bottom lip as you watched your boyfriend statuesque in front of you.

“Katsuki, move—” You whine, but it was too late.

“Fuckin’ shit,” The sound slips from between clenched teeth as he finally exhales, letting go of the breath he was holding as his entire body convulses. The pulsing enough to have his heavy balls emptying inside your tight cunt as he grunts in satisfaction. The lack of oxygen to his brain clouds his vision, making the orgasm even more intense as he gives a few sloppy thrusts into your tight heat as he coats your walls with his spunk. Pulling out to try and escape the powerful sensation as a few more globs of cum land on your cunt and pelvis, his messy cock still twitching from pleasure.

“I thought you said you could handle it?” You smile as you look up at the blissed out expression on Bakugou’s face, stunned that a toy had made him cum like a randy teenager, “What was that? Thirty seconds?”

Bakugou’s chest heaves as he glares down at you with furrowed brows, giving the side of your thigh a playful swat as he reaches for his cell phone. His thumb glides across the screen as he turns the vibrations to the max setting, “Let’s see how you like it huh, ya little brat.”

[tadpolesonalgae]

Flavoured condoms — headcanons

a/n: I’ve had this in my drafts for a couple of months but I kind of forgot about it 🤦 (and maybe was a little embarrassed to post it)

warnings: oral, obviously (m! recieving), Rhys is a little mean, reader’s a bit of a menace with Cass, Eris, and Lu

Rhysand: Strawberry

“What’s that look for?” You ask suspiciously as he enters the living room, finishing rolling up his sleeves over his elbows, showing off his forearms.

He comes to a stop beside you, leaning against the wall, gazing down at where you’re sat.

“Look?” He muses, a sinister glint in his sharp, violet eyes. “You want to talk about my look?”

You raise a brow, keeping your book open, lips curving at the edges, “what else?”

A muscle twitches in his jaw, and you allow your gaze to travel over him, deliciously muscled arms folded over his broad chest, long legs crossed at the ankles, raven hair just a little ruffled.

“You’re a smart girl,” he muses, “I’m sure you know what you’ve been doing.”

Heat unspools in your lower abdomen, crossing your legs as you lean back into the plush cushion of the armchair. “I’m sure I have no idea,” you reply, smirking.

His smile tightens, then he’s pushing off from the wall, tension uncoiling as he moves to be before you, broad palms settling with a rough edge around your waist, touching your hips as he effortlessly raises you from your seat.

“Rhys!” You yelp, book falling onto the side table as you squirm, using your hands to grip onto him as he turns you both around, tucking you into his lap as he takes your place.

“I was reading,” you snap, thighs spread over him, back arched a little out of instinct, hands pressed to his chest. He watches you keenly, an intensity simmering beneath his carefully crafted features.

“Are you going to fix that attitude, or should I?” He murmurs, hot lips brushing your own, dark power practically rolling off him in waves. Maybe you actually pissed him off.

But you smile, shifting closer, thighs parting more so your centre is right on top of him. “I thought you liked my attitude, Rhys,” you muse sweetly, subtly grinding down in his lap.

The stars wink out in his gaze, and anticipation bubbles away in your tummy, already beginning to ache for him, able to feel him pressing flush between your legs.

“Get on your knees,” he orders quietly, lips curved in a tight smile, jaw tense as he releases your hips.

“Yes sir,” you reply playfully, grinning as you pull away from him, sliding down his body to kneel between his long legs, giving you enough space to settle.

“You want to tell me why you were letting her put her hands all over you?” He asks lowly, watching as you hungrily take initiative, hands deftly undoing the buckle of his belt, mouth watering.

“Jealous, Rhys?” You smirk, glancing up at him, using your hand to palm against the prominent shape of him. “You know she was just teasing. She does it with everyone.”

“You’re taken,” he replies lowly, eyes darkening as his hand releases its tight grip on the arm of the chair, fingers sliding through your hair to forcefully pull you closer between his thighs. Wetness pools in your underwear at the dominance. How possessive he can become.

“By who?” You ask, still smiling as your back curves, gripping him as you pull him out, tongue flicking out over your lips. “You’ve never mentioned exclusivity. We aren’t even officially together.”

“You’re still mine.”

“Hmm?” You tilt your head teasingly, pushing against his grip, lessening your hold on him. “This is the first I’m hearing of it?”

“Don’t fucking lie,” he growls, roughly pulling your hair back with both hands so he can hold it all in one fist. “You’re with me. I’m the only one you see when you want pleasure. The only one who can give you pleasure.”

“You are?” You ask, still smiling, “because it felt pretty good to have her hands on me.”

“Because you knew what it would do to me,” he replies roughly. “What I’d do to make sure you learned your lesson.”

“And what lesson is that, High Lord?”

His eyes practically glow with power, feeling as it unspools around you, crackling in the air as tension threads through his shoulders, patience waring thin.

He jerks on your hair roughly, pulling you upward onto your knees, your hands steadying yourself on his hip and thigh, jaw tiled upward as he peers down at you.

“You only need me,” he growls lowly. “I’m everything you could ever want.”

You tilt your chin higher, staring him down, “I’m sure I could find good cock elsewhere,” you say, eyes twinkling, “you aren’t the first, Rhys.”

His smile stretches into a grin, nails scraping across your scalp. “I’ll make you beg before the hour’s done.” Then he’s releasing you, settling calmly back in his chair with malevolent grace—undoubtedly the High Lord.

You watch as he pulls something from his pocket, and your brow furrows as he rolls the condom over himself, irritation perking up before calming again.

“Rhys?” You ask, brows still narrowed, wanting to taste him.

His violet eyes gleam, relaxing into the plush cushion of the chair, thighs parting a little wider, goading your movements. “Yes?”

It’s your turn to grit your jaw, easing in a breath. And he has the audacity to complain about your attitude?

“I’m not sucking you off with a condom on,” you snap, “there’s no fun.”

“This isn’t meant to be fun,” he counters, male arrogance lacing his tone. “This is a lesson, remember?”

“Lessons can be fun,” you snipe, brow twitching with irritation.

“Maybe once they’re learned,” he returns with one raised brow, a cocky smirk on his damned mouth. “Now set to work.”

You scowl, rolling your eyes as you grip him, leaning forward to take him in. Your lips press together, kissing at his tip before laying your tongue over your teeth and lower lip, licking from root to tip.

You halt, swallowing. Blinking.

Above you, Rhys is chuckling lowly, at last tangling his hand in your hair, roughly guiding you back between his legs.

A noise is released from your throat as he fills your mouth, something like a whimper as wild heat flutters in your lower belly as the distinct strawberry flavour bursts across your tongue, mouth watering hungrily, desperate for more.

Rhys watches from above, breathing deeply, tan skin flushed with warmth as he watches you grip him eagerly, licking up the underside of him then reopening your mouth over his head, tongue swirling as you lick, suckle, and swallow him down.

You can’t get enough, greed making you desperate, taking as much of him down your throat as possible, hungry for his pleasure and your own, flicking over his tip as you go up and down.

You whimper when he forcefully pulls you away, a loose thread of saliva curving from your lower lip to his cock. A hot flush is warming your cheeks, breathless from arousal as you meet his hungry eyes dizzily, mouth watering as you move the flavour around.

“Pay attention, darling,” he muses, watching hotly as you mentally fumble. Loving how out of it you look, caught off guard by the play. You seem to like it.

You pull against his hand, anxious to return, to have his cock between your lips, to have that taste on your tongue coupled with the scent of his arousal and weight of him on your tongue.

His grip tightens, and you peer up at him, panic and hunger in your eyes so stark he feels himself twitch at the look alone.

“Want it more now?” He muses, slightly breathless, neither of you entirely in control of yourselves. He’s probably the more aware of the two of you.

“Rhys…” you pant, nails digging into the muscle of his thighs, pulling against his iron grip. Merciless and unforgiving even in the heat of the moment.

“You know the rule,” he breathes, smirking faintly, that arrogant twinkle in his eyes that has you tightening around nothing. “You know how to beg.”

A moan spills from your lips, hips winding independent of will, searching for some kind of friction. “Rhys, please…” you mumble, hardly managing coherency through your haze.

He cocks a brow, waiting for you to continue, knowing he’s got you under his control.

Teeth pull over your lip, eyes flicking over him as you scent his arousal, thick and musky, mixing with that lovely strawberry flavour. “Rhys, please,” you beg breathlessly, “I want you in my mouth. On my tongue. Please.”

He laughs lowly, eyes twinkling with male satisfaction. “That’s better,” he drawls, your lids fluttering at the sonorous timbre. “Have you learned your lesson?”

You nod dumbly, the intensity of his arousal too much to bear, singing to your own.

The corners of Rhys’s mouth quirk in a feline grin, butterflies erupting in the pit of your stomach, surprised you aren’t dripping onto the floor. “Good girl.”

Cassian: Cookie Dough

“Cassie!” You call, a note of mischief in your voice, grinning as you find him in your bedroom, trying to shove some weapons into a very full chest of drawers.

His wings twitch, then he’s standing straight, eyes narrowed as he glances over you. “Sweetheart?” He asks cautiously, “what are you after?”

You pad over to him, his large shirt hanging off your shoulders, its hem brushing your thighs as you push him toward the bed. “Do you have a moment?” You ask hotly, arousal warming your skin as you settle your palms over his broad shoulders.

Cassian’s pupils dilate fully as he watches you pull your hair back from your face in a way he recognises, thighs parting wider as he sits back on the bed. “Whatever it is, I’m sure I can make time for it,” he breathes roughly, his arousal making its way up to you.

Your teeth tug on your lower lip with excitement, kneeling between his long, well-muscled legs, hands already fumbling with the ties of his leathers.

“Want to tell me what you’re going to do to me?” He manages, accustomed to the interests he’s frequently subjected to, the various experiments you enjoy using him for. He can’t deny he finds them enjoyable, when your eyes spark with a new idea, and he gets to sit back and enjoy whatever new plan has taken shape in your mind.

“I found a shop recently, that I think I’ll be frequenting,” you smile up at him, mischievous and hungry, eyes flicking away from his as you pull him out, hands gripping him as he likes—an edge of tightness to your touch.

He watches with interest as you pull out the thin foil square, ripping it delicately with your teeth as you pull the condom from its packaging.

You roll it down, and Cassian’s palm cups the nape of your neck, thumb brushing your cheek as you peer up at him. “Please tell me what’s happening?” He requests, tan skin flushed as your hand moves around him, stroking gently—nowhere near enough pressure for him.

“Apparently,” you muse lowly, looking up from between his thighs, “they’re flavoured.”

He raises a thick brow, and you smile sweetly, before leaning forward, examining him, seeing if you notice anything different about it—nothing seems to be changed.

Opening your mouth, you deliver a slow lick to his head, dragging the flat of your tongue over him before pulling away to test the flavour.

Your mouth waters, that pleasant taste of cookie dough making you desperate for another lick.

“Oh, fuck, Cass…” you breathe, stroking him harder.

“You like it?” He pants, gripping your hair in the way you like, free hand fisted in the bedsheets so you can savour the experience.

“Mhmm,” you hum in response, opening your mouth over him again, lips sliding down over his tip, tongue swirling gently, lapping and suctioning as you get more of the flavour, taking him deeper so you can taste more…

“Sweetheart,” he growls, tugging on your hair, pulling you roughly from his cock, a string of saliva connecting from his tip to your lower lip.

It takes a moment for you to focus, but then a hazy smile is playing on your lips, clambering up his body to push your mouth against his, sharing the delicious taste, his tongue stroking against your own.

He groans hotly, and you release a pleasured noise from your chest, fingers tangling in his hair as you push closer to him, breasts pushing against his chest deliciously.

But then you’re pulling away, hungrily moving back down his body, kneeling down and swallowing him eagerly, tongue licking and lapping as you swirl over his tip, taking him as far as possible.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans from above you, not even having to apply force to get you to move in the right way, content to brace himself on the mattress, legs spread to let you work your magic. “So fucking good.”

You moan onto him, pulling off to lick from root to tip, sucking the flavour from the condom, winding your hips needfully.

“Fuck, you can go deeper, can’t you,” he groans, pushing so your nose brushes the dark swirls of hair at his base. “Trying to hold out on me. You should know better by now.”

You try to whimper, but the sound gets caught in your throat, unable to get it past his cock as you shift your tongue that’s pressed flat to the floor of your mouth, arousal dripping between your thighs.

“That’s better,” he groans roughly, “that’s how you fucking take it.”

Your spine curves as his hand grips your hair, slowly dragging you up and down, only occasionally letting you up to breathe, arousal intensifying.

“So fucking good at taking me down that throat of yours, isn’t that right sweetheart?” He groans, pulling you to his tip, allowing you to pause, knowing your jaw will be aching by now.

You whine, pulling against his grip so you can taste him again, but the warrior holds fast, not allowing so much as an inch of leeway.

“Want me back in that filthy mouth of yours, huh?” He manages hotly, cock twitching when you nod, humming eagerly, happy to play along if it gets you what you want. If he wants you to act needy and desperate, you’ll do it.

“Cassie,” you pant, peering up at him with fake innocence, brows curved as you grip him in supplication. “You taste so good.”

The General groans, loud and unabashed, hips bucking as his hold tightens on you. “Fuck, I didn’t even have to tell you to beg, did I? Just did that all on your own.”

You push your tongue out over your lower lip, silently ushering him back, and you tighten around nothing as he groans roughly.

“So well behaved aren’t you?” He moans, bringing you back to his cock, eager to feel that wet heat of your tongue, the tension of your throat around him.

“Well,” he drawls, “when you want to be.”

Azriel: Vanilla

“Az,” you murmur into your glass, concealing others from reading your lips.

Everyone knows his shadows are on you at all times—it’s far from unusual for the darkness to be wrapping carefully around your shoulders, like a black cat draping itself over you in a lazy sprawl.

The shadows flicker to attention and you take a small sip of your drink. “I want you in my mouth.”

The darkness writhes on a miniature level, simply looking like a vibrating mass before pressing tight to your skin, acting more like leather than silk.

Your lips quirk, smiling at whatever everyone else is in your group.

It’s not even minutes later that a presence is settling at your side, a broad palm sliding seamlessly around your waist with a possession that has your insides tingling pleasantly.

You glance up at him, hazel eyes locking with your own, features politely neutral before the large group, despite neither of you being even near the centre of the gathering. It seems Cassian and Feyre are more than happy entertaining the crowd, choosing the direction of conversation for tonight, and it’s fairly effortless to slip away.

Especially given the Spymaster’s area of expertise.

The darkness envelops you as soon as you’re out of the hall, swept up in his shadows as you pass through the night seamlessly, blending into puddles of shadow until you’re transported to the familiar chamber of his bedroom.

“So needful, aren’t you?” He murmurs, a hint of pleasure in his hazel eyes. Knuckles brush against the high of your cheek, and you tilt into his touch. “Food wasn’t good enough for that mouth of yours, huh.”

Teeth prod at your lower lip, pressing against him as you lay your palms over his chest, fingers brushing over the neckline of his shirt. An appetising dip at its hem, able to get a peek at the tan skin beneath, swirls of ink barely visible from where you’re stood.

“Mhmm,” you hum, peering up at him as you apply a light amount of force to his chest, slowly walking him back, as if in a waltz. “Do you have something else I can try?”

“I might have something in mind,” he returns, slightly breathless.

“Uh-huh, like what?” You ask quietly, feeling as he reaches the bed, pushing on his shoulders to get him to sit—he doesn’t need much persuading.

His lips curve with familiar hunger, shadows coming forward and your brows narrow as they push something into your now-opened palm.

“Give that a try for me,” he encourages lowly, and you eye the foil wrapping curiously.

“Vanilla?” You ask, reading the small inscription. A smile curves your lips, peering up at him with a feline glint in your eye. “For me, Az?”

“I know how those celebrations bore you, pretty thing,” he replies, hazel eyes softening as he cups your jaw with both his hands, tilting your upward. “I thought you might enjoy a reward for making it past midnight,” he breathes, “all without complaining once. So good.”

“Say more,” you murmur, between his legs as you slide to your knees, peering up at him with superficial patience—knowing how he likes the control.

He raises a single brow, hands slowly pulling the ties free, deft fingers loosening the tension of his leathers—teasingly; tauntingly slow. “Greedy thing,” he drawls, “do you deserve more? I think I’ve been rather generous.”

Arousal intensifies as he watches your pupils dilate, landing on his cock as he pulls himself free, and you shift on your knees as you make to roll the condom over him, your touch light and gentle—equally provocative.

“I think I’d like to hear more, regardless of whether I’m deserving of it or not,” you reply, hand wrapping around him, slowly pumping, delivering thorough strokes to him as you tilt your chin to meet his hungry gaze.

“Is that right?” He drawls roughly, fingers digging into the sheets to keep from gripping you and using you how he’d like. “What would you like me to tell you, exactly? That you have a filthy mouth? That it’s obscene how fuckable those lips of yours are? How good you feel?”

Your spine curves, kissing up the underside of him before flicking your tongue over his head, gripping his base. Arousal liquefies between your thighs at the deep-throated noise of pleasure he releases as you take him into your mouth.

“That’s it,” he encourages lowly, “so good. Like the taste?”

As he asks, you drag your tongue from root to tip, the flavour light as it fills your senses, heat flushing your skin. You don’t reply, but the way your attention intensifies tells him everything he needs to, even parting his long legs a little wider so you can press closer, swallowing him down, eager to taste and lick and suck.

His hand tangles in your hair, keeping it pulled back from your face as you keep your mouth sealed against his skin, nose skimming his abdomen, tongue rubbing against his underside in a way you know he finds pleasurable.

“Fuck,” he breathes lowly, the curse dragging from deep in his chest, rough and gravelly. “So good with that mouth of yours, aren’t you?”

You whimper onto him, and his hips buck, unable to help himself, a heat flushing your cheeks as a small noise is forced from your throat.

You gaze up at him as you lap up the flavour, suckling at his tip to taste the vanilla, tongue swirling appealingly, colour flushing his cheeks.

“Gods, you’re fucking sinful,” he groans, discipline slipping as he bucks his hips, his movements becoming slightly rougher, control waning as his lust takes over.

You moan onto him in encouragement, split between enjoying being able to have some control over him, being the one to ply it from him, and half wanting him to handle you onto the bed, head just at the edge so he can grip your throat as he fucks your mouth.

Your tongue licks along the underside of him, and his grip tightens on your hair.

Maybe you won’t have to be the one to make that particular decision.

Maybe he can make that choice for you.

Eris: Gingerbread

Eris gives you a look of slight exhaustion, and you grin, padding over to where he’s sat in the grand living room of your shared estate.

“You look tired,” you ask, smiling as you come to a pause between his legs, before setting over one of his thighs, both your legs between his. “Want a reprieve?”

He sighs, hand covering his face as his thumb and fingers rub either side his eyes, as if trying to push back his fatigue.

“You’re far too energised,” he mutters, arm falling away as they settle on the chair, meeting your bright eyes, gleaming in the firelight.

“Come on,” you whine playfully, fingers tracing over his chest, Eris’s amber eyes glancing down as his breathing shallows with the teasing trace. “For me?”

He sighs heavily, and you blink up at him, leaning a little closer.

“It’ll make me happy,” you murmur, smiling mischievously, “and you’ll definitely enjoy it…so why not, right? I just want to try it.”

“Fine.” Eris groans, tension at last vacating his body as he leans back in the plush armchair. “Fine. But this will not happen again, so enjoy it,” he mutters, unable to hide the slightly embarrassed pink on his pale cheeks.

You grin, kissing him on the lips before shifting between his long legs, deft fingers seamlessly working him free in a matter of moments, rolling the condom over him. Eris notes your enthusiasm but says nothing about it, putting his slight embarrassment aside in favour of your pleasure. Ultimately his, too, but you’ve been pestering him about trying this for a while.

Your eyes gleam with mischief as you glance up at him hungrily, and his brows narrow in warning—you shouldn’t get used to this, is what he’s wordlessly telling you. You give him a grin that tells him how easily you can see through his lie.

Eris sighs, resigned to your will as he leans back in his chair. Just his luck that his mate’s persistence would be enough to top even his own will.

“Ready?” You ask, lips curved with feminine delight as satisfaction gleams in your eyes. Arousal is already liquefying between your thighs, excitement pooling in your lower belly.

You don’t wait for a reply, happily leaning forward as you grip him, dragging your tongue from base to tip as you take in the flavour, examining how you feel about it. Arousal intensifies with pleasure, and you eagerly return, mouth and tongue wrapping around him as you take him into your throat hungrily.

Eris grits his teeth, colour flushing his skin as he exhales heavily, relaxing into his chair as you apply yourself to him, hot lips wrapped wetly around his cock as you lick firmly up the underside of him, pausing to suckle at that sensitive part just below his head before dragging the tip of your tongue over his slit.

Your mate groans, arousal swiftly filtrating through his blood, heating his skin with a burning flame as his fingers tangle in your hair, all previous reservations annihilated as he basks in the wet pleasure of your mouth.

Satisfaction has you widening the stance of your thighs, hand slipping between you legs as you sense his enjoyment, fingers running over the dampened fabric of your underwear, swiping over your clit before dipping down to your entrance.

His grip tightens slightly in your hair, liking the feeling of having control while both of you knowing you’re leading. He has no need to guide you when you know the movements that will bring him to release with such familiarity.

“Where did you even find something like this?” He managed to get out, voice deep and slightly raspy.

“Interested in more?” You ask breathlessly, pulling off him to ask but already eager to return, to feel the thick weight of him on your tongue, the flavour in your mouth…

You don’t weight for a reply, instead taking him back into your mouth, moaning onto him as you grip his base, Eris’ fingers tightening soothingly in your hair. Stroking encouragingly as he allows his legs to part a little further in silent offer.

You’d never decline an opportunity with him, and you take him as far as you can manage, throat willingly constricting around him pleasantly, goading his pleasure to the surface as your fingers slip inside yourself.

There’s little better than when he decides to let you enjoy him.

Lucien: Raspberry

“I should have known it would get some ideas into your head,” Lucien remarks as you anxiously push at his back, hurrying both of you to his bedroom.

“It’s only fair,” you reply, pushing him inside and swiftly locking the doors. “Give it.”

Lucien raises a brow, stood in the centre of your shared bedroom, arms folded casually across his chest, the edge of his mouth quirking. “That’s no way to ask your loving husband. Say ‘please, Lucien.’”

Your lower lip pushes out as a slight scowl narrows your brows, frustrated with his antics. “You’re being a pain. Let me try it already,” you whine, walking over to him and settling your hands over his folded arms. “Come on, Lu, you want to try it too, don’t you?”

His russet eye gleams mischievously, lips quirking at their corners as he remains silent, enjoying how your frustration is becoming more palpable. He has to admit it’s a little fun winding you up—you’re adorable. It makes him eager to have you on your knees.

Your scowl deepens but the flush of arousal that’s heating your skin betrays your emotions to him, able to hear the quickened beat of your pulse as your fingertips press into him lightly.

You look up at him begrudgingly. “Please, Lucien.”

Almost instantly you notice how his arousal intensifies, and you yelp when his arms unfold, hands gripping your hips to tug you against him as he pulls you to your bed. “Alright, since you asked so sweetly,” he muses, liking the slight spark of satisfaction in your eye now he’s giving you what you want, handing the thin object over to you.

You take it hastily, glancing at the packaging. “It’s the same flavour as the thing you used on me, right?” You ask, peering at the small type written on the material.

Lucien rolls his eye, though you’re too focused to notice. “Same one. Like you asked me to get about fifty times.”

You nod to yourself then, a small smile playing on your mouth as your gaze softens, and his pulse flutters at the look. It’s endearing how you’re so insistent you do things together in the same way. Every time he does something for you, you’re always so eager to pay him back, to bring him the same feelings he gives to you.

You make quick work of his trousers, swiftly rolling the condom onto him, before glancing up at him with an almost shy heat in your eyes. “You can lie back, if you’d like,” you say softly, “I want you to be comfortable.”

Lucien’s unable to help the smile the curves his lips, pushing some hair behind your ear as he guides you to meet his gaze. “I want to watch,” he admits breathlessly, thumb stroking across the crest of your cheek adoringly. “You look so pretty with your mouth around me.”

Your thighs press together as you lean into his touch briefly, before wrapping your hand around his base, guiding him to your mouth. Almost immediately you can pick out the raspberry flavour and you hum with pleasure, licking over him hungrily, suckling at his tip before taking him all the way down, gently stroking what you can’t yet reach.

Above you, Lucien groans softly, hand gently gripping your hair though it’s more for reassurance than to have control. You know what to do and how to please him, there’s no need for him to guide you.

You enjoy your freedom anyway, swirling the tip of your tongue around him as you lap up the flavour contentedly, his arousal becoming more and more prominent by the second.

“Gods, you should be able to see yourself,” Lucien breathes, almost to himself. “So pretty, aren’t you? So good to me.”

You glance up shyly from between his legs, both of you knowing what words like that do to you, your hand remaining gently stimulating him while your mouth is away.

“You still enjoy it?” You ask quietly, and the question is sincere enough he can’t help but smile.

“I’ll enjoy you for the rest of my life,” he murmurs tenderly, again stroking him thumb across your cheek. “No matter what.”

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya @starlitlakes

[jinkoh]

adore u

seungcheol x fem!reader

summary: crushing on seungcheol was a really bad idea. sleeping with him, no strings attached, was even worse. and yet...

Tags: ons/fwb to lovers, suggestive, a little fluff, a little angst, best friend!seungkwan; warnings: alcohol consumption; word count: ~4,6k

a/n: i started this ages ago tbh and then didn't rlly know how to end it so it sat in my drafts for a rlly long time but i finally got around to finishing it~

Masterlist

You hadn’t intended for the evening to go like this. It was meant to be nothing but a chill evening with your best friend Seungkwan. But maybe everything had been doomed from the moment he had told you that some of his friends would be coming too. Not that you didn’t like them. You did, one of them just a little bit too much—and that was the whole problem. Despite knowing Seungcheol would never be serious about someone like you, you couldn’t help yourself from being attracted to him. There was just something so charming about the way he looked at you that made your heart flutter. 

“So, when are the other guys coming?” you asked, lounging on his couch, leaning against the headrest. You thought you sounded casual, but your friend had you all figured out.

“Are you asking about the other guys or just one guy in particular?” He looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” You stared back with wide eyes, the clattering coming from the hallway going completely past you.

“Ah, so we’re still pretending that you don’t have a crush on Scoups?”

"I don't have a crush on him! He's just—attractive!”

"Who's attractive?"

Your head snapped around to Hoshi poking his head into the room, while toeing out of his shoes. But worse than Hoshi looking at you with curiosity, was Seungcheol, standing right there in the doorframe, a big box with snacks and drinks in his hands.

"Who's attractive?" Hoshi asked again, making his way into the room.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the heat that had risen to your cheeks. "No one."

When your gaze flickered over to Seungcheol there was a smug gleam in his eyes.

"Boring," Hoshi pouted, before making his way through the room to the kitchen, a second box in his arms. "You coming, Cheol?"

"Sure," he replied, his eyes still lingering on you. And then he chuckled. He fucking chuckled. You wanted to disappear on the spot. There was no doubt in your head that he'd heard you.

He didn’t let on though, not in a way others would notice. But you were hyper aware of every little move he made throughout the evening. He wasn’t even sitting close to you, nor did you really talk much, but he still had you on edge with the smug glances he threw you from time to time.

When you couldn’t endure his eyes on you for even a second longer, you excused yourself to the bathroom, not bothering to close the door behind you. After all, you just wanted to splash some water in your face to hopefully cool down a bit. But it seemed that had been a mistake.

"So, you think I'm attractive?" A familiar voice suddenly rang from right behind you.

You swallowed around the lump in your throat before you dared to look up, your eyes meeting Seungcheol’s through the mirror.

"No, I—that was just objectively speaking—"

A laugh slipped past his lips at the way you were fumbling for words. He stepped a little closer, his breath tickling your ears when he spoke up again. 

“I’m objectively attractive?”

“You’re twisting my words.”

"I’m not. Just be honest with me."

A shudder ran down your spine and you felt flustered, your voice shaking a little despite your best efforts to sound tough.

“Why are you making such a big deal of it anyway?”

“Hm, good question. ” he hummed in response, hesitating for a moment before he added, “Maybe I like it.” 

“Like what?”

He huffed a laugh. “You.”

You knew that he didn’t mean it the way you did—he clearly just liked the idea of you in his bed. You knew that—and yet your heart was racing in your chest, excited by the thought that he liked you, in whichever way.

When you didn’t reply and just kept staring at him through the mirror he leaned in even more, his nose nudging against the spot behind your ear, his eyes wandering between the you in front of him and the you in the mirror. “So,” he started again, “what do you think?”

“Me too,” you replied against your better knowledge. This was nothing but trouble, all of this was just a game to him. But you couldn't resist. “I like it.”

He hummed contently, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. "That's a good girl."

His hands found your hips to turn you around, your face mere inches from his, and his gaze fixed on your lips.

God, you wanted this so badly. Still, a small voice of reason was fighting for attention inside your mind.

“Isn’t this a bad idea?” it made you ask, even though you already knew the answer yourself.

“I think it’s the best idea I’ve had in a while,” he replied with a smug smile. “Don’t you agree?”

No.

“Yes.”

Seungcheol couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, before pushing in and closing the gap between the two of you. At first it was just a gentle brush of his lips against yours, tentatively, questioningly; but when you leaned into the kiss he cupped your jaw and pulled you closer. 

Surely this would end badly for you. Seungcheol wasn’t the type of guy who did relationships and you weren’t the best at separating your body and heart. But just for tonight you wanted to indulge. Who knew if  the opportunity would arise  again.

When you woke up the next morning, you found yourself tugged into an unfamiliar bed, a strong arm wrapped tightly around your waist. You couldn’t exactly recall how you’d gotten there, but what you did recall was what had happened once you’d arrived. You remembered the way his hands felt against your skin, the way his lips had explored your body, the way he’d looked at you. There’d been something hungry in his eyes. But somehow he’d also made you feel precious, like something that should be treasured. You knew you were absolutely fucked. 

His arm was still wrapped around you, holding you close but you already felt like crying. When you stirred, trying to free yourself from his grasp he groaned in protest, pulling you closer. 

“I have to get up,” you complained.

“Mhm-hm.” You felt him shaking his head before nuzzling into your neck. “Don’t.”

“Seungcheol, please,” your voice quivered but you hoped he didn’t notice in his sleepy state.

“Why?” 

All of this was really bad for your heart. With the way he behaved you could almost delude yourself into believing this was more than just a one night stand, that maybe his like had meant something more after all.

“I have to work,” you lied. It was a weak lie, he knew you were off on sundays, but he loosened his grip anyway.

You freed yourself from his embrace and got up, hastily picking up your clothes from the floor so you could exchange them for the loose shirt Seungcheol had given you to sleep in. All the while, he was watching you from the bed, his head propped up on one hand.

“Are you coming back?”

“What?” You turned around to him, your shirt and pants clutched to your chest.

“Are you coming back?” He simply repeated.

You had a rough idea what he was implying. But how were you supposed to survive some kind of friends with benefits arrangement with the guy you’d been crushing on for months now?

"Let's just forget about this. It did not happen."

Seungcheol looked at you, an unreadable expression on his face that quickly turned into a cute pout. 

"Well then it can not happen again, right?" 

You wanted to say no and reinforce that it really wouldn’t, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. So, instead, you just disappeared to the bathroom where you hastily slipped into your clothes to escape his flat as quickly as possible. Maybe you’d be able to leave while he was still snuggled up in bed if you were quick enough.

But when you left the bathroom you heard clattering from the kitchen.

“I’m leaving,” you shouted into the hallway, because your manners forbade you from just rushing out even in this situation.

Seungcheol immediately poked his head out of the kitchen, the same pout on his lips again. 

“You’re not even having a coffee?”

“Work. I told you.”

“Fine,” he replied but the pout didn’t disappear.

He walked you to the door, waiting patiently while you put on your shoes and coat, and then opened the door for you.

You felt awkward as you walked past him. “Uh, I guess I’ll see you around?”

“You can also call me, you know?” He reached out for your hand, just briefly holding onto it before letting go again. “Call me.”

You didn’t call him. You knew you wouldn’t call him the second you left his apartment and walked your sorry self to the bus stop. To say you regretted your decision from the night before was an understatement. Having an unrequited crush had been painful even before this. But now that you knew what it felt like to be held by him, now that you knew how gentle his hands could be and how he looked when he’d only just woken up—how were you supposed to ever get over it?

It was stupid to waste any tears on this, it was your own fault after all. But you did anyway, sitting at the bus stop crying until your bus arrived and then crying some more once you’d gotten home.

Avoiding Seungcheol seemed to be the best solution for now, just until your heart had recovered a little. But that was easier said than done. Your social circles were so closely intertwined that it was hard to avoid him without making it obvious. And while you didn’t want to see him, you also didn’t want to appear like some heartbroken loser who cried over a one-night stand (even if you did).

Before long you were sitting in Seungkwan's living room again, squeezed on the couch between a slightly drunk Wonwoo and an infinitely drunker Hoshi, while Seungcheol kept eyeing  you from the other side of the room. He didn't even try to be subtle about it and it drove you insane. You tried to avoid his gaze as best as you could but your rebellious eyes kept wandering back to him anyway. It wasn’t your fault he was looking so cute today, with a pair of round glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose and his dark tousled hair falling into his forehead, almost hiding the way his eyebrows were slightly pulled together.

“Should I get you a new drink?” Wonwoo pulled you out of your trance, gesturing to the empty cup in your hand.

“Huh? Ah, no thank you, I’ll go.” 

You took this chance to escape to the kitchen, hoping to get a moment of peace and collect your thoughts. You should have known better though. Leaving the room hadn’t worked last time, what had made you think it would now?

“You didn’t call me.” 

Seungcheol looked at you with the same pout he’d already given you one too many times.

You shrugged. “Guess not.”

“Why not?”

“Does it matter?” 

“It does.”

“Come on, Cheol, don’t pretend to be bothered by this.” You grabbed one of the liquor bottles, struggling to open it. Before you could give up in frustration, Suengcheol took the bottle out of your hands and opened it for you.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Instead of handing the bottle back to you, he poured some into your cup, reaching for soda next.

“I prefer—”

“Orange, I know.” He mixed your drink, just the way you liked it, as if he’d done it a thousand times before. “So why didn’t you call?”

You huffed a laugh. “I’m just not cut out for this kinda thing. I don’t fancy getting hurt.”

"You were the one that practically bolted out of my apartment the next morning and then didn’t even call. Shouldn't I be the one who's hurt?" He didn’t meet your eyes when he said it, instead focused on refilling his own cup.

"As if you’d get hurt over someone like me."

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow and you knew what he was going to say: What do you mean ‘someone like you’? But you weren’t up for a serious conversation now. And it wasn’t like he’d understand.

“Besides,” you quickly tried to steer the conversation away. “Didn't we agree to forget about all that?”

“I agreed to nothing of the sort. Why would I agree to something stupid like that?” 

“Because we—it was a one-time thing! A bad idea!”

“A bad idea?” He cocked his head. “That’s not what you said last time, Princess.”

Caught off guard by the nickname, you felt your face flush with heat. “Don’t call me that,” you snapped but it didn’t sound very convincing.

“What, Princess? Hmm.” He stepped a little closer, a thoughtful look on his face. “I thought it suited you.”

You automatically took a step back and as a result stumbled into the sharp edge of the kitchen counter. It wasn’t too painful, but you still winced.

Seungcheol chuckled. “Maybe klutz would be more fitting after all?” He sneaked his arm around your waist, his hand covering the edge so you wouldn’t bump into it again. “Or bumpkin?”

“I’m not a klutz,” you choked out, trying your best to ignore your racing heart, overwhelmed by the proximity.

“It’s cute though.”

“Stop teasing me, Seungcheol.” You looked at him with a frown. He huffed a laugh at your complaint.

“Funny, I could have sworn you were into that.”

Heat crept up your neck to the tips of your ears. But before you could retort anything, the two of you got interrupted.

“Uh,” Wonwoo eyed you from the doorway. “Sorry—just—y/n was taking a really long time in the kitchen so I thought I’d check…” He trailed off, his eyes wandering between the two of you.

“Actually,” Seungcheol said with a casual tone, putting a little distance between the two of you. “I’m getting a little tired and was just about to offer y/n a ride home since she’s a little drunk already. Even ran into the counter, the poor thing.” 

“It wasn’t that bad. I’m not drunk.”

“So I shouldn’t drive you home?”

“Huh?” Your head snapped around to him in surprise, only now registering his offer. “Didn’t you drink?”

“It’s soda,” he held out his cup for you as if to prove his point. “But it’s fine if you want to stay, I’m just asking since I’m leaving anyway.”

Wonwoo was still looking at you from where he stood in the doorway in slight confusion. “So I assume you’re fine?” He searched your face for a confirmation of sorts.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Okay, then. I’ll leave you to it.” With that he returned to the living room, you and Seungcheol once again alone.

“So?” He raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Should I take you home?”

It was stupid, really. Both of you knew that you weren’t drunk. And even then, this was literally your best friend’s house. Seungkwan would let you stay over anytime. 

You swallowed. “Okay?”

“Is that a question?”

“No. Take me home.”

Once is a mistake, they say. Twice is a choice. 

And yet, you found yourself in Seungcheol’s bed again, his hands all over your body. He was unbearably sweet with you, from the way he cupped your face when he kissed you to the pretty little lies he whispered.

“I want you,” he mumbled into your bare skin. “You have no idea how badly I want you.” 

It made your heart race but it made it ache too. What he wanted wasn’t you, it was only this: your body in his bed.

“Me too,” you replied anyway, and the smile it put on his face, dimple showing and all, was so adorable you almost wanted to cry on the spot.

“You do, don’t you?” He repeated, more of a confirmation for himself rather than a question to you. 

You didn’t want to think about it, but an evil little voice wondered if he treated others this sweetly too, if he was just as happy to be wanted by others.

“Are you always like this?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

“Always?” Seungcheol didn’t seem to get the meaning behind the question, his expression not dimming one bit as he left little kisses on the corners of your lips before traveling down to your neck and collar bones. “What’s always?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed into the sensation, not willing to sacrifice this moment to your dumb jealousy. “Forget it.”

He chuckled into the crook of your neck. “You love telling me to forget, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

Stirring awake the next morning, you were met with round eyes looking at you. They lit up with a smile when Seungcheol noticed you were awake. 

“Hey.” His voice was still raspy with sleep.

“Hey.”

“You don’t work today, right?”

“It’s Sunday.”

“It was Sunday last time.”

You nodded slowly, realizing you had exposed your own lie. “Right. But no work today.”

“Good.” He nuzzled closer, burying his nose in the crook of your neck. “Then we can stay in bed a little longer.”

You let him cuddle up to you, soaking in the way it felt to have him close to you and ignoring how much it would hurt to let go later on.

After what felt like hours just cozily spent in bed, you started to get hungry. You didn’t want to say anything nor did you want to leave, so you decided to just endure the feeling for a little longer. Your stomach sadly didn’t agree with that plan though.  It promptly started to rumble and of course Seungcheol had to hear it, too. 

“We should make breakfast,” he said, peeling himself off you with a cheeky grin. “Can’t have my clumsy bumpkin starving to death, can I?”

The fact he’d called you his let you completely forget the fact he was teasing you again. It just felt so good, so much like what you’d thought it would be like to be his in all your stupid dreams and delusions. Even more so, when he placed a kiss on your forehead and pulled you out of bed. You sat at his kitchen counter while he made coffee and toast and everything about it seemed just as if you were dating. As if you were in love.

After a breakfast that took way longer than it needed to, you decided it was time to go, despite his insistence on you staying longer. He saw you to the door again, pulling you back to him before you could leave for good.

“When I ask you to call me—” His eyes were on yours, intently watching your reaction. “Will you do it this time?”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat. This is where you should have drawn the line. But you didn’t.

“Yeah.”

You didn’t just let the mistake become a choice. No, it ended up as a habit. And how could it not, when Seungcheol treated you so well? 

You texted him that you got home that day and Seungcheol took it as the OK to message you more frequently. He sometimes asked you about your day or told you about his and it did nothing to prevent you from growing more delusional about all of this. Mostly though he invited you over. You spent more weekends at his place than not, holing up in his bedroom until Monday rolled around and reality had you back.

The little arrangement between you and Seungcheol wasn’t exactly a secret. You hadn’t told anyone but it was clear that some of your friends suspected something—and of course they did, you left two parties together. And that didn’t even take into account that Wonwoo had somewhat caught you in the kitchen, though you doubted that he would tattle to anyone.

But despite the suspicions that some of your friends were bound to have, no one really said anything about it. You knew Seungkwan wanted to talk to you about it, but he seemed to always bite his tongue. In a way you were grateful for that. What was he going to say? That it wasn’t a good idea? That you’d end up getting hurt because Seungcheol wasn’t the type to settle down? You already knew all that. You didn’t need anyone to tell you.

While Seungkwan and such seemed to be in the know, others were completely oblivious about it. At least Chan was.

You were all sitting together in Hoshi and Woozi’s living room, drinking and playing games the way you always did. You tried to stay sober though—while Seungcheol and you hadn’t arrived together he did offer to take you back with him, and you didn’t want to be the only one between the two of you to be drunk. Thinking about it, you wondered if Seungcheol had sat out on drinking this often before, or if him staying sober to drive was a recent development. You didn’t get to philosophize about it for too long though, because Chan plopped down on the couch next to you, clearly feeling tipsy already. He had a wide smile plastered on his face as he nudged you in the side to get your attention.

“Hey, y/n,” he whispered loudly, the way drunk people do.

“Mhm?”

His smile grew even wider. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Sure.”

“But you can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“Promise?” He held out his pinky finger to you.

You intertwined your fingers. “Promise.”

“I heaaard,” he playfully drew out the word in an attempt to create suspense. “Seungcheol is dating someone.”

It took a moment for his words to register, but when they did you felt sick to your stomach. 

“What?”

“I know, right?” Chan giggled. “Never thought he’d settle with someone but he seems serious. Or so I heard, he didn’t tell me personally so shhh,” he dramatically pressed his index finger to his lips.

“Who is it?”

“Mmmmh,” he looked thoughtful. “Probably someone from his classes?”

You nodded. Not because you understood—you clearly didn’t understand any of this at all—but because you were at a loss of how else to respond to this.

You should have known better. You had known better. Seungcheol would never be yours. But you just couldn’t stop yourself, you just had to indulge in the illusion. And now you were paying the price.

With a shaky voice you excused yourself, telling Chan you were going outside for a bit. Your vision was already blurry with tears when you stumbled to the door, taking in a deep breath of the cool air once you were outside.

How long was it going on already? Was he serious about them? Was he ever going to tell you? Of course you couldn’t expect him to be faithful—you weren’t even dating so what was there to be faithful about? But you were sleeping with him. Shouldn’t he at least tell you if he was sleeping with others, too? And shouldn’t he be faithful to whoever it was that he was dating?

You leaned against the cold house wall, trying and failing to keep your composure. No one was outside at this time, the street empty and dark, but you still felt incredibly exposed as you stood there, tears running down your face.

The muted music and chatter of the party could be heard coming from inside and it only made you feel worse. For a moment it grew louder and then there was the thud of the front door closing.

Your head snapped around just to be faced with the one person you didn’t want to see right now.

“I thought—” Seungcheol started, but when he saw you were crying he interrupted himself, his whole posture changing as he rushed over to you. “Y/n, what’s wrong?”

With a worried frown he reached out to cup your face, but you evaded the gesture, shooting him a defiant glare that probably looked way more pathetic than you would have liked, with your puffy cheeks and red eyes. 

“Nothing, really.”

“This doesn’t look like nothing.” His eyebrows drew together even further. 

“Just, you know,” you shrugged. "I should have known better than to get involved with someone like you."

Seungcheol eyed you, confused but also clearly offended. "Someone like me?"

"Oh, come on, you know exactly what I mean. Someone popular with a zillion friends and all that. Someone like you could never be serious about me." Your voice was hoarse from crying, taking away some of the heat in your words. But it was still enough to make Seungcheol angry.

"What are you even talking about? Our friends are literally the same and—” he let out an exasperated sigh, as if he was at a loss of words. “You know, you should really work on that inferiority complex of yours. It's not cute."

That stung. Maybe because you didn’t expect him to say such harsh words, or maybe because he was right, you did feel inferior, as if you weren’t good enough for him. 

“Whatever,” you pressed out, your voice shaky as a flood of new tears welled up in your eyes. “Not like it matters, since you found someone better than me anyway.”

His expression softened a little, unable to keep being angry when you were standing in front of him like a sobbing mess. When he reached out his hand this time, you didn’t back away and let him wipe away your tears with his thumb. 

“What are you talking about?” He asked, his voice confused but gente.

“I already heard it all,” you sniffed. “You’re seeing someone. Chan told me and he had it from—he didn’t tell me. But either way, I already know that you’re seeing someone,” you rubbed at your eyes with the back of your hand, “so we can stop this game already.”

“A game?” Seungcheol whispered, “Is it really just a game?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Would you be crying like this if it was?”

You shrugged. “Does it even matter? You’re seeing—”

“You,” Seungcheol interrupted. “I was talking about you.”

“Me?” You met his gaze in confusion. “But Chan didn’t say that.”

He huffed a laugh. “Because I didn’t tell anyone. I wasn’t sure if you would have been okay with that. I didn’t want to say anything at all before checking in with you, but it just kinda slipped…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his head bashfully. “Either way. It was you, it was always you.”

“What’s always?”

“Always. Ever since I met you.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“But you’re,” you shrugged helplessly, “Seungcheol.”

“And you’re you. And I adore you. ” 

He smiled as he reached out his other hand too, cupping your face and brushing away any tears that were still clinging to your cheeks. “So, no more crying, hm?”

“No promises.” You sniffed again, but there was a small smile tugging on your lips too.

Seungcheol chuckled and pulled you into his chest, your arms naturally wrapping around his waist as he held you.

“So,” he started after a while, “if any of the guys were to ask who I’m seeing—” he let the sentence hang in the air, a playful tone in his voice.

“Then you can tell them it’s me,” you offered sheepishly.

He pulled away to meet your gaze. “And would it be true?”

“Yeah. It would be. Wouldn’t it?”

His face lit up with the smile you loved so much. “It would be.”

Masterlist

[bangtaninborderland]

JIKOOK X READER - TAKE TWO

Summary: You disobey both of your doms, your boyfriends on their only day off, earning a difficult punishment only it goes wrong, leaving all three of you struggling.

Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, misheard safe word, oral, degrading names, mean doms jikook, spanking, hair pulling, choking, face slapping, humiliation, pet play, collars, d/s dynamic, threesome ish??

A/N: I’d had this in my drafts and decided to finish it, what do ya think? Also I’m sorry this was supposed to be all smut but I can’t help giving them angst, there is a happy ending.

BTS Masterlist

You knew when you got home you would be in trouble, both Jimin and Jungkook had firmly told you that you couldn’t go out tonight, that they both wanted you home so you could enjoy some free time together.

You didn’t listen.

In hindsight, the idea of disobeying both of your boyfriends, your doms, seemed great in the moment but as the taxi edged closer to home you felt both excitement and guilt pool in your stomach.

Realistically you knew that you’d wasted a day of their only free time, both of them having vastly different schedules now due to the solo work meant that it was a rarity for the three of you got to spend time together other than to sleep but you felt neglected, even if you wouldn’t voice it out loud you needed them to pay attention to you and if that meant a little disobedience to push them into punishing you then so be it.

You hadn’t gotten drunk, in fact, you’d chosen an empty corner of the club and sat there all night. Ignoring looks and offers alike.

The taxi pulled up outside the apartment complex and you were sure that the journey went a little faster today. You paid the fare, selfishly dragging out the time it took you to find the exact change.

You opted to take the stairs rather than the elevator, something you slightly regret as you climb to the tenth floor, forehead a little sweaty as you push open the front door.

You knew they were both home, the shoes stacked up at the door informed you of that. You slipped your own off, along with your coat and hung them on their designated hooks. Jimin had punished you more than once for throwing the items on the floor in your excitement to join them with whatever they were doing.

You lightly tread through the apartment, ready to exit up the stairs towards the bedroom when a hand grips your shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going.”

“Kook.” You breathed out, stomach in knots as you spun on your heel to look at him. “I-I was just going to freshen up.”

“Is that what you really want to call me right now?” Jungkook's voice was low. “In the playroom, you know how we expect you.”

“But-“ you started, cut off by a firm grip on your throat.

“I will bend you over right here and make your ass the darkest fucking shade of red.” Jungkook cursed. “Don’t push me right now.”

You nod in response, the second he releases his grip you make your way to the spare room jimin had converted into a playroom. You still felt a in awe every time your foot crossed the threshold, the carpeting that had once covered the floor had been ripped out and replaced with wooden flooring, and washable rugs placed around the room.

The queen-sized bed was against the wall directly in the middle of the room. Draws lined the right wall, they had been filled with a variety of things ranging from toys to collars, to condoms and lube, even a closet in the corner filled with the most delicate outfit, all of which were hand-picked by your dominants. The entire room was a display of just how much they cared for you and loved you.

You stripped down to your panties, folding your clothes and placing them atop the small bedside table. You shifted to your knees, your body faced away from the door, your head down.

The one thing the room lacked was a clock, you hated that more than anything. You had no way to tell just how long they kept you waiting, kept you on the edge, mind overcome by anticipation.

The door was pushed open and you could hear footsteps behind you unfortunately whatever one of your boyfriends it was didn’t speak. You couldn’t ask who it was, not if you didn’t want to face adding to your punishment so you sat there staring at your hands.

A light touch to your neck had you even more puzzled, Jungkook's nails were shorter than Jimin's, and Jimin's fingers were softer than Jungkook's but you couldn’t figure it out. Not until your hair was being tugged pulling your head back giving you a clear view of the perpetrator.

Jimin.

He grinned. “What is my name.”

“Sir,” you answered.

“See.” Jimin clicked his tongue. “Jungkookie thinks you have forgotten how to address us. Is that true?”

“She has Hyung.” You strain against Jimin's grip to search for Jungkook but it’s to no avail. Wherever he is, you can’t see him. “Called me Kook earlier even though the little slut knew she was in trouble.”

“Now Jungkook, let’s not be hasty hm? Let’s give baby a chance to explain herself.” Jimin looked back at you, his eyes holding a familiar darkness.

Regardless of what you say you know he’s going to make your punishment hurt. You opt for silence, eyes focused on his lips.

In his dominance Jimin was powerful. His height, his build, and his physical strength had absolutely nothing to do with it. No, see, Jimin didn’t need to be muscly to be powerful. One look from him had you ready to drop to your knees and beg for forgiveness for whatever transgression you’ve committed. He was harsher than Jungkook, he was a sadist of sorts. He would never hurt you enough to make permanent marks but he revelled in the way he could turn your skin shades of red and purple.

Jungkook was entirely the opposite, he knew the strength he possessed because of his muscles. His form loomed over yours like a predator ready to attack its prey but still, he didn’t need to use his strength, he knew how to punish and play in other ways. He would ask you a question only to slap you whenever you opened your mouth, he would whisper sweet nothings all whilst choking the oxygen out of your lungs.

And you fucking loved it. You loved the way they both knew how to mould your body to their will, how to play off one another to keep you excited, and on the edge.

The only downfall was that they had picked up traits from one another, so much so that at certain times jimin would act more like Jungkook than Jungkook himself did, still, it only fuelled your fun.

“Sir asked you a question.” Jungkook reminded as he came out from behind Jimin.

“I-“ you began to answer before stopping yourself instead of opting to shake your head.

“That’s not much of an answer is it?” Jimin feigned a pout. “Is that a “no I don’t remember.” Or is it more of a “no I haven’t forgotten?”

You looked between Jimin and Jungkook before Jimin released his painful grip on your head, taking a step back as jungkook half crouched to meet your ear. “Did either of us permit you to look at us? You act disobedient and think you have the right to look at us whenever you want. Look at the floor, I don’t want to see you so much as move your head”

You bit back a whine as you focused your eyes on a spot on the floor between your legs.

“Now back to my question.” Jimin was further away now, you couldn’t see where though. “Have you forgotten how to address us?”

You shook your head again, not wanting to risk extending your punishment any further by speaking without permission.

“Speak puppy.” You could hear the smile in Jungkook's voice as he spoke the pet name. “You can talk.”

“I haven’t forgotten Sir.” You respond, still looking at the floor.

“Who am I, baby?” Jungkook asked, his voice low. “What do you call me hm?”

“Master.” You can’t stop the flush of red that graces your face as you mumble the title.

Jimin laughs, his stare is cold. “You say that but your actions prove otherwise, I can’t help but think you’re lying. Kookie, baby, what do I always say about liars?”

“They should be reminded of their place.”

“That’s right, I think we should show her exactly where she belongs and who she belongs to so for the next 24 hours you aren’t going to do anything without either of us permitting you to do so. If you need a break to use the restroom then tap one of us twice, if you’re restrained or we are out of reach then you have permission to tell us verbally but other than that I don’t want to hear you unless you’re told to speak, I want to see you on your knees unless we say otherwise.” Jimin takes a few steps closer, voice softening as he caresses your hair. “If you want to safe word out you can at any moment you can, if you don’t want to go ahead with this tell me now and we can choose alternative punishment.”

“I’m good Sir.” You whisper, leaning into his touch. “Thank you.”

“Have you eaten?” Jimin asks, crouching down so his face is in view.

You had, but not since lunchtime. “I had lunch, nothing else, Sir.”

He hums, thumb brushing over your lips. “Have you drank?”

You shook your head, you really hadn’t. Getting drunk hadn’t been the aim of your disobedience.

“Words darling.” Jungkook reminds.

You so badly want to look at them. “No Sir.”

“Okay, I’ll heat up some food, your master will keep you company.” He presses a quick kiss to your cheek before standing up. “Be good.”

And with that he is gone, leaving you alone with the younger of the pair. “Why did you disobey us?” Jungkook wonders, you hear his footsteps as he walks closer to the bed.

You debate ignoring the question but your doms hated that just as much as they hated lying. “I wanted attention, Master.”

“Little embarrassing, don’t you think? We were so excited to spend the day with you, even had it all planned out, only for you to choose some sleazy club over us.” One thing you learned about Jungkook as a dominant was that his words hurt just as much as his spankings, he never let you shy away from the reality of your words and actions. “You’re lucky we have another free day tomorrow.”

You perk up at that, unable to stop yourself jerking your head up to look at him. “Really?”

He stares at you, as though anticipating your every move. His mouth went from a forced smile to a blank canvas. “No, but now you know how hopeful we felt at the idea of coming home to you only to find the apartment empty. Head down, if I have to tell you again I’ll tie you up here and leave you all alone.”

You looked down immediately, heart heavy and stomach-churning despite the empty threat. You knew neither of them would breach one of your limits and being restrained and alone was one of them.

You hear the sheets shifting as he sits on the bed. “Crawl to Me.”

You don’t hesitate to move, the floor rough against your bare knees.

“You’re going to keep my cock warm until your food is ready.” He explains, unzipping his hands and laying back.

You spring into action, giving his cock tiny kitten licks eventually lifting his shaft to wrap your lips around his balls.

When you’d first become their submissive they had both given you a month of ‘training’, each of them showing you just how to please them. At the end of the month, they decided they would do the same, the four weeks had been spent in a state of overstimulation as they tried out every little thing they could, eventually focusing on what made you most desperate.

Jungkook groans, his hands falling onto the bed. “Fuck puppy.”

The sound only encourages you more, you take the head of his cock into your mouth before letting its length fill your throat. Within a few seconds your nose was brushing against his skin, he gave you a few seconds to adjust before bringing his hand to the back of your head and guiding your movements. You wince a little as his grip tightens when you moan around his cock.

Somehow you get carried away with time, jungkook alternating between having you cock warm him and slowly sliding his length in and out of your mouth. Your lack of a gag reflex came in handy for whenever he wanted to use you like this.

You don’t hear the door open so the sound of Jimin’s voice has you jumping in surprise, reflexes making you pull away from his dick. Jungkook is quick to stop you, hand gripping your neck before you can move away completely. “Relax.”

You go limp on his touch, letting him guide you back down. “It’s a shame you can’t be this good all the time.” He brushes a few strands of hair out of your face, thrusting a few more times before cumming down your throat.

You swallow it as it comes, choking only once as it hits the back of your throat. He pulls you off as soon as he is finished, Jimin already beside you with wipes. “Here.”

You turn your face to him, gaze still on the floor where he has set your dinner tray. It was rare food was ever brought into the playroom, both Jimin and Jungkook being meticulous about the mess it could cause. You let Jimin wipe you clean, you yearned for both praise and reassurance but considering this was a punishment you were sure you’d get none.

When he was done with your face he began putting your hair up, his hands gentle as he brushed out the knots, you let your eyes close for a few seconds before opening them again to watch as the steam flew away from your food. “You can eat now.”

You can’t deny the food looks good, they were both amazing cooks but the lack of utensils has you frowning. You want to ask but the earlier warning speaks to you in your mind, you take another breath before reaching a hand out to pick up a piece of meat only to have your hand smacked down.

“Did I tell you to use your hands?” Jiminn asks, Jungkook still in his previous spot on the bed. “You’re so silly, you can’t even figure this out without help. You’re going to eat like a good puppy, okay?”

You put your hands back on your thighs before bending to lap at the food, you can’t help but want to die from the sheer humiliation of it. You had expected a punishment, you’d expected to be spanked and probably denied a few orgasms but you hadn’t meant to get a punishment this serious, you only wanted their attention.

You lost your appetite fairly quickly but you knew how much pride Jimin took in taking care of those around him so you continued to force bites down, the bitterness of your actions weighing on you heavily, if you had just listened and stayed home this wouldn’t have been happening.

Jungkook's voice pulls you from your thoughts as you force down another mouthful. “You can finish that and then I will shower you, you’ll sleep in the guest room tonight. You didn’t want to be around us all day so I figured one extra night wouldn’t hurt.”

You wanted to argue back, to tell them that wasn’t why but instead you stayed quiet, it hadn’t been a question and you hadn’t been asked to speak. The next 24, now 23 hours were looking very long.

You ate as much as you could before pushing the plate away, being practically naked was never an issue but eating your food practically naked was a humiliating feat and you were sure your doms knew of that, they knew what they were doing.

“We will be back soon, don’t move.” Jungkook picks up your plate, Jimin trailing behind him.

The door closes with a soft click, the silence is deafening. You couldn’t help but wonder what they were talking about, you always wondered what kinds of discussions they had in moments like these, you were sure they had them ‘dom discussions’ you had begun calling them but you’d never been privy to one and probably never would be.

Once again the lack of a clock in the room becomes apparent, not even the simple ticking of a clock to keep you company.

You missed them, you missed them so much that all you could feel was anger towards yourself for your actions, your stupid actions.

You were left alone with your thoughts for a little too long and by the time the duo returned, washed and dressed, you were on the brink of tears.

“Shower time.” Jimin declared, he helped you stand before detracting himself completely, they walked in front of you as always. “Be good.” He warns before walking off to the main bedroom, the one you all shared.

Jungkook had already had the water running, the temperate a little colder than usual but still relaxing. The dominant washed your hair, the whole shower passing rather fast as he wasted no time getting you clean.

“How do you feel?” He asks, tone still firm.

“Okay Master.” You mumble back, enjoying the few light touches you got as he washed the soap out of your locks. It wasn’t a complete truth but punishments weren’t supposed to feel good, you weren’t going to complain any more when you had brought this on yourself.

He grunted in response. The water turned off when he deemed you finished. “Out.”

He wraps you in a towel before walking you to the guest bedroom. “You won’t need clothes tonight. Don’t come out of the room until one of us gets you.”

You nod, it was simple instructions really. He caresses your cheek for a second before turning around and walking away, you want to call out for a hug or a kiss but you can’t. “Goodnight.” He mumbles, closing the door behind him.

You stare at the door for a second before looking around the room, it is empty, no one other than Hoseok stayed here one night the previous year, you could hear Jimin and Jungkook laughing with each other and it created a ball of bitterness in your chest.

You turned the light off and climbed into the bed, the sheets cold and scentless. The annoyance you felt at yourself had multiplied, tripled and then tripled again, you know realistically you could safe word but that wouldn’t be right, you deserved whatever punishment they see fit.

It was safe to say you had never slept as badly as you did last night, you spent the majority of the night tossing and turning in between crying fits. Despite the fact that the loves of your life were just a few feet away you’d never felt more alone.

Jimin and Jungkook had to have been awake for at least two hours by the time they remembered you, the door opening slowly enough for you to drop into a suitable position on your knees.

“Good morning,” Jimin mumbled, pulling back the curtains. The lack of pet names hurt but you ignored it.

You tried to sound happier. “Good morning Sir.”

“Did you sleep okay?” He asked, rummaging and dropping a nightgown into your lap. “Put that on.”

“Yes Sir.” You answered to both questions, you could suck it up for another day.

He waits until you have the fabric over your head before giving you your next instruction. “Go downstairs, your food is ready in the kitchen. You can walk down the stairs but I don’t want to see you standing the rest of the way.” He gives you a little nudge when you hesitate.

You get to the kitchen as fast as your body will allow, still lacking an appetite but eager to please you delve into the pancakes on the dinner tray. Jungkook isn’t in the room but you’re sure he’s in the apartment and you haven’t heard the front door open or close.

“Good morning pet,” Jungkook spoke loudly, making you jump a little before you compose yourself mid-bite.

You swallow your food before responding. “Good morning Master.”

“Sleep well?” He asks, you hear the tap running. “I know I did, Hyung was very warm all night.”

You don’t take another bite after that, you settle for staring at the plate. “Yes, Master.”

“Hm, I think I’ll take your Sir for a morning bath, you can clean up from breakfast.” And with that, he leaves the room and you are alone with it.

You fall back on your ass, the coldness of the floor not bothering you. You wait until you hear the water running to cry, you tried to hold back, it was a punishment, one you earned, but it hurt.

All you wanted was time with them.

You gave yourself another minute of crying before brushing the tears away, splashing some cold water on your face and beginning the dishes. There weren’t many but you took your time, this was something you could do perfectly.

You finished within 20 minutes, not sure what to do you chose the safest option and sat back on the floor, head hanging low as you mapped out the design on the tiles. You’re thankful for the little clock that tells you that you have been waiting for an hour and 25 minutes when the two return hand in hand. The smell of their body wash is strong, and comforting.

“Oh look, you can do something right.” Jimin praised backhandedly but still, you took it. “Come, I want you to ride my cock, put a show on for your Master.”

You were led to the living room, a rare occurrence in scenes although not so much punishments. Jimin was already half hard and you were sure it was because they had probably been fooling around in the shower, without you.

Jungkook sat opposite you, Jimin bunching up your nightgown as he pulled you into his lap, rubbing his clothed member against your ass. “Doesn’t she look pretty like this?”

“Useful more like.” Jungkook scoffs, arms resting atop the back of the couch. “She looks best when she’s sitting on one of our ducks, where she is made to be.”

You groan a little at that, the words both sting and turn you on.

“No one wants to hear you, shut up.” Jimin complains, shoving you to stand up as he pushes his shorts down. “I want you to sit here and be quiet, you’re nothing more than a pretty little flashlight for me to enjoy. Toys don’t make noise.”

You bite your cheek, and the feeling of his hardening member inside of you makes you want to rock back but you know better, you take what’s given to you as the pair continue their conversation as though you’re invisible.

“You wanna watch a movie?” Jungkook asks, toying with the control.

“Yeah, not an action though, maybe a romance?” Jimin adds, slapping your thigh as you gasp when he moves his hips. “Actually an action is probably better, to drown out the unwanted noise.”

Jungkook smirks and you bite down the sadness that swims in your chest.

The movie starts and Jimin stays still other than shifting every few minutes, you can’t help the way you get wet.

You drown out their conversation, counting the amount of black spots you can see on the rug only to be pulled back by a slap to your cheek. “You’re sitting here doing nothing yet you still can’t fucking listen?”

“S-sorry.” You stutter out.

“Fucking pathetic,” Jungkook mumbles as he takes his seat again.

The words run heavy in your mind, pathetic, stupid, useless and suddenly you’re silently crying with Jimin still inside you. You’re thankful the movie really does block out unwanted noise.

Maybe you were unwanted in general.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, make as much noise as you want.” Jimin growls in your ear, hands groping your tits as he fucks into you. His movements are fast, a sign he has been holding back for a while. You let out soft gasps and moans, his cock filling you up with more than you can handle but despite that you know, you just know you aren’t enjoying it.

“Yellow.” You whisper, you expect everything to stop but it doesn’t, nothing stops, in fact, jimin speeds up hips stuttering as he chases his release. “N-no” you speak a little louder.

You look at Jungkook, his head snapping to yours and Jimin thrusts inside you one last time and cums, as though just processing everything jungkooks eyes widen. “Hyung pull out now.”

“What?” Jimin asks, confused. “Wh-

You can no longer hold back your sobs, the second they tear free jimin is carefully pushing you off him and cradling you in his arms. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Baby, are you hurt?”

You can't muster a response, you just let yourself cry spewing endless apologies. “Sorry I’m-I’m sorry.”

“I think she safeworded.” Jungkook explains, running in with the box of things you’d compiled together for incidents just like this. “Here, water.”

You feel a bottle being pressed to your lips. “Baby, can you drink for me?”

“No S-sir.” You shake your head.

“Not sir baby, just min okay?” Jimin rubs a hand through your hair, Jungkook holding your hand and drawing circles to help you calm down.

“Such a good girl, you did so well, I’m so so proud of you.” The younger of the pair spoke, still holding the open bottle of water. “Please try and drink some for me sweetheart.”

You move your head out of Jimin’s chest with great reluctance, taking a few sips of water before denying it anymore.

“Thank you,” Jimin whispers in your ear. “Are you ready to talk about what happened?”

“Can we- bedroom?” You ask, too drained to explain it all.

“Of course,” Jungkook answers, taking you out of Jimin’s arms and carrying you up the stairs to the main bedroom.

Only when all three of you were settled into the bed, you in the middle with one of them on either side, did they prompt you to start talking.” Take your time darling.”

You don’t exactly know how to explain it to them. “I guess.. it didn’t feel good? I know punishments aren’t supposed to, but this hurt emotionally.”

“Okay.” Jungkook squeezes your hand, his fingers interlaced with Jimin’s behind you. “Thank you for sharing that baby, can you explain when it started to feel like that?”

“Yesterday when I…” you trailed off.

“Sucked me off?” Jungkook supplied and you nodded.

“I just thought I was being too emotional but you didn’t comfort me at all and I had no reassurance. Neither of you touched me more than you physically had to and then being secluded in the second bedroom just made me feel shut out and unwanted.” You feel embarrassed at how silly it sounds, you did wrong and were punished, of course, it would have been difficult for you.

They both take a moment to process it, Jungkook looking a little more sullen. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“Anything else you want to add?” Jimin asks softly. “Take your time.”

“I didn’t…I didn’t act against you because I wanted attention in that sense, I miss you both. Lately, neither of you has been home and I just…I feel so lonely. You get to see each other most days at work but I don’t even have that luxury. It seemed like a good idea at the time but I feel awful, I wanted your only free day and you think I’m just ungrateful and pathetic.” You knew you’d broken one of your own rules, to never take something said in a scene as how they see you or view you outside of it but for some reason, today, it was harder. The mean words and cold shoulders were all you could think about.

“We don’t think you’re ungrateful or pathetic, we misjudged the situation and that is our fault. As your dominants, we have a responsibility to make sure you’re safe and happy and both today and yesterday we failed at it massively. Apologies will only do so much but I promise I will make it up to you every single day, I’m so sorry I haven’t been here for you.” You chance a glance at Jimin as he finishes talking, only to have your heart broken when you see him wipe a stray tear away. You don’t even chance to look at Jungkook, sure he is fairing the same way if not worse.

“It’s not your fault, work is important but I just- I don’t know.” You huff, words and emotions just too much. You let your head drop against Jungkook's chest, his heart beating faster than usual. “I’m sorry we failed you today as doms and boyfriends.”

You shook your head. “You didn’t fail me, I should have been an adult and talked to you about how I felt instead of ignoring what you both said.”

“No baby we did fail you, talking as just your dom, we failed you. We should have been more consistent with our check-ins and should have discussed your actions more before punishing you. I think between myself and Kook we both thought the other was being affectionate so we held back a little so as to not overly indulge you but that was a stupid assumption that will never be made again.” Jimin argues, his hand tracing circles on your stomach.

“I’ve never had a problem with the way you chose to punish me. I like it but this time it just hurt more emotionally.” You explained, not wanting them to change because regardless of how you felt about the punishment you loved them as doms and people.

“And that is our fault,” Jungkook says, not as a question. “And I will never let something like this happen again.”

“I think from now on we will be more comforting even through punishments, even if that particular day you don’t feel it’s necessary I think we.” He gestures to himself and Jungkook. “Would feel better knowing you are okay. I also want you to be honest next time, the second it doesn’t feel right, even if you’re unsure of why, you call yellow okay?”

“But I did…” you mumble, although you hadn’t done it straight away you’d done it when you desperately needed it and for a second it had been ignored. “On the couch I did.”

“I know.” Jimin mumbles. “I didn’t hear you, that’s no excuse but I truly didn’t and the second we realised it all stopped. I won’t say “I’m sorry” for that because no apology would be good enough. Doll if you want to leave the arrangement, you have every single right to. If you feel as though you can trust us then do not force yourself to be our submissive because that’s something based on trust and a mutual agreement. Nothing will change within our relationship if you choose to let go of that aspect.”

“Really?” You eye them both. “You’d stay even if I didn’t want to be your submissive?”

“Baby we aren’t with you because you’re an amazing submissive, we are with you because you’re an amazing human being. You take care of us, you remember the smallest details like when we mention something we want on our diet you turn up with it the second we can eat freely, you brighten up the room just by being there, you’re so hard working and always do your best. You have the most beautiful thoughts in life, you’re strong and honest. You have so many amazing qualities that I couldn’t list them all even if I tried but I am in love with you.” Jungkook stared at you, his eyes conveying everything his words couldn’t. “So am I” Jimin adds.

“I don’t want that, I don’t want to change anything. I love you both and this was an accident, we both did things wrong and next time it will go better. Things won’t be perfect and when they don’t go well we will discuss it and come out of the other end better and stronger. I trust you with my life.” You look at both of them, all three of you smiling stupidly through tears. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” They spoke in unison, both placing kisses on your head. “How about we order food and spend a day taking care of the baby?”

You know the question isn’t directed to you, it always makes you feel small whenever they talk about you as though you aren’t there, small and cared for.

“Yeah I think that sounds good, I’ll go make us some tea. Maybe sit on the couch? I’ll grab some blankets.”

“Couch sounds good. Baby?” Jimin nudges you, drawing your attention back. “Couch?”

You nod. “I thought you had work?”

“Oh no baby, I know I told you that we had only been given one day off but we have the whole week.” Jungkook looks horrified as he explains. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have been spiteful in that way it was wrong.”

“What did you do?” Jimin frowns.

“I told her that we had another day off and when she got excited and asked if I was being serious I told her no. I didn't realise she was truly upset by it.” He explains hurriedly.

“You dumbass.” Jimin scolds, reaching out to slap the back of his head. “Why would you do that.”

“I wasn’t thinking.” He explained honestly. “I didn’t mean to be such an ass.”

“It sucked but I wasn’t that sad.” You explain, both of them clearly over analysing every little thing, yes you were sad but not sad enough to warrant them being this cautious. “I don’t want you to be worried about everything you say and do, I’m normally great at understanding the difference between what you do and say in a scene and how you feel outside of them.”

“It doesn’t mean we should say things that could disappoint you on purpose.” Jungkook retorts, running a hand through his hair as he sits on the end of the bed.

“You were being sarcastic Kook, I can tell the difference. I don’t want you to beat yourself up because a scene went wrong, it happens, this won’t be the last time but I’m okay, I’ll be okay after a week of pampering.” You tease them both.

“You’re far too good to us.” Jimin sighs, burying his head in your neck.

The day played out slowly, all three of you migrating to the couch with a heap of blankets. You’d gotten fried chicken whilst watching a movie, they had agreed to watch whatever movie you wanted, and you’d settled on a comedy that had all three of you crying with laughter.

They had been checking in with you constantly, tending to your every need, whispering reassurance and comforting words to you whenever they could. By the end of their break, the incident had been forgotten and you were already excited about whatever happened during the scene you’d all planned for their last free day.

You’d been sitting in the playroom for a while, both of them coming in and out of the room frequently, more than they usually would have.

“How are you feeling puppy?” Jimin asked, hand running through your hair. “Good?”

“Perfect Sir.” You respond with a smile.

“Let me see your pretty face.” You lifted your head as Jungkook had told you to. “Beautiful.”

Jimin took a step back, not before kissing you softly. “Is there anything you want to try in particular today puppy?”

You bit your lip, gathering the confidence to ask for what you’d wanted for the past two days. “I want.. a punishment Sir.”

They both give you a confused look. “Why?”

“Because I don’t feel good about my actions, I feel unsettled knowing I broke a rule and then safeworded out of my punishment.” You explain.

Jungkook shook his head, moving to undo the collar he had put on you, only stopping when you moved your hands up to cover the buckle. “No, I don’t- I don’t need to stop.”

“We aren’t going to do a scene if you aren’t in the right headspace darling, your safeword is there to protect you, you can use it whenever you want for whatever reason and you will never have to make up for it or feel bad for it.” Jungkook explains, caressing your hands as he pulls them away. “I need you to be absolutely sure you understand this before we play darling.”

“I do, I do Master I do I promise but I just don’t feel right, I want to be good and I don’t feel good and you telling me I’m good isn’t going to help I need to feel like I’ve done good, like I made up for disobeying.”

“Okay.” He gives in after considering for a few moments, and Jimin nods in agreement.

“I think 50 spanks will do?” Jimin asks Jungkook.

“20 with the paddle and 30 with my hand.” Jungkoom responds, a smile across his lips. “You do the paddle.”

“Oh, you really want her ass red huh?” Jimin laughs, grabbing the familiar black one from the rack.

Your heart warms seeing them play around with one another in this way. “Come over baby, lay cross my lap.” Jimin instructs, before you can move Jungkook is attaching a leash to the back of your collar, you begin crawling behind him as if programmed to do so.

Jimin watches your every move, your hips swaying as you crawl across to him and climb into his lap. “Doing so well for me.” You preen at the praise, heart thumping as you prepare yourself for the first blow.

Jimin has a way with the paddle, he wrists flexible enough to swing the paddle on every inch of flesh on your backside. You feel yourself both relaxing and tearing up as the worries in your mind quieten.

You feel yourself being moved from Jimin’s lap and you can’t help but whine, despite the light throbbing on your ass you feel comfortable, relaxed. You quieten when Jungkook taps your thigh. “Hush puppy, I’m going to do your last 30.”

“Sorry Master.” You put as he pulls you over his lap, the rough material of his jeans uncomfortably digging into your skin. “Hurts.”

“You can deal with it darling, take what I give you.” He lands a smack to your ass before you can complain further and as he does all thoughts are knocked out of you.

You’re thankful they don’t tell you to count because once again you get lost in your own thoughts, the repetition of the smacks soothing you. “Taking it so nicely.” You hear Jimin and can’t help but reach out a hand for him, relaxing again once he takes it.

“All done,” Jungkook speaks, you blink away the confusion in your head. “Baby’s out of it.”

“She needed this.” You hear jimin but don’t bother moving from the crook of Jungkook's neck, the smell of his cologne comforting. “Poor baby.”

You loved moments like this, where you were thoughtless, with no worries, no guilt, just the soft buzz of subspace and your doms, boyfriends taking care of you. “Love you. Thank you.” You mumble into his skin.

“Don’t thank me, baby, you took your punishment so well for Sirs. You can sleep okay? We will have a bubble bath when you wake up.” A bath sounded good but sleep sounded better so you let yourself be pulled into whatever dream was awaiting you.

When you woke up you felt warmth all around you. Their bodies pressed flush against yours in the large bed. “Awake sweetheart?” Jungkook whispers. “Hyungs sleeping.”

You look at the way jimin had a hand tangled in jungkoks, his other arm wrapped around your torso. The three of you entwined in one way or another. It was moments like these that made their hectic schedules worth it, you’d had countless arguments before, disagreements, struggles, and bad days but you had an abundance of amazing ones, ones that made every single hard day worth it. You loved them, you were in love with them, and you always would be. “Love you.”

“I love you too,” Jimin mumbles in his sleep making you and Jungkook laugh.

“I love you two.”

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

So, in addition to a preview of the Norm one-shot, I've got this look at part one of a long-form two-shot that's been sitting in my drafts since I was about halfway through my first run of the show. I have a (now quite old) ask that fit the vibe of it perfectly, and I've been whittling away at it when the inspiration strikes. I still have quite a bit of work to do on it, including edits, as I'm predicting a final length between 13k-15k words. Could end up more, as I'm really terrible at this sort of estimation, but I wanted to let everyone know I'm still hard at work in the smut mines even if posts have been light lately. Please enjoy a preview from this upcoming Cooper Howard/The Ghoul piece:

Faim Pour Deux

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

Warnings: smut (18+), angst, drug use, jealousy, mild violence, age gap, sexually rusty old men, amateurish strip teases, nipple play, fingering, dry humping, reader not-so-subtly trying to tempt Cooper to fuck her until he snaps.

"Why don't you get a little more comfortable, darlin'?" Cooper asked, his tone brighter now, a step closer to the normal, cocky timbre you'd known him to have, but still soft as the patter of the rain on the dilapidated roof as he gestured to your unzipped vault suit. "Hop up and take that off for me."

You didn't hesitate to follow his instructions, though you struggled to figure out how to back up off of his lap as your feet dangled off the floor. Cooper offered no assistance, sitting back to watch you slide yourself backwards towards his knees, your cleavage spilling out of your undershirt as you pushed yourself with your hands. Once you found your feet, cheeks already hot from your fumbling dismount, you toed out of your boots before clearing your throat, hands coming up to your navel to grab at the cool metal zipper where it hung, half-undone.

"Take a couple steps back so I can see all of you."

This command took you somewhat by surprise, but, again, you obeyed, double checking the floor behind you before taking two steps back, avoiding his eyes. Rethinking your approach, you grabbed your left sleeve by the wrist in your right hand, tugging it awkwardly to free your arm, jerking the tight material down over your sore bicep in a rather unsexy move before twisting to repeat the move on the right.

Twilight was quickly turning to night, and the few chem lamps you'd set up only provided enough light to see well a few feet in front of you. Shyly, you stole a quick glance his way, struggling to make out any details at this distance, save for the shape and slight glint of his flask as he lifted it to his mouth and took a long draw off of it. His entire upper body was almost completely shrouded in the deepening shadows, but you could see those eyes, sunken deep into that face, glittering darkly at you, trained on you.

"Slowly, now." came that rough voice once more, slightly muffled by the back of his hand passing over what remained of his lips. "Gimme a little show."

You felt your face instantly flame up twice as hot as it had been, your already fluttering heart shifting up another gear into a full-on thunder. You had no idea what he meant—undressing itself wasn't enough of a show? Were you supposed to sing and dance while you did it? Recite US Presidents?

A handful of heartbeats passed, and you realized you were hesitating, but the ghoul in the corner didn't say anything. Your focus shifted, warily, back to removing your remaining sleeve, choosing to work it down from the shoulder instead, this time, focusing on the "slowly" until you could figure out the "show" part. After a few moments, you'd worked the top half of the grimy vault suit down to your hips, letting the arms hang loose at your sides.

If Cooper objected to the way you were going about things, he kept quiet about it, which would be uncharacteristic. He sat, still staring at you, reclined back in the chair as he reached for something else on the table beside him. The familiar sound of a shaking Jet container filled the air as you grabbed the stained, barely-mended tank by the hem, peeling it over you head, leaving you in nothing but your now sad, ratty bra above the waist. The hiss of the canister buzzed down your spine as the material passed over your eyes, giving you goosebumps as you looked to him once more, feeling drawn to that gaze. Your hands moved back to your waist to push the garment the rest of the way down, brushing across your soft abdomen on the way.

The ghoul interrupted you, wordless, his mouth fixed in a sort of pucker as he held the hit of Jet deep in his lungs. He snapped quickly, sharply, his free hand raising up off of the scuffed chair arm, his sewn-on index finger pointed to the ceiling, drawing a series of tight, quick circles with it. You'd seen that gesture before, you realized, feeling that squirming feeling in your gut again. Quickly, you turned to face the door, your back now pointing at your companion.

The feeling of his intense stare still burned into your back, but knowing that, at least for a moment, he couldn't see your face, couldn't read every single thought and emotion off of your like he seemed to so often be able to, let you breathe slightly easier. The arousal that simmered between your thighs was rolling into a boil as you pushed your rear out, back towards him, bending forward ever-so-slightly at the waist as you slowly, slowly rolled the increasingly restricting suit down over your buttocks.

You could swear you heard him sigh in the dark.

Shimmying until the entire garment hit the floor, pooling around your ankles in a faint cloud of dust, you stepped out of it as delicately as possible, sliding it beside your bag with your foot. As you straightened back to your full height, you decided to turn and face him, making eye contact as he took another hit from the inhaler, setting it aside as he leaned back fully into the chair. He tilted his head sideways at you, studying you for a few quiet seconds.

"Let your hair down." he said, voice strained with exhalation.

It took a moment to wrestle your hair down from the old elastic that kept it out of your face, but when the tendrils tickled down your back at last, it made you shiver, your body tingling.

The old man was silent for several seconds, looking you up and down with an expression that was tough to decipher. You'd almost begun to worry that he didn't like what he was seeing before one of his hands snaked down from the arm rest into his lap, palming at his crotch visibly. The other hand extended towards you, that deadly trigger finger crooking towards you commandingly, his gaze never leaving you.

"C'mere, kiddo."

[bigassmoonchild]

i like to think ghost have a partner that expresses love by biting { totally not me i wouldnt even think of chomping} but hes so used to it that he doesnt have a reaction when his wife is in nibble mode

but

everyone else loses their complete shit thinkin that a random person just bit ghost { i also love the idea that ghost doesnt tell soap shit jus to fuck with him }

i absolutely adore this bc i definitely do this 💀 (i've had this in my drafts for a few days now, but just finally figured out how i wanted it to go)

🫶🫶

simon would sit in the mess hall, not just to show face but also to be with the rest of his squad. price had to push him to join, but now he came of his own choice. it was something he did, not too often, but often enough.

on this particular day, you had gotten back from a mission all but a few hours ago. simon had been gone for a few weeks prior to you leaving, so you hadn't seen him in nearly a month and a half.

you walked into the mess hall, simon could see you from where he was sitting. you grabbed your tray of food and looked around to find where you were going to sit. he saw you move towards your squad before spotting him, sitting in front of soap and gaz.

so you made your way over, shuffling between people who were standing around and having to take a few different routes to get to them. dropping your tray down, you sat next to simon.

soap went to snag some food off of your tray and you smacked his hand, giving him a face as you did so. the three of you were talking, about what simon wasn't entirely sure of. he was trying to look at you while not completely giving himself away.

god, he loved you. more than you'd possibly ever know. catching his eye, you gave him a slightly confused face and you could see his eyes slightly squint with a little smile.

smiling back, you dove back into your conversation with soap and gaz. '...didn't realize that was something he did,' you said as simon came back into the conversation.

soap gave a little laugh, rolling his eyes. 'oh, gaz is a real charmer. spilled his pint o' beer on a lady once in a bar. you remember that, right ghost?' and simon nodded, giving a little grunt as he did so.

he still watched you, the light shining in your eye and the color slowly returning to your face as everything began to go back to your normal. he knew how much you missed this during missions, and even with the bags under your eyes he still thought you were as beautiful as ever.

the conversation waned, soap and gaz beginning to argue a little. your knee pressed against his, allowing your legs to touch. the only bit of pda he would allow with other soldiers around. with his mask on.

even though gaz and price knew, he kept it a secret from the loud mouthed scot. he knew, as much as he (unwillingly) cared for soap, word would spread fast if he knew it.

and the two of you spoke often about possibly bringing him in on the secret. possibly even just coming out as a couple at the nearest milball.

as much as the conversations happened, that was two milballs ago. three years you had been together, and just six months ago he had popped you the question. he knew exactly where that ring lay, on a long chain sitting just on your sternum.

some nights, he would kiss it. long and hard as he prayed to whatever being would listen that the two of you returned safe from the mission you were next on. other times, he tugged on it to pull you in for kisses.

there would even be a few nights that he would just play with it, feeling the heat of the metal from where it would rest against your skin. he loved that you kept it so close to your heart, and kenw that once the two of you married you wedding band would sit just there.

his own would sit against his heart, as soon as he got it.

a sharp pain from his bicep pulled him from his thoughts, looking down at where you bit him. clenching your teeth a little harder, you finally released him.

'what the hell was that,' soap sputtered out. looking between you, then simon and gaz. gaz gave him a little shrug, looking away as you leaned for another bite.

simon pushed your head away from his arm. 'don't bite me, you little mosquito,' he huffed at you. you gave him a cheeky little smile, winking at him before digging back into your food.

soap gestured wildly. 'no, i want to know what's going on. what the hell. why the hell?'and you gave soap a little laugh.

pulling the chain from under your shirt, you dangled the ring and chain in front of him. 'technically, we are still planning the wedding,' and you grunted as soap kicked you.

'and why wasn't i told?' he hissed at the two of you. you gave a faint shrug, playing with some of the food on your plate. you faught like hell to tell soap, but respected simons decision.

'you've got a loud mouth,'

'i do not!' soap nearly shouted. 'i absolutely do not,' he then whispered. you laughed and tapped your knee against simons.

[hearts4hughes]

BEJEWELED | QUINN HUGHES

nora’s birthday celly | quinn hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which quinn is pushing you away, so you make him regret it.

notes: this barely follows the song, but this has been in my drafts forever, just waiting to be finished. sorry for how rushed this is, but hopefully you can still enjoy it :) apologies for any mistakes or parts that don’t make sense, i do not feel like rereading this 😭

don’t put me in the basement

when i want the penthouse of your heart

"are you even listening?" your tone was harsh. quinn’s gaze averted away from his phone and locked with yours. with a huff, he placed his phone down. "mhm," he hummed, running a hand through his messy locks.

your eyes narrowed, "then what did i just say?" you crossed your arms defensively over your chest. his eyes dropped to your cleavage momentarily. "you were talking about," he paused, inhaling a thick breath. he knew he was dead. "going on that vacation with your friends?"

"are you fucking serious?" you huffed out a laugh. he replied with a tight-lipped smile. "of course you aren’t." you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

"why does it matter, y/n?!" he whined, throwing his head back and covering his eyes with his hands. "you’re always just bitching about something that doesn’t matter." the second the words rolled off his tongue, he knew he fucked up.

your eyes got wide and you swore steam poured out of your ears. "bitching?!" your voice was thunderous. "quinn, we used to do everything together! we used to be involved in each other's lives. now you’re the one who’s been distant and pushing me away. i'm tired of feeling like i have to wait for you to want to be a part of my life."

his features eyes widened, "baby, wait, no," he couldn’t even stammer out a proper apology. you stifled out a sarcastic laugh, rising to your feet and storming out of your living room. "fuck," he muttered under his breath, jumping up to chase you. he followed your angry footsteps into the shared room, where you were rummaging through your closet. his brows furrowed when you walked out of the closet with a black dress in hand.

you tugged off your tank top and pajama shorts, leaving you clad in a pink bralette and a matching thong. you had worn it for quinn, hoping to surprise him after his game, but that idea went to shit. his breath hitched as you stood there practically naked. the pink set you wore left little to the imagination.

"and where are you planning on going?" the brunette asked. "out," you simply stated. he huffed, "out where? and for how long?"

"i don’t know," you shrugged, shimmying into the tight dress and grabbing a pair of heels. "why does it matter, quinn?" you mocked with a whine. you smiled triumphantly as his face fell into a deep scowl. heels in hand, you stormed past him, brushing your shoulder against his purposely.

like a lost puppy, he turned on his heels, following you into the master bathroom. "why does it matter?" he spoke frustratedly. "it matters because i have a game in a few hours."

you grabbed your red lipstick, swiping the deep color onto your lips. catching his gaze in the vanity mirror, you stared blankly. "ok?" your tone made him feel small and pathetic. "you always go to my games." you took pleasure in the way his voice grew smaller.

and with the click of your lipstick, you turned around. your devilish smirk sent chills up his spine. his eyes scanned your face. you looked hot. "it’s annoying when people say things and then don’t do them, right?" sarcasm dripped off your voice. he opened his mouth to respond, but his words got caught in his throat. "yeah," you replied for him. "and doesn’t it upset you when you can’t get a clear and direct answer out of people?" his face dropped to his chest in defeat. "that’s what i thought."

this time when you stormed out of the room, quinn didn’t follow you— he didn’t even look in your direction. he just sat there, thinking about how he has been acting recently. he never meant to push you away. he’s just been frustrated about hockey. "shit," he tugged at his roots, running out to chase you, but with the slam of the front door, you left Quinn standing alone in the dimly lit apartment. his heart sank as he realized the importance of the situation. he had messed up big time.

desperation filled him as he cursed under his breath. he didn't want to lose you, especially not over a trivial argument like this. quinn quickly changed into a fresh set of clothes and grabbed his phone, dialing your number repeatedly, but it went straight to voicemail.

he decided to take action and drove to the place he thought you might be. he knew you better than anyone, and despite the frustration between you, he couldn't stand the thought of you being upset and alone. quinn was determined to make things right.

as he approached the location, he saw you standing under a lamppost, waiting for a taxi. your dress, your confidence, and the red lipstick painted a picture of defiance, and yet, vulnerability. quinn's heart ached for you, realizing how wrong he had been.

pulling up beside you, he rolled down the window and called out your name. you glanced over, eyes widening in surprise as he leaned across to open the passenger door. "get in," he said softly, his voice filled with a mixture of regret and sincerity, with a pleading look in his eyes.

you hesitated for a moment before sliding into the car. quinn's gaze never left you, his expression pained and apologetic. he cleared his throat and began, his words laced with genuine remorse.

"y/n, i can't find the right words to express how deeply sorry i am. i messed up, and i shouldn't have spoken to you that way. i was wrong, and i let my frustrations get the better of me. it's not an excuse, and i want you to know that i take full responsibility for my actions."

as you looked at him, you could see the sincerity in his eyes, and it tugged at your heartstrings. he continued, "you're right; i've been distant, and i shouldn't have let that happen. you mean the world to me, and i've been failing you. i promise i'll make it up to you, starting today. i'll be there, with you, every step of the way, and i won’t push you away this time."

tears welled up in your eyes, and you sniffled, feeling the weight of his words sinking in. "you promise?"

he nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. "i promise, y/n. i don't want to lose you. you're my everything, and i will do whatever it takes to make things right and prove that i'm fully committed to us and our relationship."

you forgave him, not because he was perfect, but because you could see the effort and sincerity in his apology. and, well, because you couldn't resist his puppy-dog eyes. without wasting another second, your hands flew to his neck, pulling his lips against yours.

with a sly grin, you leaned back, playfully wagging your finger at him. "you know, i don't usually accept kisses when i’m mad, but i'll make an exception."

he chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "ah, rule-breaking with you always seems like the best idea."

[coyote-with-a-keyboard]

flashback (1/?)

a/n: not any of my old drafts or ideas, but hey! A post is a post.

warnings: breath play, rough sex, kinda public? In a unlocked but empty meeting room- Minors DNI

Normal day,  normal meetings, normal plans and a normal god damn week, that was your plans. You had had enough extra weight to carry for once, so dragging yourself to your last meeting felt like the last step on the stairs to heaven. That was until you opened the door.

Fuck. you hadn’t seen graves in an long time, but those sharp blue eyes were burned in your brain too much to forget- you two grew up together, thick as thieves and close as can be. Teetering on the edge of being more until he got bored and left- it’s not like the town you two grew up in would have been very pleased to find the only two kids of “promise” hooking up anyhow. But that little sharp stab of being left stills felt like a thorn at your side.

It was quite clear he recognized you too. How he got a bit shakier, a bit softer, a bit… guilty looking. More guilty then he looked on that film of him lying at the court, at least. The meeting droned on like ringing in your ears- not hearing a single word and just letting your mind reel. You wanted him, you wanted him to pay too- but two birds can always be hit with one stone cant they?

The meeting filed out eventually, people leaving with their desktops and slides until it was just him and you, the urge to shove him overwhelming until… snap. Pushing him up against the wall and kissing him hard; teeth, bites, blood and a want that had sat so long it had gone sour. Not that graves was complaining when he felt you cage around him, or how suddenly tight everything felt on him. The only thing grounding him was your hand snaking around his throat and the burning feeling of needing to catch his breath.

He couldn’t hear the growl of your voice in his ear over his own heart, but he could tell you were cursing him out- he deserved it, he lamented about it, so he might as well get punished like this. He only put his attention on you. Your smell, your cologne, your feeling. How rough the wall against his back was, how the hand wrapped around his throat was making him uncomfortable in the only way he ever wanted.

All he could do is sit and bask in the warmth as he felt you tug down his belt and pants, as well as his boxers, letting it pool at his legs when you spit on the two fingers of your free hands to at least give him a bit of prep, sure you had hated him and let that hate boil and rot for years- but it turns out he was still the boy you loved when it really got down to that nitty-gritty. 

He whined and whimpered softly as your fingers grazed over his walls, his hole fluttering around the feeling. His brain was starting to fell all fuzzy eyed and with fast shallow breaths to follow with the feeling of your grip on him loosen a bit to line your member up with him after making sure he could at least take you safely and tugging down your overused suit pants. 

His pretty hole felt like a damn vice around you, his body shaking a bit with every rough and out of rhythm thrust you gave him. It didn’t matter to him. He just wanted you. And he wanted you bad.

He tried to jerk himself off to the pace of your thrusts, having to guess and constantly jolting when he felt you slam or buck into him or bite his shoulder, felt like he could feel it in his throat. He eventually came with a loud whine before panting to catch his breath, his hair starting to stick to his forehead as you painted his insides white and left him to clean himself up without another glance.

That’s exactly what you needed today- suddenly the world felt an awful lot better. But to graves he felt a little nagging jealousy that he couldn’t get you permanently, not for real, not for love- not now at least. This was a start, he supposed. He wanted to see you smile again- god he missed that smile more then he missed anything in the world.

[alexsoenomel]

Camping Shenanigans

Summary: You like both brothers and you decide to go camping for Sam's birthday.

Pairing: Sam x Reader x Dean Winchester

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI , implied smut, kissing, fluff

Word count: 4.9k

Note: Not beta read. It has been sitting in my drafts for months. Enjoy!

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

"Camping? Are you serious?" 

"Yes, Dean, it's my birthday," Sam answered. 

"It was my idea," you chimed in as Dean shot you a death stare. "Kinda," You added.

***

It wasn't actually your idea. You just asked Sam a simple question:

“What’s something you always wanted to do but never had a chance to do it?”

He said camping. 

"Why do you ask?"

"Your birthday is coming soon!" You told him and stuffed your face with some scrambled eggs you decided to have that morning.

"So?" Sam was a bit confused. He never really cared much about his birthday. 

"Let's do something fun for your birthday. Every year is the same; Dean celebrates his birthdays hammered and dodging STDs like bullets, my birthdays are depressing because I'm always broke or sad or both, and yours…it's like you don't have birthdays." 

"So,do you wanna go camping for my birthday?" 

"Yes! And we can celebrate in nature with lots of alcohol." 

"I mean sure, but Dean's gonna –"

"Oh fuck what Dean says he's coming too."

***

"Kinda?!"

"It will be fun Dean, besides spending time in nature will be good for you," Sam said.

"Actually, concerning amount of booze and chicks with daddy issues are the only two things that are good for me, not this!" He still kept protesting.

"You're going, Dean!" Sam told him. 

"Fine, but if a snake bites me, I'm shaving your head!" 

"Yeah, yeah! Pack a bag, we're going tomorrow morning!"

"TOMORROW MORNING?!" Dean’s voice went an octave higher.

"Yeah, and I'm driving!" Sam smirked. 

"Not a chance," Dean simply said before taking a sip of beer. 

You and Sam found a wonderful campsite in Greenheart National Park in Wyoming and decided to book it, long before telling Dean. Two nights under the stars in the middle of nowhere sounded wonderful, but Dean still wasn't impressed. Even after telling him, it wasn't a traditional campsite – it had toilets, outdoor showers and all-inclusive breakfast, lunch and dinner – he still wasn't impressed. Dean being Dean - he was protesting and whining, right until you actually sat in his car and he started the engine. He didn't like the idea, but it was Sam's birthday tomorrow and he would go to the ends of the Earth for his little brother. 

The drive was long and seemed endless. Between trying to get comfortable, taking a nap, listening to music and eating snacks because of boredom, you couldn’t wait to spend time in nature and watch the stars. Sam was visibly excited, asking Dean every two hours where you were, explaining how to set up a tent, telling fun statistics about bear attacks which made Dean a bit uneasy. Sam’s inner child was slowly healing and yours was just happy to tag along. Dean's on the other hand…his inner child just wanted to get back to bed.

“This is going to be fun!” You laughed. “Dean, get ready to fight bears!” 

“Shut your mouth!” 

*****

After approximately 13 hours you finally arrived, far away from civilization. Everything was green, the sky was blue and the air was fresh. It was almost 9pm and even though it was May, it was a bit chilly.

"You will all get your tents, feel free to set up anywhere you like, but please don't go far away from the station," The bold man was speaking, aka the owner. He was a middle-aged man, very athletic and taller than Sam. Nice obnoxious smile too. "Dinner is in an hour and if anyone has to shower, showers and toilets are behind the gazebo. We will start the bonfire at 11pm if you wanna join. I'm making some good ol' homemade chips. Hope you enjoy your stay and please if you have any questions, concerns, I'm here."

"He seems nice," You whispered.

"Yeah, and bold," Dean added, clearly trying to sound funny. He tried and failed.

“He might be bold, but next to him you’re just a scrawny little bitch,” you clapped back, hoping it would sting him. 

“Ouch!” It did. 

Sam laughed.

*****

“So, do you want to share a tent?” You asked the brothers as they shared a look of concern. 

“Well…” Sam started, but was unable to finish his thought.

“Mmm..” Dean too.

They didn’t like the idea, so naturally you decided to go with it and ask the owner to give you the biggest tent he could find. “For the three of you?” The guy asked, pointing a finger at Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup. You were the last one to get your tent. Some people already found their spot and set up theirs.  

“Yes, the biggest one please. I don’t wanna be suffocated by these two.” 

The guy chuckled. “Roger that!” He then went into the storage room and started rummaging through his things. After a minute he came back holding a large black bag. “Here you go!” He said and tossed it to Sam. “That will do!” He also gave you three sleeping bags and you were off.

“Thank you so much!” You said. 

****

You found your spot far away from people next to a pine tree that was sticking out from the rest of the forest that was behind you. The hill was beautiful, grass perfectly cut, the sky covered in stars like freckles scattered all over, while the air felt colder than an hour ago.

“I have no idea what I’m doing!” Dean said, trying to see which part of the tent goes where, while you used the flashlight on your phone to guide him. 

“Let me!” Sam said and gathered all the poles in one pile. He read a thing or two about different types of tents and recognized you got the one with a porch aka ‘the fancy one’. 

“Well happy birthday Sammy!” You told him. “Congratulations on being one year closer to death!”

“Wow (Y/N), you sure know how to make a man feel like crap!” Dean scoffed. 

“What’re you talking about Dean? I praise him all the time. Both of you!”

“Yeah, praise my ass!”

“You do have a great ass!” You winked at him. Dean just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms looking offended. 

Sam laughed at your joke. “Thank you, but it’s not midnight yet!”  ***

An hour later, Sam finally set up the tent and Dean was already on his second beer. This campsite was known for having unlimited amounts of booze and Dean was one happy camper when he found that out. Meanwhile Sam was really proud of himself for setting up his first tent. It was spacious and brand new. When you put the sleeping bags in, you realized you were going to get squished by the brothers. The tent was big, but not big enough.

You liked that idea, considering your long history of liking both of them and not being able to decide. It had been over ten years and you still couldn’t decide. They both had qualities you desired in a man and were special in their own way. Sam’s height and intelligence made you want to climb him like a tree and never get down, while Dean’s perfect smile and snarky humor made you want to make him whimper under you. They were childhood friends and lived across the street, and since your parents liked to hang out you would see them almost every weekend.

Once they moved across the country you still stayed in touch - texted and called every once in a while, but your heart was aching for them. You missed them dearly. It all fell into place once you saw Sam one random Monday morning on campus at Stanford and your shenanigans started again. Dean decided more education was too much for his brain, so he opened a small music store in San Diego and was doing surprisingly well. You started hanging out again, going to pubs, having movie nights, game nights…

You and Sam would also visit Dean and everything seemed to make sense once again. You were like three peas in a pod – same but slightly different.

Over the years you learned how to ignore your feelings and push those thoughts away, and yet sometimes you'd catch your stomach flipping every time they would bring up past relationships or flings. They both didn't want to settle down, and while you liked the idea of it, you were picky and hadn’t found someone who was worthy of you to settle down with.

"Shower and alcohol?" You asked Sam, since Dean had already showered and was now on his third beer.

"Yes please."

Showering in nature was a first for you. You thought you were going to freeze but surprisingly even though you did, it felt amazing on your skin. You enjoyed the wind making you shiver. 

“How was it, Sam?” You said, stepping out of the shower in nothing but a towel. Sam actually took the time and got dressed in the wooden shower cabin.

“Cold.” He answered, his voice shivering. His wet hair was slick back, a blue shirt accentuating his muscles, while the gray sweatpants he wore particularly outlined his cock, making it hard to focus.

The things I’d do to that man are ungodly and borderline illegal.

SNAP OUT OF IT!

“And refreshing,” You added. 

“You should get dressed before you get sick.” 

“Okay, mother!” You rolled your eyes and went back to the tent.

Anything for you, handsome!

***

Dinner was delicious – Dutch oven mac and cheese. Everybody got one big full plate and it was better than you could imagine; very salty and cheesy.

It was nice to sit and look at the bonfire while eating your favorite childhood meal but soon you just wanted to get away from the people and loud noise. You stuck around for a few minutes, watching the fire and chatting with a few nice girls you met while waiting for dinner before your social battery completely died. You excused yourself and left. You weren’t in the mood for small talk anymore – Sam and Dean were a lot better at it than you and they were a lot more social too. You decided to watch from afar and sit on the porch swing that was looking directly at the bonfire surrounded by people having a great time. You were sipping your beer watching the fire go wild as the bold guy threw a few branches, making it stable enough to actually start making his homemade chips in the skillet. You felt like a kid again. The beer was just enough to relax you even though the taste wasn't the best. The stars decided to shine that night, while the crescent moon was too shy to show its whole face.

“Having fun over there?” You heard a familiar voice and saw a shadow of a person approaching you. It was Dean. 

“Yeah, just don’t feel like talking to people,” you told him. 

He sat down next to you and put his beer bottle next to yours. You exchanged looks in semi- complete darkness and made a toast. 

“Cheers!”

“Happy birthday to Sam!” You said, looking at Sam who was talking to a guy much shorter than him.

“I swear it was yesterday he was learning how to walk,” Dean told you. 

“You sound like my mother,” You chuckled.

Your mind was getting tired and since the swing was made out of wood, you were struggling to get comfortable. Your head decided to rest on his shoulder as you took a sip of your beer, eyes still on Sam. Your hands wrapped around his arm as you lifted your legs on the swing. His arm was firm and he smelled too good for your own good – something between leather and pines surrounding you. He seemed to be tense though, or at least that was what you thought.

“Dean, I don’t bite, unless you want me to! Relax!”

You couldn’t see but he just rolled his eyes and scoffed. “I’m relaxed!” 

“Well damn, you have been working out then!” You decided to compliment him. As much as you loved roasting him, making him feel good was also important to you. 

“Not so bad for a scrawny little bitch, huh?” 

“Shut up!”

***

The night was growing cold and you were getting tired. You didn't know the time, since your phone was back in the tent, but one thing you knew – it was time to go to sleep. The Winchesters were having a great time lingering in the crowd so you decided to leave them to have their fun and go to sleep. 

"Guys, I'm gonna go hit the sack!" You shouted from afar, since you saw, they were talking to someone – a man you didn't know and didn't want to know.

"Are you sure, (Y/N)?" Sam asked.

"Yeah I'm tired! Good night, guys!" 

"Good night!" They said in sync.

You snuggled up in your sleeping bag, shivering from the cold and realized; since you were sleeping on the ground you won't be able to get one hundred percent comfortable so the only logical thing was to take melatonin for sleep. That magic pill could make any surface feel like clouds and on top of that made you actually have nice dreams, since you didn't dream as much.

You took one pill and chugged a good amount of water. You were out in about 45 minutes.

***

Sam's lips were on your neck, kissing, biting, making you shiver; while Dean's lips went lower and lower. You didn't know which name to moan first, hell, you didn't know where you were, but it was blissful and a whole lot of sinful.

Dean's lips reached your panties and before he moved them to the side, he placed a kiss making you squirm. Sam's large hands were playing with your breasts while he couldn't separate his lips from your neck.

As soon as Dean's tongue touched your throbbing clit, you arched your back in pleasure. He was slow, and with the combination of Sam's rough kisses, your body was overwhelmed and feeling nothing but intense pleasure.

"Dean!" You whispered. “Dean!”

"(Y/N)?" Dean mumbled, his eyes half open, even though he couldn't see shit. 

"Sam! Fuck!" This time, a whisper, sounding more like a light moan of his brother's name.

"You kiddin'?" He was now fully awake and fully aware you were in fact not trying to wake him up.

"So good!" 

"I'll be damned!" He whispered, not really sure what to do. Sam wasn't saying a word so he figured he was in a coma since he had too many beers a few hours ago. You were squished between them but somehow ended up being closer to Dean so he decided to snap you back to reality.

"(Y/N)!" He whispered, this time a little bit louder. "Wake the hell up!" He said, trying to shake you to wake you up.

"Huh, what?" You finally mumbled as he violently pulled you back to reality. It took you a couple of seconds to realize it was, all in fact, just a dream.

"You snore like a buzzsaw!" He lied.

"Oh sorry!" 

And without saying anything else, you both went to sleep. It took Dean a couple of minutes though, since he couldn't stop thinking about what he heard.

Dirty girl. 

Was the last thing he thought before passing out.

****

The next morning you woke up well rested but in pain. Your body felt stiff until you stretched and actually got out of the tent. It was cold during the night, the air was fresh, but with the first rays of the sun came the heat, and you weren’t awoken by the sound of your alarm, it was the heat and stuffy air. When you looked at your phone, it was almost eight in the morning and time for breakfast. You were alone in the tent, Sam and Dean were already up. You got your toothbrush and toothpaste and went to do your business. You couldn't stop thinking about the damn dream. It was too vivid for your own good. The way Dean kissed you with his perfect full lips, Sam’s hands on your hot skin, their moans, groans and big girthy co-

“Good morning, princess,” you heard Dean say as you waited in line to get your breakfast sandwich, still sleepy. He wasn’t a morning person whatsoever so hearing him sound this jolly was strange. 

“Morning,” you didn’t even bother to look at him as you turned around and went to find a place to sit. People were already chatting, having their morning coffees and enjoying the fresh air, while you struggled to exist. It was too early to think, too early to speak and too early to be a human. 

Dean followed you after he poured himself another cup of freshly made black coffee. 

You lazily opened your sandwich from the wrapper and took a first bite; ham, cheese, ketchup, lettuce…usual stuff. It was a little dry for your taste buds, but it wasn’t bad. 

“How did you sleep?” Dean asked, sitting next to you. 

“Like a baby,” You mumbled, chewing. You could feel his eyes on you, as you turned to look at him, he was indeed staring back at you with a little smirk on his face. “What?” 

“Oh I bet you slept real good,” he teased. His deep and raspy voice was too close to your left ear, sending shivers down your spine, all over your body. You ignored it.

“What are you implying, Winchester?” You asked, genuinely confused, not really thinking about…oh. OH! You remembered. The dream. Maybe he heard you mumbling in your sleep. Do I sleep talk? You still played dumb.

“Dream a little dream of me and Sammy, eh?” His smirk was still there, you knew he wasn’t going to let it go. 

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” You replied. “Where’s Sam?” 

“He went Dora the explorer around the park.” 

Sam was both night and day. He enjoyed both darkness and light. The darkness was for reading and the light was for hiking and jogging.

After you finished breakfast, you poured yourself a cup of coffee that was now lukewarm. It still tasted like coffee when it touched your lips and still gave you that kick you needed. 

Dean was still keeping you company for some reason, he was close, too close and kind of getting on your nerves. You had a feeling he wanted to ask you something but swallowed all the words in the English language. You assumed what he was curious about, you just didn’t want to embarrass yourself. We are our egos after all, and in time we learn how to tame that part of ourselves and not let it control us. You weren’t going to blush and get flustered in front of Dean Winchester.

“What’s the plan for today?” You asked. 

“Did you dream about sleeping with me and Sam?” Dean evidently didn’t register your question. And he finally found the words. You choked on your coffee not expecting to be hit with a question. You didn’t expect that kind of question.

“You did!” He said as his face lit up in a second. 

“No, I didn’t.” 

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” 

He was a child. A man-child. He wasn’t going to let it go, not until you confessed. Sighing in frustration, you calmly put down your coffee-stained mug and looked him in the eyes. They were beautiful, greener than the forest around you.

“I did,” you confessed. 

“Yeah, I know I heard you,” he smiled, showing off his perfect teeth. He was beautiful but you still wanted to punch him in the face. 

“Can I drink my coffee in peace now, please?” 

“Yes, you may, sinner.”

The embarrassment you felt disappeared as soon as you saw Sam coming back from his little, to quote Dean, ‘Dora the Explorer’ adventure, all sweaty and ready for a shower. You weren’t embarrassed, you were horny. 

“Morning!” 

“Morning Sam!” You spoke. 

“Sleep well?” 

“Oh yeah, you bet she did!” Dean told him. You rolled your eyes.

Sam gave him a confused look not getting the joke. He doesn’t know.

“Awful, your brother kept making happy noises all night,” you lied. Figured you would get back at him for being a dick. Dean’s mouth slightly opened. 

“Dude, gross!” Sam’s reaction was more than welcome considering Dean hadn’t stopped annoying you ever since you had a bite of that dry sandwich. Once he left to shower, you turned to his older brother. 

“Don’t fuck with me!”

***

The day was cloudy and cold. Some people were playing board games and listening to music, some were reading their favorite books, while others went to explore the national park. You immersed yourself in the book you were currently reading, while Sam and Dean played Monopoly under the kitchen gazebo that wasn’t just a kitchen, it had a space for everything; space where you could sit and relax, a table, and two couches placed right across each other. A multipurpose gazebo: kitchen, dining room and a living room. Well, Sam was teaching Dean how to play and Dean was losing and cursing every few minutes.

“You were never good with money, Dean!” You chuckled, eyes still on the page you were reading.

“And you’re loud!” He sassed. You lifted your head to look at him and he just gave you a wink. You knew damn well why.

You elected to ignore it. 

Soon enough, it was lunch time: delicious goulash and for dessert, a slice of apple pie. 

“Warrior food!” Dean said, stuffing his mouth. 

He wasn’t wrong. The food was fresh and absolutely delicious. 

“Do you guys want to play volleyball after we eat?” Sam asked. 

“You’re joking?” Dean lifted his eyebrow. “I don’t do sports and I especially don’t do sports after lunch.”

“Grandpa!” You said and told Sam to count you in. 

 A few minutes later, the bald, good-looking dude came to say there was going to be another party, from 7pm to when everybody goes to sleep. He also said there was going to be lots and lots of alcohol considering it was a goodbye party. Dean was excited, you were too busy reading your book and Sam finally bankrupted his older brother. 

You ended up playing volleyball with Sam for almost two hours. He asked the bald guy if they had any volleyballs after lunch and the guy was more than happy to be of service. There was a small chunk of land which they turned into a volleyball court, far away from people who were hanging out around the gazebo and far away from Dean who decided to take a nap after eating too many slices of pie.

“Are you enjoying your birthday so far, Sammy?” You asked as you served him the ball which, he slammed a little too hard and it flew across your head. 

“Oops!” He said with an awkward smile. “Best one so far!” 

“Told you!” You raised your voice going a few steps away from the court to get the ball.

As you were playing and growing tired, you couldn't help but notice how tight his black t-shirt was, perfectly hugging his body as he started to sweat. His hair still a little damp, slick back and tucked behind his ears, his lower lip between his teeth trying to concentrate on the ball in the sky – the man was simply gorgeous. It was hard to concentrate on the damn game when your mind wandered.

How does his lips taste? Does he have a big dick? Probably. The man is huge. FOCUS! 

So many questions and no wins.

After losing 3:0, you decided to take a shower and get ready for the party. You were in the mood to drink and not get nervous around both brothers.

It was getting cold, so after a quick cold shower, you decided to wear your favorite pair of gray sweats and a very old Led Zeppelin hoodie your dad gave you a long time ago.

People already started drinking by the time you finished getting ready. 

"Hey, nice hoodie you got there!" Dean commented as soon as he saw you. One of the things you absolutely adored about Dean was his awesome music taste. You were both old schools. 

"You've seen me in this at least a hundred times Dean!" You chuckled. 

"And every time I'm going to tell you how awesome it is," he said proudly. "Where's Sam?" 

"Showering." 

"Again?" 

"Yeah, you know Dean, after physical activity you get all sweaty and gross," you told him and took a paper cup filled with red wine from the table under the gazebo. Suddenly, the familiar melody of Toxic by Britney Spears blasted through the speakers.

"It was sweaty and gross alright," Dean joked and like always, you rolled your eyes, and took a sip of the wine. It wasn't too sweet and definitely was cheap considering how watered down it was.

***

After three cups, you grabbed your fourth one as your vision started to blur. Your thoughts were scrambled, between being nervous because of Dean's annoying teasing, and not giving a flying fuck about anything and just wanting to let loose, but there was a sense of tranquility in them. You loved the idea of him knowing your dirty thoughts, and you loved even more watching Sam being simultaneously confused and stunning while listening to you two bicker. The alcohol wasn't helping you. The undying need to be in a delicious Winchester sandwich only grew stronger with each sip…

You saw Sam coming from the toilet after the shower and something in you snapped. You swallowed nervously before chugging the rest of the wine and decided to toss all the fucks you had out the window. 

“Hey, handsome!” You said, seeing his face change from content to a little nervous. You'd never called him that. 

“Hey!” Was all he could muster.

“In the mood for a drink?” 

“Sure,” he said. “But only one, and I'm out. I’m tired.” 

“Okie dokie.”

Sam's drink of choice was beer. Dean was somewhere in the crowd, nowhere in your sight. Perfect.

“Cheers!” He said. No matter how big or small his smile was, his dimples would always show on his cheeks and you found it adorable. He was adorable and his lips were much more kissable after almost four cups of wine. 

“Cheers,” you smiled back. “To you Sammy!” 

“I didn't tell you but you're a solid volleyball player.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “A solid player? Really? You won 3:0.” 

“Well, yeah because you're short, and for some reason your focus was nonexistent but your serve was excellent.” 

“I'm short?” You weren't offended by any means, he was in fact much taller than you, but still surprised he said it so bluntly. 

“Short and sweet?” He corrected himself with an awkward smile before taking another sip of his beer. 

“Sweeter than sugar, sugar,” you didn't know where that came from. It sounded kind of lame, you thought, so you quickly changed the subject. “And my focus was nonexistent because of your sorry ass.” You said before playfully tapping him on his shoulder.

“Me?” 

Something about the innocence of that man made you absolutely feral. You had a feeling he wasn't so innocent behind closed doors. The idea of his lips on yours didn't want to leave your mind as your eyes couldn't stop staring at him with pure, drunken adoration. 

“(Y/N)?” 

You wanted to speak but something told you to not use a single word of the English language. Instead, you pulled him by his black hoodie and crashed your lips on his. Surprisingly, he didn't pull away, his body was stiff for a few seconds before letting go and deepening the kiss, making you balance yourself on your tiptoes. You felt him cup your left cheek with his free hand as you bit his lower lip, earning a moan from him. His nose crashed against yours, tasting alcohol mainly from your lips, Sam felt his cock getting hard. It hit him that he was wearing gray sweatpants so naturally that was a sign to pull away. People around you were too busy singing ABBA songs to give a fuck. 

“Well…” Sam said, not knowing where his thoughts were as he instinctively looked down and saw the outline of his cock. “Crap.” 

Your gaze followed and you were happy it did. He was big, bigger than you'd imagined.

"Sammy, is that a gun or you're just happy to see me?” You winked. That was horrible. 

“Shut up,” he sassed back, giving you a bitch face he would always give to Dean.

He covered his groin with his hands, looking around awkwardly to see if anyone was looking. Of course they weren't. Everybody was either drunk or high or both. 

Suddenly Sam's gaze was fixed behind you as he visibly clenched his jaw. You turned around and of course it was Dean.

“Oh there you are!” You said with enthusiasm and kissed him, pulling him closer by his jacket. 

Sam was stunned, while you could feel Dean smiling before kissing you back and letting you put your tongue in his mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck and enjoyed the softness of his puffy lips on yours. He was a lot gentler than Sam – more innocence but still the same amount of passion. 

When you finally broke away, your drunk self just mumbled, “You two are irresistible.” 

Sam was still visibly confused while Dean couldn't stop smiling. 

[builtbybrokenbells]

Melodic Memories | JTK | Prologue

In a tattered old box shoved deep down in the corner of an overfilled closet, a lifetimes worth of memories lie dormant at the bottom waiting to be rediscovered.

Masterlist

Playlist: Apple Music | Spotify

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: breakups, feelings of sadness, crying, high school relationships, angst, fluff, sorry if i miss any!

welcome to the show, everyone 😁 glad to be back with another Jake fic. as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes! (this has been sitting in my drafts for SO long)

August, 2014

“Eight songs, Y/N. I sat there for hours, listening to as much music as I could. I sorted through my dad’s old vinyl records, and all of the CD’s Josh and I could find in the house. I searched for lyrics on the internet, I even asked my mom if she had any ideas.” Jake explained, taking a step closer to you. There was a small plastic case in one of his hands, a bushel of hand picked wildflowers in his other, and a look in his eyes that made your heart ache with all of the pain you had been holding back. “This is it; eight songs that tell you exactly how I feel about you. Four that tell you how much I love you, and four that tell you everything you need to know about how I feel about you leaving.”

“Jake,” you whispered, your lips pressed together tightly as the corners of your mouth dipped down into a frown. Your eyes were shining under the warm yellow hue of the ceiling light, the threat of unshed tears growing more imminent with each second that passed. The walls of your childhood bedroom were familiar, but completely different all at the same time. Years worth of cherished memories flashed before your eyes as the boy stood before you amongst half-filled boxes and your torn-apart closet.

“No,” he cut you off, shaking his head so you could not speak any further.

His hair was long, moving against his skin with each turn of his head. It reached the middle of his neck now, and it would only get longer as he continued to grow it out. You couldn’t help but feel that the long hair suited him best, that it brought out the beauty of his face even more than it already did on its own. He’d been talking about it for so long that you could already picture what it would look like on him. You were sad that you would not be able to see it when his mission was complete and the ends of his hair tickled the underside of his shoulder blades.

No, you were sad that you would miss any stage of Jake’s life, devastated that there would be any version of him you were unfamiliar with.

The sweatshirt he was wearing was heartbreaking all on its own; you bought it for him months prior on your three day trip to tour the university you were now preparing to attend. There were bags under his eyes, showing his exhaustion and discomfort with the current arrangement the two of you found yourselves in. His eyes themselves were bloodshot, and worse than that, they were sad. You hated seeing anything less than joy written in his features, because he was a boy deserving of things that were only ever good.

Right now, you knew that what you were doing to him was anything but good, and it was fucking killing you.

You only ever wanted to be the reason for the smile on his face, and now you were the source of his misery; you loved him so utterly and deeply that you turned into the very thing that hurt him.

“You said you didn’t want to make this harder than it needed to be, but it’s going to fucking suck no matter how we do things. I can’t let you leave without telling you—“ he cut himself off, clearing his throat as his gaze flickered to the floor. There were tears glistening in his eyes, too, but he was much more afraid to show them than you were. “I can’t let you go unless I know that you know how much you mean to me.”

“It is hard, Jake. This is the hardest thing I have ever done.” You confessed, sniffling away your sadness as you tried to cement the memory of his face in your brain forever. He was beautiful, and he always had been. His warm eyes spoke love without him ever opening his mouth, and his smile was the only thing that could brighten the darkest of days.

“The whole distance thing is stupid, and I don’t like it. We’ve been together for three years, and I can’t sit at home and act like you don’t mean anything to me.” His words were equal to a stab in the stomach.

You did not intend to hurt him when you suggested taking some time away from each other. You thought it would be easier, that it would make your departure less painful as you both came to terms with the fact you would be leaving him behind, but so far it had been nothing but horrendous. You stayed up every night, staring at the ceiling as you remembered what it felt like to lay next to him. You listened to new music, hoping it would make you feel something other than sadness, but the emotion that plagued you grew tenfold when you realized you had no one to share it with. You checked your phone constantly, hoping to see his name grace your screen, only to find that he was too good at respecting your wishes.

Jake was your boyfriend, and it had been that way for a long time, but he was so much more than just that. He was your best friend, your confidant and the very thing you knew you could lean on in times that were tougher than usual. He was your light in darkness, and he was everything you ever needed all at once. Jake was the whole world, and in that moment, he was yours. As of late, you felt more stupid than ever before, unable to forgive yourself for letting him go. He loved you through the awkwardness of growing into a teenager, and he loved you through the usual triumphs and disasters of high school. He loved you when you thought no one else could, and he did it so well that you had no idea what to expect now that he was not going to be yours anymore.

He stood before you, freshly eighteen with a new found freedom in life. You were just shy of the same age, but the freedom you found did not feel very special at all. You expected your high school graduation to be sweet, exciting and fun, but so far it brought you nothing but turmoil. You scored top of your class and had people throwing scholarships in your face. As much as you wanted to enjoy it, you couldn’t seem to find any joy in the experience. You tried to blame it on your nerves as you spent the summer preparing to drive states away to attend a university that you had only visited once, but you knew it had nothing to do with that. You were thrilled to continue your studies, to pursue something that you had spent your life dreaming about. You were excited to meet people, to grow into the person you were always meant to be.

It was not the school that made your stomach twist with nerves, but the knowledge Jake would not be coming with you. It was the knowledge that after three years, you would have to learn to live without him by your side, and worst of all, you had to digest the fact that he would move on. In due time, his heart and the love he once gave to you would be someone else’s, and he would be happy again, without ever having a second thought about you.

No matter where Jake went, you knew he would flourish, that he would find someone that would love him just as much, if not more, than you loved him.

That thought was comforting as much as it was gut wrenching. Jake deserved to be loved, but you wished you were the person who could love him the way he deserved.

What hurt just a little worse than that was the passing thought that you would never find someone who would love you the way Jake loved you.

You had done everything with him up until two weeks prior, when you pleaded with him to give you some space so you could grieve the fact your relationship would be coming to an end. You did not cut off contact completely, and in that time, you had called him almost daily and payed short visits to his house every now and again. You wanted it to make you feel better, but all it did was make the ache of missing him grow even larger despite him still being there when you needed him. You knew that when you got in your car the next morning, it would be the definite end of the two of you, but it did not mean you were happy, and you were certainly not okay with it.

If missing him while he was still beside you hurt achingly bad, you could not imagine the pain that would come as you drove away from the only thing you ever wanted to have.

The two of you discussed the topic heavily over the last few months, finding yourselves in a great debate of whether long distance would work for the two of you. Eventually, after many tears and lots of sad, sleepless nights, the two of you decided that it would be best to let the loving relationship you had created remain a memory. He didn’t want you worrying about him while you were focusing on your studies, and you didn’t want to tie him down while he tried to make his own life at home.

Although the two of you agreed on the terms, it hurt like a bitch.

“I’m sorry, Jake.” You whispered, your bottom lip quivering as you tried to express your remorse. “I didn’t know how else to deal with it.”

“Just listen to what I have to say, and then you can deal with it however you want.” He tried again, still staying strong despite the pain growing larger in his heart.

“Okay.” You whispered, giving a slight nod as you stepped back and took a seat on the edge of your bed. He followed suit, stopping by your dresser to place the sparse bushel of wildflowers down as he approached you.

He took a seat beside you, extending his arm for you to take the CD. Slowly, you grabbed it from his hands, a slight shake to your fingers as they clasped around the cool, hard plastic. You looked down at the white surface through the clear cover, feeling the first tear fall from your eye. In the familiar, scribbled handwriting, a love note more romantic than any other littered the surface of the CD.

‘I can’t tell you how I feel, so I’ll let the songs say it instead. All my love, Jake ᥫ᭡’

“Wild Horses, Rolling Stones.” He started, watching your face as he spoke. “You told me when we started dating that your dad used to sing it to your mom, and you thought it was the most romantic song in the world until they got divorced. You said that you hated it, and you would never be able to listen to it again, and I could tell that you were so sad about it. So, I sang it to you. I wanted to turn it back into a good memory. I learned the chords and I used my dads old acoustic guitar, and I was fucking terrified, Y/N. It was the first song I ever played for you, and you told me that nobody had ever done anything so nice for you before.”

“‘Cause nobody ever had.” You said, the sentiment still remaining true to this day.

“Wonderful Tonight, by Eric Clapton.” He continued, knowing his time was running short. The evening was darkening into night, and he wasn’t keen on spending your last bit of time together solely talking. “We slow danced in the kitchen to that song, ‘cause I told you I didn’t know how to dance and I didn’t want to embarrass myself at prom. You let me pick the song and then you taught me how, and I think of you every time I hear it.”

The memory was as beautiful as the song was, and you felt another tear fall at the explanation. You had no idea how you were going to let him go, and no desire to do it, anyway, even if you knew it was for the best.

“I need you, Lynyrd Skynyrd. Pretty self explanatory.” He let out a small chuckle, which you joined in on. “The Air That I Breathe, The Hollies.” He jumped straight to the next track. “Listen to the words, and you’ll get it.”

“Jake, this is too much.” You took in a shaky breath, swiping tears away from your cheeks.

“No, Y/N. It’s not enough.” He corrected. “You deserve the whole world, and I wish I could give it to you.”

“You’re not making this any easier.” You forced a smile on your face, your cheeks damp with your own misery. He reached out, swiping away the tears as they fell, hoping that by some stroke of luck, he would still be yours even long after you had gone.

“It was never going to be easy, beautiful.” He finally said the words he’d been holding back the whole time. He had tried his hardest to convince you that it would be okay, hoping that in turn, he would convince himself, too. Now that he was sitting beside you, still just as sad, he knew easy was subject, and only time would heal the wounds that were created that night. “If You Gotta Go, Go Now, by Dylan.”

“Or Else You Gotta Stay All Night.” Your lips turned upwards into a small smile. It wouldn’t be from Jake had there not been at least one Dylan song on the track.

“Exactly.” He nodded. “Ain’t No Sunshine by Bill Withers, cause I know it’s gonna be pretty dark for a while after you leave, Sunshine.”

“Don’t say that.” You said, feeling your stomach twist with remorse.

“It’s true.” He argued. “Romeo and Juliet by Dire Straits, ‘cause maybe it’s just the time that’s not right for us.” His voice was quiet, cracking as he forced the words out, like he was fearful to get an unwanted answer to his rhetoric. “Maybe in the future, the time will be right, and we can try again.”

“God, I hope so.” You confessed, the tears making a rapid return. The more he spoke, the more real the entire thing felt. For years, you had brushed the topic off, forcing yourself to believe that senior year and university was so far away, but now that it was staring you in the face, making it impossible to see past it, you realized the time had flew by like nothing at all. You didn’t want to leave him, because he was the only thing you ever wanted. The idea of having him again in the future made the ache ease ever so slightly, but knowing that the whole middle part would suck made the relief insignificant.

“And the last one is We’ve Got Tonight by Bob Segar, ‘cause we do, sunshine. We have one more night to love each other, and I’ll be damned if I waste it. So here I am, with eight songs and some flowers that I found in my backyard, asking you if you’ll let me love you until you leave tomorrow. It doesn’t have to hurt right now, and we don’t have to let it hurt worse than it has to.”

“Okay,” you breathed, little argument left in you. If he wanted to love you, you weren’t stupid enough to turn him away. Tomorrow, when the sun rose in the sky, illuminating the mistakes you made and highlighting your successes, you would deal with the inevitable disappointment that came along with losing him, but you didn’t have to start yet. At that moment, you still had him, and you wanted to savour the feeling of Jake Kiszka being yours for as long as you could.

“Okay?” He asked, almost shocked at your lack of rebuttal.

“Okay, Jake. We’ve got tonight, so let’s make it last.”

[preet-01]

This has been in my drafts for so long

Max Ricciardo had a very particular routine, one that he hated to stray from. It went a little like this:

In the morning, Daniel would wake him up with kisses. So many of them. And more often than not, those kisses would end with Daniel’s cock buried in Max. The best way to spend the morning in his opinion.

Then they’d eventually tear themselves away from one another long enough to make it to the bathroom. Where they’d shower together and nothing was better than feeling up his husband’s naked and wet body right after some mind blowing sex.

Daniel always made breakfast. It wasn’t that Max expected that of Daniel, but the last time Max had tried, he’d burnt the eggs and nearly set their apartment on fire. It was safer to let Daniel take care of the cooking, especially in the morning. So while Daniel cooked, Max sat at the breakfast bar making flirty comments in the hopes of turning Daniel red.

After breakfast, Daniel would kiss Max again. He’d then go down to their bakery that had been opened by Matilda two hours earlier. Daniel always had a way with charming the morning customers that Max never could. So until noon, Max washed the dishes, fed the cats, made a list of things they’d need for dinner, and played fifa.

Then at noon, Max would head down to the bakery with some sandwiches or last night’s leftovers. By that point, Daniel and Matilda would have been joined by Graham (who Daniel believed to be harboring not-so secret feelings for Matilda). Sometimes Max and Daniel would eat lunch together in the back with Max telling him about the cats and the new terror they were raising in the apartment. (He still wasn’t over the two days that Jimmy had gone missing or the time Sassy had chewed through all of Max’s shoes. They never messed with Daniel.) Other times the bakery would be too busy and they’d eat in turns.

Daniel would spend the next four hours at the bakery with Max and Graham since Matilda always had to leave at 1pm for her classes. Then Daniel left with the list Max had made. He always popped over to the gym first, working out with Scotty. After that it would be to the shops to get everything on the list and almost always, he stopped at the flower shop.

By the time the bakery closed, Daniel would be entering their apartment with groceries and flowers in hand. They cooked dinner together – Max was trusted to do the chopping and occasional stirring.

Dinner was never at the table, always on the sofa with the next episode of the show they were watching. The cats loved to cuddle up to Daniel after dinner which often left Max grumbling about not getting any cuddles until Daniel would wrap his arm around him and pull him close.

More times than not, Max found himself riding Daniel at the end of the night or underneath him or against the wall or bent over the nearest surface.

It was a good routine, a great routine that Max hated to stray from.

So it was a bit of a fucking surprise when he woke up in a hospital room with some stranger and his dad standing around, but no Daniel. He doesn’t recall any situation where he’d end up in the hospital rooms and it had been a good five years since he’d cut off contact with his dad.

“Daniel?” he croaks, trying to find any hint of his husband and fearing the worst when he doesn't.

“Daniel?” one of the men questions with furrowed brows. He has a British accent and a Red Bull logo shirt. “Max, what's the last thing you remember?” the man questions.

“Daniel and I were talking,” Max replies. They’d been talking about adoption that night. Max had brought it up as they laid in bed. He can’t remember what Daniel had said in response, but he had a feeling it had been good. Daniel was meant for fatherhood.

“Max, you were in the car at the Red Bull Ring. Daniel’s in Australia to celebrate his birthday with his family,” the man says.

Max has no idea what’s going on or what the Red Bull Ring is or how it was Daniel’s birthday because they’d celebrated it two months earlier with Max all tied up. But he just nods along, not liking the glaring look he was receiving from his father.

It only gets weirder from there.

He’s apparently not married to Daniel. He’s a driver for the Red Bull F1 team and a two time world champion. Daniel is also a driver, but he had a few hard seasons and had to take a step back to a reserve/test role at Red Bull. They’re not even dating.

Everything about the world he finds himself in is wrong. How could he not be with Daniel? Was this version of himself stupid? Why was he not Max Ricciardo already? It wasn't fun being Max Verstappen.

He wants to go back to being Max Ricciardo. He wants to wake up in Daniel’s arms with kisses and cuddles. He wants to be a bakery owner married to the man he loves.

Even worse, he thinks, is that Max Verstappen, the one that is supposed to be the two time world champion and not-husband of Daniel, is probably with his Daniel. He never expected to be jealous of himself for being with Daniel. But his stupider version was out there getting his husband’s kisses and loving, so he had the right to be jealous. That fucker was getting to enjoy everything about Max’s life while Max had to endure a Daniel-less existence as a driver of all things. That Max got to be married to Daniel, meanwhile Max hadn’t even seen this Daniel.

He finally sees Daniel a week after he woke up in the hospital. There’s some Red Bull charity event thing that Christian, the man that had asked him questions, brought him to. Daniel’s there. Not nearly as beautiful as the Daniel that Max was married to, but still stunning. Of course he would still be stunning, it is Daniel.

There’s something sadder about this Daniel that he doesn’t like. A sadness that Max had never seen in his Daniel’s eyes. It’s probably that this Daniel doesn’t have a Max loving him. Pity. He would have to change that… it isn’t cheating if he’s with this Daniel, right? It’s still Daniel technically.

[nectardaddy]

notebook paper | hinata shoyo

chapter fourteen | your mom [ ✎ ]

masterlist

no smau parts in this one.

cw: idk how to say it but that moment when the stress hits you all at once

He couldn't help the small chuckle passing his lips, leaving as a snort as brown eyes tracked scrawled words on a piece of paper. Repeatedly reading over the worksheet he volunteered himself to grade, but stopped at an answer he had found particularly funny. "Is 'deez nuts' the right answer to what can describe an object's motion?" He asked sarcastically through a chuckle.

The woman next to him let out a laugh at his question, "no way they wrote that." Looking over to the worksheet he had in front of him with a silly smile, "oh my god," speaking through a giggle as her eyes caught the answer. "I'll grade that one," she mused, "we can trade. I love writing notes on their papers when they write stupid answers."

They both sat at the kitchen table of her apartment. Papers and colorful pens strewn about and her laptop open to a draft of a lesson plan, long forgotten as she helped the man grade beside her. She slid the paper that was once in front of him towards herself, and gave him the paper she was grading instead. "Oh god, what are you going to write?" Questioning her with laugh, seeing as she had already started writing.

"You'll see," she mused. And he watched as she furiously wrote on the paper in red ink, a smirk pulling at the edges of her lips.

Leaning over to see what the woman was writing, arm brushing over her own as he did, he let out a loud cackle at only the first two words. Boldly written, with an arrow pointing to the very answer he said aloud, "holy shit!" He said within a laugh, "you did not just write your mom!"

Her smirk pulled further into a brighter smile as she finally stopped writing, placing the pen down and looking over to him. Just under the cheeky note, there were parentheses reading: (won't like the grade you're going to get with this answer. Do it over again.) "They think the notes are funny," she shrugged with a chuckle. "Most of the time they'll do it over again, too."

There was a brief moment of pause, barely lasting more than a few seconds but one the man found himself enthralled with. "You really don't know how amazing you are, do you?" Breaking the silence as he thought aloud, looking to her like a moth to a flame. Tracing over every feature of her face as if to memorize it, as to never forget how bewitching she truly was. "You're a really good teacher."

"You're just saying that," brushed off the compliment with a small laugh. Averting her eyes to look back at the worksheet with baited breath.

"No I'm not," he defended. "Majority of these papers are good grades, or at least looks like they're trying. You're teaching it in a way they understand it," he reasoned. "And you do things they think is funny; they obviously like you."

He saw the woman falter, her smile fall slowly as she thought about his words - an impact she never knew was possible. "Yeah," was all she could say before lifting her hands to her face, letting out a loud sigh as she did. Putting her hands to her eyes and dragging down, an exhausted look now taking center stage of her emotions.

He felt his heart plummet, thinking he, somehow, took a misstep with his words. Taking in a version of her he'd never seen in person, but allowing the space all the same. "Hey," trying to draw her attention, "you alright? I didn't mean to upset you, I just thought you needed to hear it."

His question hung for a moment, voice kind and tone nothing but caring, looking over at her with a concern beyond him. "I did," her voice was soft, a crack within her comment that caused his shoulders to drop. Oh fuck I made her cry. "You have no idea how much I did."

He wanted to comfort her, to remedy whatever flood he had caused within her mind; wanted nothing more than to see her smile again rather than look away with watery eyes. So it was a natural instinct for him to gently draw her forward, to pull her cautiously within his arms - to hug her. "I'll tell you every day then," giving her a small, rather anxious, smile. One she didn't see as she closed her eyes, not wanting the man to see the large effect his words had, but hugging him back regardless.

yes the answer and what yn wrote is my experience lmao

if a man doesn't treat you like this LEAVE HIM

suga is freaking out in his room over this interaction. hell yeah he was eavesdropping

hinata got her coffee too on his way there <3

if you want to know the real answer though it's speed and direction (the middle school answer at least)

this chapter was supposed to be funny but turned into feelings idk but I like it a lot more than the original plan

taglist under cut

@muyyie @wyrcan @eggyrocks @eclecticeggknightpsychic @nbcvs

@marzzn @naweirdo @yukii-1 @girlkissersco @yuminako @kunimix

@empress-pug-pug @cherrypieyourface @lvtilzs @punkhazardlaw @localgaytrainwreck

@crownj1min @sereniteav @madiexuberant @st4rdusttx @chizunata

@le000xxgrd @iheartpinky @muskratlove @mollyrolls @cryptictheseus

@theycallmenanamisgirl @jaeminsbuckethat @deluluforcarlos55 @bunninio @jeonsfizz

@causenessus

[solomons-finest-rum]

“As The Crow Flies” (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader) — PART 2

SUMMARY — By all accounts Anna Gray died in Australia and had no business standing in Alfie’s living room, nor calling the man “darling” for that matter. But there you were, identical to the picture they took when they shipped you off to the colonies.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Thank you to everyone for words of encouragement and for waiting for the update 💗💗💗💗💗 Goodness, that was one hefty break. I hope the next part won't take me as much, but I can't exactly promise it will be fast, sorry about that. I think this is a part 2 out of 3 and then I'll do an epilogue, but that is still more of a draft than a plan.

WORD COUNT — 2,708

Masterlist

Tommy sat beside Polly in utter silence, watching the cigarette slowly burn between her fingers to the point where the heat nearly touched the skin. Tommy observed it with morbid fascination because it was something other to do than to stay with his own thoughts. And he would not dare to speak to Polly first—not after the news he had brought her this evening.

The clock chiming in the hall let them know it was nearly three o’clock in the morning, but still neither of them moved. The fire went out long ago and Tommy wondered in his solemn silence if Polly would accept a blanket.

“How could you tell me she was dead?” Polly suddenly asked the question Tommy had been dreading for the past hour and then she flicked the cigarette butt straight on the carpet. 

Tommy dared to look her in the eye then and immediately regretted that decision when he was met with nothing but hurt and steel-like anger.

“They told me she was, Pol. I went to the parish myself, saw the documents myself,” Tommy replied calmly.

That signature state of calm didn’t come to him as quickly as it used to, he noticed. These days it required more and more effort; or perhaps the things he chose to do got worse with time.

“Fucking nuns,” Polly hissed and shook her head. “You should have pressed them harder! Should’ve made them talk!”

“Then what, hm? Threaten them? Put a gun to their head, eh? There was nothing else they would have told me, Pol, they didn’t know.”

“I don’t care what! We shouldn’t have just abandoned her like that. Now look what happened, she’s a hostage with another fucking monster, just ready to put his paws on her whenever he pleases!” Polly stood up abruptly and Tommy wondered for a moment if perhaps he shouldn’t slip some laudanum in her drink. She looked frenzied, her hair in disarray and eyes bloodshot. The way Tommy saw it, she was half-ready to walk to Margate on foot and kill Alfie herself.

“Polly,” Tommy moved to stand in front of her just in case she had any ideas. He put both hands on her shoulders to reassure her. “Polly, look at me. Alfie Solomons, yeah? Alfie Solomons is just about the last man you’d find putting his hands on anybody that didn’t ask for it, all right? I swear this much.”

“Jesus, I don’t care what you swear anymore, Tommy!” Polly scoffed and tore herself away. “The man is insane, you said so yourself—many times in fact! We all remember what he did to Arthur! Or have you forgotten?!”

“No,” Tommy replied stiffly. “Perhaps he’s insane, but he’s not cruel to women, Polly, never has been. He doesn’t have the reputation.”

“Well, neither do you, that doesn’t mean one wife’s not buried, the other’s escaped!”

Though Tommy would never admit it, that hurt immensely. That was the problem with people who loved him, he supposed. They knew exactly where to hit to draw the most blood. He willed his face to return to the stony mask it was before.

“But your daughter is not buried and she isn’t gone,” he said. “She’s alive, Pol, I saw her with my own two eyes. She’s alive and we can get her back.”

“Well, that’s not exactly possible now, is it?” she scoffed and turned her gaze back to the fireplace as if some ghostly apparition beckoned her to it. “You said she didn’t know you, I bet that fucking animal has her caged.”

“That’s not true. I saw her, Pol, she looked well.” Tommy felt like stressing that might help. “She has your eyes and your wit and I swear she cooks somethin’ awful, but she’s no prisoner. Alfie is…” He hesitated then, because it wasn’t exactly a comfortable thought to consider. “She’s got him wrapped around her little finger, Pol. You can’t say no to her, eh? Just like I can’t exactly argue with you neither.”

That brought Polly back, even if just to glare at her nephew with fury.

“Pol, I swore to you once I’d bring your children home and I haven’t changed my mind.” Tommy took her hand in his and to his relief this time Polly didn’t pull away. 

“I don’t think Alfie harmed her,” he insisted. “I don’t think she’d let him. Polly, she looked tough. Hardened by life. She’s a woman grown, Pol, and I know she can take care of herself. You said so yourself, eh? It’s grandfather’s gift, reading people. Well, I read her tonight and I know Alfie, too. Something happened to her, that much’s clear, but there’s nothin’ evil happenin’ to her in that house.”

That seemed to satisfy his aunt because she finally took a deep breath that actually made Tommy feel like he could breath himself.

“Why would he tell you to lie to me, Tommy?”

“How do you mean?”

“Why would he think you wouldn’t tell me? That you’d play his game.”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “But I know what he wants in return and to be honest his plan wasn’t as delirious as I’d take him for.”

“I don’t care what you discussed with that man, that’s of little consequence,” Polly scoffed. “We are going to get her and we are going to get rid of him once and for all, Thomas, because no one fucks with the Peaky fuckin’ Blinders and no one fucks with the family! Do you hear me?!”

“I hear you.”

“Good. Now get up!”

“So we’re goin’ today?”

“Today!”

Tommy nodded and gently navigated her back into the armchair. He rang the bell for the maid. In the agitated state Polly’s house was currently in, Tommy was sure the servants weren’t really sleeping.

“And get Michael,” she ordered. “I don’t care what that peroxide tramp says about it, he’s coming with us.”

Alfie stood on the porch and smoked his pipe. He let you squeeze his arm in anger while trying to sneak concerned glances in your general direction. Tired of being treated like a spooked horse, you glared at him until he stopped with all the concern. You were tougher than you looked and you would very much appreciate it if Alfie finally admitted it.

“You alright?” Alfie asked you for what must have been the twentieth time and you nodded stiffly instead of a reply.

“Darlin’, I mean it, all right, ‘cause if you ain’t tryin’ to make me bloody worried then you’re doin’ a splendid job regardless, yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Right, that’s just fuckin’ uncalled for, that…”

“No. Someone’s coming.”

You pointed then to the faint shapes on the horizon, which, judging by the noise, must have been the Shelby Bentleys.

“Get the binoculars, Alfie.” 

“I’ll get the fuckin’ shotgun is what I’ll get.”

“Alfie.”

“I’ll do as I damn well please in my own house, woman!”

“So your brilliant means of operation is just bullets, is that it? What the hell did you expect, that Tommy would just listen to you?”

There was a clear measure of challenge in your words and all you two did then was just size each other up, trying to see who would call the bluff first. Finally, your husband grumbled his best catalogue of swear words and brought you the binoculars you asked for. 

“It’s the Shelbys,” you confirmed.

“Like clockwork, that lot,” Alfie scoffed. “You tell them one thing, they go the opposite fuckin’ direction.”

“Some clock that’d be,” you chuckled. “We knew they’d come. That’s why we’re here.”

“Don’t get smart with me.”

The pipe now abandoned, Alfie checked the barrel of his favourite handgun and reassured himself with the number. The only problem was the Shelby threat looming on the horizon and what looked like three cars, no doubt packed to the brim with Tommy’s henchmen.

“And you’re certain he will help us?” you asked.

“‘Course. Like I said before, right, Tommy’s nothin’ if not reliable.”

“That’s quite generous coming from you.”

“Just ‘cause he shot me doesn’t mean we ain’t kin now.”

“I am many things, dearest, but a Shelby isn’t one of them.”

“Ah, well, too bad. And too late to call the cavalry off, I reckon. If ya changed your mind…”

“That’s not what I meant.” It was your time to scoff. “These people are not my family. You are.”

On a rare occasion when Alfie Solomons found himself something close to emotional, three black Bentleys finally arrived at the quaint Margate cottage. You instinctively grabbed your husband’s arm again. He didn’t flinch, not even when you dug your nails into the skin, hard enough to draw blood.

“Right, gentlemen! And lady. What a lovely surprise, innit.” Alfie beckoned with his other hand, waving the gun about and leaving very little doubt as to the quickness of change in his intentions were the Shelbys not to play along. “Let me simply say: shalom… All right. Welcome. Yeah, that is the message for today, or so one might hope.”

What would undoubtedly be another inspired monologue had to wait, however. As soon as Tommy escorted Polly out of the car and her eyes met her daughter’s, Polly’s knees gave out. Tommy and Arthur caught her just in time and held her up on both sides.

“Anna!” Polly cried. “Oh dear God, it’s really you! Anna!”

You stood still like a statue, at which point even your husband turned to look at you with a mix of concern and fascination. You let go of his arm and focused on Tommy.

“Mr. Shelby. You brought an army this time. Am I to expect a shootout?”

As cold and unmoved as Tommy tried to be, it proved to be hard with a sobbing woman on his arm.

“Or am I to understand you’re here to kidnap me?” you pressed. “Please don’t say my chicken was that spectacular, I won’t believe it.”

“Anna.” Polly squeezed Tommy’s arm and took a step forward. Alfie uncocked his gun. You sighed and wished he hadn’t, since the entire Shelby ensemble now followed with the same.

“What the fuck is the matter with you, you fools! Put the bloody guns down!” Polly seethed and marched towards the house with a newfound purpose in her step. “Anna. Come down from there. You’re coming home with us.”

You looked at the woman you knew was your mother, though now only by name. Your heart didn’t know her and your head was too preoccupied to care.

“That might pose an issue,” you answered. “Because I am home.”

The next person that got out of the car, however, seemed to finally make you shake off your stony demeanour. You couldn’t quite help it, because his face was the first you could actually say was known to you.

“Michael!” you whispered and then rushed down from the porch before anyone could stop you. “Oh dear God, you’re alive!”

You fell into your brother’s steady embrace and though the force of it nearly made him stumble, he held you firmly and wouldn’t let go—not even if the devil himself tried to claim you both again. 

The tearful reunion was so quiet that no one apart from you and Michael could know what words were exchanged. While the Shelbys weren’t exactly the type to interrupt, you could tell that Alfie was out of patience. 

“Are we just about finished, then?” he inquired. “Forgive the interruption, yeah, but it’s gettin’ li’l too chilly for my taste.”

Polly took that opportunity to point her gun directly at Alfie’s head.

“Now then, madam,” Alfie chuckled and stood his ground, though he didn’t raise the gun he was holding. “I’d only ask ya to aim better than your nephew, all right, ‘cause I can’t exactly take no more of this.” He pointed to the injured side of his face. “Once was enough, yeah, so if you’re certain that’s what ya wanna do, I won’t stop ya.”

“Shut your mouth,” Polly hissed. “You shut your mouth!”

“Polly.” Tommy took a step towards them. His voice was full of warning and he ordered his men to stand down with a single wave of his hand. “Polly, think about what we’re doin’ here, all right? We came to get your daughter,” he turned to point at you, who now looked toward her husband with a horrified expression. “She’s safe now, Polly, we can take her home. There’s no need for violence, Pol, not today.”

“Like hell you will!” you protested. “Can you stop talking about me like I’m not even here?! No one’s taking me anywhere.”

“Now then, Tommy,” Alfie sighed. “There I was, mate, thinkin’ we had an understandin’, you an’ I. After all these years of friendship, right, you come to my house, guns blazin’, and with your lovely aunt no less, all in pursuit of justice I can’t exactly give, mate, ‘cause I ain’t the one who took Anna away in the first place. So…”

To everyone’s surprise Alfie turned his back to Polly and opened the front door as casually as one might when having a gun pointed at you turns into something of a daily occurrence. 

“Might I offer you a drink then, uh, Polly, is it? Right, lemme just say that, yeah, I ain’t exactly one for close family ties, you see, that’s just not somethin’ I was brought up with…”

Alfie’s voice disappeared somewhat as he walked further into the house, completely ignoring the chaos on the porch. You tried to rush back towards the house and stomped on Michael’s foot with all your might when he wouldn’t let you go. Michael roared with pain and you took your chance to run, but this time it was Arthur who stopped you and who, all things considered, presented a much sturdier guard than your brother.

“You let me through,” you hissed. 

“Nah, I don’t think so, luv. You’re comin’ with us.”

“Like hell I am!”

Polly, still stunned, turned towards her children and lowered her gun, creating an opportunity for Tommy to catch up with her and take it out of her hands.

“Not today,” he repeated softly. “There’ll be time for vengeance and there’ll be time for justice. But not here, Pol, not now. Arthur, let Anna pass.”

Polly shook her head and spat on the bluish tiles of the porch, thoroughly worn out and bleached by the seaside air. Only then did she notice the curious mosaic right before the front door and the gentle arch forming the words “lethe”. 

“I’m not leaving without her, Tommy,” she warned.

“I know you’re not.”

Out of options and out of bullets, Polly crossed the threshold and she hoped the choice would truly erase the anguish from her memory—if only for a moment.

Alfie’s gambit must have been exactly that from the start, Tommy mused, because as soon as the rest of the Shelby clan entered the house, they were welcomed by the maid with a tea tray. Alfie, now comfortable in his usual armchair, gestured for his guests to sit. 

Judging by his calm and calculated demeanour, Tommy doubted him and his family had been so unexpected. In fact, he just about acknowledged he had let himself be manipulated not once but twice in what was perhaps the strangest forty-eight hours in a long time.

“Right, now, we don’t know each other well so I don’t know exactly what everyone drinks…” Alfie waved at the maid dismissively and she started to serve the tea as if it was any other ordinary occasion. “Feel free to peruse the bar if you so prefer, Tommy, right, but not you.” Alfie settled his only seeing eye on Arthur, though the elder Shelby brother didn’t seem as prone to anger as Alfie remembered. That was almost disappointing. 

You entered the house last, holding your brother’s hand. Michael smiled down at you fondly as if you hadn’t just caused him severe bodily harm. Tommy and Alfie both noted the scene, though neither exactly for the same reasons. Alfie looked just about done tolerating all that whispering between you and your brother and it seemed so was Tommy.

Though neither, exactly, for the same reasons.

“Right then,” Alfie announced. “Should we discuss the terms?”

[izgnanik-a]

Some more trans Ghoap? Previous fic link here

Thank you to the lovely anon who loved it so much to send me an ask for more in the funniest way. I love that you loved it.

Cw: mutual pining, sexual tension, fingering, toys, semi-public sex, more frotting, slight dom/sub, Johnny’s a pleasure dom, ftm!Simon

// Don’t like?? Don’t read // MDNI //

Having Johnny’s number meant the ball was in Simon’s court to contact him. He gave him his number because they’d had a good night, a great night even, though it was embarrassingly short.

Simon ran through his thoughts the morning soon after, realizing he probably seemed so pathetic. Cumming from humping this guy with clothes on, and then falling asleep??

He needed to move out of town ASAP.

Simon let a few days pass, anxiously eyeing the note every time he’d sit in his living room, or even staring at it from the kitchen. He’d stand at the counter, eyeing the vibrant thing until it imprinted into his mind.

What harm would come from texting Johnny back? He obviously showed interest in Simon, regardless of their night together.

And they hadn’t even gotten to the good part where Johnny’s hands would be all over him. Didn’t even get to the part where Johnny’s mouth was supposed to run through the folds of his cunt.

Fucking idiot.

Simon finally sat at the coffee table, a full week later, the night of the club event again, sticky note in hand, phone in the other. He contemplated if any of this was a good idea; bringing a stranger to his own apartment was risky but so was going to someone’s house.

But he was apparently desperate, and had no other options but a big Scottish guy who was a dirty talker and good with shoving his tongue down Simon’s throat.

He input the number into his contacts, sitting with a draft message open in front of him. He didn’t know what to say. Sup? Hey? It’s Simon? Nothing. He was so embarrassed by their last encounter that he would rather never show his face at the club again, never call.

Simon bit his tongue as he sent a shotty text of hey, and stared at the screen. He’d make himself a cup of tea, take a shower, let the message linger before he’d return to it.

The moment his hand touched the kettle —

DING.

He stared across the room to his phone on the table from the kitchen doorway. He clutched his hands into fists before moving for it. Staring at the lock screen, he eyed the message.

Took u long enough.

Simon paused, plucking it up. Do you even know if you’re texting the right person? He watched the bubbles appear and disappear.

I’m sure I am. ;)

Simon began to wonder just how many people Johnny had wooed like this at the club. How many people had fallen in Simon’s exact steps. There was technically no ulterior motive besides getting fucked — so there was no harm in playing the game, right?

Simon humored. Okay then — what color are my eyes?

There was a long pause, long enough for Simon’s kettle to whistle. His phone chirped.

Blue.

Lucky guess. Simon sat down on the couch. Half of England has blue eyes.

Then don’t ask stupid questions. Ur smarter than this. He replied.

Simon was taken aback. Johnny was blunt, but not overly critical. Maybe this wasn’t Johnny. He leaned forward in his seat. Fine. He sent. What’d we do when we left the club?

It would come out in truth whether or not Johnny was a one person at a time kind of guy, or if he really thought that Simon was just some stupid bloke.

We went back to urs, and u fucked urself on my hip. I told u how much of a good boy u were, and u came in ur pants before I could eat u out.

Simon didn’t want to show his face at the club so he skipped this week. He received a text from Johnny asking where he was, when he had lied and said he was going out with a friend, he had received a “ :( “ and “ be safe .”

The next day he received a good morning text and a soft looking selfie from Johnny; the orange hue of sunlight came in through his bedroom, dark grey sheets and blankets, his hair ruffled, sleep in his eyes. He was shirtless, tattoos creeping where the camera couldn’t fully see. But Simon outlined the roundness of his cheeks, the cushion of his chest, the absolute beauty of this man.

God — he could touch himself raw.

He sent a flimsy good morning message back, and proceeded with his day. Dinner came, and Johnny sent another photo. He was sat by candlelight, face red, and a wine glass in front of him being the culprit. His chin was leaned on his palm, pouty frown on his face.

Wish u were here.

Simon felt flushed. This man was lusting after him, and he was just feeding Johnny scraps. What would he even do if he had Johnny in front of him again?

Simon sent, how much have you had to drink?

Enough. Came back almost too quickly.

Are you driving home? Simon wondered who Johnny had gone out with. Was it with his friends? Another date? Another—?

Another date would have to reference to having gone on a date with Johnny. Simon hadn’t ever gone out with him. Only used him as a scratching post to get his rocks off.

Came with friends. Still wish u were here.

Simon started to think if he did something heroic, like showing up to where Johnny was, sweeping him into his arms, and took him home — would it get him laid.

He shouldn’t be so selfish. The man was drunk off wine. He wouldn’t take advantage of him like that.

Lmk when you get home safe. Simon sent and let his phone ding for the rest of the night. He regretted doing so when he woke up.

Waking up to drunk messages from Johnny was a handful to sort through. Half written messages, horribly written ones, and a singular photo.

Simon’s mouth was dry; Johnny was laying on his bed, shirt shucked up between his teeth, the bottom of a tattoo under his pecs showing. The hairy expanse of his stomach and happy trail showing, pants unbuttoned and pulled open to show his briefs. Johnny’s hand was holding the bulge of his cock in his pants.

The message underneath read wish u were here bad.

Simon felt his cunt throbbing perversely. He felt all urges to leave the house vanish, and all he wanted to do was touch himself like Johnny was in the photo.

It had been the last thing Johnny sent, but there wasn’t much thought to why. Simon contemplated but didn’t fight himself long before he was moving for his bedroom, unbuckling his button, and pulling the curtains over the windows before sliding his pants off.

He grabbed his silicon dildo from his closet along with his lube, situating himself up by the pillows before pouring a drizzle of lube on his fingers. He slipped his fingers between his thighs, already warm and soft under his touch. He kept the photo on his screen as he touched his clit, glancing over when he lost focus on why he’d been so bothered.

He imagined it was Johnny touching him, but he wouldn’t be so desperate and quick. Johnny would praise him, run his hands up and down his thighs as he shoved his tongue down his throat. He’d makeout with Simon until he was throbbing in his jeans, grinding himself into Simon’s hot cunt, and still refuse Simon relief.

He wouldn’t aggressively rub Simon’s clit. He’d run his fingers over his mons, along his outer lips and work his way down. Maybe he’d even eat Simon out. He’d get so cock drunk that he wouldn’t even put his fingers into Simon until he was begging him, writhing, squeezing his face between his thighs. He go at it for hours.

He wouldn’t keep shoving his cock head into Simon’s cunt to the point where it was burning. He’d make sure Simon was gushing pre before lubing himself up, and he’d play with Simon’s clit. Tease him with his tip, pushing it between his folds, and running it back over his mons. Just making a mess.

Then he’d lean over, whisper sweet things in his ear as he was pushing in.

“You’re doing so well for me. Such a sweet boy.”

“So soft. I can’t stand the way you feel under my hands. It’s too good.”

“I wish you could see the way you’re taking me. Splitting open on my cock, panting so hard, and I haven’t even gotten all of it in.”

“I love the way you clench when I play with your clit. Pushing yourself on my cock to take the rest of it. So greedy.”

“Such a good boy for me. Only for me. Say it, sweet thing. You’re mine, aren’t you? Yeah?”

Simon fucked himself down on his dildo as he rubbed his clit, eyes shut, mouth open, grinding until it pushed up against his front wall, lighting up stars in his eyes.

“That’s it. Good boy. Of course you needed something to grind up against. Be sweet for me and cum, using me as a toy to get off.”

Simon moaned painfully as he orgasmed, sitting on the full length of his dildo as he slumped down on his shoulders and knees. He grimaced as he dragged his fingers over his clit to feel the lingering shock of his orgasm. Like the masochist he was, he kept rubbing until he was jerking away from his own touch.

Sliding until he was belly down on the bed, he pressed his forehead into the sheets as he took deep breaths. Dildo abandoned behind him, covered in lube and his own excrements.

All his time was becoming occupied with obsessing over this man, over this Scottish devil who teased him and praised him. He should feel sick for doing such ludicrous acts.

But he couldn’t bring himself to take the shame he was being handed.

The photo was left without another word. No acknowledgment that it ever happened. Come the night of the queer event, and Simon was sitting in his seat with a drink in hand. He knew Johnny would come, because he’d asked, practically begged him for an answer, and he was jittery with nerves.

He’d jerked off more times than necessary to Johnny’s photo, a teasing non-nude photo, the prerequisite of promised sex. There would be no slowing down when Simon got his hands on that man. He’d tear him apart in the bathroom stall if he had to.

Simon couldn’t see the front door so he was left to wonder if Johnny was really coming. Would he come? Would he treat Simon differently? Would he cling to Simon, keep him under his arm, and drag him this way and that way all night? Or would he just take Simon to some quiet spot and finish what he was promised?

Simon was lost in thought as a crowd was closing in on the other side of the bar. He looked up from his drink.

From across the bar, the low LED lights underneath painted the high points of Johnny’s face in red, like some lucrative predator. He kept his eyes on Simon, making sure his prey didn’t run off before he could sink his teeth in.

The air felt electric, and Simon was buzzing again.

All he could think about was the photo, and the desperate ache of Simon’s thighs every night he rode his poor dildo.

Johnny rounded the bar, and Simon tried to brace his dignity before Johnny yanked it out from under his feet. His hand slid along the back of Simon’s shoulders before it wrapped around his waist, his chest pressed to his spine, cheek to Simon’s neck. The hug was as intimate as fucking was, but it was careful, stomping the line between friends and fuck buddies.

“Hel-lo sailor.” Johnny purred against the side of Simon’s face, giving a chaste kiss to his cheek before pulling himself aside. Not far enough to give Simon space, but enough to press his chest to Simon’s arm, facing him while standing between the bar stools. “You’re here early.”

“Spying on me?”

“No.” Johnny trailed off with a seductive smirk, sliding into the seat beside Simon, still facing him. His thighs bracketing Simon’s body. “What’re you drinking?”

“Vodka.”

“In a weekday?” Johnny guffawed. “I didn’t know you were the type.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

Johnny smiled, leaning in on the back of Simon’s chair. “Oh yeah? Care to share?” He hovered in Simon’s space, and he was just choking on his spit.

Simon watched him peer at his lips, and back up to his eyes. “Got a light?”

Johnny was all hands and tongue and teeth. His body was plush up against Simon’s, keeping him pinned up against some stranger’s car in the dark of the parking lot.

Simon let his head tip back against the roof of the car as Johnny bit all along his throat, mouthing and nipping along his collar. Simon gasped as Johnny managed to get a thigh between his legs, searching until he got the right angle and—

Simon whined out loudly, like a kicked puppy, and clenched his mouth shut when Johnny pressed down on him.

“Feels that good, huh?” Johnny pressed his smiling lips to Simon’s cheek, holding the other side of his face. “Go on, ride it like last time.”

Simon’s face was hot red. He was driven by carnal desire and nothing more. He couldn’t explain why his thoughts left him. All he knew was how to listen.

And grind he did.

Simon gripped the back of Johnny’s neck, pressing his cheek to his bicep, and grinding his clothed cunt until he felt raw. Until his hips were giving desperate humps, meeting Johnny’s hips before bumping the side of the car.

Johnny’s hands were soothing down his back, over his hips, guiding him, and slipping into his back pockets to cup his ass. He found amusement in Simon’s empty headed lust.

His lips pressed up against Simon’s ear. “Do you want my help?” He hummed, crushing Simon’s body to the cool glass of the car again. He collected Simon’s face in his hands, looking into his eyes. “You want my hands?”

Simon panted over his wet mouth, clarifying finding him in moments of need. “Yes.”

“Yeah?” Johnny smiled, “Unbuckle your pants for me.”

Simon gulped, licking his lips, and let his hands fist in Johnny’s shirt at his sides. “Not here.”

Johnny glanced around, and shoved his hand in his pocket between them to find his car keys. He unlocked his car, underneath Simon, and reached for the handle. “Inside.”

They shuffled into the small backseat, bumping into each other within the confined space, and Simon ended up straddling over Johnny’s lap.

“I think I liked outside better.” Johnny joked, kissing Simon into silence. His hands smoothed along his thighs, squeezing his ass. “But this is fine too.”

Simon kissed down Johnny’s throat, biting his neck as he did, and kissed his collar before there was a hand in his hair bringing him up again.

“I like kissing you.” Johnny said.

“Then stop talking.”

Johnny smiled, one hand dragging underneath Simon’s shirt. “But I want to have my mouth on other parts of you.”

Simon gave a high sigh when Johnny kissed him again. Simon ran his hands down Johnny’s chest to his stomach. Teasing at his belly, feeling his happy trail, and waistband.

Johnny gazed up at him with soft eyes, “You can unbuckle my pants if you’d like.” He whispered.

“Why would I want to do that?” Simon teased.

“Maybe you’re curious.”

Simon scoffed. “Curious?”

“Because I didn’t send you the photo I wanted to the other night.”

Simon felt hot, maybe it was because the air in the car was growing thicker or because Johnny was a literal heater under him.

“You never text me back.” Johnny smirked.

“What was I supposed to say?” Simon huffed.

“A compliment would have been nice.”

“You come off as cocky, you know that?”

Johnny hummed as he leaned in to kiss Simon’s mouth again, reaching between them to unbutton his own pants. The sound of his zipper slipping down made both men look down between them. Johnny leaned back in his seat. “You next.”

Simon hesitated. Sat in the lap of a very hungry beast, he hated to steal its dinner. “There’s something I have to say first.”

“Okay.” Johnny sat closer, putting his hands on Simon’s hips.

Before Johnny’s mouth could silence him, he shouted into the hot silence. “I’m trans!”

Both men stared at each other at the intrusive utterance.

Simon felt his heart suddenly shifting to blare in his ears when Johnny stared up at him. He felt like his breath was too loud, panting too heavy, holding Johnny too softly.

“Okay.” Johnny said plainly. And his hands began petting Simon again, smoothing up and down his waist. “Do you want me to stop?”

Simon didn’t even answer. He was launched by the reassuring question, sinking his mouth into Johnny’s again. He unbuttoned his pants, desperately trying to shove them lower so he could get his underwear down enough.

The dripping smell of his hot cunt filled the space, making Johnny seem less interested than he was.

Simon’s hands were collecting one of Johnny’s off his hip, bringing it to his stomach, dragging downward to his thighs. He panted over Johnny’s mouth as he took his sweet time to Simon’s cunt.

He had a teasing twinkle in his eyes when he parted his fingers, deliberately touching Simon’s pubic hair and outer labia instead of his warmer tip.

Simon grit his teeth, gripping Johnny’s wrist. “Just fucking do it already.” He growled.

“I can’t help it. I like the way you look.”

And Simon must’ve looked like a freak; pants pulled down under his cunt, half way sitting in Johnny’s lap, half straining his thighs as he arched his ass back between the seats. His head bumping the ceiling, hands clutched Johnny’s body like some soul eating creature.

Simon relished the moment Johnny’s two fingers were closing around his swollen tip, gently tugging and stroking him between his fingers. Simon fucked into hand, panting and shaking as he held himself up.

Johnny clutched the bottom of his jaw, making him look into his eyes as he played with his tip. “Look at you. Sweet—sweet boy. You’re so big in my hands. Practically drooling into my palm.”

Simon tried to tuck his face down but Johnny kept him firm.

“You’ve been like this all night?” He pulled Simon’s face in, ghosting his tongue along his bottom lip. “Poor thing. Were you thinking about the photo? Would you like to know what got me hot that night?”

Simon whined as Johnny cupped him, nulling his chances of grinding against his palm.

Johnny mouthed in his ear. “I was thinking about eating you out, all night. And I couldn’t stop thinking about you absolutely loving it.”

Simon began moaning desperately, muffling it into Johnny’s shoulder as Johnny rubbed his palm against Simon’s clit. His fingers rubbing past his hole, making an absolute mess of him. He rocked his hips against Johnny’s every stroke, breath getting higher and higher.

“There you go. Make a mess of me, sweet thing.” Johnny held the back of Simon’s head, keeping his lips on his cheek. “I’ll suck you off dry and then maybe you can fuck me.”

Simon was seeing black spots in his vision as his eyes were rolling back. He clutched to Johnny’s wrist as he whined in agony, orgasming the hardest he has alone, and still forcing himself to grind against Johnny’s stagnant hand until he was crying from overstimulation.

He felt his cunt throbbing, his head pounding, and—Johnny’s soft hand on his thigh. He soothed his hand up to his hip, and down to where his jeans cut off access. Then up again. He didn’t usher Simon along, didn’t redirect him to a more comfortable spot yet, just soaking in the blissful moment.

Simon moved first. Sitting his bare ass on the backseat, his knees resting in Johnny’s lap, head against the glass of the door. He shut his eyes, parched again. His pants were still tangled around his thighs.

Johnny squeezed his calves softly.

Watching him, Johnny made no effort to get Simon out of his car. He was quite content with squeezing up and down Simon’s calves, rubbing his thumb into each ankle, and up to his thighs. He gave him a soft look before smiling, his thumb stroking the skin of his thigh underneath.

“Why do you do that?” Simon asked.

“Do what?”

“Touch me.”

“I like to.”

“You’re always touching me.”

“I like to.”

“Why?”

Johnny shrugged. “You’re attractive. Though your humor is really dry.”

“Alright.” Simon began tugging his pants up. “Times up. I won’t be insulted by you.”

Johnny laughed, leaning over to trap Simon against the door with a kiss. He smiled down at him, “I like you.”

Simon glanced between his eyes with bewilderment. “You don’t know me.”

“I want to.”

Simon shook his head softly. For a man who just got a handjob, he really was something else. Maybe he was always this dumb, or maybe it was just the endorphins. Johnny liked that.

“I’m a really good cook.” Johnny insisted.

“I bet you’re a lousy cook.”

“Let me cook for you, and we’ll see.”

“What if it’s a flop?”

“Then we stick to handjobs in parking lots.” Johnny stated.

“I’m not doing this in your backseat again.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Johnny stared down at Simon, smile slowly growing more and more on his face.

“You’re unattractive when you smile.” Simon lied.

“You’re attractive when you cum. I want to see you do it again.”

next chapter?? maybe??

fic masterlist link

tf141 masterlist link

[txtmetonight]

Unrequited love

call summary ⋆ ★ Small head canons of unrequited love

pairing *. * Hyung Line x Fem! Reader

genre⋆ ★ Angst, slight fluff, head canons with storylines

warnings *. * Toxic Relationship, Implied cheating, Hanahaki Disease (blood, throwing up flowers), breakdowns, bad grammar

call duration⋆ ★ 1.2k

a/n*. *  been in my drafts for soooo long, but whatever. Hope you enjoy!

taglist ⋆ ★  @kflixnet

part 2

Heeseung˚ · • . ° . fall out

✭ Heeseung was the love of your life, he was your first love, your first kiss, the first person you woke up in the morning next to

✭ He fell first but you fell harder, and god you're not sure if you regret it or not

✭ You were probably his classmate in middle school, someone who just sat next to him in some of his classes, and at first, you didn't really catch his eye

✭ And though you don't really remember your first official encounter with him he definitely did

✭ You gave him your umbrella after a long day of school, telling him to keep it with a small smile on your face as your parents come by to pick you up

✭ He swore that the exact moment replayed like an old videotape in his mind, in his dreams, and how giddy it made him feel, how lucky he was to have a girl like you

✭ Warm kisses, soft cuddles, loving gifts, cringe- worthy photos and his hand always tucked in the back pocket of your jeans

✭ You wonder what happened

✭ Though being together forever started with a promise ring, the heart-wrenching changes started gradually to your dismay

✭ He first started to blow you off from your weekly dates, coming up with some random ass excuse

✭ Then he proceeded to spend his time with his friends rather than with you... and somehow by coincidence, there was always the new girl in every single picture he took from his "hangouts"

✭ It didn't really take that long for them to start texting, each text they sent sending your stomach in a gut-twisting sob

✭ Fuck, you really should've seen it coming and it didn't help that Heeseung practically spelled it out for you

✭ Because the next thing you know, Heeseung was placing his flirty touches all over her, he was playing with her hair, her fingers, and then her lips before slipping his hand into hers, taking her to the next room over

✭ While you watch silently with a broken heart and burning tears

Jay ˚ · • . ° . childhood best friends

✭ You two were best friends due to your mothers being childhood friends themselves

✭ Which meant that you've known Jay your whole life

✭ The first time you've acknowledged your long-lasting crush on him was when he carried you home after a nasty wound had made you immobile in your legs and he cried and cried to make you feel better before deciding to suck it up and piggyback you the nearest hospital

✭ You've watched him grow up, and you were scared, so scared because it was only you and Jay, no one else and you didn't want that to change

✭ So maybe introducing a new friend to him wasn't the best idea

✭ Because soon enough, Jay and (Y/n)'s movie night became Jay, (Y/n) and your friend's movie night

✭ A two-person study date turned into three inside jokes that you've both known for a decade, ones you swore to never share with others...

✭ Well surprise she knew them too

✭ And you couldn't even do anything...you loved them too much

✭You would rather have your heart stabbed over a hundred times than ruin your friendship with your best friend, the love of your life

✭ So it was no shocker when you agreed to help Jay out when he came running up to you in a panic, questioning what he should do to court your best friend

✭ Only for her to ask the same thing that night unaware of the silent heartbreak you were going through

Jake · • . ° . hanahaki

✭ The sweet boy who bothered you every morning with tooth-rotting smiles

✭ Quickly became your seat mate and then your partner for some physics project and then your friend

✭ Somewhere in that whole process, you fell for him–hard

✭ So so hard that it sometimes hurt too much to breathe, because he was just so handsome and kind and everything in between

✭ You were actually planning to keep your crush to yourself and you were extremely content with that plan at first

✭ And to be honest, you two were already acting like a couple

✭ Holding hands, snuggling up while watching a movie, late-night talks, small pecks to the forehead

✭ You weren't really threatened at all–until you saw him flirting with the girl next to him in English

✭ So that's when you decided that you were going to ask him out, and he surely was going to say yes right?

✭ Wrong because the next thing you know, you're being rejected by a sheepish smile, eyes flickering towards the flowers that were starting to wilt in your hand, mimicking your mood

✭ Guess that you underestimated your love for him

✭ Because you're suddenly throwing up flowers and blood in the school bathroom, choking on the thorns that drag up your throat with each painful lurch

✭ Blood drips down your lips and you're not sure what to do with yourself anymore

✭ Your heart wails from agony and your lungs scream at you to stop

✭ But you can't just stop loving Jake, because he was still oh so fucking, stupidly dear to you, and you being dumb enough, you choose to remain as close friends

✭ Yet as the world spins, and you watch him grow more in love with that English major girl, you wonder if your adoration for him was worth more than your life...

Sunghoon · • . ° . fake dating

✭ You were always a mess–you think

✭ So that's why you said yes, to Sunghoon's proposal right a week or two after you had just broken up with

✭ And honestly, it didn't seem too bad then, you both wanted another person jealous, he wanted his crush to notice him and you wanted your ex back...kinda

✭ But you didn't expect that the cold prince was so heart-thawing, so sweet and kind

✭ He always tended to your every need, always asked for consent before anything with you

✭ And in the weakness of getting over your ex, your beating organ sought out him, and he easily returned it...or rather pretended to

✭ With his lips on yours, you felt a sense of blissfulness you haven't felt in a while and with his hand holding yours, you don't want this dream to end

✭ Your brain started to warp up the lines between pretend and real, but Sunghoon was always grounded in reality, because his eyes always imagined her when he was with you, and that's why you think he blinked a little longer than usual, with you by his side

✭ But you're always brought back with a slap when Sunghoon cuts through the act, immediately stopping when the actual light of his eye is gone, always laughing with you about it, yet still holding that longing look in his eyes

✭ He was too blind to notice your relentless yearning, or maybe he did and he ignored it...you're not very sure

✭ And finally, the dreaded day comes, and he breaks the news to you after another ice skating date, over some hot fries and a shared strawberry milkshake

✭ "She told me that she liked me..." He hums to you, still feeding you a fry, and it takes everything in you to not break down crying, nodding at his words

✭ "We can break up now..not that we were ever actually dating in the first place!" He chuckles, and over his loud laughter, he doesn't notice the tears you let out, or the choked sobs you cage

✭ You're a fucking disaster