#sorry to everyone who’s requested and is still waiting

[ruinix]

Stuck on You

Request detail: since clingy bf quinn is confirmed — can we pls have a fic wifh quinny clinging to reader all around the lake house and the boys teasing him relentlessly for it, but he doesn’t care because he gets to be with his girl with no hockey taking him away

Hi lovely. Sorry for the separate post, it got a link outside my blog. From Quinn's photo dump, It's safe to say. I am still craving him to this day. Thank you. I rest my case.

18+. Thoughts turning slightly Whorish. Fluff and Smut. Quinn being so clingy, literally being stuck to you. A few PDA moments. Dry humping.

Quinn would love to come back to Michigan for summer, hanging out with his brothers and his friends. From the long hockey season, it was his time to rest, to release stress accumulating from hockey, to have fun with people, and especially to hang out with you without being interrupted by conditioning, games, and meetings.

Every time they sail to surf or to fish or whatever, Quinn would drag you with him. It was nice to hang out with everyone, have a few drinks, and share laughs together. It was amazing to see you joining in the banter. You would laugh and grin so much, while your hand was intertwined with his, your cheeks leaning against his arm. His heart would be pumping loudly in his chest to feel your warmth against his.

Although when you would part from him to get more drinks or snacks, he would be anxious. His hands would turn so clammy, his breaths turning ragged, his eyes following you everywhere you would go. Then once you went back to his side, his worries would literally vanish. He would be clinging onto you, holding you by your waist, burying his head on your neck, smelling your scent.

He would end up guiding your chin to face him so he could kiss you. He would do it softly at first then rougher, ignoring his and your friends and his brothers. He would only step back when you pulled away with a deep blush on your cheeks, sagging against him when he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

He knew that he wasn't being subtle at all. He couldn't, even if he tried. He realized that he developed a slight attachment issue, but he also didn't care about it.

Jack was the first to pick up on it. His brother would instantly recruit Luke to tease Quinn whenever you went away to get something from His brother would actively tease him whenever you weren't in the room. Like a domino toppling over the next, the rest would also pick on him. It was annoying, his cheeks burning in a deep flush.

Sometimes he could retort. Sometimes he couldn't. Who was he kidding? Most of the time he would just be silent and brooding. While his cheeks were escalating into fire territory, he would be waiting for you to come back so you could ease the growing void in his chest. He needed you by his side 24/7.

He would literally have mood swings whenever you leave and come back. Jack said that he was going insane. Luke said that he was too lovesick. Quinn agreed. He couldn't deny it at all.

So, when the boys planned to go surfing again and you took a raincheck while holding your current read, Quinn didn't go. It wasn't even a choice. It would always be you. When you smiled and invited him to read with you, his heart was beating and wrecking his whole body. He couldn't even hear his brother's teasing as he followed you to the couch, as he watched you read while the noise of the others dissipated into nothing from their absence.

It wasn't long until he slipped next to you, cuddling you while you kept reading. He didn't mind. His arms tightened around your waist, burying his face on your chest, breathing in your scent. He shuddered when your fingers run through his hair and your nails grazed his scalp.

"That feels nice," he whispered, sighing when you did it again, smiling when you peered at him. "Don't mind me."

"You're being so cute, Quinny," you said, a gentle smile stretching on your pretty lips.

Then you continued to read your book. Quinn almost fell asleep then but your leg suddenly hooked over his hip, simply settled, and was comfortable. It shouldn't be a big deal. but that threw him off. His cock twitched in his shorts. You both froze. Your eyes met. Then in a second, instead of pulling away, you scoot closer.

"You're hard," you stated, grinning, putting down your book. "I didn't even do anything."

Quinn groaned, hiding in your chest. That was the problem. Even he most casual thing you could do like holding his hand was enough to make him hard. Hell, even a smile from across the room or a casual up-and-down stare would have him folding. Putting your leg on his hip like how you prefer cuddling him sometimes was simply too much for him. When you playfully grinded against his growing hard on, it was death sentence.

"My Love," he gasped, gripping your waist. "We shouldn't do this out here." He was being a hypocrite, because he was greedily humping you right back, his hand pushing up your top to reveal your lacy bra. "You were wearing this all along?"

"Not my fault you didn't look," you said, kissing him, panting when he grinded hard into your pussy. "Oh, Quinn."

One quick movement and you were under him with him humping your pussy like he was already fucking you. He grinded down to where your clit should be, where your quivering entrance should be, where a growing patch on your cute and white cotton shorts was showing. He moaned as you did, whined as you did, groaned as you did.

"So fucking good and I'm not inside yet." He panted, humping harder, his hair brushing against your forehead, his eyes trained to yours. "How are you doing this to me?"

Quinn grew more desperate as you gripped his shoulder tighter, your nails digging into the fabric of shirt, your breaths mingling together.

When you called his name, it echoed in his ears, his brain, his very soul. You sounded desperate as he was. That made his cock harder and harder, his pre-cum leaking out of him, staining past his briefs and shorts. He wanted to be inside you, but at the same time, this was enough for him. Anything was enough. As long as he was touching you and kissing and feeling your warmth.

"I love you," he said like he was singing a fucking prayer. He needed you to hear that even if it wouldn't change today or the next and the next. "I love you, my Love. I love you."

He would love you forever. And ever.

Even if you changed. Even if the world itself changed. Even if he changed. His love for you will not.

As you came with a breathy moan, he groaned, spilling in his shorts. He leaned on his forearm, crushing you with his weight, kissing your soft and kiss-swollen lips. Even then, he tried to whisper his 'I love you's, gasping and choking from the warm and fuzzy feeling that always filled up his chest.

"I love you too," you whispered back, your eyes seemingly glowing with the truth of your words.

Quinn knew he was damned, because his cock twitched, aching from oversensitivity. His ears were ringing with the voices in his head telling him that he needed to rest, that he needed to have you now, now, and now.

He knew which voice to listen to, especially when he heard the cars pulling up.

He got up, dragging you up the stairs with his knees still so fucking weak. He muttered a quick apology when you complained about your book hitting the floor.

"I'll make it up to you. Please. I need you," was what he was trying to say but ended up being a jumbled of words he couldn't understand. "I need you."

He was shaking as he slammed the door close, as he pressed you against it to kiss you, tugging at your top, whining when his hands were shaking far too much. He was starting to feel frustrated, getting overwhelmed about the sticky mess on his shorts, feeling so weak when his knees gave out. He grasped you by your hips, calling your name, biting at the waistband of your shorts.

He really was insane—

"It's okay. I got you, Quinny." Your words calmed him immediately. "We have all the time in the world. No rush."

"No rush," he echoed, his eyes closing, his breaths levelling, his need still increasing and increasing. Pushing your shirt up, he nipped at your bare skin, his eyes opening to meet your heated stare. He smiled, his cheeks just as red as yours. "Okay."

It took me long. I woke up late 🧍🏻‍♀️🧍🏻‍♀️🧍🏻‍♀️

Lovelies @dancerbailey3 @loser-pretty-girl @tiredallthetimex @quinnintheabyss @r0wdymaize86 @macka @hughesmybaby @hockeygirlyyyy @bpinkblink @siennaluvshcky @arty-anon @hodgepodge-musings @alexxavicry @alwaysclassyeagle @svexhenthusiast @starrymari @hastielakeroad @thehuggybearslover @mrshelenhoran

-> more thoughts? List. Want to be notified? Join my taglist!

[zeka-maki]

Hello!!! May I request Sunday, Phainon, Aventurine (and anyone you want!) with a gn reader that laughs at almost everything. Anyway one day they’re with reader and someone makes a joke and reader laughs hard but when they say something reader stops laughing and gets so awkward?!?! And they get cutely jealous😋😋

(this is my first time requesting so I am so sorry if this doesn’t make any sense and Idk if this fits Sundays character…)

Anyway have a great day I love your writing!!!

ʚɞ You're not the only one that I know ʚɞ

Pairings: Phainon x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader

Summary: What he loves about you is your laugh. When you laugh at other people's jokes, he's mesmerised. But your laughter comes to a halt when he's the one making the joke. He sure is jealous and he makes sure he'll match your humor next time.

Tags: Fluff, crack (?), them just being dramatic

A/N: TYSM FOR THE REQ! Eueueueueuueueje i have no thoughts, I'm glad u like my writing heheheheh 😛, hope you enjoy!

⚘ Phainon:

The dawn device bathed Garden of Life, and you were sitting on a luxurious seat with a few Chrysos Heirs. Even Phainon had joined, lounging nearby with arms folded, face tilted slightly toward you though he pretended otherwise.

A wild joke about a Titan (Mnestia) almost tripping over in a banquet sent you into hysterics. You snorted. You wheezed. A single tear gathering in the corner of your eye.

Phainon blinked, then quietly tried one of his own. “...If a Titan laughs in the void and no one hears it, are they still funny?”

Silence. You turned, frozen, mouth half open, too flustered to reply. Your brain blanked. Why did his voice sound so serious when he was trying to be funny?!

Phainon’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “You laugh at that—” he gestured vaguely toward the others, “—but not me?”

You stammered. “I didn’t mean—I was just—!”

He crossed his arms tighter, huffing. “Maybe I should fall on my face next time. Seems that’s the bar.”

You pouted. “You’re being dramatic.”

He shrugged, still sulky. But you noticed the faintest pink to his ears as he muttered, “Just… try laughing at me next time. I practiced that one.”

⚘ Aventurine:

At a lounge in Penacony, you were all trading dumb jokes while waiting for your drinks. You were radiant, laughing freely—loud, uninhibited, as someone joked about a winning hand being all Aces and one Uno card.

Aventurine smirked, swirling his glass. “Well, if I were a card, I’d be your wild one. Always changing the game.”

You choked. Not on your drink—on silence. Eyes wide. Palms sweaty. A barely audible “Ha…” escaped.

Aventurine tilted his head. “Oh, that was a joke, sunshine,” he said, raising a brow. “Y’know—funny?”

You looked like you wanted to sink into the velvet seat. “I got it. I just—uh—it’s different when you say it.”

“Different how?” His tone was teasing, but something in his smirk sharpened.

“I dunno! It’s just—when you say it, it’s like… flirty?”

Aventurine leaned in, grin growing. “You only laugh when it’s not me? That’s cold.”

You groaned, face burning, but he was clearly enjoying himself now.

“Next time I’ll wear a clown nose,” he chuckled. “Just to earn that laugh of yours. You’re not getting away with dodging my punchlines, sweetheart.”

⚘ Sunday:

It was a casual get-together in the Golden Hour lounge, with laughter and low music flowing like wine. You were seated comfortably between a few friends—Sunday among them, ever dazzling, ever composed.

Someone cracked a ridiculous pun about dreamscapes and alarm clocks. You laughed hard—too hard, even, doubling over and gasping for air as everyone else chuckled mildly.

Sunday watched with a faint smirk and decided to join in. "Well, if we’re talking sleep, I suppose I’m the only one here who can say they’ve been in your dreams… literally."

Your laughter came to a sudden halt. Eyes wide, posture stiff, your drink halfway to your lips—everything about your body language screamed malfunction. Sunday noticed immediately.

"Oh," he said smoothly, though you caught the flicker of something else behind his calm. "That didn’t land?"

“No, no!” you said too quickly, face burning. “It was—just—unexpected.”

His smile was easy, but the way he leaned in said otherwise. “I see. So they get the laughter, but I get the silence?” he teased softly. “Should I be jealous?”

You buried your face in your hands as Sunday laughed, low and warm. He leaned back, satisfied. “I’ll try again later. Just wait—you’ll laugh for me, starlight.”

[sevsevteen]

hiii, how are youuu??? i absolutely love your writing and lately i’ve been obsessed.

so i wanted to request a seventeen reaction of their 14th member being short but like really short cause i’m 154cm and everyone is always taller than me, i really want to know how they tease herrrr

feel free to ignore this if you don’t want to write about this anyways thanks in advance!! 💗💗

heyyy anon ! here are a few drabbles on interactions w a shorter oc 😝 i'm on the shorter side as well so i DIE for tall boy x short girl tropes, & who says being short doesn't have their advantages :>

-- ★*☆♪

You leaned against the wall while scrolling through your phone, waiting for Dino to finish up packing in the practice room - when a familiar weight landed gently on your head.

You froze. “Don’t you dare.”

“I knew it!” Seungcheol laughed, elbow comfortably perched on the top of your head. “Perfect height. The most comfortable, even. I should start carrying a cushion just for you.”

You swatted his arm, cheeks puffed. “Do I look like furniture?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Like a very sturdy armrest.”

.

You squinted up at the blazing sun, hand shielding your eyes while the set around you bustled with noise.

“I hate this part of summer.”

Joshua approached like a tall, angelic saviour, casually passing a bottle of cold water to you. He stepped in front of you, arms crossed - shadow engulfing you whole.

“There you go,” he said with a teasing smile, glancing down at you. “Personal umbrella service.”

You blinked up at him. “You just wanted to flex your height again, didn’t you?”

He patted you on the head gently. “No, I’m simply making use of my resources.”

“You and your long limbs.” You deadpanned, rolling eyes.

“Exactly,” Shua replied smugly. “Should I follow you around today? Shade on demand?”

You squinted. “Only if you carry my bag too, Mr. Resource.”

.

You stared at the pantry shelf like it had personally betrayed you.

Your arms were stretched, heels lifted, and yet the pack of instant noodles still remained three centimetres beyond reach.

“Why,” you hissed under your breath, “do you guys always put things up here when there’s plenty of space down there?”

Jun and Woozi lazed on the couch, sparing you a quick look before laughing, eyes going back to the TV in front.

Jeonghan walked by humming, barely glancing at you. “Need help, or just practicing your vertical jump?”

You glared. “I know you guys put it there on purpose!”

He grinned, effortlessly towering over to grab the pack from the top shelf. “Me? Never. Must’ve been the wind.”

You reached out to take it, but he held it back just out of reach, a glint in his eyes.

“Jeonghan.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled, finally giving it to you. “Only because your angry face is peak entertainment.”

.

The music pulsed through the rehearsal room, layered over chatter and laughter. You stood on your toes, tapping Wonwoo’s arm to get his attention from the side.

You said his name once - twice - but he didn’t catch it. Then, without a word, you pulled his collar gently, catching him by surprise.

Wonwoo’s mouth gaped, tilting his head to bring his ear close to your lips, one hand resting lightly on your back for balance.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, “it’s hard to hear you with all this noise. What were you saying?”

You smiled softly, repeating your words.

Wonwoo gave you a small nod, eyes crinkling as he stood back up. “Got it. I’ll let the others know, too.”

For once, there was no teasing in his tone - just a natural warmth that came with how effortlessly he made room for you in his tall world.

.

The venue buzzed with staff members in headsets, hustling to prepare for the main event. The members had just finished their soundcheck, and your managers had left with one strict instruction: “Stay in the waiting room. No wandering.”

Naturally, that lasted all of five minutes.

“Has anyone seen her?” Dokyeom asked first, looking around and frowning.

“She was literally just here,” Seungkwan muttered, holding a half-eaten rice ball. “I gave her the last bite, and she just - vanished?”

Hoshi walked toward the door and peeked outside. “Did she actually slip out?”

“No way she got past staff,” Joshua said - but even he sounded unsure. “She’s, like, five feet tall. Someone would’ve noticed.”

“Exactly,” Minghao said dryly, “She probably joined a group of staff and left.”

Everyone scattered subtly, pretending to stretch or wander lazily near the corridor, pretending to chat - but all eyes were scanning.

Then, a ping into the group chat:

🦖: “She’s at the snacks table in the guest tent. Masked up. She’s literally using a camera crew as a human wall.”

Seungcheol groaned. “Of course she is.”

You returned minutes later, sipping a drink like nothing happened. “What did I miss?”

Seungkwan just stared. “Are you crazy?! The managers almost found out– We had to lie for you.”

Mingyu ruffled your hair. “Told them you went to the restroom with Seungkwan.”

A beat.

“...Seungkwan was in the makeup chair.”

“Thanks,” you snorted. “I guess being short does have its perks.”

Hoshi grinned down at you. “We should start putting a bell on you.”

“Try me,” you curled a fist, eyes flicking down in threat. “I’ll make sure you can’t have kids in this lifetime.”

--

[mmatchadd]

YOU CARE ABOUT EVERYONE BUT YOURSELF, STOP IT.

requested by @hufflepuff-girl-1996: Haikyuu boiz are at the trainig camp with nekoma ect. It's BBQ day and reader helps serving food and stuff like that. Whenever reader offers to bring Tsukishima some food (cause the others are fighting for it like hell) ore something to drink, he's like how he is... something like 'thanks but no thanks, not necessery and something like that. At noon she makes him food and place it in the fridge. That's where he comfronts her. Cause he notice that she cares more for others but not for herself. And that's where the soft but lightly heated confess beginns... 😊 (Well if you like... of course)

a/n: idk why it didn’t allow me to answer your ask in my inbox, so sorry about that AND the wait😭 I was busy and I love your request lol! So I hope you enjoy it love 💕

Your job as manager was to keep the players in check, make sure they had all their equipment and were overall prepared. So you didn’t mind cooking for them at the BBQ, honestly, it was fun! You had the chance to talk to other female managers from the other teams— it was nice but a short lived moment before you had to hit the grill and prepare food for the boys. As you’re walking around, passing out drinks and utensils to the people who needed it— you noticed Tsukishima, sitting on some steps minding his business, like always. You approached him with a small smile and a plate of food. You and Tsukishima have never really talked to each other, nothing more than an “are you okay?” or “here is your water bottle.” He had his usual annoyed or stoic look on his face, although he was pretty intimidating at times: you had no choice but to converse with him since this is who you’ll be taking care of for the rest of the season.

“Hey, Tsukishima. Are you hungry? This meat is fresh off the grill” you say with a smile, trying your best to come off as an inviting and warm person. He looked at you and fixed his glasses before saying “yeah, no thanks y/n, I’m okay” before averting his attention else where. Your smile faltered before regaining a smile that was plastered on your now concerned face “Are you sure, tsuki? They’ll be plenty more left.” You asked. “Yes, y/n..I’m sure.” He said. You noticed the tone in his voice “was he annoyed? Was I being pushy? Or overbearing?..no, he’s always like that!” With a small sigh, you smile and nod before walking away, passing the plate of meat to the next person who’d want it. Even while you were preoccupied with making sure your team ate and had fun— you made a mental note to make food for Tsukishima still. Even if he said he wasn’t hungry or it wasn’t necessary, he was bound to get hungry eventually. You made it your job for your team to be satisfied. He couldn’t help but eye you down as you walked away, internally beating himself up for the way he spoke to you— the stoicism in his voice, the agitation in his throat- god why was he so stuck up! He doesn’t even know why he was agitated. He saw the way your smile fell and how you brought it back just for the sake of it. And that’s what he liked— no loved about you.

sometime later, as the sun is setting by the hour and the chilly winds pick up— everyone goes inside after helping clean the outside area. You and few other managers were the last to come in after cleaning up some of the mess the others missed on the blacktop and tables. You stayed behind a bit to fix Tsukishimas plate, some food you put to the side for him because you still remember to fix him something before the day ended. Even if it meant staying outside a little later to cook for one person. Obviously, this did not go unnoticed by Tsukishima— he was still by the door talking with the other first years as you finished up the cooking.

They left before you could put a lid ontop of his food and make your way to the door. Everyone had gone to their rooms or walked around the campus by now, but here you were, taking care of a stubborn Tsukishima past his bedtime. You didn’t mind but you couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed..at what though? You couldn’t think of a valid reason to be annoyed at the moment, probably besides the fact that you haven’t ate yourself. You were too busy running after your team to make sure they were content with their meal rather than sitting down and eating yourself when you had the chance to. As you opened the fridge and made space for his container of food, you could feel a presence behind you. And to your surprisement, you look back and see Tsukishima. You give him a small smile with the little energy you had left in your body

You turned around to face him, that little smile still on your face. He eyed you down and studied your disheveled appearance, how your shirt was a bit dirty from condiments and charcoal, your forehead slightly glistening with sweat due to standing infront of a hot grill for the longest and walking around in the heat with plates and drinks. You saw how he looked at you and quickly the tension became thick and suffocating. Before you could say anything, he spoke first “Have you even eaten, y/n?” you couldn’t lie to him, because if you did he’d call you out on your bullshit— whatever lie you were thinking of quickly slipped through your train of thoughts when he spoke again. with a sigh he said: “you’re always running around for other people, you don’t even realize you look a mess right now.”

Taken aback you look down at yourself and he was right: your shirt is dirty, so are your hands and your shoelaces are undone. You were undeniably lost for words, you hope he isn’t here to criticize you for doing your job..but the way he looks at you while telling you about yourself—tell you a different story; he cares. He wouldn’t bother you of all people if he didn’t care. You look up at him, messing with the hem of your shirt..you don’t know what to do or say in this situation.

Tsukishima sees your body language and immediately straightens himself out. He purses his lips and sigh “I..just don’t like how you run around for other people but not yourself, y/n.” He looks down at you— eyes softer than ever. He closes the gap between you two as you muffled out a sorry, because in reality: he was right. No one has ever went out their way to do anything for you, even when it wasnt needed; they didn’t care about you. You would spend your own money on the team..buying them food and sometimes new equipment whenever theirs broke. But whos doing anything for you? You knew what you were doing but maybe you needed to hear it from someone else.

Tsukishima was never one to be so physically and emotionally vulnerable to anyone, not even his close friend or family. So the hug he’s pulling you into is from his heart, it’s a genuine gesture something he knew you needed. You didn’t sob into his chest but he noticed how jagged your breathing was, the inconsistent heaving of your chest like you were trying to catch up to your breathing. He stood there hugging you, no words spoken just a flat silence as you hugged him back. No more words needed to be said or uttered, he sees you and hears you.

[orellazalonia]

hello hi hi hello!!!

🐅 anon here!

how are we feeling about doing biker!avenger!bucky x fem!biker!reader? 👀

Reader is the new one in the team, introduced by Steve and Nat! She made some friends, but we know Bucky- he’s antisocial, closeted and need time. So she doesn’t really try to be friends, just gives him open gate- if he want’s to, he will come.

Bucky riders his bike mostly in night when he can’t sleep, so what an incident when he meets another biker, with the same bike , swaying so swiftlt between speeding cars and trucks, but she swiftly escapes him! Next day, in the morning, Bucky is talking all around about it, saying that „HE’S such a poser” and reader is just quietly laughning in the back- cause wow- she doesnt know she is described rn by he/him 👀

In the night they meet again but on the opposait road, and she’s like doing this to him: https://www.instagram.com/reel/DIlU-FjNS6S/?igsh=YmhkeGVyaHoydHcy and Bucky is like „h-how dare you?! first you are making fun of me on the road, and next you are like this?” So Bucky decides it’s time to catch them. When it happens(he can cross her road, he knows they are good rider and she stops on the front wheel). Bucky so sure confronts them, and there she is- she opens her „window” in helmet and Bucky is so flustered that he doesnt even know what to say!

sorry if its kinda chaotic, but its been on my mind quiet a long ❤️

love

-🐅

Hello! Lovely to see you again, sorry for the wait! I must confess that I am not a biker so if any of these terms are incorrect, feel free to correct me! But frustrated Bucky was so much fun to write for and I definitely fell in love seeing him on that motorcycle in Thunderbolts lol. So! I hope you enjoy and thank you for the request. Happy reading!!!

Catch Me If You Can

Summary: You’re the mysterious biker who keeps outrunning Bucky at night—he’s convinced it’s some cocky guy trying to show off, only to find out it’s you, the newest Avenger, and he’s been roasting you to your face for days. (Biker!Bucky Barnes x Biker!reader)

Word Count: 1.6k+

You didn’t expect much when Steve introduced you to the team. A nod here, a handshake there. You kept your tone level and your smile casual. The Avengers weren’t exactly known for warm welcomes, and you weren’t looking for approval anyway. You weren’t trying to make friends, you were here to work.

Still, it wasn’t hard to settle in.

Tony appreciated your sarcasm and mechanical instincts, even if he called you “Grease Girl” more than once. Clint took to you quickly, calling dibs on your bar trivia team. Natasha didn’t say much, but she gave you that quiet nod of respect that meant you’re not useless, which, coming from her, was basically a hug.

Then there was Bucky.

James Buchanan Barnes was a wall. A tall, quiet, closed-off wall of tactical leather, unreadable eyes, and the kind of silence that made people second-guess whether they’d offended him. He lingered in the background of rooms, present but distant. He’d been through too much and trusted too few. Everyone knew it. You didn’t take it personally and you never pressed.

You didn’t try to win him over or wedge yourself into his space. You just existed. Said hi when you passed in the hallway, maybe held the door open, but never asked more than he offered. If he needed space, he could have it. If he wanted to talk, you’d be there. Simple as that.

But you did notice something about him early on, something familiar.

Every night, when the halls were quiet and the lights were low, you’d hear it. That low rumble echoing through the compound’s garage. You didn’t even have to look to know who it was.

Bucky Barnes rode at night.

And not just a bike. It was the same one you had.

Your bike had been a wreck when you found it. A forgotten pile of rust and steel in a junk lot. But you saw something in it, beauty. You rebuilt it with blood and sweat, tuning the engine yourself, tracking down authentic parts from the era, even hand-stitching the damn leather seat. You didn’t just ride it. You resurrected it.

You knew every inch of it better than the back of your hand.

Which was why you couldn’t help yourself.

You waited until the moon was high and the city below was slick with midnight mist. You suited up, helmet down, jacket zipped, and rolled out onto the road. Just you in the open freeway and that perfect old soul of a bike humming beneath you.

You weren’t looking for a race. You were just alive out there.

But then you heard it. Another engine, strong and steady. Another ghost on the road.

You peeked in your mirror and saw the glint of a second headlight. You didn’t need a face to know it was him. The way he held the bike steady, the way he leaned into curves, like the machine was an extension of him. It was how you rode.

For a split second, you felt the grin tug at your lips.

Game on.

You let him get close, almost, then cut a hard line between two semis, weaving between their trailers with inches to spare. You didn’t look back. You knew he’d follow. But by the time he hit the curve, you were already gone, your taillight swallowed by fog, steel, and distance.

The next morning was… priceless.

You were halfway through your coffee when Bucky strolled into the kitchen, more animated than you’d ever seen him.

He dropped into a chair and started ranting, half-bewildered and half-offended.

“I swear to God, the guy was showing off,” He said, shaking his head. “Zipping between trucks like he’s in a damn Fast and Furious movie. Same bike as mine, like exactly the same.”

Steve, who had barely looked up from his newspaper, raised an eyebrow. “Same model?”

“No, I mean same bike,” Bucky said. “Even had the original tank decals. Who even finds those anymore?”

You stood by the counter, biting into a piece of toast and trying, trying, not to smile. He was going on about you, and he had no idea.

“Helmet was blacked out,” Bucky continued, gesturing with his coffee. “Just slipping through traffic like they owned the road. Whole thing was a performance.”

“And you’re mad because he outran you?” Sam teased from across the room.

“No,” Bucky snapped. “I’m mad because he was a poser, just riding to be seen.”

You turned your back so he wouldn’t see your shoulders shaking with laughter.

“Maybe,” You said, voice innocent, “they just didn’t want to be caught.”

The silence that followed was sharp enough to slice through tension. Bucky looked at you, something unreadable passing through his eyes. You didn’t blink. You just gave him the faintest shrug and walked out.

It became a pattern after that.

Late nights, empty roads, and two bikes with history built into them.

You’d started teasing him more not with words, never directly, but with how you moved. You never let him see your face. Just the same jacket and the same sleek, dark helmet. You gave him glimpses. Glimpses of someone just out of reach.

And it was killing him.

He started preparing for you. He left earlier, tuned his engine twice a week, and tinkered with his suspension like you were going to challenge him to a drag race any minute now. The quiet brooding was still there but under it? Obsession. Grit. Need.

Not to win. To know.

And then came that night.

You’d been riding for about thirty minutes, heading northbound, weaving through sleepy traffic and the occasional street racer who didn't dare keep up. It was just you, the hum of the road, and that peace that came with speed.

Until you saw him.

Southbound, across the divide. A flash of silver and that distinct headlight pattern.

You knew immediately.

You slowed just enough, lined up your path with his, and as you passed him across four lanes and a median, you casually lifted your left hand.

Two fingers up. A lazy little peace sign.

What’s up, Barnes?

Bucky almost missed his exit.

“Was that–did he just–” He sputtered aloud in his helmet, eyes wide, whipping his head around like he might catch another glimpse of you through sheer will.

The nerve. The disrespect. You were taunting him now.

He pulled off the freeway and parked at a gas station, yanking his helmet off and pacing like a man unhinged.

“First he outruns me,” He muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Then he waves at me like we’re old buddies?”

It wasn’t just the wave. It was the timing. The precision. Like you knew he was watching. Like you’d planned it.

And you didn’t even stop. Just flashed that sign and vanished.

“Son of a bitch,” Bucky muttered. “Alright. You wanna play games? Fine.”

He got serious after that.

He mapped out where he’d seen you. Marked timeframes, routes. He adjusted his patterns, even rode slower to bait you out. He didn’t tell anyone or mention it around the compound anymore, especially not with you in the room.

You, of course, noticed immediately.

The way he was quieter. Tighter. How he’d glance at you from across the room when he thought you weren’t looking.

You’d chuckle under your breath whenever you saw him in the garage, hunched over his bike, cursing under his breath at the clutch cable or muttering something about “getting more torque on the turns.”

You never said a word. Just kept showing up and letting him almost catch you.

But tonight? You slipped.

You took a different exit too early and missed a cue. A truck swerved into your lane and forced a wider curve and Bucky was ready. You hadn’t seen him yet, but he’d been tailing you for six blocks with the kind of patience only a supersoldier with a grudge could possess.

He cut across a wide intersection with barely a breath of hesitation and blocked your lane with a sharp, brutal slide of his back wheel.

You braked instinctively, weight shifting forward, the front wheel rising up briefly before kissing the asphalt again in a clean, controlled stop.

Your helmet turned, calm and unrushed.

His boots hit the ground hard as he stalked toward you, helmet already off.

“You think this is funny?” He growled. “Messing with me for weeks?”

You didn’t say anything. Just stared at him and tilted your head slightly like what are you gonna do about it, soldier?

“First you’re weaving through traffic like you’re invincible,” Bucky continued, voice low, intense. “Then you wave at me like it’s some kind of joke–“

Still silent, you reached up, one hand on the latch of your helmet. Slow and deliberate, you popped it open and lifted it off, letting the night air hit your face.

Your eyes met his, amused, playful… and unmistakably you.

“Evening, Barnes.”

His mouth fell open.

“You–?” He stammered. “You?!”

You just smirked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

His expression did something ridiculous then. Confusion, shock, a little betrayal, a little awe. “But you–you were in the compound. I just saw you this morning. How–?”

You shrugged, one gloved hand brushing hair back from your face. “Didn’t think I could multitask?”

Bucky stood there, struggling to reboot his brain. “You… taunted me for weeks.”

“Didn’t taunt, just rode,” You corrected, a hint of laughter in your voice. “You chased.”

His jaw flexed. “You waved at me.”

“You looked like you needed a hug.”

He stared at you. “This isn’t over.”

You leaned forward again, just slightly, a grin tugging at your lips. “Didn’t say it was.”

And before he could say anything else, you tugged your helmet back on, kicked up the stand, and gave him a parting wink.

The bike roared to life and you were gone.

Again.

Taglist: @yasmin12312 @herejustforbuckybarnes @eeveedream @wingstoyourdreams @figtreesandmoonlight @happygalaxymilkshake @hits-different-cause-its-you @the-galaxy-fiend @ordelixx @itsmejen

[reckless-deprivation]

Hello! Could you write Platonic!Cecil Stedman with a child!reader who’s a magical girl with the personality of a cinnamon roll.

This is such a cute concept! At first, I had a love/hate relationship with Cecil, but he grew quite a bit on me when we were nearing the end of the first season ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

I don't exactly know what you meant by 'magical girl', so I took the creative liberty... I took some inspiration from sailor moon even though I never fully watched the show（´∇｀'')

This was written as a headcanon post! If you would like for me to write a one-shot with the same concept, please do leave a request!

Edit: I ended up writing less than I expected, and I think I lost the concept somewhere throughout, but I tried my best and I am so sorry if this wasn't what your requested 😭

Word count - 882

Invincible masterlist!

Cecil Stedman & magical girl!reader

.・。.・゜✭・.

.・。.・゜✭・.

❥ Cecil found you wandering one day on the streets of the city... well, if fighting alongside heroes counts as wandering then sure.

❥ You were wearing some frilly dress, looking all cutesy as you sent strong enough blasts towards the criminals to leave an indent on the side off the building.

❥ He teleported to the scene once the fight was over, now in front of you while looking like a disappointed parent. He asked where your own parents were which you replied simply: you didn't have any

❥ That statement alone made Cecil pause. He could've just sent you to some orphanage, but your powers were too valuable to not use so... he took you in.

❥ Not one of his best moments (in his eyes). But at least he thought he was doing you a favor.

❥ Training wasn't tough, he made sure to dumb it down for you a little since you were still a child; he didn't lack common sense, he was just strict. Yet your cheery and bubbly demeanor was getting to him.

❥ If your training was harsher than usual, you would still smile and thank him when he called over someone to treat your cuts and bruises. When you would trip and fall after accidentally stepping on a ribbon from your skirt, you would thank and hug him for helping you get up before you began to skip away to go train.

❥ Cecil would find himself letting you get away with more things. He'd slip you a candy bar or bonbon after dinner, he'd let you follow him around while he did errands. The scene of an old man scolding someone for not doing their work properly while a little girl with a bright smile and a hilariously poofy dress stood right behind him to offer words of support was just comical.

❥ Even though he did treat you with a little more kindness, that doesn't mean he himself doesn't slip up sometimes. He ends up yelling at you after his day had been particularly stressful. When he did your eyes teared up and your lip quivered, muttering a quiet "Sorry..." before turning away to go do something else. Cecil immediately started feeling a small sense of guilt, but he was too exhausted to search for you and apologize. Later on, he forgot about the interaction in the first place and never even apologized, but you were cheery nonetheless; it was just a moment of frustration, everyone has their bad moments!

❥ Just because you're a child/magical girl does not necessarily mean you get special treatment... you're just favored over some other heroes in training.

❥ You, being a child without parents, makes it so that you're now Cecil's necessity. Since he's the one that rescued you, you stuck to him like a leech and non-stop call on him whenever something minor is going on or if you need something, kind of like a child calling for their mom for every little thing. It's exhausting to say the least.

❥ Most of the time, he'd send a GDA member to go fix whatever problem you had. But on certain occasions you'd demand that Cecil had to be the one to come and help you.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"Ah... Cecil?" Donald called from the entrance of the comms room, hands awkwardly by his side as he waited for a response. Cecil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"What is it, Donald?" The old man sighed, not facing Donald and instead looking at the cameras to observe a fight happening late at night in the city. But the mention of your name caught the old man's attention.

He turned to Donald, brows furrowed as he waited for him to continue.

"She... she demands you read her a bedtime story, sir." Donald sheepishly admitted, taking a small step to the side to show you, arms crossed and an angry look on your face as you waited for his answer. Cecil had previously sent some rookie GDA member to read you a story and they couldn't even do it right! Their tone was trash, and it was only making you more and more frustrated.

"..." Cecil let out a sigh of equal frustration, walking over to you and crouching down to your level. "I already sent someone-"

"I want you to read me a bedtime story." You cut him off, puffing up your chest to appear like you were in command... and it was sadly working.

Cecil let out another sigh, standing up and muttering a 'come on' before gently taking your hand and leading you back to your room. Your bright smile quickly returned as well as the skip in your step as you both walked down the hall, overjoyed that you could have it your way.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

❥ I don't necessarily have much to say about this specific scenario (and I do apologize for it), but I just don't see Cecil as the type to care much about you being a magical girl unless you're strong and useful 😭. In that case, he puts you up with training, takes care of you from time to time and calls it a day :/

[dailyxfohv]

Day 25

Zero death trap

[radiosttatic-art]

For the requests-- how about Shizuku Hozumi?

Here she is!!

[mariasont]

Early seasons Spencer’s gf joining the team and quickly realizing just how used to Spencer she is bc the rest of the team’s reactions to him are so different from hers

Cinnamon Sticks - S.R

a/n: obsessed with the idea of baby spencie having a gf who just gets him while he's still an awkward, nerdy little genius! thanks for requesting bestie so sorry it took so long i am the worst LOL

masterlist

pairings: early!seasons!spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: established relationship, secret relationship, relationship being exposed bc these two are just so in love

wc: 1.7k

Garcia burst into the bullpen like some sort of whirlwind that was practically painted in neon, her scarf fluttering behind her almost like a cape. She juggled a precariously full cup of coffee, while her phone teetered between ear and shoulder as if testing the limits of human dexterity.

"I swear to all that is holy, if my life doesn't slow down in the next five minutes —"

The sentence derailed as she misjudged her pace, the coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the cup. She stopped abruptly, but not quick enough to stop the scalding liquid from spilling over and searing her fingers.

"Oh, fantastic! Just what I needed!" she huffed, waving her hand like it might stop the sting.

She threw herself into the closest chair with a dejected sigh, slumping back and fixing the coffee cup with a murderous glare, like this was just another tally in a long line of grievances.

Your eyes darted up from your work, only for a moment, enough to confirm what you already knew. You hadn't been working here long, but it was long enough to recognize the phenomenon that was Garcia: a blur of movement and words, mid-rant before anyone had the chance to catch up. It was like clockwork really.

You risked a glance across the desk at Spencer, who was so absorbed in his notebook it was a wonder he even remembered to breathe. If Garcia's antics registered as white noise to anyone, it was him. But then, almost like he had a radar for being watched, he looked up, catching your gaze.

His eyebrows lifted into a subtle what can you do? expression, and you couldn't help but smile back.

That was the thing about Spencer. He had this uncanny knack for knowing exactly what you were thinking, almost as if he had a cheat sheet for your brain. And maybe he did, like his brain worked three times faster than everyone else's in the room (which, let's face it, it definitely did). But instead of that being intimidating, it was oddly reassuring.

"At this rate, I'm one bad email away from alphabetizing my entire pantry for stress relief."

Spencer's notebook hit the desk, and there it was, the shift you loved to look for. His shoulders drew back, face lighting up, the kind of thing that signaled his mini-lecture was incoming.

"Organizing your pantry is actually a practical stress management technique. By categorizing items, you create a structured environment that reduces decision fatigue. Its why people feel calmer in tidy spaces, it's psychological."

Morgan held up a hand. "Psychological, huh? Sounds like you’re just trying to justify your weird love affair with labels, pretty boy.”

“Don’t forget,” you added absently, flipping a page in your report, “it also saves time when you’re cooking. I think you called it practical efficiency."

The words slipped out without much thought, but as soon as they did, the bullpen stilled. You glanced up, heart sinking as you saw every face turned in your direction.

Morgan’s grin was the first thing you notice, wide and knowing, stretching across his face. He tilted his head, eyes bouncing between you and Spencer like he was putting pieces together in real time.

“Wait a minute,” he said, sitting forward with a gleam in his eye. “Did you just quote him? Like, word for word?”

Your cheeks heated instantly. “What? No. I mean — maybe. I don’t know.”

“Pretty sure you did,” Morgan shot back, smirking. “Man, what else has he been teaching you? You got the periodic table memorized too?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “Oh, please. If you’ve been around Spencer long enough, you’re bound to pick up a few things. He’s like a walking encyclopedia.”

“Well,” Spencer said, his head tilting slightly as he spoke, “your cinnamon sticks always end up at the back of your pantry. That’s why I figured you might appreciate the idea of organizing by use frequency. Like I said, practical efficiency.”

The moment the words left his mouth, you knew he’d made a tactical error.

Garcia gasped, her eyes lighting up like she’d just been handed the juiciest piece of gossip of her life. 

“Oh. My. God. Spencer Reid, how exactly do you know what the back of her pantry looks like?”

You froze, rooted to the spot as the realization hit you like a cartoon anvil. 

This was bad.

Spencer’s expression mirrored yours for half a second, bug-eyed panic, but he quickly scrambled for an answer. 

“It’s, um… a logical assumption,” he stammered, his fingers toying with the pen in his hand, a nervous tell he couldn’t quite suppress. “Spices like cinnamon sticks always seem to migrate to the back of the pantry unless there’s an intentional system in place.”

Morgan let out a long, low whistle, rocking back in his chair with enough force to make it creak.

“Nice save. But I don’t think Garcia’s buying it.”

Garcia tapped her chin, clearly enjoying herself far too much. “Oh, no, no, no. This is too good. I mean, logical assumption  my fabulous behind! Cinnamon sticks in the back of her pantry? Really? What’s next? A detailed analysis of how she stacks her cereal boxes?”

You laughed, though it sounded more like a bark than anything natural. “You’re all reading way too much into this. Spencer just knows weirdly specific things about, well, everything. That’s kind of his thing, remember?”

“Mmhmm,” Garcia hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Alright, genius, I’ll let it slide this time. But I’m watching you.”

“Please don’t,” Spencer muttered under his breath, earning a round of laughter from the team.

Garcia spent a solid ten minutes in full interrogation mode after that, her eyes narrowing with each and every pointed question she lobbed your way. Morgan, of course, was no help. He leaned back, grinning like a kid with a front-row seat to the circus, his smirk practically screaming that he knew they were this close to striking a nerve.

Spencer and you had been so careful. You'd been dating long before you joined the BAU, but the moment Hotch had called to offer you the position, you both knew you'd have to keep things under wraps. Dating a coworker was one thing; dating Spencer Reid, a genius with an accidentally too-honest mouth, was an entirely different challenge.

You hadn't expected it to be this hard, though. Keeping the secret wasn't the worst part, it was pretending he wasn't the center of your universe every time you walked into the room. It was keeping your hands to yourself when all you wanted to do was smooth out the messy strands of hair that always fell into his eyes. It was biting your tongue when someone interrupted his long-winded tangents because the truth was, you loved hearing him talk.

The hours stretched on, and the bullpen slowly thinned out. Garcia was the first to leave, blowing a kiss to the room. Morgan left soon after, pausing to flash you one last grin before disappearing. Even Prentiss packed up for the night, muttering something about needed an extra shot of espresso tomorrow morning.

"You handled that well."

You looked up from your report to find Spencer by your desk, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other skimming lightly along the edge of the divider. His expression was surprisingly soft, almost bashful, as though he had been waiting to get you alone.

"Handled that well?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You were the one who almost blew it, Spencer. Cinnamon sticks? Really?"

He smiled, lips twitching upward as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Okay, I'll admit that wasn't my most subtle moment. But in my defense, they do end up at the back of most pantries."

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head as you leaned back in your chair. 

"We're lucky Garcia got distracted. If she'd pushed any harder..." Your voice drifted into a soft sigh. "That could've been bad."

"That was a close one."

The quiet that followed wasn't uncomfortable, but it felt a little more substantial, if that was the word, filled with that miniscule ache that always bloomed in your chest when he was near. 

Spencer stepped closer, his hand brushing against the edge of your desk. His body angled toward you, like even when you weren’t touching, he couldn’t help but gravitate toward you.

“You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “I don’t think she actually suspects anything. But we should probably be more careful.”

"Probably," you replied, drawing out the word in a teasing, sing-song tone. “Unless you’d rather keep showing off how ridiculously well you know me.”

His cheeks flushed a soft pink, but he didn’t look away. Instead, that shy, boyish smile, the one that always made you a little breathless, spread across his lips.

"That's going to be hard," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I noticed a lot about you."

You could feel the flush creeping up to your neck, and you mentally cursed him for how easily he was able to do this to you.

"You're lucky I like you."

His smile widened, and his eyes crinkled at the corners in that way they only came out at specific moments. Like when he successfully performed a card trick for the team or when he stumbled across an original copy of a book at a library sale. 

The same one you'd seen when he talked about his mom on her good days, or when you asked him on a date. 

You leaned forward. "And since I like you, any chance you'd want to kiss me right now?"

"How could I not, with you looking at me like that?"

The angle was clumsy, your chair too low, his frame leaning awkwardly over, but all of that melted away the second his hands found your face. His thumbs brushed soft circles against the place where your cheek met your jaw.

His lips were soft against yours at first, testing, before growing firmer, more sure. The kind of confidence that came with a hundred familiar kisses before. 

Time seemed to slow, or at least for you it did, the rest of the world nonexistent.

The sound of a throat clearing broke the spell, and you jerked back from Spencer, your chair wobbling slightly as you turned toward the sound. You immediately regretted it — your lips felt swollen, your face hot, and there was Prentiss, leaning against the doorframe.

"We were... uh, testing something," you blurted, avidly avoiding eye contact. "You know, like... oxygen exchange! For scientific purposes."

Spencer blinked, then mumbled, "Oxygen exchange? That's the best you got?"

"Shut it," you hissed through gritted teeth, not daring to look at him.

Prentiss arched a brow. "Relax, lovebirds. If this is your idea of scientific research, I'll make sure Garcia doesn't find out. You're welcome."

taglist: @readergf @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @r-3dlips @m-indkiller @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @reiderrambles @averyhotchner @hbwrelic @sky2nd @messylxve @alexxavicry @doigettokeepyou @pleasantwitchgarden @kodzukenmaaa @hiireadstuff @dilflover-3 @spenciesslut @phoenix-le-danseur-de-pole @c-losur3 @theylovemelody @alahnizamolo @oliver-1270 @ssahotchbabe @savagemickey03 @justanotherbimboslxt @imoonkiss @spiderladyleah @estragos @khxna @spencerssoup @de-duchess @raysmayhem-72 @piinksdoll @reidfile @sugarbutterbailey @aecd27 @persephonestears @moonyxstars @xxmooxmooxx @spookyysinsanity @proxxyshouse @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @jungchloee @she-wont-miss @duchesz @i2rapunzel @historicallyqueer

join my taglist here!

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Part 1

cw: death of family members

It had been five years since Simon’s last tapping-out ceremony. Back then, he had hoped he’d never again have to stand on this field, but now he was glad he was there. Clad in his ceremonial uniform, he once again watched as families tapped out their loved ones. He watched until only one was left. You. The young woman who had tapped him out five years before.

With a heavy heart, he walked up to you, coming to a stop right in front of you. He watched as silent tears streamed down your face, your eyes focusing on him. And he continued to stand there, his mind taking him back to the worst day of your life.

You had joined the military shortly after you had met Simon, cruising through basic training without issue. When Simon found out about it, he had put in a request that you get transferred to the 141 as a rookie, as soon as your training was over. You were ecstatic to be training under him and you quickly grew close with the rest of the task force. But then everything came crashing down.

Your brother died during an op. Just months after you started training with the 141, you had to bury him. Simon stood by your side as you grieved him. You grew close to each other, closer than you probably should, since he was still your superior, but it did both of you well, so Price turned a blind eye.

But when the Captain received a call just a year ago, he had Simon break it to you. Your entire family had died in a car crash. Your mother, siblings, nephews - everyone was dead. You were alone. All alone. A feeling Simon knew all too well.

When you met Simon, you never thought you’d find yourself in the same situation he was. But…you weren’t alone. You had him, and Price and Johnny and Kyle. You had your own little family, and slowly, you healed. But days like these brought all the hurt back.

Simon reached up, his hand gently cupping your face as the sob that had been building inside you for an hour finally escaped your lips. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him as he pulled you closer against himself. “I got ya love. I got ya.” Your tears stained his uniform as he just held you while you cried.

It took you a few minutes to calm down, but when you did, Simon gently pulled away, cupping your face and making you look up at him. “I’m so proud of you, baby. And they are, too.” You nodded, managing to smile a little at the thought of them cheering on from heaven. “Come, the boys are waiting back on base.”

Just like you had with him five years ago, he slipped his hand into yours and led you to the car park.

A/N: Part two! Hope you liked it, sorry for all the angst. Also, I almost cried writing this.

[lovscb97]

— stray kids links [hyung line]

tags: hyung line!stray kids x fem!reader, established relationship, rough sex, unprotected sex (plz wrap it before u tap it), creampie, breeding kink, daddy kink, mild dacryphilia, begging, use of collars/leashes, spanking, strength kink, oral sex (f. receiving), squirting, car sex, slight exhibitionism, slight choking, use of nicknames (baby, princess, angel, kitten, etc), degradation (slut, whore, etc), dirty talk, edging, overstimulation, etc

wc: 2.73k

add. notes: hai …. sorry i made this post instead of giving u guys nerd!chan pt. 2 I FUCKIN SWEAR IT’S COMING but it’s just taking the piss out of me n i needed this out for a new post. anyways plz dni if u r a minor like i mean that w my whole chest n also lmk if some of the links stop working or if u can’t see them idk what i can do abt that . but at least i will be aware LMFAOOOOO yea anyways enjoy :3

maknae line ver.

. . .

⥽ … BANG CHAN: 

link one.

chan is packing. he is absolutely packing to the point you felt like he was going to tear your womb apart when you first got intimate with him, his thick cock stretching you out past your limits as fresh sobs fell from your mouth. since then, he's trained you to take him with enough prep, always making sure to milk at least two orgasms from you before he even thinks about letting his dick near your pussy regardless of how hard it might be throbbing. that wait becomes worthwhile though when he finally sinks inside of you, dirty words and throaty groans rambled in your ear as he releases himself deep inside once he's reached his peak. he loves the feeling of your warm walls sucking him in, never leaving you alone until he's dumped his load empty.

"fuck, baby. how are you so tight?" chan hisses incredulously, wet thumb still circling your clit as you shake in his hold. you're extremely sensitive at this point, twitching from the slightest touch after having cum for the third time, but the only thing in your mind right now is your boyfriend breeding you, the request made obvious with how you tighten your legs around his waist to pull him in. "cum in me, daddy. please!" you plead, teary eyes blinking up at chan whose orbs roll to the back of his head at your keen expression. it only takes a few more thrusts before he's shooting ropes of hot cum inside you, gripping himself to ensure he stays in place. you sigh in content at the warm liquid flooding you, and chan just smiles tiredly, leaning in to sweetly kiss you. "i love you, precious girl." he whispers, resting his body on top of you to keep you plugged up for the rest of the night.

link two.

you're chan's favourite destress toy, that much is obvious. every time he comes home from a long day at work, he knows it'll be worthwhile because you'll be there waiting with open arms and your wet hole longing to be filled up. he'll even take you right then and there in the living room sometimes, making sure everyone around you two knows exactly whose name you're screaming. certain days when he's had it particularly bad though, he'll collar you up and attach a leash to it that he can pull back on, bending you over with your ass up in the air as he slams himself into you repeatedly. it gives him immense pride to have that sense of control over you, to be able to manoeuvre you into whatever position he desires. if he's feeling especially mean, he'll edge you until you're crying into the sheets, cooing at how fucked out you look, knowing he's the only one who can make you feel that way.

"please.. i wan' cum, please." you slur out mindlessly, drool dripping down your mouth as chan slowly drags his cock in and out of you, its mushroom tip pressing deliciously against that spot inside. your boyfriend just chuckles from behind you, his hand yanking on the leash that's tied to your collar which makes you lean back in an instant. his hand sneaks down to grip himself as he pulls out for the nth time, and you whine at the loss of fullness in you, bottom lip jutting out as he slaps the head of his cock against your clit. "yeah, princess? you wanna cum? wanna cum all over daddy's dick?" he mocks you, laughing sadistically when you desperately nod your head. he continues to rub up your little nub, and you're soon about to fall over the edge, gratitude on your lips when he suddenly stops. "oh, baby, you're not cumming that easily tonight." chan growls, causing you to shiver under his hold as he pushes you back onto the bed. it looks like you're in for a long night.

⥽ … LEE MINHO: 

link one.

you love pissing minho off. it's one of the little things in life that gives you so much pleasure, aside from when your boyfriend fucks you, of course. minho, on the other hand, doesn't take lightly to your teasing at all. on days where you're acting out by wearing revealing clothes in front of his friends or sitting too close to one of them for his liking, he'll drag you out with some lame excuse and a clenched jaw, mumbling something about how you're both going home now. he doesn't even care that you're probably smug by the end of it, because that feeling of triumph soon dissipates when he has you bent over his lap, veiny hands kneading the plush of your ass before he's landing a harsh smack on it. he'll spank you and make you count your punishment, and if you lose track, he'll just have to start all over again.

"fucking slut." minho tsk's, cold fingers running themselves against the bruised skin of your butt. he takes a moment to admire his work, tracing the red imprints of his hand on your ass and even the outline of your white panties, which are absolutely soaked by now. "min, please! 'm sorry, it won't happen again." you cry out, and he scoffs, rolling his eyes although you can't see it. another series of repeated spanks land on you, and you yelp in response, legs kicking up from the stinging impact. your body burns by now, every touch minho provides it leaving behind a searing sensation, but you know your boyfriend is far from done with you. "we both know that's a damn lie." he clicks his tongue. "you're always acting out, so it seems like i gotta really start putting you in your place, hm?" you're about to protest when he smacks again, drawing a sob from you; the sound goes straight to his core. he licks his lips, a smirk stretched across them as he readies his palm once more. "now, stop crying and start counting, whore."

link two.

it's no secret that minho is a certified ass man. he loves you, but god does he love your ass just as much. everything about it sends him reeling, from the way it's accentuated in the clothes you wear, to the plump flesh of it that jiggles every time he's got you on your hands and knees. you'd argue he puts you in this position at least once every time you two fuck because knowing your boyfriend, he just wants to watch the way you push back on him when he's bottomed out inside you. he'll give you a few smacks here and there on it too, kneading the skin in his palms before he's snapping his hips into yours. most of the time, he'll refuse to cum inside of you, instead pulling out just before he tips over the edge to release all over your behind and back. you're not complaining though, you love the feeling of his seed dripping over it just as much as he does.

"mm, shit, you look so good right now, kitten." minho groans from behind you, cockhead practically battering your cervix with the way he's shoving himself in and out of you. your whines are high in pitch with how he's fucking you, and you stutter to speak when you try and respond. "y-you say that every time." you eventually manage to heave out, and minho chuckles breathlessly, fingers gripping the flesh of your ass in them as he bites his lip, moaning lowly at the way it bounces back against his dick. "can't help it. you're too hot." he grunts, pistoning his hips at a frenzied pace that knocks the breath out of your lungs. it only takes a matter of minutes before you're both cumming, loud noises filling the room as minho pulls out just in time so he can splatter his release all over your backside. his thumb dips into the seed that now decorates your ass, and he swipes to collect it, pushing it into your mouth. a grin decorates his face as you suck on it. "atta girl."

⥽ … SEO CHANGBIN: 

link one.

changbin is a gym fanatic through and through, and with his rigorous work out routine eventually came his well-built physique, chiselled and bulked up to the point you think you would barely recognise his past self. it refects in the way he walks, talks and holds himself; he loves his strength and he loves showing it off, especially to you. that's why every time you're both entangled in his sheets, it results in him urging you to stand up before hoisting you in his arms. some days he'll hold you in them and bounce you up and down his cock, relishing in the way your cries echo through the room alongside the slapping of skin. other days, he'll toss you around and headlock you as he pounds you from behind, groaning filth in your ear as he pushes you to the edge of tipping. either way, you love what he does, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

"hng, so strong, binnie!" you wail, hands clutching your boyfriend's broad back and shoulders as your nails dig into his soft skin, sure to leave marks the next day. changbin just grunts at your sounds of pleasure, too immersed in fucking you onto his cock in your current position. he's got you clinging onto him for dear life as he enters you repeatedly, pride blooming in his chest when you acknowledge how hot it is that he can pick you up so effortlessly. "y-yeah, pretty? like when binnie fucks you like this?" he stutters slightly, too wrapped up in how your pussy clings to his girth. you nod your head rapidly, babbling about how close you are and how hard you're going to cum, spraying all over your boyfriend in due time when he slams into that spot hidden inside you. you're not even given a chance to recover afterwards, changbin manhandling you onto the bed on your stomach before he's sinking back inside. "just a little more, baby. binnie's gotta cum too, okay?" he's whining, and you keen despite the sting of overstimulation rushing through, not knowing you're going to end up letting him use you for another hour.

link two.

you've always known changbin is a romantic at heart, his soft-spoken nature despite the daunting aura he gives off due to his frame often sending your brain spiralling. it gives you whiplash, the way he treats you. some days he'll fuck you like he hates you, growling dirty comments to your face and spitting in your mouth as you shake through an orgasm. other days, however, he'll craddle you in his arms, caging your body underneath him as he rocks his hips against yours in deep, fluid motions. one of his favourite things to do during these instances is hold your hand. he loves the feeling of your fingers lacing through his, holding onto him as he delivers sharp strokes inside of you. something about it feels so raw, like both your souls are intertwined in one big hug. he'll kiss you dizzy, burying his face into your neck as you both whimper 'i love you's' to each other.

"baby.. fuck, baby." changbin moans, his breath fanning hot against the sticky skin of your shoulder from where he's nosed himself in. his hand clings to yours amidst his movements, and you mewl loudly when he thrusts particularly deep inside of you. "i love you. love you so much, my baby. my pretty, perfect angel." your boyfriend pants, head moving to bring his lips to yours in a messy meeting. it's filled with so much love and care, your mouths moulding perfectly against one another's as you exchange kisses. your stomach feels like it's filled with butterflies, but you're not sure if that's because of how fucking in love you are with him or because of changbin rocking his hips into you. either way, you pull apart from him, trying to say it back in the middle of your noises of pleasure. "l-love you so much, binnie. fuck, you always give it to me so good." you praise, and changbin visibly shivers, burying his face back where it was between your neck to continue making love to you until at last, you're both coming undone together.

⥽ … HWANG HYUNJIN: 

link one.

one thing you adore about your precious lover boy is his mouth. his pretty, plump lips that kiss your tears away, or his dangerously addictive tongue that's always finding it's way between your thighs when he feels like it, which is basically all the time. hyunjin can't help that you taste so sweet, or how you're always so perfectly wet for him by the time he's journeyed down to your legs where you truly need him. he'll spend hours buried between them, parting you with his slender fingers and holding you open for him to lick into. he finds extreme satisfaction in the way you push back against his body when he's having a go at you, too weak to move him in your futile efforts of running away from his mouth once he's had you cum twice without stopping. he'll continue anyways though, because to him, there's no better treat after a long day.

"hyunie, s-slow down." you whimper, the lewd suckling sounds of your clit being wrapped in your boyfriend's mouth resonating through the room as he messily eats you out. his movements are filled with fervour and desperation, something you'll never get used to experiencing despite how long you've been together. each time almost always feels like you're starring in some obscene porno with the way hyunjin always drawls out the most nasty sounds from you. this instance is no different either, because before you can even react, you're spraying droplets of clear liquid on his face, your boyfriend groaning into you at the feeling of you squirting on him. he cleans it all up with great pleasure, breathing heavily as he finally rises from his position to slot himself between your legs. his lips find yours in a dirty kiss, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. "you're insatiable." you murmur when he pulls away, and hyunjin chuckles, mouth hovering over your jaw as you tremble at his next words. "not my fault my baby's got the tastiest cunt in the world."

link two.

hyunjin is a freak through and through. you've known for a while that he gets off on all sorts of things, and one of them is primarily the risk of being sneaky in public, regardless if it's planned or not. there have been one too many occasions of the latter where you've both been out on a date together with you looking a little too good, too good to the point that the waiter starts flirting with you and leaving hyunjin seething. it's only high time after that until he's dragging you out of the restaurant and into his backseat, too lazy to even undress properly before he's sinking inside of you to fuck you as he sees red. he'll get so possessive too, groaning how you're his and his only whilst pulling you back by your hair. it's true that your boyfriend is a big lover, but when times come down to this, he'll drill into you like he absolutely loathes you.

"dirty slut, letting me fuck you where anyone can see. you'd even let that server find you like this, wouldn't you?" hyunjin grits out, his sweat dripping onto your back as he shoves his long length in you. you're sure the windows are fogged up by now, his car rocking with his movements, but neither of you care about that. "n-no, only want you to see. just you, hyune." you whimper, eyes rolling to the back of your head at the way his cock slams in you with each thrust. your boyfriend lets out a low moan at your words, yanking you back by your hair to lick at your neck. "that's right, princess. only i get to look at this pussy, hm? only i can f-fuck it right, yeah?" he grunts, slender fingers coming up to wrap around your throat as you nod shakily, taking a deep breath as hyunjin squeezes slightly. "gonna cum in this cunt and fill you up with my babies so everyone knows who you belong to. then, i'm taking you straight home to fuck you full again. got that?"

. . .

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

[dumpywrites]

Plus One, Minus Feelings - Jeon Jungkook

Prompt: The classic let's pretend to be a couple for just a while. Nothing bad will happen, right?

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Fluff, friends to lovers, fake dating, jealous! Jungkook, goofball! Jungkook, reader is into another person for the first half (spoiler: Yoongi)

Pairing: Jungkook x she/her reader

Word count: 7.4k

a/n: this Jungkook has the personality of someone I know, so it's really easy to imagine him in this scenario lol

It was Saturday night at Jin’s house. A casual get-together routine in your friend group. His apartment condo being the biggest one out of everyone, it was natural that his place became the go-to base camp. 

You were on your third yapping session with Jihyo, with your feet crossed sitting on the floor, and your hands moving expressively. The girl was listening to your rambles, looking at you while sitting on the sofa and sipping her smoothie. You were about to enter your fourth story when you heard Jin calling your name from across the room. The man walked towards where you and Jihyo were, with another guy beside him, Jungkook. 

“You’re single, right?” The guy asked out of the blue. 

“Me?” You pointed to yourself, while still sitting on the floor. 

“Who else? Jihyo has a boyfriend.” He rolled his eyes sassily. 

You folded your arms. “You came here just to mock me?!”

“See! She’s single.” He told Jungkook with a sly smile. 

You raised one of your eyebrows. “Are you seriously trying to…”

“No, geez.” Jin chuckled. “Just ask her.” He said to the other guy. 

“Can you help me out? I need a plus one on a wedding.” Jungkook suddenly said. 

“Who’s getting married? And why me though???”

“My brother.”

“Oh, yeah hell no. I’m not going.” You quickly said. 

“Wha— Why??? I haven’t even told you the whole reason!” He said, lips trying so hard not to form a pout. 

“I don’t wanna get interviewed by your family, duh??? I’ll be fine if it’s just Jin’s wedding or something.”

“Yeah, we’re not gonna see that any time soon though…” Jihyo giggled. 

Jungkook ignored Jin’s loud protests and continued. “I made a bet with my brother and he said he’ll buy me the new Switch if I somehow bring someone to his wedding.” 

“I still don’t want to get interrogated by your parents, Kook.” You sighed. 

“Don’t worry! I’ll tell them. It’s just to fool my brother and all.” He nodded eagerly, hoping you’d buy his reasoning. “Please? I’ll even let you try the switch first.” 

“That’s not a good offer?!” You said in a high pitched voice. 

“I’ll get you one of those cute blind boxes…?” Jungkook offered in an unsure tone.

“Yeah, um… I like those but no.” 

“I’ll throw in a dozen of Krispy Kreme.”

“Deal.”

“That’s what gets you???” Jihyo laughed. 

“I was on Jungkook’s side, but yeah, what the hell?!” Jin joined. 

You shrugged. “I love donuts.” 

“Thank you so much!!!” Jungkook bent down on your level on the floor and side hugged you playfully.

“When is this wedding anyway?” You cringed and pushed him to the side. 

“Two weeks from now.”

You sighed, regretting your decision already. “Awesome.”

**

“Uh, what are you doing here?”

6PM on a Thursday night. The night air was chilly, but not too cold. You just stepped out from your office building, ready to head home, when you noticed Jungkook waiting outside. He was smoking, one hand holding his bud and the other was tucked inside the pocket of his extremely baggy pants. 

He immediately squeezed the unfinished cigarette on the trash can next to him as soon as you were on sight. He clapped his hands to together, cleaning the debris, and straightened his posture. With a pleading look, he flashed you a grin. 

“Please come to my family dinner tonight.”

“Tonight?” You looked at him, processing. “What do you mean by tonight?!”

“It will convince my brother!”

“This wasn’t in any part of our deal…” You said in a warning tone. 

“I know! I’m so sorry, but I accidentally told him early that I’m bringing someone…” 

“Not exactly my problem now, is it?” You sighed and folded your arms. “Attending his wedding is one thing. We wouldn’t even get that many chances to talk with him. But a dinner??? I’ll die.”

“Please? Please???” He clasped his hands together, begging with big eyes. 

You sighed. “No.”

“Uh, please?” He closed one eye and the other peeking at you. A nervous smile on his lips.

“You really didn’t think this through, huh?” His expression almost made you crack. 

“No, I didn’t.” He slumped down. “Pretty please? With another dozen of Krispy Kreme on top and I’ll even buy them for you tonight?” He batted his eyelashes at you. 

“You didn’t just do that to me…” You pointed at him and bit your inner cheek. “I hate you.”

“Is that a yes?” He grinned. 

“I don’t know!” You replied in frustration. 

“Please? I won’t stop begging until you agree.” 

It was as if his eyes got bigger every time he said please. 

“You’re insane.” You groaned. “Whatever let’s just go.”

“Yes!” He threw his fist in the air, celebrating with a loud voice. 

“God bless whoever’s gonna be actually dating you.” You rolled your eyes, smiling nonetheless at his antics. 

“I love you too.” He giggled and pinched your cheeks. You swatted away his hand immediately. “I’ll pick you up tonight!” 

And so he picked you up at your place later on with his parent’s car instead of his Harley. Said he wanted you to be able to dress prettily and not having your hair messed up by the helmet. Also because he just ordered the donuts, like promised. He knew there was a possibility of you actually bailing on him if he failed to do so. 

You were nervous, but he assured you that he had informed his parents about the whole thing, so the only people to fool were his brother and his soon-to-be wife. 

“You think I look okay?” 

You asked the guy, turning around to show him your whole outfit. You were wearing a simple blouse and a pair of flared trousers. You weren’t quite sure if it was too formal or too underdressed for the occasion. 

“I barely see you in anything other than t-shirts and baggy pants.”

“As if you’re not the same.” You shook your head and looked at him. He was in fact, still with his usual baggy jeans and oversized tee. “It doesn't look pretentious or anything, right?” 

“It’s cute.” He assured. “Let's go.”

The compliment just rolled out from his tongue so naturally it almost took you off guard. 

Arriving at Jungkook’s house, the first thing you noticed was a scooter that was parked in front of the fences. You didn’t further question it though as a wave of nervousness washed over you. The reality quickly sank on you that you were going to act as if you were dating your friend to fool his brother.

“Remember we’ve been dating for three months.” Jungkook said to you as he turned off the car engine. 

“And we’re just taking things slow, no pressure.” You continued. “I’m actually so nervous.” You confessed.

He took a closer look at your face. “I mean hey, if you’re that uncomfortable, I’ll take you back home. It’s okay. I can just tell him that you still have work or something…”

“No, it’s fine.” You took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “Let’s get this over with.”

“You sure?”

You nodded and stepped out of the vehicle. 

As soon as you entered, you were welcomed by Jungkook’s mom, who had a beautiful smile on when she greeted you. You quickly noticed his brother Junghyun and his partner Yoora, sitting on a nearby sofa, eyes clearly on you, in which you quickly flashed a smile in return. You noticed an unknown man present though. He had medium length hair, fair skin, and a very comfy looking hoodie on. 

“I see Jungkook wasn’t lying.” His brother grinned and shook your hand, introducing himself and then his partner. 

You gulped, but kept your cool. “Nice to meet you.”

“Oh, that’s Yoongi by the way. He’s an old friend of mine.” He pointed at the guy standing at the corner and called him to join you. 

The man walked towards your direction and shook your hand, giving you a very short greeting. You quickly smiled at the guy as well, before turning your head at the sound of Jungkook’s mom calling you all to the table. 

“So how long have you guys been dating?” Jungkook’s brother asked.

“Three months.” Both of you said in unison. You cleared your throat, feeling awkward. 

“Where did you meet?”

“Jimin introduced—“

Both of you spoke at the same time again. You looked at Jungkook in annoyance while he grinned apologetically. His mom giggled next to him, seeing the two of you. 

“You guys are actually cute it’s disgusting.” The brother laughed. 

You were glad for whatever that was, it did more good than harm in convincing the man. 

“You guys should introduce Yoongi to someone too, he’s been single since forever.” He continued, earning an audible groan from the friend. 

“Shut up, I do go on dates.” Yoongi protested. 

“Hinge matches that you’ve never met in person don’t count, Yoongi.”

“I don’t have the time.” The man protested. 

“He’s single? I’m surprised.” You said to Jungkook in a whisper. 

“Why is that surprising?” Jungkook replied back in the same volume. 

“He’s lowkey hot.” You said without thinking.

Jungkook looked back at you with big eyes and crunched his nose. Before he had the chance to react further, his brother spoke again. 

“Any of your lady friends single?” Junghyun turned to you. 

“I’m sure we don’t need to pressure the poor guy like that.” You smiled. 

“Yeah, I didn’t wanna date before I met her too. You can’t force these things.” Jungkook said proudly. You almost rolled your eyes at the acting. 

“Ew, who are you again?” The older brother laughed at his sibling’s words. “Y/N, I’m truly impressed. How did you even manage to tame this animal?”

“He’s actually really sweet and caring at times.” You giggled, gazing at him playfully.

“Hopefully that makes up for him being a brat most of the time?” Yoora looked at you with a smile. 

“Hmm… that I’m not sure.” You chuckled. 

“Oh, is that so?” Jungkook pinched your cheek with a big grin on his face. He knew you couldn’t slap his hand away when everyone was looking. 

“You should join our party this weekend!” Junghyun said to you. “We have a couple of friends coming, it’s gonna be fun.”

“Uh, she’s kinda busy on the weekends… no?” Jungkook looked at you with worry. 

You shook your head with a smile. Everyone had been very nice and welcoming to you. You would be lying to say that you were busy on the weekends. Wouldn’t want to add more lies on top of another lie. 

“I know you don’t wanna go but don’t lie for her like that.” Junghyun eyed his brother.  

Jungkook looked at you, perplexed. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I have nothing better to do anyway.”

After dinner the parents decided to hit the hay first, while Junghyun suggested to hangout at the back porch, having bought beers and all. You and Jungkook volunteered to fetch some cokes and snacks at the mini mart nearby. 

“Seriously, Yoongi?” Jungkook suddenly said as both of you were browsing an aisle. 

You gave your friend a side eye. “Are you judging my taste in men?!”

“You’re into nerds?”

“You’re one to talk.” You threw a bag of Doritos at his direction, that he caught just in time. 

“I still go out and socialize.” He shrugged with a smug smile. 

“Good for you.” You rolled your eyes and walked past him. 

“He barely talks.”

“And you talk too much.”

“Ouch.” Jungkook dramatically put his hands on his chest. 

“You’re taking it way too seriously, I just think he’s hot. I don’t know him.” You pushed him by his shoulder playfully. 

“How about you get to know him then?” He suddenly suggested. You could practically see a broken lightbulb lit up above his head. “I’ll make sure you get to spend some time with him later.”

“You sure switch your lanes fast.” You shook your head. “We’re supposed to be a couple too, so that doesn’t help.”

“Just tell him, he’s chill.” He dismissed. “Knowing him, he probably doesn’t give two shits about it anyway. Besides, it’s not like I’m planning on lying to my brother forever.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?” You thought it was weird too that you actually were considering making a move. 

“He’s a nerd but he’s alright. Decent person.” He made an upside down u with his lips, nodding. “If that’s what you’re into, who am I to judge?”

“You suck.” You threw another snack at him, making him laugh. 

After some chit chats and a few embarrassing stories later, it was almost twelve and at this point everyone just sat down enjoying the night sky. The couple seemed like they were enjoying themselves, cuddling up with each other on the other side of the porch, while you were left with a few more cans or beer with Jungkook and Yoongi. 

Jungkook started to eye you weirdly, signaling you to say something to the awfully quiet man beside you. You looked at him, shaking your head. The boy just smirked at you before suddenly standing up. 

“Gotta hit the bathroom real quick.”

“Jungkook…” You pulled him by his t-shirt, eyeing him. 

“Don’t be too clingy now.” He chuckled and walked away, holding his laughter. 

You sighed and turned to Yoongi, who was now looking at you after Jungkook leaving you alone with him. He took another can and twisted the handle open. 

“You must have the patience of a saint to be with him.” He suddenly said. 

Your eyes widened slightly at the comment, surprising he was starting a conversation. You shook your head, smiling. You didn’t know exactly where to start on the topic. 

“Let me guess, he paid you to act?” 

You gasped, covering your mouth. “Not too loud!”

“They’re asleep.” 

You looked to your right, and a sigh of relief came out as you saw the couple sleeping on the couch. 

“So it’s true?” Yoongi nonchalantly asked as he took more sips of the beer. 

“Well, he didn’t pay me like that… He got me some donuts and I’m just doing him a favor.” 

“You’re doing it for donuts?” 

It was the first time you hear his chuckle, it sounded beautiful. 

“You get a couple of donuts and he gets a brand new Nintendo Switch? That sounds fair.”

“I love doing things for the plot, I guess.” You smiled bashfully. 

He hummed, still with a small smile on his lips. “What’s your favorite movie?”

“Huh? What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I judge people’s character by their favorite movie.”

You giggled. “Jungkook was right.”

Yoongi looked at you questioningly. 

“You’re a nerd.” 

“Oh.” He voiced, seemingly lightly offended.

“It’s Midsommar and Inception.” You answered. 

Instead of reacting, Yoongi just gulped the beer can, this time finishing it. 

“So… what does that say about my personality?” 

“You’re not dating Jungkook, right?”

You were once again surprised. “Depends on who’s asking.” You replied, testing the waters. 

“I’m asking.” He said bluntly. 

You grinned. “Then no, I’m not.”

You had a few more chats before Jungkook came back from his so-called toilet break. You had no idea where he went or what he actually did, but you made a mental note to thank him later for the small favor. 

Jungkook drove you back home that night. The cheeky grin you had the entire ride was giving it away. 

“You look creepy. I assume things went well?” Jungkook asked with eyes still on the road. 

You shrugged but failed to wipe the smirk off your face. “I guess? You were right though…”

“About what?”

“He is a nerd… a cute one.” You giggled. 

“Disgusting.” Jungkook shook his head. “Please keep your act at the wedding.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t betray you like that.” You patted his shoulder from the passenger seat. “After all, you did help me so I could talk to him. So, thank you.”

“Hey, thank you too for even agreeing to whatever this bullshit is.” He sighed. “You know you don’t have to go to that party too.”

“It’s okay, your brother and his girl are good people, I enjoy the company.” You paused then grinned. “Plus, I’ll get to see Yoongi again.”

“If he shows up, that is.” Jungkook laughed. “You better pray cause that man hates parties.”

**

You stared at the reflection in your mirror, fixing the wrinkles on the clothes, you twisted your body to the left and to the right. You were not so sure if wearing a mini skirt was a right choice for the party. You could easily go with your usual baggy jeans and crop top combo, but there was a possibility of Yoongi showing up and you wanted to look pretty. At the very least. Dunking your lip gloss and tint in your purse, you threw in your perfume as well. 

The look Jungkook gave you once he saw you opening the car door was hard to miss. His mouth was ever so slightly gaped and his eyebrows furrowed. You would had guessed that he was insulting you, but his head nodded afterwards, lips turning into thin line as he did. He appeared to be amazed by what he saw. 

“You dressed up well.” He said as you took a seat and closed the door. 

“I’m still betting on Yoongi showing up, remember?”

“Ah yes, of course.” He clicked his tongue. “You don’t need to doll up for him, he’ll show up in a hoodie and bucket hat or something.”

“He doesn’t have to try.” You shrugged.

“Wow, calm down.” He looked at you with judging eyes. “This is you being sarcastic, right?”

You shrugged again, smirking. 

One hour into the party and there was still no sign of your crush at the function. Jungkook’s brother was opening a second bottle of Jägermeister, pouring it for everyone, mixing it with cans of Red Bulls. 

Your supposed boyfriend had already gulped multiple glasses down, his cheeks were glowing pink and he was even more chatty. 

“Looks like your man isn’t coming.” He said to you. 

“It is what it is.” You sighed, downing a shot. 

“At least you look cute today.”

“You think so?” You eyed him with an amused smirk. You wondered if it was already the alcohol doing its thing. 

“Yeah.” He agreed casually. 

You chuckled. “I thought your tolerance was better than this.”

“I’m not drunk yet.” He rolled his eyes. “Wanna go get some fresh air?”

You looked around and saw everyon on the table was dancing around, pretty much tipsy if not drunk already. 

“Can we?” You asked him. 

Instead of answering, Jungkook went to his brother. “We’re going to catch some fresh air for a bit, is that good?”

“Alright, use protection kiddos.” The older man laughed and patted his shoulder. 

“That’s not—“ The man was already back on the dance floor without letting his little brother finish the sentence. 

Jungkook turned to you. “He thinks we’re off to fuck, but we’re good to go.”

“Ew.” You cringed but followed the man out from the club. 

Jungkook sighed heavily as soon as you were at the front of the club. “I thought I was gonna turn deaf.”

“Yeah.” I chuckled. “Your brother parties well it seems.”

“He loves it. He’s borderline alcoholic.” Jungkook shook his head. “I think he likes you.”

“How do you know?”

“He knows my ex from two years ago. He was still bugging me on inviting her even after I told you were gonna show up at our dinner.” He sighed. “I don’t see her, I guess it worked out.”

“Is she someone I know?” You asked with a careful tone. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever introduced her to any of you guys… Jimin knows her though.”

“I see…” You looked away, suddenly feeling awkward on the topic. 

He eyed you and laughed, nudging you before he spoke. “It’s okay to ask, I don’t feel anything for her anymore.” 

You stayed quiet and observed his demeanor, searching for doubts. 

“Seriously! It wasn’t anything bad. We just wanted different things and it didn’t work out. My brother likes her though, so that’s why.” He laughed again, but it slowly faded as he was lost in thoughts on something. “Fuck, if I think about it, he’s gonna be so pissed once he finds out.”

“Is it really worth the Switch?”

“Totally.” He answered without hesitation, laughing. “You on the other hand, I just know it’s not worth the donuts.”

“It’s not that bad. I don’t hate it.” 

“You’re just saying that because you met Yoongi.” He smirked.

“It is a nice bonus!” You cackled, looking up at the sky. “Everyone’s nice and I don’t hate hanging out with you.” 

“Wow.” He rolled his eyes but a smile found his lips. “You know what, let’s go eat some good steak after the wedding!”

“Really?” Your eyes beamed with excitement. 

He nodded. “I don’t hate hanging out with you either.” The grin on his lips was almost blinding.  

Both of you wounded up talking some more. You didn't know that you enjoyed talking basically about shit nothings with him. You never really had the chance to spend time much time alone with him before, given you always met him with the group and you were more close to Jihyo and Jimin. You liked how silly and random he could be and the way he laughed sounded soothing. You were not sure why you came into that conclusion but you decided to stick with it.

Until a certain man stopped in front both of you.  

“Why are you guys outside?”

“Yoongi?” You called, surprised upon seeing the guy. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

The man flattened his lips, trying to appear indifferent. He had his hands inside his pockets and everything. One thing you quickly noticed was how put together he looked. He looked very different from the guy you talked with at the back porch. His hair was sleeked back neatly and you could smell his perfume from where you stood. The black button up shirt fit his physique so well. Surely, no hoodie nor bucket hat like what Jungkook had mentioned. 

Jungkook who seemingly aware of how starstruck you were, let out an audible groan at the scene. 

“I had some work today, I thought of ditching actually.” Yoongi said while looking at you. 

“What changed your mind?” You curiously asked. 

The man shrugged nonchalantly. “Heard you’re invited.”

“Oh.” Your mouth went slightly ajar. You almost couldn’t believe his words. 

“Y’all are disgusting. I’m heading in.” Jungkook walked right through the middle of you and Yoongi, storming right back into the club. 

“Huh.” Yoongi voiced, eyes following Jungkook’s figure disappearing at the door. “Does he know?”

“He knows. It was even his idea…”You confessed. “He went to the toilet on purpose just so we could talk that night.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“Nah, don’t worry. He’s just a pouty brat.” You dismissed. “Let’s go in?”

Yoongi nodded and followed you from behind. 

The moment you and Yoongi arrived at the reserved table, Jungkook was doing two shots of something that one of his brother’s friend handed him. Your eyes met for a split second on his first shot, before he ignored you and chugged another one. Here you thought he was done drinking already. Did he forget that he drove you here?

You had known Jungkook for a while and you knew he could handle his alcohol. You had no problem switching place and drove him. So you kept conversing with Yoongi, thinking your fake boyfriend would be fine, just having a bit more fun wouldn’t hurt him. 

Something was definitely wrong when you saw the lad slurring and excusing himself to puke. 

“Kook? You alright?”

“No.” He replied from the toilet stall. 

You heard another gagging sound before he pressed the flush button. He came out soon after, looking very flushed and unwell. 

“I thought you were done drinking for the night.” You approached him, patting his back. 

“I was being stupid.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can drive back…”

“It’s okay, I’ll drive you and just take uber back.” You assured him. 

Jungkook muttered a low “thanks” before trailing you from behind, back to the table.

“You alright, dude?” Yoongi looked at the guy with sympathy. 

“Yup.” Jungkook did an okay sign, with half closed lids. “At least I can still form a thought.”

“Geez, how will you get home?” Yoongi looked at your direction. 

“I can drive him and take a cab back.” You replied. 

“I can take you home.” The man said sternly. “I’ll meet you at his apartment complex.”

“Oh, you don’t have to!” You widened your eyes, refusing politely. “You just got here too…”

“I insist.” Yoongi grabbed your shoulder, stopping you from rambling further. “Let’s go.”

You followed Yoongi and walked to bid goodbyes to the party host, letting him know the reasoning before heading to the parking lot. 

The tatted man was pretty quiet and calm the whole ride, except for the very few short verbal responses he gave out when you asked him something. Occasionally he would hum like a little kid. You were just glad he was not that drunk to the point where it was impossible to handle. He could still walk by himself properly, but you walked him to his room just in case. 

You were greeted by an over excited Bam, Jungkook’s dog, jumping up to you. It had been quite some time since last you saw the big Doberman. You were glad at least he didn’t think of you as a stranger. Once Jungkook had sat down on the couch, you went back to pet the dog. 

“Did I tell you that you look cute today?”

You looked back at the man who was staring at you innocently. Finally getting to experience first hand on his drunk baby behavior instead of just hearing stories from Taehyung was something else. 

“Yes, you did.” You said without looking at him. Your attention was still on the giant dog. 

“Did Yoongi tell you that too?”

You halted and thought to yourself. That question definitely made you think. Yoongi did not mention anything about how your appearance whatsoever. Did he really have to though? 

“No, he didn’t…”

“You’ve tried your best and he didn’t even say anything?!” 

“Well, at least you noticed.” You smiled. 

“You’re damn right I did.” He grinned proudly. 

You shook your head at the nonsense. “Good night, Kook.”

“Night, cutie.” 

When you got out, Yoongi was already waiting for you. You panned out exchanging numbers after he dropped you off.

**

“This might be the very last favor I’m gonna ask you before it’s finally done for real.”

“What is it again now?”

“Spend the night at the venue hotel with me? Please? My brother booked a room for the family and apparently he added an extra room for us…”

You could hear his voice begging over the phone call. 

“What’s in it for me? I don’t wanna end up like that time you hit Jimin in his sleep.”

“Free breakfast and an awesome roomie that will try his best not to accidentally kick you in your sleep.” His chuckles slowly faded.

“So you’re basically offering nothing.”

“Please?” You could almost picture his exact facial expression.

“I guess a little staycation won’t hurt.” You sighed. It seemed like you couldn't find yourself to reject him. “We’ve already gone too far anyway, might as well just finish this.”

“Thank you so much!” The man shouted from the other line. “I’ll try my best not to hit you while I sleep.”

“You better be.”

So that was how you were now up binge watching unsolved crimes on YouTube, with your pretend boyfriend, who had a newly opened bottle of wine right in his hand, pouring it down onto a glass. 

“You sure your brother wouldn’t mind us taking one of his wines?” 

“Nah, this was gifted anyway.” He waved.

“If you say so.” 

You took the freshly poured glass and slumped on the bed, enjoying the cool feeling of the bedsheets on your skin. Jungkook was lying down next to you, over the bed cover. Both of you had changed into your pajamas and all.

On the fifth video playing, you finally got a text back from Yoongi after you informed him about your small sleepover situation. It could be the lack of emojis used in the replies, but he seemed chill about the whole thing, only telling you to call him right away if anything cynical were ever to occur.  

You didn’t realize but soon your attention was taken by the small screen in your hands, instead of the huge television in the room. But when it finally came into your attention, you quickly put down your phone. You had always disliked people playing with their phones when hanging out with you, figured you would not want to do the same thing. 

“I just told Yoongi that I’m staying the night here.” 

Jungkook’s eyes were already at you when you looked up from your phone. 

He turned back to the screen, going back to take another chip from the bag on his hand. “What did he say?”

“He seems cool with it. Told me to call him straight up if you try anything fishy.”

“Are you guys like a thing now?” 

“Eh, we’ve texted back and forth for days but that’s all.” You shrugged.

The man shifted his position to your direction. “So… do you like him?”

“I mean, I guess he seems like a perfect textbook boyfriend.”

“Whose textbook?” Jungkook raised one of his eyebrows. 

“Well, mine?” You chuckled. “Guess I really do like nerds.” 

“Oh, wow.” Jungkook said in a straight tone, unamused.

“I mean he’s nice and cute, what more can you ask for?” 

The man sighed. “Well, if that’s the case then I guess good for you.” 

“You don’t sound too happy about it.” You noticed the shift in his voice. 

“I’m not excited to see you being all gross with him after this.” He rolled his eyes and pushed the snack to your direction. 

You took one chip and chuckled. “He could just be flirting for fun.”

“Yoongi doesn’t do that.” Jungkook replied with his mouth full. “Bro barely flirts in general.”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” 

Suddenly a big thunder flashed, making a loud noise that shocked both of you. You jumped from your seat to look by the hotel window. It was suddenly pouring heavy outside. Jungkook followed you shortly, peeking next to you. 

You pulled the curtains open, enjoying the calming rain atmosphere. “We’re gonna sleep so good tonight.” 

“Lights on or lights off?” The man asked. 

“Off, all of them.”

“I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.” Jungkook went in for a hi-five. 

You crossed your leg and sat on the floor, eyes on the crazy weather outside. Once again, Jungkook mimicked and joined you on the floor. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asked.

“Nothing, it’s just really nice.” You sighed. “Do you have any nosy relatives?”

“The old ones from my dad’s side are sometimes a bit, but nothing too crazy. Why? Ah… you’re scared you’re gonna get interrogated tomorrow?” 

“Sorta, yeah.” You chuckled. “I don’t do well with new people.”

“You’re gonna be fine, they’ll like you.” He assured. “I’ll do the talk, you’ll just have to smile and look pretty.”

“You think I look pretty?” You pointed at yourself, grinning. 

“I’ve told you before.”

You suddenly remember that night when he was drunk. “Oh, you remember that? You told me I looked cute though not—“

“I remember what I said.” He cut you off with a slight annoyed tone.

“Uh, thanks…” You said, suddenly feeling awkward. You didn’t know why he suddenly seemed so serious about it. 

“You don’t believe it, do you?”

“Well, you were drunk and I know you, you love to say a lot of shit nothings.” 

“I’m not drunk now so…” He puffed his cheeks. 

“We were just drinking wine?” You replied. 

Jungkook groaned. “Shut up.”

“Alright, I believe you.” You laughed. Your cheeks feeling ever so slightly warm. You decided it was due to the glass of wine instead of thinking of other possibilities. 

Jungkook laughed as well, after he rolled his eyes at you. Your eyes met for a short second, but you quickly broke it off and looked back at the window. You were not quite sure why, but you felt the urge to lean your head on the boy’s shoulder. Figuring it wouldn’t be weird, you did so. After all, you did it all the time with Jimin too.

You could tell his shoulder stiffened at first, but it quickly loosened and relaxed. A few seconds later he leaned back his head on top of yours, and both of you just stayed like that for minutes, only the sound of the downpour filling up the room. 

“Hey, look at the sky.”

“Huh?” You suddenly straightened your position and looked up. “What is—“

Then your mind blanked. In a split second Jungkook launched an attack, giving you a surprise kiss on your right cheek. You heard it making a loud smooch noise, despite the rain blaring in the background. You looked at him with your hand now holding your cheek. Would you believe that, the man just looked at you with a big grin as if he was innocent, his eyes turned into thin lines, his lip piercing glared under the moonlight. 

“Did you just kiss me???”

“On your cheek, yes.” He nodded like a kid. The smug grin was still there, proudly. 

“You told me to look at the sky!” You whined. 

“That was the most classic move in the book.” He laughed. 

“Whose book is this?!” You retorted. Weirdly enough, you didn’t seem to mind it that much.

“We need to both review our books it seems like.” He chuckled. “I’m sorry, you just looked very pretty under the moon and all, it was very dramatic in my eyes.” 

“Is this the alcohol talking again?”

“Stop blaming the alcohol and start taking my compliments seriously.” He folded his arms, the muscles flexed as he did. 

Great. Now how in the heavens were you suppose to sleep again?

Thankfully, things somehow managed to cool down after that, and both of you soon retrieved to the bed after cleaning up. 

You were glad the man next to you was a heavy sleeper, so he wouldn’t notice you tossing and turning. Should you be overthinking on Jungkook’s behavior? You knew he was a flirty being, you were sure he did things like this all the time. After all, he fell asleep almost instantly like nothing had ever happened, so it must be true. 

The next morning when you woke up, the left side of the bed was already empty. You were glad that at least no accidents happened during your sleep. It would suck to go to the celebration with a blue eye. You still remembered Jimin’s pain that one time you went camping. 

Assuming Jungkook was off to the gym, you got up and took a shower. By the time you were done, there was a sweaty bare back facing you, sitting on the edge of the bed, gulping down a bottled water. 

Last time you saw Jungkook shirtless was a few months back, maybe even a year ago. Jihyo had this immaculate idea of a beach day, only for it to end up raining. You and her stayed inside the cottage the entire time. But the boys? They didn’t care. Every single one of them ended up catching the cold too. 

That being said, at that period of time, Jungkook was already muscular, but he sure as hell wasn’t as this big. Maybe it was the amount of Twinkies he ate on his free time doing wonders on his bulking. 

“Oh, you’re done?” Jungkook suddenly turned, clutching the t-shirt he had on his hand to his chest. It was almost funny how big his eyes popped open. 

“Yeah.” You wondered why he got flustered all of the sudden. 

“I may stink a bit.” He sheepishly laughed. “I’ll shower and we’ll get breakfast after?”

**

And before you knew it, you were on the table with the Jeons. A flared floral dress clung on your body, heels hanging on your left foot as you crossed your legs, sitting prettily as what Jungkook had asked you. 

You were thankful he kept his words. Here you were, giggling at Jungkook’s aunt, telling you a story about how when he was a baby he used to cry every time upon seeing a literal piece of broccoli. You barely need to say anything. Jungkook kept the conversation going and would always wittily shift the conversation away from turning into public interrogation. 

When the main celebration was over, he didn’t stop you from going to converse with Yoongi. Nor he did when the man kindly asked to swap dance partners. Maybe it was just how he didn’t need any more convincing or anything to prove. The job was already done. 

You found yourself questioning on why he didn’t though, on why he just let you be. You questioned yourself on why you never really felt the butterflies around Yoongi. But at this point, you began to realize something was up. He would say something and all you could think of was how Jungkook would react over the top, make a dumb pun, and dance around like an idiot instead. Yoongi was exactly how you would imagine your perfect guy. But was it also a mental block that made you think you felt something for him other than mild admiration? 

“You’re zoning out.”

“Oh! I was?” You jumped slightly, hearing Yoongi’s comment. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you looking for him?”

“I was just wondering where he went, I haven’t seen him since the dance…”

“I didn’t say a name.” 

You were taken aback. Yoongi’s expression was a mixture of amusement and light disappointment. 

“I’m sorry, my head’s been all over the place…” You replied in a low voice. 

The man sighed, crossing his hands. “Don’t apologize. Don’t worry about it. 

“But, Yoongi…”

“Think about it. Would you say yes if any other person asked you to do this ridiculous favor just for donuts? And why does Jungkook even need to do this so badly?! He could afford the console himself if he wanted to.”

Huh. 

He sighed again, but this time there was a small smile on his lips. “Go. Before I like you even more.”

“I’m so sorry, Yoongi.”

“Just go.”

And with that push, you picked up your feet and searched. He was nowhere near his family table and nowhere at dessert bar. And you knew it wasn’t like him to not camp in the dessert area like a hungry child. You texted him but there was no immediate response. You weren’t sure if calling would be a good idea. You figured he must had ran back to the hotel room.

Your assumption was correct when you found him lying on the floor, with arms and legs stretched out like a starfish, tie discarded next to him. He only spared a look at you for a few seconds, before going back on focusing his vision up at the ceiling. 

“Jungkook, what the hell are you doing…” You couldn’t help a smile forming on your lips. 

“Comforting myself.” He grinned with eyes closed shut. “Wanna join?”

You looked at him and shook your head in disbelief. It took you merely five seconds of decision making before giving up and laid on your side next to him. Jungkook quickly turned his body to your direction once he felt your presence close by. With his arm under his head for support, there was that boyish grin plastered on his face looking at you again. 

“So what are we doing on the floor again?”

“Dunno.” He bit his inner cheeks as he spoke. “You look really pretty today.” He mentioned unpromptly. 

“Stop saying that.” You looked away. 

“Just in case Yoongi hasn’t told you.” He grinned. “Why are you here? You should be at the party…”

“And you don’t?! I thought you want that new switch?” 

“I do, it’s just… I can’t really give a damn about that right now, honestly.” He scoffed. “You shouldn’t be here, though.”

“And why is that?”

“It’s giving me hope.” He turned his body and laid on his back, facing the ceiling again. “This sucks balls but I have to admit that I’m jealous.”

You froze in place. Your eyes still glued to him, looking at his side profile as he continued to talk without meeting your eyes. 

“Yoongi is exactly your type. The whole hot nerd vibe. Smart, broody, quiet. He’s what you go for.” He chuckled. “I’m gonna sound so pick me after this, but I’m not that. I’m dumb and loud. And I hate it.”

“Jungkook…”

“I know this is fake. But it didn’t feel fake.” His voice dropped. “Not to me. Holding you, laughing until we can’t breathe, and last night with the rain???” He smiled in defeat. “I guess somewhere along the line, I just stopped pretending. I stopped thinking about the switch. Hell, fuck the switch. Haven’t thought about it even once after that night at the club…” He shook his head vigorously like a dog, as if wanting to get rid of his thoughts. “I got so jealous that night I started drinking like an idiot.”

Your heart thudded painfully. “You know I liked Yoongi.” 

Words coming out from your mouth shocked him, especially the way you were using past tense. His eyes glimmered in hope. Once again you were amazed by his big rounded eyeballs. 

“But even when I was with him, I kept missing you. I kept wondering how you’d react, thinking about how you’d crack a lame joke, how you’d try to tease me about it…” 

He blinked a few times. “Wait, really???”

“Yeah.”You chuckled, a bit flustered by exposing yourself. “I thought I was doing it for Krispy Kreme, but honest to heavens no one would actually be this dumb. I thought I was at least, but even Yoongi told me that this is just beyond ridiculous.” You sighed. “I wouldn’t be here if I don’t actually enjoy being with you.” 

Jungkook’s expression softened. He too let out a heavy breath. He scooted closer to you with his pair of black boba eyes looking straight at you like a giant puppy. 

“You mean it?”

“I mean, I did have one glass of champagne before coming up here…” You giggled. 

The guy pouted. “Not funny.” 

You reached for his nose and booped it, making him flinch. You took his left hand and placed it on your chest, where your heart was literally beating out of your rib cage. The eye contact didn’t last long as you broke it off, feeling your stomach twisted into a knot. 

And Jungkook wasted zero second after that confirmation. He brought both of his palms and grabbed your face close. His soft lips found yours instantly. Your gasp was muffled by his mouth and it took you no time to melt into his touch though. The kiss was short, nothing too much. You were the first to broke it off, but he did leaned over to chase your lips once more. You caught a glimpse of his proud grin before he pulled you into a hug, stuffing your face into his embrace. 

“Do we really have to do this on the floor?” You protested, but your jaw was basically hurt from smiling. 

“You’re mine you’re mine you’re mine.” He chanted like a possessed individual. He buried his face in your hair and laughed freely. 

“You’re insane.” You giggled. 

“Insanely into you, yeah.” He proudly grinned. 

“Oh my god, don’t make regret this.” You rolled your eyes playfully, finding his antics endearing. 

“You’re mine!!!” He declared again, almost shouting while squeezing you. 

“You haven’t asked anything though.” You backed away, raising your eyebrows at him. 

His eyes widened and his mouth went slightly ajar. "Oh yeah, you’re right, I haven’t asked properly. Well then…” He leaned in a bit closer and took your hand in his, looking into your eyes with sincerity. He inhaled and then, “Do you want to eat wagyu steak with me tonight?”

You pushed him off and whined. 

He laughed, holding his stomach as he did. “Let’s get up first. I’m not asking you to be my girlfriend on the floor.” 

Thank you for reading! 💐

[anonf1writer]

Lando gives you his 4 tally mark necklace so everyone knows you're his 😍

──────────────────

written. 3,1k words. warning: suggestive language. +18. note: this took me almost two months to get done. I'm so, so sorry! I hope you're still around to read it, and I hope I didn't disappoint. Thanks for the request, it means a lot to me!

──────────────────

The context of your relationship with Lando was easy to describe: you two had met through mutual friends less than a year ago, started casually hooking up right away, and had been officially dating for over six months now.

Giving the nature of Lando’s occupation, and the attention his every move got, things were still pretty private between you, meaning that the general public new nothing about your existence yet. Or of what was happening behind closed doors. Like the fact that you had met each other’s families, that you were comfortable around each other’s friends, and that at this point your visits to his apartment had been frequent enough for you to consider his place a little bit yours, too.

For the most part, when he was traveling and busy being a Formula 1 driver, you spent your time at your own place, doing your own thing. But on those weekends when he was back, or during those rare two or three days off in between races, you joined him in a blink of an eye. No invitation needed—not anymore. Both always on the same page when it came to making the most of it, as in everything, together.

On that particular Monday night, the one that set this storyline into motion, it wasn’t any different. You and Lando were at home, his home that was slowly becoming your home, and one of your closest friends was over for some wine and food. The two of you enjoying each other’s company in the living room, laughing and gossiping on the couch, while Lando distracted himself and livestreamed with his own friends behind closed doors. Nothing big, nothing new.

Sometimes, as you two blabbered and laughed, he would pop out of the room to get a snack, to go to the restroom, or just to check up on you. Just to say hello. To make a silly joke and move on. Never a big deal. Never anything that interrupted the conversation that was going on between you and your friend. Not even when the topic shifted to your new co-worker, a guy who had joined the company you worked at less than three weeks ago, and had quickly developed a not-so-subtle crush on you.

“What about that guy from work?” your friend asked, synced with the opening of Lando’s game room door. “Is he still texting you at random hours?”

Busy chewing the last remains of your pizza, you just grimaced and shook your head. Then watched Lando cross the living room and disappear into the kitchen.

“I think…” you said, then stopped to swallow the food, “I think he finally got the message.”

“Good...” Your friend nodded, and took a sip of her wine. “What was his name again?”

“Vincent.”

Mimicking her earlier movements, you leaned in and grabbed your half-finished glass from the coffee table. And then, as you were sitting back and bringing the wine to your lips, a tiny snort left your nose, and you shook your head. All to yourself.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing... He just followed me on insta the other day.”

“Shut up...”

“Mhm…”

You sipped more of your wine, watching your friend frown as you did so.

“How did he even find you?”

“I don’t know…” You shrugged. “But he did, and then he liked a bunch of my older pictures.”

“Noooo!”

“Yeah…”

“Oh my God! Can a guy ever read the room?”

A soft chuckle left your mouth.

“I didn’t follow him back tho, so again, I think he got the message.”

“He knows you’ve got a boyfriend, right?”

You shrugged again, then shuffled on the couch, pulling your legs up and making yourself comfortable.

“Everyone at the office knows, so maybe someone told him? I don’t know.”

“Wait, so you didn’t tell him?”

“I  didn’t even tell him my name, let alone the fact that I’m dating someone I can’t really talk about.”

Your friend rolled her eyes, and then sighed. “Look, I think it’s lovely how consistent you two are on keeping each other a secret, but just this once I think you should tell him you’re dating and therefore not available.”

At that, it was your time to roll your eyes. “Or... He could realize I’ve done nothing to suggest I’m interest and back off because I don’t want him.”

“Right,” she laughed. “You’re talking about a guy that’s been acting like a creep.”

“Exactly. So if he bothers me again, I’ll raise a complaint to HR for harassing.”

You changed the topic after that, and a few minutes later Lando stepped out of the kitchen, the salad he had ordered in hands. He paused to chat a bit with you two, then kissed your temple and made his way back to the game room.

Eventually, your friend said goodbye and left Lando’s apartment, and you took a moment to clean up the mess left behind. Lando was still busy in his own world, his loud laughter vibrating through the walls and making you laugh along from time to time.

It was on your way to the bedroom that you decided to stop by. Just to let him know.

You knocked on the door once, and then another two times—the code you had unintentionally created to avoid interrupting his livestream and getting caught on camera.

“Yeah?” he shouted, but you knew better than shout back at him. Instead, you cracked the door open slightly. Barely. Only enough for you to peek inside and glance at him.

Lando’s eyes were already waiting for you, his head turned to the side while he fully leaned back into his chair.

“Heyyy…” he breathed out, lips curling up into the cutest, softest smile while he stretched his arms up in the air.

“Hey...” you whispered back, lips curling up as well.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you said quietly. “Just saying hi before I get to bed.”

Lando dropped his arms and placed his hands on his lap, then tilted his chin towards the computer.

“It’s muted,” he said. “No need to be quiet.”

You raised your eyebrows, not changing the volume of your voice as you answered, “That’s what you said last time.”

Lando’s smile got bigger, and his eyes wrinkled at the sides. Mischief and playfulness taking all over his expression at the mention of that chaotic memory—when a female voice laughed loudly in the background of an allegedly muted livestream and caused a very serious online meltdown.

“I checked twice,” Lando said, turning back to the camera and giving a thumbs up. “Right, chat? You can’t hear me right now, can ya?”

He leaned in, then, squeezing his eyes to the screen.

“See? They are all lecturing me. Lando, we can’t hear you. Mic’s off, Lando. Lando turn your mic on. Lan—”

“Okay, okay.” You rolled your eyes and pressed your temple against the frame, but a soft chuckle still left your chest at his silliness. “Got it, yeah.”

He leaned back and turned his head to you, smugness written all over him. “Told ya. I learn from my mistakes.”

He winked. And, once again, you raised your eyebrows.

“They can still see tho, can’t they? So don’t get cocky.”

“You’ve barely opened the door,” he laughed. “Not even I can see you, I doubt they’ll be able to.”

“Yeah? Just watch them read your lips or start analysing who you’re talking to so late at night.”

“C’mon…” he laughed again. Head tilting back as he faced the ceiling. “Don’t be si—”

“Ooookay…” you snorted and stepped back from the door, a little too tired to get into one of his playful arguments. “I’ll save you from finishing that sentence.”

“What? C’mon… I’m just teasing.”

“I know. You’re having fun while I’m worried trying to protect your wishes. Then tomorrow you’ll be snapping at me because someone found out you’re not alone and I’ll have to watch you overthink while trying to find ways to prove I don’t exist.”

The world paused around you.

Time paused inside the room.

You watched the moment his face fell. How his expression changed along with the drop of his shoulders. As if some unknown truth had been thrown at him.

And just like that, regret dawned on you, a tight knot twisting low in your gut as you tried to make sense of your words. Of your abrupt change of mood.

You looked down to your feet and sighed, your voice coming out like a whisper when you spoke again. “Sorry… I don’t know why I said that.”

Lando nodded.

You noticed his movements, the way he turned back to his computer and leaned forward to reach his keyboard. How he typed, then clicked a few things, and then how everything went off. Heavy silence easily filling the room.

“C’mere,” he said, once again leaning back into his chair, then fully turning it towards you. You looked up, meeting his eyes, and Lando tilted his head slightly to the side. “Please?” He stretched his arm to you. “I’m not streaming anymore, I promise.”

You checked the screen, just to be sure, then dropped your arms to your sides and sighed. Embarrassment taking over your chest—and flushing across your neck and cheeks—as you walked towards him.

Lando didn’t wait for you to stand in front of him before reaching out for your waist, hands grabbing your sides and pulling you down to his lap with the easiness of someone who had pulled that move hundreds of times before.

You gasped, even squealed a little, a smile curving your mouth as you adjusted yourself to sit on his thighs. Body to the side and legs hanging in the air. Arms circling around his neck. Eyes settling inside his gaze.

Silent.

Comfortable.

Easy.

“Sorry,” you said. Again. “Didn’t mean to snap.”

“I know,” Lando smiled, placing your hair behind your ear, then cradling your cheek. “I never tried to prove you don’t exist. You know that, right?”

“Of course, yeah.”

“Is it how I make you feel, tho? Like I’m trying to hide you or something?”

“No... C’mon... I understand why you’re so... Protective. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Ok…” He nodded, arms settling around your waist, pulling you a bit closer to him. “Just making sure.”

“Sorry for making you end the stream.”

Lando smiled. “Thank you for making me end the stream.”

A smile grew on your face, too.

There was a pause, in which he held your stare in silence as he moved one hand to the back of your neck.

“C’mere,” he said, then pulled you in, his lips brushing over yours once, then twice. Slowly. Softly. As if it was the first time he was getting a taste of them. As if he wasn’t really sure he was allowed to do that.

Your chest fluttered, and you leaned into him. Melted into him. Eyes falling shut and hands moving to curl tightly around his jumper. To hold onto its neckline like you were afraid he would suddenly stop and leave. Like he could vanish.

A low, contented hum escaped him, almost like he didn’t mean it. Like he couldn’t help it. Like he was melting into you, too. Hand pressing on the nape of your neck and arm anchoring around your waist, guiding the pace while he tilted his head and deepened the kiss.

You exhaled through your nose and followed his lead. Stomach flipping and thoughts blurring. Getting lost into the tenderness and casually of it. Into how personal, intimate, and affectionate it felt. How soft, how steady, how electric it was. The way he moved, the way he sounded, the way he tasted. How he treated you with respect and carefulness, like you were the most delicate and precious thing in the world, and yet made you feel breathless and powerless, like you could die if you didn’t get more of it. Of him. Or this.

And then, Lando pulled away. Panting. Hand still holding the back of your head and lips still brushing yours when he asked, “Who’s Victor?”

Your lips searched for him, unwillingly. Automatically. Your body craving for more before his words clicked inside your mind.

He didn’t stop you, kissing you back and allowing your mouths to ghost over each other as you spoke between kisses. Never quite gone.

“Victor?” you asked.

“Mhmm…” His nose bumped against yours, and he slipped his hand between your hair, making sure you wouldn’t lose the pace.

“I don’t… Hmm… I don’t know… Shit… Who’s Victor?”

“I don’t know…” he repeated. “Someone that’s been hitting on my girlfriend… Or so I’ve heard…”

You blinked your eyes open and flinched back. Just an inch. As far as he allowed you to. Only enough to meet his eyes.

“What?”

Lando shrugged, and you licked your lips. Trying to gather your thoughts. Trying to make sense of what the heck was going on.

“You mean Vincent?”

He rolled his eyes and pulled you back in, his lips barely touching yours before he was tilting your head back and moving them down your jaw.

“Potato, patahto,” he murmured, his warm breath hitting your neck while he kept smothering your skin. Your throat. “Still hitting on my girlfriend.”

A smirk grew on your lips, and you closed your eyes, feeling his lips kissing your sensitive spots. Feeling his tongue getting its own taste, his teeth grazing right behind.

“Didn’t know you were listening to us...”

“Was I supposed not to?”

He sucked onto your sweet spot, and you gasped. Thighs clenching and fingers twisting even tighter around his jumper.

“Fuck…” you breathed out.

“I know…” Lando murmured, brushing the tip of his nose up and down the same spot. “I wonder how many until I leave a mark…”

“You never leave any…”

“Maybe I should start…”

He kissed you again, softly, moving his mouth and making sure no inch would go unattended.

Heat built low in your belly, slow and relentless, and you shuffled on his lap—even though the position you were in didn’t allow you to feel much of him.

“Jealous?” you managed to ask.

Lando snorted and pulled away, guiding your head so you would look at him.

“Just annoyed… Pissed, actually… Why is some random guy texting you and going through your photos? Who the fuck does he think he is?”

You smiled, hands loosening up around his clothing and moving up through the back of his neck. Fingers tangling with his curls as you said, “Someone who stopped texting after I left him on read, and who never got a follow back from me…”

“Hm…” He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut while you ran your nails up and down his scalp. “Can’t say I’m not happy to hear that.”

You chuckled. “Did you think I’d react differently?”

“No…” he said, eyes meeting yours again. “But as confident in our relationship as I am, can’t ever get too comfortable, can I?”

You tilted your head, not really knowing what to say at that.

Thankfully, Lando didn’t give you too much time to think about it before he added, “Don’t want him to think you’re single, tho.”

“We don’t know if he thinks that.”

“Then I want to make sure he knows you’re taken.”

You smiled. “I’m taken, huh?”

Lando rolled his eyes, hands sliding down your spine while he stretched his back and got taller underneath you.

“You’re mine,” he said, voice an octave lower and fingers reaching to the hem of your sweater. “Just like I’m yours. Yeah?”

You nodded, curling your body to place your forehead against his. Feeling his bare touch pressing on your lower back, warm and needy.

“Yeah... You know I am… Yours.”

“I know… I want him to know, tho. Not just him, everyone.”

“Lan…” you sighed. “If this is because of what I said, you don’t have to—”

“Not saying this because of what happened,” he said. “I’m saying it because I love you and because you’re beautiful and I don’t want stupid wankers hitting on you when I’m not around.”

“Well… That’s not really fair, is it? I can’t stop girls from hitting on you while you’re not around.”

“Babe, not one single girl has flirted or—”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. Loudly enough that you had to bring one hand to cover your mouth.

Lando smiled. And you noticed how something softened inside him. How he dropped his shoulders. How his touch went from greedy to affectionate. Still pulling you closer, still holding you in place, but with a different intention behind it.

 “I mean it, tho,” he said. “I don’t want to keep hiding it anymore. I heard when you said I’m someone you can’t really talk about, and I don’t want you to feel that. I want you to say ‘I’ve got a boyfriend’ and throw my name into a conversation if you feel like it. Just… Y’know… Want it to be natural.”

You pressed your lips together and sighed, pushing the playfulness aside to understand the seriousness of what he was suggesting with that.

“Okay… But just so you know, this feels natural to me. I don’t have to say ‘my boyfriend Lando Norris’ for me to talk about you. People who know me know I’m not single, the only reason why I haven’t told Vincent it’s because I haven’t really sat to chat with him. He saw me twice and decided it would be a good idea to get my number without even asking me about it.”

“Fucking idiot.” 

“Right?”

“Can’t really blame him, though… Kinda hard to look at you and not to fall in love.”

“Oh my God…” You rolled your eyes, but also smiled, shoving his shoulder playfully before hugging his neck. “Shut up.”

He did as you told, busying himself by kissing you instead of talking again.

From then on, the kissing melted into something more. The chair becoming uncomfortable to hold so much want and so much need from both of you, and your touches and steps guiding you blindly to his bedroom. To your bedroom. To your bed. Clothes getting lost along the way.

“I love you,” he said, over and over again.

Stealing your breath away.

Making you forget your name.

How you got there in the first place.

Until you were shaking and falling on top of him, his hips digging and pushing until he got the last bit of pleasure out of you. Of him. Of both.

Erratic. Intense. Everything.

The next morning, Lando left earlier than you. You didn’t even hear him, didn’t even feel him. Tangled and sprawled in the sheets. Blissfully happy. Satisfied.

You saw it when your alarm went off, though. His tally mark necklace, his number four shining in the sunlight. Right on top of his pillow. And a post it right in between the two.

For you. So everyone knows you’re mine ;) Love you. LN.

And that’s how it happened.

That’s how you ended up clasping his necklace around your neck.

And that’s how now, every time you think of him, you bring your hand to your chest and hold onto him. How you know he’s always there, like a part of you. Loving you. Whether everyone knows it...

Or not.

──────────────────

[ducksido]

Idk if you accept requests but I just read your "accidentally proposing" fic with Octavinelle, Savanaclaw and Diasomnia and had an idea!! (I have Savanaclaw in mind specifically but it might work with others?)

So what if to beast/mer/etc men, biting/marking your lover is basically like a wedding ring. A symbol to others that you're claimed (and that both parties felt safe enough to be marked that way). So imagine if the boys are already kinda crushing on Yuu/reader only for them to take their jacket off or something and reveal like a big ole bite mark on their shoulder (or wherever) and they get all mopey thinking their already claimed but in reality they just got bit by something back from their world and the scar stuck

(Inspired partially by my dad, who has a big bite mark on his arm that everyone thinks is a tattoo. it's not. Just an old dog bite)

(damn your dad sounds cool)

Savanaclaw

Setting: The Savanaclaw boys have been pining for you, and today, you're just casually stripping your jacket off after PE class, revealing a decent-sized bite scar on your shoulder.

They freeze.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona’s eyes lock onto the mark and he goes deathly quiet. His tail flicks. His ears flatten just a bit. Internally?

"Of course. Figures. I finally meet someone who doesn’t annoy me and they’re already spoken for."

He sulks hard. You notice him going distant, brushing you off when you try to chat later. It’s not until days later—when he mutters, "Your mate let you walk around unguarded like that?"—that you blink and go,

"Mate? Oh, no, a dog bit me when I was ten. Real jerk. Still got the scar."

Leona’s head snaps up. His ears twitch.

"Wait… that’s not a claiming mark?"

Cue one (1) very smug Leona by the next morning, mysteriously returning to sitting too close again.

Jack Howl

Jack actually drops the water bottle he was holding when he sees the scar. His eyes widen and then avert—immediately. He turns pink at the tips of his ears.

"Oh. I—I didn’t know you were already marked. Sorry."

He becomes very formal, very stiff. Starts calling you “prefect” again instead of your name. You finally confront him, a bit heartbroken at the sudden coldness.

"You’ve been weird since PE, what gives?"

"...I just didn’t want to overstep. That kind of scar usually means you belong to someone."

When you tell him it’s an old wound from a totally mundane dog bite, he short circuits. Like, tail-wagging-involuntarily level of flustered.

"I—I see! That makes sense! You—you should be more careful, it looked real... um, real meaningful."

Now he can't stop glancing at your shoulder and getting flustered.

Ruggie Bucchi

“Tch. Lucky bastard, whoever bagged ya.”

He’s a mix of bitter and resigned—still flirty, but with a new sad little edge. Keeps joking like,

“Too bad you’re taken. Coulda had fun.”

When you finally ask what the hell he means, he gestures at the scar like, duh.

“That’s a mark. You don’t just give or get one of those unless you’re real serious.”

You: “That was a chihuahua. It bit me because I stole its hotdog.”

He stares.

“...A chihuahua did that?” “Yeah.” “And here I was mourning a relationship that never even existed. You owe me emotional compensation, y’know!”

Back to flirting. With vengeance.

OCTAVIANS:

Setting: You’re helping out in the Lounge. The uniform jacket’s getting hot, so you slip it off behind the bar… and your shirt collar slips just enough for a very visible, very real-looking bite scar to be seen by two (2) nosy eels and one (1) devastated octomer.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul freezes mid-shaker pour. You don’t notice—it’s just a quick glimpse—but Azul does. And his brain short circuits.

"A mark that deep... that shape... it’s deliberate. Ritualistic. They’re already bound?"

He’s devastated—but covers it up with grace. Or tries to. He gets very formal, colder. You catch him staring at your shoulder more than once with that complicated emotion you can’t name.

He’s too polite to ask directly—until the heartbreak gets to him.

“You’re in a binding, aren’t you?”

You: “Huh?”

“The bite mark on your shoulder. Among merfolk, that symbolizes an eternal commitment.”

You: “Oh! Nah. That’s just from a dog that chomped me when I was a kid. I kicked him in the face.”

Azul.exe has stopped working.

“...You what—?”

Goes beet red and storms into his office to scream into a pillow. You later find your drink on the house, labeled ‘thanks for the heart attack’.

Jade Leech

Jade smiles when he sees the scar. But his eyes go half-lidded, calculating. He suddenly speaks softer. Steps farther back. Less teasing, more… respectful distance.

“My, I wasn’t aware you were already bound. Forgive me if my prior behavior overstepped.”

You: “Bound to what now??”

He gestures subtly to your shoulder, like it’s obvious.

“A bite mark like that, well… among certain species, it’s not given lightly. It would be considered rude to compete for the affection of one already ‘marked.’”

Cue your laugh.

“Oh that? I was eleven. Some mutt thought my lunch was his.”

Jade pauses… then grins, slow and sharp.

“Is that so? How very fortunate. In that case… I wonder how your skin scars. Hypothetically, of course.”

You're not sure if that’s a flirt or a threat. Probably both.

Floyd Leech

“...Huh?”

He just blinks at the mark when he sees it. Then squints real hard. Then stops talking to you.

Like, full Floyd shutdown mode. No nicknames. No glomps. Just grumpy silence. You ask him what’s wrong, and he shrugs you off like:

“Nothin’. Don’t talk to taken people. It’s boring.”

You practically have to wrestle the truth out of him. When he finally gestures at the mark, you laugh so hard you snort.

“That? Nah, that’s from a dog bite. We were playing tug-of-war and he missed the toy and got my shoulder instead. It’s just a scar.”

“Whaaat?? That’s it??”

Floyd immediately perks up. Grabs your shoulders and spins you around like:

“So you’re not somebody’s shrimp? Heh. Good. I hate leftovers.”

Later bites you (playfully) and says he wants to "make it official."

DIASOMNIA

Malleus Draconia

Malleus was just enjoying your presence—he always is. You pull off your hoodie to reveal a bite mark on your upper arm and— He stares.

The air around him tightens. He doesn’t speak at first. Just… quietly steps back. His green eyes dim.

“...You are claimed.”

He says it like a funeral eulogy.

You blink. “Claimed?? What are you talking about?”

“That mark. You accepted a fae bond.”

You laugh. “Wait, this?” You twist your arm to show him properly. “That’s from a feral raccoon. He got me through a screen door.”

...

Malleus goes silent. Then he laughs—one of those rare, rich, real ones.

“You truly are fascinating, Child of Man. A sacred mark... from a trash beast.”

And now he won’t stop teasing you about it.

“Shall I give you a proper one, to replace the raccoon’s?”

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia recognizes the bite mark instantly—and what it would mean if it were real. His smile drops for a moment. A beat of quiet heartbreak.

“Oh… you’ve already given yourself to another?”

He masks it fast—reverts to his cheerful, mischievous self. But the sharpness in his tone dulls.

“You should’ve told us! We’d have sent you a proper gift, you know. A token for the bound.”

You: “Lilia, I got this bite scar from a goose. I was five. It hated my jacket.”

“...A goose?” “An evil goose.”

A beat. Then he laughs so hard he nearly levitates.

“You poor thing! Bitten by a beast of chaos!” “You mean the goose?” “No. The jacket.”

He’s overjoyed, suddenly affectionate again, now plotting how to actually mark you with fae tradition. You may have unleashed something.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek screams internally the moment he sees it. He immediately turns away, face twisted.

“I see. You have already pledged loyalty elsewhere.”

Goes full formal mode. Loud. Respectful. Heartbroken.

“I WAS A FOOL TO BELIEVE—TO HOPE—THAT YOU WERE UNBOUND!”

You’re like: “Dude. What?”

He dramatically points at the scar.

“That! You wear it openly!”

You: “Oh, you mean my shoulder scar? A horse bit me.”

Sebek.exe blue screens.

“A… horse?” “He didn’t like carrots. I was five.”

...

He gets so red. Immediately bows in apology. Starts yelling at the horse retroactively. Gives you his coat. Declares he’ll train to bite harder than any equine.

Silver

Silver notices the scar. He gets very quiet. Thoughtful.

Later that day, he gently asks:

“Did it hurt when you were claimed?”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

“The mark. It’s permanent. You must’ve trusted them deeply.”

You laugh. “No, no—Silver, I got that from a neighbor’s dog. He panicked during fireworks.”

Silver: “Oh.”

...Then he stares at the sky like it personally betrayed him.

“I thought I missed the moment you gave your heart away...”

You pat his shoulder, and he very gently, very subtly leans into it—maybe hoping he could be the one to earn that mark someday.

[xazse]

helllooo! can i request hybrid goio x fem hybrid reader whos new to the house (geto adopted them^^) and reader and gojo have a good bond it hasnt really been much sexual (gojo doesnt know what sex is) until reader goes into heat and she ends up using one of her toys and leaving it on the bed when she went to go wash up or smth.. and gojo ends up smelling it and shit and they boombaya🤯

i had several strokes writing this thank u for listening 💔

Cw: SnowLeopard!Satoru x PuppyHybrid!Reader + fem!reader + heats + crying + mentions of Suguru

Hello!! I am sorry this took so long I hope you like this! And everyone else who’s been waiting more puppy!reader!!

Satoru and you were instantly locked together the first week you were brought to the house, he instantly fell in love with your jumpy fun personality, he freaking loves you so much. You and him do everything together, refusing to go anywhere without one another is absolute.

Suguru even has a hard time separating the two of you, he doesn’t try to but the on the occasion he needs to it’s the hardest thing in the world.

Like now, he’s had to have you completely separated from Satoru because he’s acting strangely, strange in the aspect that he’s started to sniff at you a lot more, Satoru will sit for hours just simply content with smelling you. Going on and on about there’s a sickly sweet smell coming from you, he has yet to place his finger on where the smell is coming, that was the cue for Suguru to throw you in a spare bedroom alone.

It’s absolute hell for you that week all the toys Suguru supplies you with become thrown against the wall in frustration, the tears on your part are endless as you beg Suguru for something he just can’t give you, all he can do is rub your soft fluffy ears and offer reassurance while you fuck yourself wild on your toy. The room is encased in a thick layer of just pure warmness, you’ve been going at it for at least a few hours, he feels terrible for not being able to fully understand what you’re going through.

Satoru’s still acting strangely, he’ll sit at your door and whine for his fun companion to come back out, but everytime he tries to open the door he’s quickly met with Suguru’s swift hand upon his, letting him know that you’re off limits for right now. He’ll trudge back into the living room with a sad sag of his shoulders looking back at your room with an even sadder expression, Suguru’s heart rips in half when those blue eyes look at him.

Ever so innocent Satoru is as hardheaded as they come, regardless when Suguru is sleep in the dead of night he slips out of the room and makes his way to yours, it’s been too long without a word from you and Suguru isn’t helping to calm his mind at all.

He tries your lock and finds it doesn’t budge, so with the smallest amount of strength he breaks it, he can already picture Suguru’s livid face going on and on about how expensive that’ll be to replace.

When he steps into the room he’s hit with a wave of a sweet smell, the same one he’s been smelling on you but it’s at an all time high now, he covers his nose but the smell still penetrates deep. He could turn around right now since he can hear your shower running but he hasn’t seen you in so long, how he is supposed to stay away without making sure you’ve been fine?

He makes his way towards your bathroom but something out of the corner of eye catches him, it’s on your bed and with his sense of smell he knows that’s where the scent is the strongest. His heady head tells him to get closer: to investigate. Without even properly thinking he’s walking towards the toy, he’s kneeling in front of it and with a slow cautious hand he’s picking it up.

Every sense of Satoru’s is immediately heightened as he zones in on it, his breath doesn’t seem to be keeping up all that well. He realizes he’s breathing out of his mouth rather than his nose, it smells so fucking good he can hardly contain himself, no he feels he won’t be able to contain himself if he doesn’t leave this room, his legs feels shaky when he grips the edge of the bed to help him stand.

He comes crashing right back down to the floor with the toy in hand, he sniffs at it, almost salivating. He’s never felt like this before, his body runs hot and feverish in almost an instant, now all his mind is telling him to do is to find you.

“Satoru?” You. Your voice travels within his ears and he’s really about to lose it, the short shorts and the mini tank top don’t help whatever this feeling is, he zones in on the droplets of water deploying from your body. You stare at him with an unreadable expression, a fire burns within your eyes as you realize what’s happening to him.

You don’t think he knows that his cock is standing at full attention, that his tail is swishing behind him like he’s looking at prey. You walk towards him as slow as you can and like a burning man Satoru stares so intensely, watching every step you take towards him, also feeling just as hot as he is.

You know Satoru’s strength is nothing to play with but the way his hips are meeting your ass are just downright stupid, ever since you laid your lips upon his he’s just been like an untamed animal, fucking into you for at least a good hour, he’s cum so many times but he recovers just as fast, pumping another unprotected load into you. You’re equally as slutty with the way your pussy grips onto him and pulls him right back into position.

The room smells like sweat, you know that. Your cunt has been begging for release like this since your awful heat had started and now she’s finally getting what she wants and is absolutely being greedy about it. Satoru kisses you just like a virgin would, messy and uncoordinated but you know he loves it, loves you and loves how good you’re making him feel.

His balls tighten once more and he spills liquid hot into you for the however time today.

He moans shamelessly in your ear, resting in the crook of your neck, begging for another release, he’s probably also begging for the hot feeling invading his being to stop as well, it’s all your fault, poor Satoru, he can’t stop the filt of his hips all because you and you’re heat but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[tokkiwrites]

ㅤ⠀ ˚̣̣ ᵕ̣̣̣̣̣̣⠀⠀⠀⠀토키⠀⠀⎯⎯⠀⠀( ✿ . )⠀⠀⠀⠀† ꯭ ⎯⎯

꒰ ꪆ୧ ꒱ SUℳM𝛢RY ⌢ ꒰੭. You always thought things would change after high school. College was supposed to be your escape. But things don't change. You drop out and move back into your small home town, where you are still invisible, still too soft, still too dumb. Then people start dying. People who hurt you. People who laughed at you. People who touched you when they shouldn’t have. It feels like fate. Like someone’s watching out for you. And when you finally meet him it doesn’t feel like fear. It feels like being chosen.

˖˙ ᰋ ── 𝖙ags ˚ DARK JOEL MILLER FIC, killer! joel miller x fem! reader, afab reader, no outbreak au, mentions of murder, mentions of blood, violence, mention of bullying, slow descent into obsession, delusional reader, outcast reader, age gap (mentioned once), morally grey characters, made up characters and places, semi public sex, rough p in v (unprotected), creampie, knife play, marking/branding, cum eating, degradation, dumbification of reader, choking, slight size kink, slight breeding kink.

𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒﹙ʚɞ˚﹚ 𝖓ote: hey...how yall doin...? im sooo sorry i disappeared on you guys :( uni has been kicking my ass but i promise i will be more active from now on!!! had a chance to write for some of the requests so those will be coming soon! here's a small spring gift for you all :p i hope you enjoy it! 🎀🌟🐇

You thought it would feel different, leaving.

You thought that when high school ended, you’d find something different waiting for you. You imagined a new beginning, a fresh start, maybe something exciting—something where you wouldn’t fade into the background. But the reality was far from that.

You were always too soft. Too nice. You never knew how to be anything else, even when everyone around you told you to toughen up, to stop being so stupid.

In high school, they made sure you knew how weak you were. How easy it was to push you aside. You were a target for the mean girls, the ones with sharp smiles and even sharper tongues. They loved to mock you, but you didn’t have the heart to fight back. Instead, you retreated into yourself, hoping that one day, they’d stop.

You thought maybe things would change when you went off to college. It wasn’t like you had high expectations—it was just supposed to be a chance for something different. You imagined that the people there wouldn’t see you the same way. But it wasn’t different. It was the same. It felt like rot.

College was just high school in a bigger building. Louder rooms. Longer halls. The same laughter behind your back.

Your professors barely knew your name. The other students walked past you like you were invisible. And no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much you smiled or how polite you were, it was always the same. You thought that maybe it was just a phase. That things would get better after a few months. But after three years, it just felt like you were fading. You didn’t belong anywhere. You didn’t even recognize yourself anymore. You didn’t feel like you were living.

That’s when you decided to come home.

Your parents didn’t question you at first. They asked once, maybe twice, but after a few months, the questions stopped. They stopped expecting anything from you. And so did you.

Now you live in a small apartment above an old antique store in Northridge, a place where no one expects anything from you. It’s quiet except of the floors that creak beneath your feet, and the window by your bed is stuck halfway open, even when you beg it not to. You don’t even bother trying to fix it anymore. It’s just easier this way.

You work at Sloan’s Bakery, a quiet little shop that smells like cinnamon and fresh bread. It’s nothing glamorous, but it’s safe. You like the routine. You like the silence. Now, you don’t mind being unnoticed.

Today isn’t supposed to be different. You’re just doing your usual thing, putting the price tags on the pastries like you always do. The oven hums in the back, the cash register dings every so often as customers come and go. You feel like you’re in a bubble, watching the world outside through the small window at the counter. Nothing remarkable. Everything in its place.

And then, the bell above the door rings too loudly. You glance up, expecting some sleepy regular—maybe Mr. Hanley, or that tired-looking woman who orders oat milk but forgets every time that you don’t carry it.

But you were never the luckiest person.

It’s Macy King. Her heels click too sharply against the floor, and for a second, it feels like you're back in high-school. You haven’t seen her since then. You don’t know why, but the second you see her, you freeze. You’ve never forgotten her face.

“Oh my god,” she says, too loud, too fake. “It’s you.” She laughs. That same high-pitched laugh you remember from the cafeteria. It scrapes something raw inside you. You don’t know what to say. You feel like you’ve been caught in something. “I haven’t seen you in, like… forever.” She giggles like it’s funny, but you know it’s not. She’s looking at you with that same old smugness, that always made you feel small. It funny really, she's at the same level since high-school yet she still believes everyone is beneath her.

“Didn’t you go to college or something? I thought you’d be, like, doing something by now.” You can’t find your voice. You nod slowly, trying to force the words out, but your mouth feels dry. “IㅡYeah… for a while.”

She doesn’t ask why you’re back. She doesn’t care.

“So this is what you’re doing now?” Her eyes sweep across the bakery. She’s sizing you up, like she’s inspecting the life you’ve built. “Wow, that’s… cute. Really, though, I didn’t expect you to end up here.” She doesn’t say it mean. But that’s the trick with Macy. She never said it mean. Not directly. Just enough to make you feel like dirt on the floor.

You don’t answer. You can’t. You want to scream, but it’s like your throat’s closed up, and the words aren’t coming. She steps closer, running her fingers over the glass of the pastry case like she owns the place.

“Oh my god, do you still make those little cookies?” she asks, peering into the display case. “The ones with the filling in the middle? What are they called? The jelly blobs?”

“Thumbprints,” you say softly.

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll try one.” You give it to her, unsure of what to expect. She bites into it immediately, but her face twists in distaste.

“Ew,” she spits out, loud enough for the whole bakery to hear. “This is disgusting. Too sweet.”

You don’t move. You just watch as she drops the half-eaten cookie on the floor, the soft thud of it making your stomach turn. “Oh, wait. Let me try that one,” she says, pointing at a different pastry. You give it to her. She bites into it and immediately frowns, dropping it to the ground too.

“Ugh, all of these are gross,” she says, shaking her head like you’re the one at fault. She turns her back on you like she’s bored, her eyes scanning the other pastries, dismissing them with a flick of her wrist. “Do you ever get anything right?” she adds, but it’s not a question. It’s just another jab.

You bend down to clean up the mess she’s made, your hands shaking as you gather the pieces of pastry from the floor. The crumbs stick to your skin, like a reminder of how small and invisible you are.

She doesn’t say goodbye when she leaves. She just walks out, her footsteps echoing in the silence she leaves behind.

It’s hours later and it's finally time for you to close up. You don’t know why you turn the radio on, but you do. It’s the static hum of the local station, the voice on the other end dull and distant.

“…Body discovered behind the Valero gas station early this morning. Authorities have confirmed it’s a local man in his twenties…” Your heart skips a beat and you sit up straight, the words striking you harder than they should.

“…Multiple stab wounds to the chest. Police are investigating but no suspects have been identified. More details to come as the investigation unfolds.” You don’t know why it strikes you so hard, but you can’t shake it. The voice continues, but you’re already lost in your own thoughts.

Its not long until the whole town starts talking. Brandon Haynes. You remember him. He was just like everyone else. He touched you. Too much, too harsh. More than enough to make you feel small. To make you feel like nothing.

You don’t know why it’s so strange. Why it feels like you’re holding your breath. It doesn’t matter.

You don’t feel anything for him. But you feel something for the moment. For the chance that maybe something’s shifting. Something is moving. And in that quiet, empty way, you realize that maybe you’re not the only one who’s been pushed aside.

A few days later and it is close up time again. As always the radio voice drones on as you wipe the counters. “Macy King found dead this morningㅡ”

You don’t need to hear more. You already know.

Macy is dead too. How is this even possible? Was it all a dream, or was it the karma they couldn't escape from? You don’t feel sorry for her. You don’t feel sorry for Brandon either. But something’s stirring deep inside you. Something darker. Something that’s been waiting for a long time. It feels liberating. Maybe it makes you broken. But you don’t care.

Because some quiet part of you smiles.

You never said it out loud, but you hated them. For how they made you feel. For how they touched you, laughed at you, stepped on you. And now they’re gone. You tell yourself it’s not coincidence. How could it be? What if someone saw you? What if someone knows?

What if someone did it… for you?

The thought makes your breath catch. Makes your cheeks flush. It’s stupid. Delusional. But it feels like the first real thing you’ve had in months. Maybe longer.

Someone out there, somewhere in this cruel, gray little town, might’ve done what you’ve never had the courage to. And that makes you feel seen. Wanted. It doesn’t scare you. It makes your chest flutter.

So you hope, quietly, selfishly, shamefully, that whoever it is, does it again. For you.

Days later, the radio talks about Macy's death like it’s a warning. Like the whole town should be afraid. They now know the crimes were done by the same person. A man. But you’re not afraid. You’re captivated.

You walk home that day in a daze, the cold air biting at your cheeks, and for the first time in so long, you feel like someone is walking with you. Not beside you, but behind you. Somewhere. Watching. At least thats how it seems, or that's what you hope for.

And that thought that maybe someone sees you, maybe someone is thinking of you, it makes you ache. It makes your chest feel full. Like you matter. Like you’re real again.

So the next morning, you get up early. You shower longer than usual. You put on perfume, the one you wore back in college when you thought someone might notice you. You do your hair, just a little lipstick, and put on that soft sweater that hugs you just right. You don’t know why you’re doing it.

Except you do.

Because maybe he is out there. Maybe he's watching. Maybe you’ll catch a glimpse of him one day— maybe at work, across the street, reflected in the bakery window. Maybe he’ll come in and ask for a loaf of rye bread. And you’ll know. It’s stupid. But you don’t stop.

You start waking up earlier. Dressing softer. Smiling, just in case. The town is still cold and gray, but inside you, something is blooming.

A few weeks pass. You’ve stopped keeping track of the days. Everything just folds together now—sugar, flour, radio static, names whispered on the news.

The third victim throws you for a loop. Julian Moore.

He wasn’t like Macy or Brandon. He never laughed in your face, never whispered about your thighs or stole things from your locker. He wasn’t cruel.

But he stood by. That's your reasoning.

He was there, every time you were shoved into a locker or had your tray flipped in the cafeteria. He saw you crying in the girls’ bathroom after gym, after someone stole your clothes. He saw everything. And he never said a word. So when they find Julian’s body slumped behind the old church parking lot, throat cut clean through, something inside you hums. Not with guilt. Not even with relief.

But with a kind of satisfaction.

'You see me', you think. 'You’re doing this for me'. You’re too far gone now. You know it. But it’s like slipping into warm water. Soft and quiet and too easy to sink.

You don’t pray to God anymore. You pray to him.

Whoever he is.

Some nights, you whisper your thoughts aloud. Just in case he can hear you. You tell him about the people you hated, the ones that ruined you, the ones that still smile like they got away with it. You tell him about your dreams. About how sometimes you think you feel him just outside your apartment, under your window, in the creak of the floorboards that shouldn’t creak. You leave your curtain open a crack at night.

Just in case.

More days pass. The sky is bruised purple and gold, streetlights humming like quiet thoughts, the pavement still sticky with sun. You smell like sugar, yeast and a little vanilla, your apron folded neatly in your bag, your perfume still clinging to your collarbones. And you feel good.

It’s not something you admit often. But tonight, the wind is soft. Your chest feels light. And there’s that quiet, persistent buzz in your stomach that maybe—just maybe, he’s proud of you.

You walk slower than usual. You want to be seen. You smile at the window reflections. At your shoes. At nothing.

And then it shifts. At first it’s subtle. There's a sound that doesn’t belong. A presence you can’t place. But it thickens around you slowly, like fog, until you know you’re not alone. There’s someone behind you.

It's ot a feeling anymore. Not a maybe.

Someone is there. Slowly, your steps falter. You stop, you turn. And he’s there.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Older. He’s standing under the glow of a flickering lamppost like it’s a spotlight and he is the misunderstood actor, with shadows cutting across his face. His hair is dark and slightly curled, his jawline sharp, mouth neutral. He doesn’t move.

But he’s looking at you. Your heart slams up into your ribs. He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t speak. Just watches. You don’t know him. Or maybe you do. Maybe you’ve seen him before, in your dreams, in your prayers, behind your eyes when you’re alone in bed with nothing but wanting. Maybe he’s always been there.

The street is silent. The street lights glow faint behind you. Somewhere far off, a dog barks. And you— God, you don’t run.

You take a step forward. And he doesn’t move. Not until his hand shifts just a little and you see something glint. A blade. Maybe. Or maybe your mind wants it to be. You gasp, but it’s soft, almost reverent. You don’t feel fear. You feel certain.

You open your mouth, voice trembling but real. “I am not afraid o-of you…” He laughs. It’s a quiet sound. Deep and low and almost surprised. “Oh?”

But you mean it. You’re not afraid. You’ve wanted this—him, whatever this is, for so long, you’re not sure there’s any room left inside you for fear.

For months you’ve been dreaming of this. Not of murder or blood, but of him. Of being seen. Of being chosen.

And now he’s here. You don’t blink. Don’t breathe. “Stupid girl…” he mutters. His fingers brush the knife at his belt. And you? You smile.

He steps closer. You don’t move. Can’t. Your mouth is dry, breath catching somewhere between your chest and your throat, your heart trying to crawl up your neck. He’s beautiful. Not in any way you’ve ever known. He’s rough, a scar curling just near his temple, his face carved from something too human and too wild at once. His eyes are dark, unreadable. His mouth is stern, unmoved. You feel heat flush up your neck and to your cold cheeks. He’s right in front of you.

Close enough to see the shadow of stubble on his jaw, the way his eyes linger on your face for just a second longer than they should. “I—I know what you did,” you whisper, voice trembling, breathless.

He raises an eyebrow. You swallow hard. “Those people… Brandon. Macy. Julian. They hurt me. Back then. You—you knew, didn’t you? You did it for m-me…”

He doesn’t say anything. Just watches.

And that silence, it pulls more out of you. “I mean, it makes sense. Doesn’t it?” You laugh, soft and shaky, hands trembling at your sides. “No one ever remembered me. No one ever noticed me. But you—you saw me. You must’ve. That’s why you…” You trail off. You can’t bring yourself to say killed. Not out loud.

His expression shifts. A little. One corner of his mouth twitches. And then he laughs. It’s sudden and deep and rough, like it bursts straight from his chest.

You flinch, but not away. Never away.

“You’re a real sweet thing, aren’t you?” he drawls low, the faintest southern rasp brushing the words. You don’t know what to say. You just stare up at him, cheeks burning, stomach a mess of tangled knots. Then he leans closer. Close enough that you can smell leather and smoke and something more darker. Close enough that his voice grazes your ear when he speaks again. “I might just keep you longer.”

The words burn. You feel them everywhere. Your legs tremble. You’re too warm. Too soft. You feel like you could fall straight into him and vanish.

And still, he doesn’t touch you. He just watches the way you unravel—eyes wide, lips parted, breath shallow, as if it’s his favorite pastime. As if he likes watching you break.

The space between you is so tight it feels like you have been touched. Brushed. You wonder what his hand would feel like on your throat. You shouldn't want that. “I…” you whisper, barely audible. “Can I know y-our name?" He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even blink but you see his jaw tighten. Just a little. Like maybe something in him twitches when he looks at you too long.

“Why me?” you ask, stupidly, helplessly, hopelessly. His eyes flick down to your mouth, then back up. And he smiles. Barely. “You talk too much,” he mutters. He leans in again “I liked you better when you were just starin’.” You feel heat bloom low in your stomach.

“You ever wonder what it’d feel like,” he murmurs, his voice a low drag in your ear, “if I just took you right here?” Your breath stops.

Right here. This alley. The air thick and sticky with heat, the only light coming from the weak glow of the streetlamp at the corner, flickering like it’s about to die too. He pulls back just enough to look at you.

“No one can see you out here. No one can hear you.” His hand trails down slowly, fingers dragging across your arm, your waist, until it rests low on your hip.

“What if I held you up against this wall,” he continues, voice crueler, “fucked you until you beg for me to stop, and then put a knife in your gut?” You should run. You should scream. But your breath comes out shuddered, and your eyes go wide, not in fear, but something closer to desire.

You want it. You want him.

He sees it. He feels it. Your body leaning closer, your thighs shifting, the way your lips part and tremble. And he stills. For a second. A long one.

“…Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “You like that?” You nod. He stares at you. Quiet. Like he’s trying to figure out whether you’re the dumbest girl he’s ever met or the most dangerous. Maybe both.

He shoves you back against the alley wall and kisses you like a punishment, like he hates that he wants you, like he wants to see how deep the rabbit hole goes.

You moan. Loud. Needy. And that’s all it takes. His hands are everywhere—on your hips, your ass, your throat. One knee forces your legs apart and he grinds against you through your clothes, a low, guttural sound in his throat when he feels how soaked you are already. “You’re fuckin’ filthy,” he growls. “Gettin’ wet from me talkin’ about killin’ you. You sick little thing.”

You nod again, whispering a barely-there, “please—” And then it happens. Just like you have dreaming of. His mouth was on your neck, his breath in your ear, his body pressing you into the wall like he’s carving your shape into it. He quickly takes off his pants, leaving you no time to react to the sheer size of him. He forces the head inside of you, leaving you mewling under his touch. “Look at you, lettin’ a killer fuck you in a goddamn alley like a whore.” In no time he was in your guts, each stroke sending you further into oblivion. Your fingernails dig into his skin and he growls, rough hands wrapping around your throat as he whispered dirty nothings into your hair. “This little cunt’s never been touched, has it? Feels too fuckin’ tight to beㅡ shit!" He uses you like he owns you, like you’re a soft and stupid doll made just for him. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop—feels so good…”

“I could kill you right now, and you’d still thank me for it, wouldn’t you?” he gloats, each snap of his hips hitting deeper into your cunt. Your tear stained cheeks press agains his hard chest, sobs muffled and eyes blurry from crying. Your head is spinning, brain melting into nothing but thoughts of him. “You’re gonna remember this every time you sit down, darlin’. Gonnaㅡ fuck, feel me for days.”

You hiccup, head bobbing up and down, as he hastily chases his high. He groans low into your neck, voice cracking like gravel, rough fingers digging into your hips as he jerks once, twice, then stills as he spills his cum inside of your ruined insides.

“Fuck… that’s it, girl. Take it. Take all of it, you stupid thing.” He stays inside, breathing heavy against your cheek, his hand slipping down to hold your belly like he’s wanting to feel how deep in he still is. “Maybe it’ll stick. God knows you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You nod, dazed, breathless. You don’t even know what you’re agreeing to. But you're full. Of him. Of this moment. Of something filthy and real and unforgettable. It’s dripping out of you already and you shudder as it drops onto your newly bought underwear.

Your thighs still trembling, your skin still burning where he touched you. “I hope it does…” you whisper, blinking up at him, lips swollen, brain a haze of sugar and sin. “I really hope it sticks…” And he just laughs, sharp and cruel. He is entertained. “You're so fuckin’ pathetic.” But he doesn’t pull out. Not yet. The words sting. But not in the way they should. Not in the way a normal girl would cry over.

There's that filthy slickness between your thighs, and his rough hand moves down, slow, before dragging fingers through the mess he's left inside of you. You gasp.

He brings his fingers back up, slick and warm, and pushes them against your lips. "Open," he commads. And you do. You part your lips like it’s holy, like it’s something good, something earned. You wrap your mouth around his fingers and taste salt, heat and him. He watches you, slow and dark, chest rising. “ God dammit...”

Your eyes flutter shut as you suck, as if this will anchor him to you. As if this will mean something. And when he finally pulls his fingers away, wiping them on your cheek with something like contempt, you're still there, ruined, breathless, glowing in it.

He pulls away from you slowly, lazily, like he’s in no rush to care. His belt’s already half-fastened, knuckles grazed from the rough press of brick and skin. You’re still trembling, ruined and bare and aching in places you never knew could ache.

He pulls out like it means nothing. Like you mean nothing. The air cools around you instantly, and so does he. Zipping his jeans, flexing his jaw, his gaze flickers down at you once more, lazy and cold.

Then he turns. One step. Another.

It shouldn’t hurt this bad. But it does. Your voice cracks before you even know what you’re saying. “Please don’t leave—please—I’ll be good, I swear!" You’re shaking. Still sore. Still wet. Still his, in some awful, ruined way.

“Don’t go fallin’ in love, dumb girl. I ain’t your savior. I’m the reason people like you go missin’.” His eyes are sharp, unreadable.You're on your knees, legs trembling, underwear pushed to the side and forgotten, dress wrinkled and twisted halfway around your thighs. Your elbows ache from where you caught yourself against the brick, and your lips are raw from biting down too hard. There’s a stream of his come between your legs and bruises blooming along your skin. The alley smells like him. You do too.

Your heartbeat is still stuttering, off-kilter, your body stuck somewhere between shame and a high you never want to come down from. You blink up at him through damp lashes. “That’s all you wanted, huh? Someone to fuck the stupid outta you. Thought you’d get a happily ever after?”

It feels like you're begging without even saying a word. He should leave. He said he would. But he's still here, isn’t he? He just stares. Something in his brain ticks. And then, slowly, he pulls the knife from his belt. The steel hits the streetlight close to him and you freeze. He doesn’t say a word as he shifts closer. One knee between your legs again. Hand under your chin, tilting your face up to his. Finally, the blade touches your skin. “Stay still,” he mutters.

The metal is cold when it drags along your collarbone, slow. You whimper, but don’t pull away. It’s not deep. Just enough to hurt a bit. Just enough to bleed a little. When he leans back, satisfied, there’s a rough little 'J' carved just above your heart.

“Now you’re mine,” he murmurs, more to himself than you. Then louder “ So don’t go forgettin’ who you belong to, girl.”

You don’t say anything. You’re too out of it. Your fingers come back red as you touch the small mark.

He tucks the knife away. “I’ll find you again. Same spot. Don't make me come lookin' for you." And then he’s gone. Just like that.

You stay there, knees scraped, heart pounding, sticky, aching and marked. You should be afraid. Instead, your fingers ghost over the wound, and all you can think is he’s coming back.

You walk home with your head light and your lips smiling. So stupid. So giddy. You’ll clean yourself up, cover the mark with something soft and cottony. And maybe tomorrow, you’ll wear something nicer to work. Just in case he’s watching.