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1uvtae · 1 month

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i think i just saw my ex. | jeon jungkook

★ word count: 10k- yay!

★ genre: classic exes to lovers,,,with slightly suggestive smut,,,and fluff...and the typical mutual pinning that may be a tad (a lot) angst... also TENSION. SOO MUCH TENSION!!!!! and both y/n and jungkook are trying to play hard to get which might be a bit crack up!!!

★ summary/snippet: jeon jungkook is your ex from many years ago, and you think you might've just seen him in a bar…and a part of you is definitely craving him.

★ kae's little chat: playing the typical kae exes to lovers theme, cos all i write about is exes to lovers micro-fics!! (this might be the only thing i'm good at writing) I recently just bought this glazed donut lanolips lip balm and it is what I religiously used while writing this fic for a whole ass week and I hope this fic tastes and smells like glazed donuts to you guys too ;) also a quick tag for @cassies-cookies!!! the fic has arrived!!!

enjoy a little teaser before you start!! can i consider this as an appetizer??

do you want to give me some feedback? request something fun? chit chat with me?!

this is my masterlist and drabble list for more of my works!

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

you are 99.9% sure you just saw your ex.

you can't add that 0.1% on because 1) it is so darn dark in this bar, the annoying flashing lights poking through your eyes and into your soul, and 2), you are drunkenly intoxicated right now.

but gosh, that side profile looks almost identical to him. you've tried to follow him with your gaze, but all you got to closely view was the back of his head. (the very familiar back of his head, may you add.)

this isn’t something you expected on a nice friday evening.

when you randomly woke up in the middle of the night, you realised you typed quite some texts and paragraphs to that familiar number of his, but it seemed like you were way too drunk to hit “send”. thank god.

blank-eyed, staring at the unsent texts, you felt a stinging pain in your chest.

you’re not the type to go back to any of your exes, and all your break-ups have been straightforward and savage. plus, you dumped him first!!!

you sit up on your bed, finger tracing over the floral details of your quilt cover. maybe it was because your partners after him have all been so lame, yes definitely that. plus, you’ve been very single and lonely for the past few months, that’s exactly why you are missing him.

he wasn’t the perfect boyfriend, you remember how childish he was, and was quite protective over you- which was one of the reasons you two didn’t end well.

but on the other hand…

he was a really good sex partner. you two mended flawlessly together. not to boost his ego or something, but that boy definitely can fuck.

you sighed loudly, pulling the covers over your head. the night is still so long, but you do not have any of the calmness to fall back into sleep.

oh, the long, dark night.

after a whole day of debating and contemplating, you ended up hanging out with a few of your friends back at that specific bar. tonight, you needed someone to get your mind off your ex that you saw yesterday.

when excusing yourself to the bathrooms, you brushed past someone's shoulder in the hallways while scrolling through your instagram feed; he had a broad and tall frame, and his vividly tattooed hand holding a glass cup, and you felt the urge to jerk your head back to see his face.

thinking “this is someone to take my mind off him!!”, you turn your head and your wild imagination completely halts. you feel your eyes widen and your pupils might as well fall onto the ground - it’s your ex.

thank god you just got your hair done a few days back and you were head down, focusing on your phone the whole time, so he didn’t even glance at you. your heart completely dropped and skipped a beat, and you rushed into the bathroom to freshen up.

after you walked out of the restroom, you carefully scanned every table for his silhouette, after locating the target, you walked a good lap around his booth to eye him out. fairly, he wasn’t hard to look for, judging by his clean undercut under those dark brown locks, and his perfect complexions, everyone seemed to notice him the way you did. you spot two girls walking up to him, offering him drinks in exchange for his number.

you were now more than certain that this was your ex… and you’re also certain that you’ll never get over how attractive he is.

once you’ve fallen for jeon jungkook, you’ll never fall out.

on the way home you remembered how hard you worked to get him to date you, it was almost rejection after rejection. and then you dumped him?! gosh, now it will be even more difficult to get his attention.

you feel like giving up instantly at that thought, but you cannot help yourself texting your mutual friend yerin: “did jungkook come back?”

your friend did not respond, which leads to whatever you’re doing right now - sitting on your couch, stalking through social media accounts. it was not under his old username, which made it difficult to find. but you remembered his dog’s name.

after typing bam’s name into the search bar, it only took a few scrolls to find a decent amount of photos and videos of the brown doberman. after clicking into his account, you sigh. he never posts himself, just some more dog posts and a few random scenery shots.

continuing to watch every single video of bam, you see that the newest video of the cute dog was taken in another location that didn’t look like the place from the video from before. clicking on the comments, one from his friend reads “you moved?” he replied: “yeah”

you moved, or did you come back?

just realizing what you’ve been doing stupidly for the last 20 minutes, you lock your screen and toss your phone onto the coffee table. your friend responded right after the phone dropped onto the surface.

did he quit his job?

“yeah, he quit his job last month, he probably came back”

although he moved to a different city after the breakup, he still worked for the same company you worked for - that could’ve been a reason to reconnect. but now that he has quit that job, it makes it impossible for you to even have an excuse to hit him up.

yerin double-texted, “what’s up abt jungkook?”

you: i think i saw him recently

you: he’s still so fine

yerin understood your tone extremely well, responding immediately: do you want me to plan a group dinner or something this week

you: yes please, i’m free every night this week

yerin: y/n, i meant ONLY group dinner…nothing else.

you: of course just dinner…what were you thinking?

yerin: i know you way too well

yerin: you obviously don’t only want dinner

you: hm

yerin was very speedy with her planning skills, the dinner was booked to be this friday night, it wasn’t weird at all since you and jungkook did have the same social circle for years, and considering he just came back, it was just more of a couple of friends and coworkers gathering together to celebrate. but yerin did not hint to him that you were also going to attend this dinner at all.

you stood in front of the mirror, your outfit was carefully picked out, and you spent almost 2 hours doing your makeup- in these years, your style has changed drastically, but you still wore the same fragrance he gifted you.

to create your ‘grand entrance’, you decided to show up late by 20 minutes, just so you can look casual and not too prepared to see jungkook. when you were on the road, you received a speedy text from yerin: be mentally prepared for what’s coming.

huh? be prepared for what?

when you were led to the table of the reservation, you realized what she meant.

you recognised every single face, except one. there was an unfamiliar girl seated right next to jungkook. jungkook wore a casual black hoodie, his hair slightly fluffing out. looking almost too soft to touch. you tried very hard not to lay your eyes on him for too long - since you already got a very personal look from the girl that was seated next to him.

yerin mutters under her breath when you seat yourself next to her, which is right across him. “he brought that random girl over.”

you keep that in mind, starting to greet your friends, then shooting a look back at yerin, then whispering “if you told me this was gonna happen i would’ve turned around on the spot and sprinted back home!!!”

(yerin did tell you after the meal that the second you walked into the room, there were almost no expressions on his face. you don’t know if he was already expecting you, or if he just did not care about you whatsoever.)

you hope it’s not the second option.

the dinner was french cuisine, everyone had already ordered some sort of grilled steak while you decided to order sole fish fillets. sipping your chardonnay, you oversee the girl nudge jungkook’s arm, softly asking, gesturing at your transparent drink: “kook, what did that girl order?” he puts his glass down, responding with a gentle tone: “white wine. you pair white wine with fish. wine with red meats.” “so that's why you ordered red wine for me?” she nods before asking again.

“mhm.” he nods in response, taking a sip of water, with his very charming and endearing smile.

you almost knock over your wine glass when slamming it back down on the table with aggression, suddenly this chardonnay tastes like fucking ass.

you listen quietly to everyone talking about careers and how they’ve been doing recently, jungkook occasionally opens his mouth to input or say something. you realize how mature he has grown over these years, he speaks like a logical, grown man, and is completely not the person you were with a while back. you remember the old gatherings when you and he were dating - he barely says a word during the whole meal. not going to lie, this well-spoken jungkook is super attractive.

the main course came very fast after the drinks. you gasp at the fancy plating. the girl in front of you takes her knife and fork, struggling to slice the red meat. she slowly glances over to jungkook, and he notices her stare, speedily finishing up cutting up his plate, and offering her his already perfectly sliced steak, taking her uncut serving for himself.

after that, you put down the knife and fork, containing yourself to not roll your eyes.

that was an eyeful. might as well just not eat this shitty meal.

after that awful meal, they all planned to go for a second round, but jungkook said that he couldn’t go because he had to drive the girl home. after hearing that, you lost every interest you had in going for shots, which caused you to head straight home on a friday evening at 9 pm. how eventful.

taking a thoughtful and steamy shower, you decided to put a face mask on. a notification from no other than yerin broke the night’s silence.

yerin: jungkook’s here

you bounced up from your bed, replying within a millisecond.

y/n: huh? why is he there?

yerin: he’s sitting on the table next to ours

yerin: u coming?

you close your eyes, every single imagination you had got crushed today when you saw the girl that he brought. it was almost hurtful now that you think about it.

yerin continued to add: he didn't bring the girl, if that’s what you’re wondering

hm…you hesitated for a while, but gave up. you can’t be interested in someone with a girlfriend-

yerin: and!! tae was being nosy so he asked him

yerin: turns out that the girl was just a blind date his mum arranged

yerin: not his gf

yerin: u still have a chance yk!!

you yanked the face mask off, rushing to redo your makeup again. you didn’t even bother to drive there, calling an uber instead. before entering the bar, you ensured yerin grabbed jungkook to sit at the same table.

just when everything was planned beautifully and you were ready to make your grand entrance pt2, you bumped into a client who was by the bar table. how can you reject a business client? quick answer: you can’t. it’s a business client.

having to sit with a stranger by the bar table, but unable to walk to that table with your friends (and your ex) might be the biggest struggle you’ve ever gotten yourself into. by the time you and the client had finished chatting and drinking, jungkook had left not only the table but the entire nightclub.

oh my gosh, you are going to lose your mind! a whole full stomach of alcohol and yet you still haven’t gotten to use your flirting tactics on your ex that you’ve been missing. you did not feel like staying at all, dragging yerin to get out of this hellhole.

but who knew you’d see him again in the parking lot?

every cloud has a silver lining.

and there jungkook stood, leaning against his flashy black mercedes, phone to his ear. the second you saw him, you knew what to do. you were going to fake being drunk. you link arms with yerin, stumbling your steps and attempting to slur your words. yerin has to straighten you up manually when she goes over to jungkook. “hey jungkook! i thought you already left.” jungkook puts the phone back into his pocket. “i was just about to.”

yerin wasn’t hesitant at all, almost shoving you at him, thinking he’d help grab onto you, but he did not move a single muscle. her last resort was to lean you against the car. “perfect! can you drive y/n home? the girls are still waiting for me so…”

he opened his mouth to speak, you figured he was going to reject yerin. before a single sound came out of his mouth, yerin quickly interrupted him, “amazing! thanks so much, dude!! okayimjustgonnago-!” from your peripheral vision, you could see her almost sprint from the parking lot back into the front door of the club.

all that was left was you, who was faking drunk, and jungkook, with his brows, knitted, looking down at you.

judging from how rapidly yerin ran away from you, jungkook knows he can’t do anything else other than drive you home. he sighed and held open the passenger’s door for you. he raised his chin, gesturing you to hop in.“get in yourself.” he heard you chuckle at his words, turning to him and giving him a judging glance, then getting into the seat.

jungkook was extremely confused, and only realized the reason when he got into the driver's seat.

you seemed to not let that joke go, “i’m in, what now?” jungkook keeps a straight face while starting the engine. “seatbelt.”

he drove out of the parking lot, and he immediately hit a left turn, driving towards the direction of your house. after a few moments, he turned his head towards her at a red light. “where do you live?” your eyes were shut, leaning back on the seat, not wanting to respond to him.

jungkook does not want you to know that he still remembers your address off by heart like an idiot, so he turns into a random street on his right and keeps on driving. after feeling the car stopping, you open your eyes, peeking out the window.

the hotel?? he drove you to a hotel?? you kept your eyes shut, as a silent protest to not get out of the car. you knew jungkook too well, he probably wanted to just leave your ass in the hotel, and you won’t get to ever see him again if you went with that.

jungkook nudges you with a finger hesitantly. you didn’t even budge. after a deep sigh from the man in the driver's seat, you hear the engine start again.

he always drove at a perfect steady pace. you swear you almost dozed off when you felt the car stop in the underground parking garage.

jungkook gently held onto you up the elevator, you heard the sound of a door unlocking, and your ears perked up when the sound of the door opening was followed by a loud bark from bam.

he brought you back to his place. that perfectly goes with your plan!!

you behaved the entire way home just for this moment. all that acting led up to this moment. he locked the front door, then squatted in front of you to help you take off your black heels. you were going to be using the moment wisely- when jungkook carried you over to the couch to put you down, you scratched his lower torso aggressively with your right hand.

it was a strong scratch, causing the person carrying you to let a harsh hiss under his breath. he looked down at your sharply shaped nails, then at the girl in his hands right now, your eyes were shut, lashes slightly fluttering.

he always liked working out and had an almost daily streak of hitting up the gym, resulting in his body being super in shape. he had the perfect model figure- abs, pecs, shoulders, you name it. he has it. you look back on how great he was at using his strength advantage in bed, gosh, he was perfect.

even bring able to leave a little scratch on his skin could do something to you right now.

jungkook goes straight into the kitchen to pour you a cup of water. the first thing he did though, was lift up his hoodie and inspect the scratch. and under the hoodie, lay two vivid red scratch marks on his lower abdomen. the bright marks went from his veins into his spank bank, the vivid images of you under his control, he reminisces how you always loved scratching his back, his neck, and his shoulders when he hit your soft spots. jungkook’s skin was always very sensitive, making it effortless to leave marks and bruises for days. he recalls his friends making fun of the scratch marks you left on his back ever so often during the few summers when you and he were dating.

by the time he recollected himself and brought you the glass of water, you were already fast asleep on his leather couch. he watches you for a while and realizes you still look the same after this many years. more mature, but still the appearance he could never forget, even in his dreams. his eyes fall on your delicate ears before he puts a stop to his mind.

he clears his throat. “go sleep in the bedroom.”

your eyelashes flutter as you turn to face the other side of the couch, mumbling something inaudible to yourself before getting back into your dreamland.

jungkook: “y/n?”

his ears catching a delicate airy whine leave your mouth.

jungkook isn’t too fond of whatever game you are playing, but he knows what you want to do to him. he’s matured and grown now, not the loverboy that was wrapped around your pinky finger anymore. he can read expressions off your face very accurately. considering the fact that it has been years since the breakup, and you had never broken the non-contact thing.

and suddenly after he got back into town, a reuniting dinner was planned, you showed up to the clubs, and whatever yerin was trying to do, and now- you are in his house, on his couch. he knows exactly what you’re trying to do.

this is exactly the little tricks you used to play, and he fell head-first into it last time.

he promised himself that he would never fall into the same hole twice!

but of course, he won’t let you sleep on his couch for the whole night. this two-seater leather couch is extremely small for anyone to find comfort in. your figure is curled up in the soft seats, and he notices your legs almost dangling out from the couch.

he bends down to swoop you up, and by instinct, your arms find his neck. he slowly makes his way towards the bedroom, not wanting to wake up the girl in his arms.

considering this was a brand-new apartment, jungkook doesn’t have a bed yet- it’s just a mattress in the middle of the floor. he lowers his body carefully and places you in the centre of the bed, thinking your arms would instantly unwrap themselves from your neck, he tries to stand back up. but your grip on him was way too tight, jungkook almost lost his balance, but his reaction was fast enough for him to use his arm strength to hold on both sides of the bed, keeping a small dangerous distance from falling on top of you. his warm breath lands on your exposed neck, and you feel the warmth melting on your collarbones.

you had to keep everything within yourself to not pull him closer, hoping he would find his balance to move away from you, instead, it’s almost as if he bowed his head lower, leaving more burning breath marks on your collarbones. the itchy feeling almost numbing. you couldn’t help but slightly peel your eyes open discreetly- through your lashes, you realise he was already on his feet again, simply pulling the covers up for you.

the soft quilt falls on top of your lower torso, and his warm hand ‘accidentally’ brushes against your thigh before he completely gets up. he watches your reaction for a short while, but nothing from your side. he knew if it this was two years ago, you would’ve absolutely gone for it right now. he remembers even if his hand slightly rested on your thigh while driving, you would immediately get him to pull up on the side of the road for a heated makeout session. but it looks like, y/n is not the y/n he remembered.

jungkook turned off the big light, leaving a small night lamp on by the bedside table before patting bam to follow him back to the living room, planning to deal with the couch for the night.

honestly speaking, if he stayed for even one more single second, you wouldn’t be sure what you’re capable of doing to him.

painful, very painful.

it was almost 4 am when you opened your eyes, trying to adjust to the dim lighting of the room. your eyes land on the agape bedroom door. from where you’re resting, you can clearly see most of the living room. there he lay, on the couch.

jungkook normally sleeps just in his boxers, but considering the fact that you’re in the residence, he had to grab a pair of sweats to cover up. you observe the man on the couch, he is lying on his back, and you end up studying his figure. you could tell he was wearing nothing under those grey sweats- gosh the grey sweats and his shirtless body?!

you shut your eyes and sigh. contain yourself y/n.

if you weren’t already, you’re surely hungry for jeon jungkook now.

but you must control yourself now- jungkook knows what game you’re playing, and so do you. he’s such a slippery fish to catch- you can’t just pull the rod as soon as you hook him?

and, it looks like he wasn’t going to give in tonight that easily too.

this can be a fun game to play.

you watch him for a little longer, he turns his body to sleep on his right side, now his body fully facing you. well- this is awful. it took no time for you to fall asleep for the millionth time, this time- it was a heavy sleep. the scent of his bed surrounding you.

you decide to stay in his bed for a little longer because you know you have to leave the second you wake up.

jungkook also stayed home today, heading into the bathroom to clean up, then making breakfast, following up with feeding bam, and lastly back to the couch, attending a business call meeting.

if you didn’t have to use the bathroom so urgently, you could stay in his bed until noon. you crawled out of bed to stretch, then mentally prepared yourself to walk out of his room. well, you can’t fake drunk anymore, can you?

after coming out of the washroom, you slowly walk to jungkook, trying not to interrupt him. “...do you know where my phone went…?”

his gaze did not leave the laptop screen, his chin raised slightly, directing you to the device on the coffee table- where your phone lay. you hesitantly collect your phone, wanting to thank him about yesterday, but the sight of him so focused stops you. you didn’t have the heart to interrupt him, making way to the entrance.

you put your heels on while watching bam play with his ball on the side. the doberman notices you, walking over to you while cocking his head which reminds you of how jungkook would always do. you reach a hand out to pat his head but bam back up immediately out of caution.

feeling a little butthurt, you ask: “don’t remember me?”

not only forgetting about you, but bam also leaves to sit next to the man on the couch. jungkook gives bam an endearing rub, then looks up at you, standing by the door.

wow, bam. he always preferred jungkook over you, even when you and him were together.

you glance at the black-brown dog….but now you have a reason to contact him again.

although finding his social media account was a hassle, his phone number never changed. the same night after leaving his house, you found the number that you almost accidentally texted.

y/n: can i pick bam up from yours

he replied almost instantly: you are?

you let out a light laugh in unbelief before texting back: y/n

then it took a good 30 minutes to get a text back. “sure thing, but only if he wants to go home with you.”

you roll your eyes at the obvious fact that: of course bam doesn’t want to go home with you?! considering the cold shoulder he gave you this morning.

but it’s okay since the cute dog was never the target to go for in the first place.

the day after the text, you went straight to his apartment after work, not bothering to change out of your work outfit- because you knew he was very into this specific set. it was a simple creamy white formal skirt set with black opaque tights.( and he loved this set. so much to the point by the time you normally got back home, he would press you onto the couch immediately. your skirt would usually be wrinkly by the time you two were done.)

jungkook answered the door, his eyes instantaneously landing on the girl in front of him, his eyes slightly widened for a split second. he has to admit, that you recognize his preferences a little too well.

it's not because he likes the pantyhose with skirt look, but more because it is on you. especially because he would watch you get ready for work all seriously, and you would get home and find his shoulders immediately, draping on top of him all tired and worn out from socializing. and he was a whore for it.

he’s literally hooked for you.

he opened the door wide open for you, he didn’t have any spare slippers in the house, so before you could take your slip heels off, he stopped you. “no need.”

after shutting the door, he opened his mouth: “you didn’t bring anything?”

you’re here to pick up bam, and yet you came empty-handed, causing bam to only take one glance at you before jumping on the couch, disinterested.

jungkook brought bam’s toys and treats over to you, yet bam didn’t even budge, to the point where he had to physically carry him over to you. it seemed like bam wasn't having any of this, not even giving you any sort of attention. jungkook had to give him a big encouraging talk before handing the medium-sized dog over to you.

you needed a lot of strength to hold the doberman in your arms while jungkook went to get a dog leash. the second bam saw the leash in jungkook’s hands,he started to struggle out of your grasp, struggling to get out of your embrace.

you weren’t prepared for the dog to be so strong, before you could let go of him, he had already left a faint bite mark on your arm, you winced under your breath while watching bam hop over to jungkook’s feet. jungkook hurried to drop the leash, coming up to you. “are you all good?”

“just a bite.” you brought your arm to his eye level, it wasn’t bleeding or anything, just a clear bite. “i’ve got some antibiotic ointment. you want some?”

you nodded your head. “sure.”

“...do you want to those off then?”

“hm?” you followed his eyes, looking down at your tights, a hole had been scratched open too, and you didn’t realize that maybe bam had also scratched you on the leg while trying to get out of your grasp. “yeah- yeah. i’ll do that.” you answered after excusing yourself to the bathroom. taking off the nylons, you threw them into the laundry basket before checking the scratch.

it was nothing but a pink line, you hurried out of the room, scared that by the time you headed out, it would already have faded.

jungkook was already seated on the familiar couch by the time you finished taking your tights off. you went over and seated down extremely close to him. pressing your thigh against his knee to show him the faint mark. he kept a very straight face while taking out the otc ointment from the first aid kit. he treated the few marks, you don't know if it was intentional or not, but he applied way too much on the injuries, leaving a big patch of your skin covered in ointment.

you look at him, who is now putting the cream back into the box. he clears the silence, “it doesn’t seem like he wants to go with you.”

you let out a sigh, looking at the dog resting by jungkook’s side. “it’s a shame that he completely forgot about me.”

“it’s been too long since he last saw you, that’s why.” he gives loving pats to bam, and you find an endearing smile creeping on your face at the scene. you muttered under your breath, “i missed him, i definitely wanted to live with him.” jungkook turned his head from the dog to you, adding “i take great care of him, and he likes me more.”

you went silent. that’s an unarguable fact. the silence went on for another minute when he spoke again. “gotta rebuild the trust again.”

your ears perk up at his comment…does this mean you can come to visit more often…to build the relationship again?

but you know it’s petty unlike for bam to like you again, lowering your head slightly, you mention, “i don’t think so,” you look up into his glassy, pure eyes, “i don’t want to force it. he looks way more comfortable with you anyway.” you’re not sure if jungkook wanted to hear that, but his brows slightly knot as he slowly opens his mouth to speak. “you’re giving up? even just being friends?”

your eyes immediately widen- you’re not sure if he meant being friends with bam…or him. he subconsciously avoids eye contact with you, looking back down at bam. “since i- no, bam, can consider you as a co-owner.”

you like the sound of that.

this is something you could get used to.

jungkook didn’t seem like he minded you staying, so you obviously did not have any intentions of leaving just yet. you’re playing with bam (surprisingly you and bam have gotten quite along within an hour) when his takeout arrives. he hesitantly asked you if you wanted to have dinner together, which you agreed happily to. he walked into the kitchen to cook something extra for the two of you.

you weren’t too hungry, but you had to admit you desperately missed his cooking. it was already 9 pm when you and him had finished dinner. the entire time it was filled with small talk and comfortable silence. you left right after dinner, saying farewell to bam, and received a slight nod from jungkook.

after getting home, your phone buzzed with a notification from jungkook’s number. it was an image of your tights in his laundry basket. you locked the phone without replying and hopped into the shower.

after doing your skincare, you casually replied: “chuck it in the trash”

jungkook sent a photo of the tights in the rubbish bin with no other caption.

you decided to tease him a little: or you can keep it if you want

jungkook: ……i’m not that gross

as if he has never touched your tights. you don't even remember how many pairs of your stockings he had ripped during the time when you two were together.

as if he could read your mind, he sent a full 2-minute video of him taking the rubbish bag outside, followed by him throwing the plastic bag into the rubbish bin with no remorse. you watch the video on a loop for a few minutes, chuckling to yourself.

you weren’t sure what got into your mind the next day. after taking a relaxing bubble bath after work, something within you told you to find jungkook. although you were very rough from working, you still felt energized to prepare yourself. after putting on a tank top and a skirt- you made your way out.

your hair still damp, you decided to pick some snacks on the way to his house. with confident and happy steps, you knocked on his door.

no answer.

you stood outside the locked door, dialing his number: he picked up within two rings, voice relaxed and soft. “what’s up?”

“are you not at home?”

he paused for a split second “you’re coming over?”

you hummed in response, “i brought fried chicken too.”

“i’m out fishing.” jungkook said, then changed to a softer tone. “since…it didn’t look like you were coming over tonight.”

you suppressed your laughter, teasingly asked: “so you were waiting for me then?”

the other side of the phone remained silent, causing you to let out a giggle. “i’ll come find you, share your location.”

he hung up, sharing his location with you right after- a freshwater lake close by. you made your way to his location with no hesitation.

bro he’s actually fishing on this fine evening.

it was extremely dark by the lakeside, but you could make out the figure of many middle-aged men sitting by the lake. turning your phone flashlight on, you spot your familiar ex-boyfriend in the middle of many men.

he stood up to borrow a foldable stool from the man next to him. you tidied your skirt before sitting real close to him, your arm pressing against his. he looked at you on his side, “it’s too hot.” he muttered. you didn’t move away at all, instead, you decided to lean your head on his broad shoulder. he didn’t move away either.

you didn’t understand the joy of fishing but still watched him the whole time quietly. it felt peaceful to have him against you by the dark, calming lake.

instead, jungkook felt slightly heated - how is it possible to focus on his rod when he had you leaning on him? it only took him half an hour to start packing his equipment, he couldn’t stand you next to him! you’re such a distraction! (not that he’s complaining…)

after leaving the lake, you two stood under the road lights, he glanced at you under the warm streetlights. he noticed your glassy eyes of discomfort. he looked down at the few itchy bites on your arms. oh shit- he forgot to remind you about that.

the lake was surrounded by grassy areas, he was smart wearing a long sleeve and sweatpants, but he forgot to warn you about the mosquitoes before sending you his location. it was only around 30 minutes, but he could spot a few reddish marks on your arm, waist, and legs.

you didn’t realise this when you were by the lake, but now that you’re under the light, you can see the spots clear as day. jungkook takes your hand to lead you to his car, occasionally having to stop you from touching the mosquito bites. “don’t scratch them, we’ll be home soon.” he tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, before stopping to caress your earlobe for a slight second.

“but it’s itchy.”

“patient.”

you bite down on your lip. patient. you should’ve been patient when you were taking that damn bath!!! this is what you get when you’re too eager for jeon jungkook.

jungkook took you back to his, immediately using a cold damp towel to caress over the little scattered bites. the mosquitos that were by the lakeside were deadly- the small pink dots had turned into a few red swollen bumps.

you were in his embrace, feeling nothing but defeated. this is literally his second time treating your injuries within two days. a familiar feeling you feel before tearing up runs up your nose, triggering your eyes to start to build up with tears. oh, you feel so guilty right now. almost weeping in his lap, he comforts you on the back while the other hand applies ointment on the bumps, he pulls out a handheld fan to relieve the itching.

“there’s more on the legs.” you tugged on his sleeve, speaking through sulking. jungkook moves to search for the rest of the bites, not expecting you to lift up your skirt to reveal the red mark on the inside of your left thigh. jungkook hesitates for a split second before applying some of the white ointment on his fingertip, his heart seems to be beating faster than usual - his head spinning, but he ignores it.

when his hands move closer to the spot, you close your legs slightly out of discomfort, just enough to cover the mark with your panties. jungkook feels his breathing fasten, he uses his middle finger to push the fabric of the underwear out of the way, rubbing the treatment on the spot. he wasn’t too sure what he touched, but he was sure he saw a slight reaction from your body, causing your hand that was holding the skirt to slightly twitch. feeling a twinge of playfulness creep up, he holds the small fan to the spot, turning it on with the press of a button.

you immediately close your legs out of sensitivity, giving him an alarming look. the second your legs squeezed against each other, jungkook swore he touched your core with his hand. he felt a numb shoot from his hand, through his veins, then right to his scalp.

you noticed his reaction on his face, and downwards. half of you wanted to take the rare opportunity- but you listened to the other half that told you to slow this down. you decided to leave after that interaction, not giving the both of you what you two obviously want from each other.

plus, he has the whole night to deal with that problem. and plenty of time to think about you.

talking about giving him time, you made the cruel decision to not contact him for the next few days. plus, there was a load of work you had to do for this week for your job.

you knew jungkook would never break the ‘no contact’ type of thing either, but through some late-night stalking, you did find him updating his social media a little too frequently. either it was some workout progress pictures or his dinner with bam. weird.

the weekend came by fast, yerin texted you wondering if you wanted to go bowling with her, you hesitated, wanting to use tomorrow getting ready to see jungkook and bam. but she added that jungkook was going to be there- and you were immediately sold.

yerin’s boyfriend was decent friends with jungkook, they always hung out together, but right after you and jungkook ended things roughly, her boyfriend did not seem to like you very much. which is very reasonable since you did break up with him over text and whatever. which is something that has been keeping you awake at night lately.

arriving at the bowling alley, you see someone familiar with jungkook…the blind date girl. she had two bottles of sprite in her hands while sitting on the side benches. you can’t help but notice the pair of matching sneakers they had on.

you watch with widened eyes as jungkook goes over to her to converse, his eyes glistening with a smile that you haven’t seen in a while.

you do not like jeon jungkook very much right now.

yerin drags you to go say hi to her boyfriend and jungkook, you get a hesitant and sly “hey” from yerin’s boyfriend while jungkook on the side spares you a glance, just one single glance, to instantly turn back to the girl, the two chatting away. oh okay, so he’s going to do this now.

out of annoyance, you decided to cheer and clap for every other guy that is up bowling. you immediately caught the attention of one boy, he walked up to you, asking for your number with redness rising from his ears. naturally, you couldn’t reject him right now, giving your number in a swift motion right in front of jungkook.

still no acknowledgement from him.

finding a spot next to him on the benches, you intentionally sat closer to him. he gave you one warning look before scooting to the other side.

the girl on his right seemed to notice you, sparing you a cautious look while handing jungkook a pre-opened sprite bottle- he took it easily, raising the bottle to his mouth to take a sip out of it.

you slightly raised your arm, bumping the bottle with some strength just before his lips touched the bottle's mouth…causing a few drops to splatter out and onto the collar of his t-shirt, and his face.

as this was not expected at all, the other girl lets out a sharp gasp before pulling a pack of tissues out of her purse, and he takes it urgently to wipe the liquid off his face. you feel him turning to look at you, head cocked, his tongue poking around his mouth. you decided to play dumb, “shit, i’m so sorry kook, i didn't mean to do that.”

the girl on the other side kept calling jungkook by kook the whole time, hearing the nickname leave your mouth, he knows exactly what you’re doing. you’re doing this again.

jungkook didn’t make a single sound, while yerin’s boyfriend couldn’t help but let out a chuckle out his mouth at your actions.

when he got the chance to bowl, he took it very seriously, pins knocked after pins. yerin nudges you to capture your attention: “it’s definitely because he wants to show off to someone he’s interested in.”

you: “can’t be that blind-dating girl, can it?”

yerin: “well it’s not you…not after all that…”

you commented sourly: “she’s not his type.”

yerin gives you a knowing smile. “y/n oh y/n.”

“i know yerin, i’m being very stupid. but i can’t help it.”

you fully understand what “the grass is always greener on the other side” means now. you want what you can’t have.

the loud sound of many pins being knocked down, this is his second strike in a row- a turkey, if you will. your eyes darted towards him after the ‘STRIKE’ was displayed on the screen, but he was looking at the girl sitting on the bench, currently giving him two thumbs-ups.

he responded with a boyish smile.

and that was your cue to leave. you told yerin you felt like leaving early, and she grabbed your arm before you could go. “we’re nearly done then we’re getting dinner, you really wanna leave?” “yeah, i’m going…” you replied, uninterested anymore.

driving home, your phone buzzed many times when you hit a red light. yerin notified you that once you left, it seemed like jungkook also lost his energy to continue playing, hitting only a few pins before leaving with the girl without staying afterwards.

an idea popped into your head, causing you to spin the wheel and turn back- to his house.

this will be the final time you’ll ever willingly go to his house if this does not work out the way you wanted.

when you arrive at the familiar door, you know he probably hasn’t gotten home just yet. you decided to wait outside. the thought that what if he brought the girl home? races through your mind as you suddenly shoot up, contemplating whether you should just hop into the elevator and go home before you vividly see that image happen in front of your eyes.

you are now facing the closed elevator, a shaky finger hovering over the “↓” button. just before physically pressing it, the ‘ding’ from the elevator pulled you back to reality from your thoughts. you watch the door open at a snail's pace, revealing the figure of one specific person- just one, thank god.

jungkook has his phone in one hand, scrolling through emails when he notices that a person is standing outside of the elevator. and it was you. his girl.

eyes meet. he holds strong eye contact, and you could look right through those brown eyes. no words were needed at this moment. the distance between the two of you closes when he hurries to unlock the door, takes your purse and throws it onto the couch, pushing you against the back of the door. everything just simply felt right. his right hand immediately found itself slightly pinching the soft flesh of your earlobe- as if it was made to rest on top of your lobe.

you seriously missed being this close to him, feeling your knees weaken as he pressed his soft lips on you, he tasted like exactly what you’ve been missing for these years. it feels almost like what you feel when you’re in love. you pulled away when bam nudged your foot, but he was more forceful than ever, lifting your chin to meet your lips with his again. you only needed to focus on jungkook at this moment.

right when your hands were finding their way into his shirt, he pulled away, gazing at you. “i got to shower first.” he said, slightly out of breath.

jungkook rushed home after dropping that girl off, planning to take a shower before driving to your place. he had nothing to lose at this point- he doesn’t care if you know that he still remembers your address; he doesn’t care if he’s the one outside your door this time. the way he should’ve been two years ago.

but he was taken by surprise when he saw you outside his front door.

he couldn’t keep lying to himself that he doesn’t think about you, because you’re all he’s been missing about every single day. you, you, and only you.

you couldn’t let go of him at all, scared that he’d just slip away if you didn’t have your hands on him. “we can shower together.”

…the ‘shower’ took almost a whole hour. the bathroom echoed with your whines. many times, jungkook had to wrap his hand around your mouth, softly reminding you through his own pleasurable groans “the walls are thin in the bathroom, darl.”

carrying you to his bed, you were surprised at how effortlessly the mattress allowed him to move all over you. at first, you did not realize, but he was being way too harsh with you.

he was rough when he wanted to be, but he was never this rough?!! jungkook had no hesitation in marking you, pinching your waist when you moved in his rhythm, every single push inside of you made you feel like he wanted to pin you straight into the bed. not to mention- your entire body has been scattered with bites and signs of his touch. you’re definitely not complaining about how perfect he felt when he mended into you, and you had to admit, he was so fucking hot when he is rutting himself inside of you out of pure desire and frustration.

jungkook did not want to hurt you in any way, and you both knew that.

but you did not need him knowing that this was the most passionate, satisfying sex you’ve ever had. so you made the bold decision to start putting your underwear on right after the sensual fuck. not giving him any time for aftercare.

jungkook was lying comfortably on the bed when he noticed that you wanted to leave, his quick reaction caused him to sit up, large hands holding down your waist as he pressed you back down into the mattress. his bright eyes stared at you, “where are you heading to? hm?”

“back home,” you maintain deep eye contact, it’s hard not to kiss him when his soft, pretty lips are at a reachable distance in front of you. “i obviously can’t stay the night…”

jungkook’s grip on your waist tightened, you swear you saw the light in his eyes die out almost immediately. almost a fog covers his pupils and you figure maybe you were a little too extreme with that answer.

a delicate emotion runs across his face and he almost looks hurt when he finally gathers his words, “so…you waited outside my house…just to sleep with me?”

in that moment, you felt like the biggest cunt in the world.

you couldn’t find the right answer, if you said yes, you are the biggest cunt in the world confirmed- if you said no, you don’t think that’s a correct answer either way.

after not collecting a response from you, jungkook lets go, plopping back onto the bed, it’s almost like he took that silence from you as a confirmation of his theory. he laughs to himself, “fuck, why do i keep falling for these games you play?”

he moves his eyes away from you, to a random object in the room. “if you could’ve told me you’re real intention ages ago, we wouldn’t be like this at all, y/n.”

you close your eyes, remaining in your position on his bed.

in the start, you were definitely in it just for a quick fuck. but it looks like you’re now in deep waters. jungkook is irresistible- and you might’ve gone way too far with this one.

“don’t say that.” you move to his side, “i seriously loved you back then.”

“if you loved me, i don’t think you would’ve sent me off to a different city, y/n.”

“i told you it was an opportunity…i know you’d be better off if you got that job, even if we broke up, i wanted you to be successful, and not- stay in this small city…being stuck with me.” you replied, hoping he would meet eye with you again.

jungkook was tired of arguing about this. he knew the both of you weren’t the best when it came to communicating, he didn’t want to leave your city because you were in it, but he knew it might’ve been the end when he saw his name on the office announcement. he told you he couldn’t accept doing long distance, while you simply replied over text “then let’s just end it all. no matter if you go or not. let’s just end it here.” and that ruined him.

it was almost like you just desperately wanted to get rid of him.

if only he had the balls to drive to your house to talk this out, but he didn’t. he absolutely should’ve, but he didn’t.

“look at this! it’s painful.” he stopped in his thoughts when your head found his chest, you were pointing to the bruises he had left on your thigh. “jungkook! bruises.”

jungkook didn’t want to respond at all, but couldn’t help looking down on your pretty body. many parts of your skin were turning red from his roughness. he knew he didn’t use much strength at all, your skin was just easily sensitive. but he couldn’t help but feel his heart soften slightly when he heard your voice full of sulk.

he spoke with a gentle tone “sorry,” while circling an arm around your waist, massaging your hips. “does it still hurt?”

“yeah.”

jungkook adjusted his position, hovering over you, he kissed every single mark he made on your body, making sure every single area on your skin was being loved.

“what now?”

you knew exactly what he was asking about. what now? us? but you played dumb once again. “what?”

looking down at you his tongue ran over his pillow lips, he remained silent.

“you explain the matching sneakers first.” you raised your eyebrows.

“i bought them on purpose after i saw her wearing them after friday dinner. to piss you off.” jungkook replied.

but he didn’t include the part where he rejected her blatantly the first night he drove her home. he didn’t include the part where he asked her the night before going bowling if she could help him with a favor. he didn’t include the part where the favor was to ask her if she could come and help him act to piss you off.

you couldn’t help but let a giggle slip when he stared at you with a straight face. “okay, now i like you a whole lot again.”

after receiving a satisfying answer, a smile of relief crept onto his face, feeling his jaw unclench. “so you’re not just in it for one single fuck?” he teased.

“one won’t be enough.”

“give me an amount then.”

“i don’t know…until you’re bored of me? i guess?” you replied, intertwining your hand with his.

jungkook will never get bored of you, he thought to himself. he looked at your soft hand interlocked with his, not only will he never get bored of you, but he’ll also never let go of this hand ever again.

his other hand reached for your earlobe.

after getting back together with jungkook, you’ve realized how different this man has become over this time.

you remember him sometimes being very unreasonable, overprotective, almost overwhelming- of a boyfriend. and of course, sometimes jealousy is cute! you get that, but he was over the top about it. but now- now this is different.

it’s the indifferences that make a relationship cute!

occasionally you still pull a cheeky lie, telling him that you’re going home to rest- but bumping into him in a local bar. he wouldn’t be angry at all, unlike before. instead, he would drag you with a teasing smile to come drink at his table. that’s when you know you’re in for a long night back at his house.

but there was something you really wanted to talk out with him.

one summer night, when the cold wind was blowing through his large window, you turned your body to face him- there was something that was keeping you up tonight. he felt your movement next to him, “what’s up?”

“it’s been like…two months since we got back together, right?”

“right.”

“i think i want to talk some things out.”

thank god the night was dim, and jungkook was grateful because of that, he knows the expression on his face is not very charming. if this was a face-to-face conversation, he doesn’t know how he’ll be able to handle it.

“yeah?” there was a hint of calmness in his voice, almost like he was forcing it. jungkook doesn’t know what to expect. he thought there would be a different result this time- he’s a different person! he finds himself desperately praying with his aching heart that this will not be another heart-shattering break-up again.

at least, this time it's in person, right?

he was lost in panic when your hand squeezed him under the quilt.

“jungkook, do you think i broke up with you because i wanted to get rid of you?”

was it not? the three words were stuck in his throat, but he wanted to hear your voice more than his own right now.

“well, it wasn’t. it was for a more stupid reason- not because you were clingy, and whatever you thought. i wanted you to be successful, of course. but it was all out of my stupidity, i texted that out of anger, i didn’t actually mean it. i just wanted to see if you would come find me. come talk it out. i know we both weren’t good with words.”

you lowered your voice, “stupidly, a selfish part of me- even though i wanted you to get the job- a little bit of me still wished that you would’ve picked me over that.” after your little statement, you felt a heavy rock was lifted from your chest.

the hand that you held slightly twitched under your grip. he fully moved to face you. you turned away out of embarrassment.

to honestly admit that you love jeon jungkook, is a harder thing than you thought.

you felt the mattress vibrate, and then you realize he was now laughing at you. “i believe everything you say, even if you lied to my face, i would trust you without a doubt, y/n.”

“that was all my honest words!!!”

“i know. i know.” he said through chuckles. you turned towards him, embracing your urge to touch your lips with his. with muffled laughter, he moves right on top of you, locking both sides of your body with his strong thighs.

it’s annoying how he’s still smiling….when he’s peeling your pyjamas off you.

his eyes are glassy and glowy under the reflection of the moonlight, you could get lost in them for days.

“i don’t care what you say,” he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, “i’ve always loved you more than you did me. y/n.”

“okay then.” you replied, not wanting to argue with the man who was currently pressing lovebites on your neck.

jungkook smirks against your neck,

way, way more. (end)

here is my masterlist if you want to enjoy some more of my writing!

and until next time, kae.

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spdrwdw · 3 months

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can u write something abt miguel and the reader being childhood best friends but they grew apart and then met again years later and get together?

Of course! I have been planning on making a series based on my childhood friend headcanons

Art By Shuploc

Pairing: Miguel x F!Reader

Warnings: None, no use of y/n. Warnings will change throughout the series. Each part will have their own warnings

Summary: You and Miguel were childhood bestfriends. You two did everything together, one never without the other. That is, until you both headed off your separate ways. Now, you move back to New York and bump into him. Will your old friendship with him continue? Will you get any closure? Also, who is this Spider-Man you keep running into?

A/N: So I am finally getting around to writing my childhood Miguel fic/series! I don't have a set number of parts this will be. Nor do I have a timeline of when I'm getting each part out as I am also going to be working on requests. But, I will put up a post for when I have a new part coming out a few days prior. This is going to take place in the future when you and Miguel are older. There may be flashbacks and I will be using my headcanons as inspo. POV will change from Miguel and reader. This is the prologue, giving us a little snippet of reader and Miguel when they were teens.

Word Count: 829

☆ Prologue ☆

Masterlist, WWWY Masterlist , part 1

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"Hey, remember when we used to play pirates over at the jungle gym?" Miguel asked you as you both swung on the swings of your childhood playground.

You smiled and nodded your head, your mind drifting off to the wonderful memories of when you were both kids, playing with the other neighborhood kids.

“Of course I do. I was only the best thing ever!” You laughed as you continued to swing.

“The slides were our ship and the monkey bars were the only way to get to and from land. It was great, honestly,” you reminisced.

The sun was beginning to set, and Miguel couldn’t help but to stare at you for a moment as the sunlight caught your profile. And Miguel was in complete awe. They way the sun seemed to just glisten your skin, giving you such an angelic glow that he suddenly felt unworthy of. It made his stomach turn a bit.

He had been harboring feelings for you for quite some time, and he knew that if he didn’t confess them to you now, he knew he never would.

“Hey..I know this is gonna sound crazy, but, I want to tell you something,” Miguel started, suddenly feeling very nervous.

You looked over at him, a smile on your fine. “Hmm? What is it?”

God, that smile. It made his heart skip a beat every single time. He could stare at it forever. He wanted to.

So badly.

And yet…

“N-nevermind. It’s nothing,” he shook his head.

You raised a brow at him. “You sure, Miggy?”

Damn, that nickname. Only those closest to him were allowed to call him that. However, hearing you saying it tugged at his heart a certain way.

“Y-yeah. I’m sure,” he assured you, looking down at his feet as he continued to swing. The fact that the swing was able to hold him was a miracle. He had a huge growth spurt in high school that he stuck out like a sore thumb. Many thought that he was a basketball player with how tall he was. However, he was too bulky to be playing basketball, so he took on football instead. Not something he was planning on continuing on with. His passion was science.

“It feels so surreal, doesn’t it? In a few months, we’ll be going off to college. You better text me, Miguel,” you told him, a pout in your face as you looked over at him.

“Me oyes?”

“Yeah, I hear ya,” Miguel chuckled, nodding his head. Of course he would keep contact with you.

He then looked back down as he stilled himself on the swing. He really needed to tell you before it was too late. It was already too late. You two were headings off to different universities. You’d only see each other during holidays and summer break. But, it could still work out, right?

Well, he’d have to tell you first.

And he was already chickening out.

You two had been through so much together. Had done so many things together. You were his best friend and he was yours. Since kindergarten, you two were inseparable. You were both each other’s first in..a lot of things. You had your first kiss with him. You were his first crush, and you both lost your virginity to each other. That..that was an experience.

Miguel didn’t want to say goodbye. He didn’t want to let you go. But, such was life, right? Plus, you both promised to keep in touch.

And you both were good about keeping promises.

Or so Miguel thought.

“Come on, Miggy. We should start heading back home. It’s getting late. And we need to be up early for tomorrow,” you told him as you let your feet touch the ground, putting your swing to a stop before getting off.

Miguel followed suit with a nod of his head, swinging himself as high as he could before jumping off, landing on his feet with a thud.

“You’re gonna mess up your knees,” you tsked at him, shaking your head as you began to make your way along the dirt path that led to the neighborhood sidewalk.

“Eh, I’ll be okay,” Miguel chuckled as he waved you off.

You both walked side by side, hands teasingly brushing against each other. Fingers threatening to intertwine. You looked up at him, and he was already glancing down at you. You never spoke about your relationship. What were you two, exactly? It wasn’t just friendship anymore. But, neither of you managed to bring it up. You wondered what his thoughts were.

Miguel walked you up the steps to your house, standing in front of you, hands stuffed in his pockets as he shuffled a bit.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told you.

“See you tomorrow, Miguel,” you replied with a smile just before Miguel leaned into you, capturingyour lips in a kiss.

Possibly what would be the last kiss you’d ever receive from him.

☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x you

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qveerthe0ry · 2 months

Text

Lions Ain't the Kind - Part One

Summary: Frankie hasn't dated in years, but now he knows what he's looking for. He's just not so good at asking for what he wants, and you're willing to help him work on it. Word Count: 8,156 Pairing: Frankie Morales x NB/Gender-fluid! AFAB! Reader Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, subby!Frankie, soft dom! reader, talks about gender non-conformity, sickening fluff, Frankie is way too cute and sweet for his own good, kissing, making out, handjob (m receiving), anal fingering (m receiving), dirty talk, Frankie has a praise kink, no use of y/n, no physical descriptions of reader Beta: @perotovar (my angel ilysm) A/N: Sorry for talking about this for a month straight without posting it lol! The title is from the song (Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear by Elvis Presley which I admittedly haven't listened to but I saw the lyrics and knew immediately it was my Frankie. I hope you enjoy, and I'm always open to criticism and thoughts and thots!

Frankie hasn’t dated in years. He hasn’t really had the time, between his first child being born and navigating co-parenting with his ex, along with healing some very deep trauma and getting and staying clean.

It just hasn’t been on his mind, if he’s honest. He’s been busy finding himself, as Pope calls it. And he’s not wrong. It’s taken a long while for him to be comfortable in his own skin, to come to terms with the things he’s done and the baggage he can now store in an overhead bin, rather than carry it around with him at all times.

But now, he’s ready. He knows himself, and as a result, he knows what he’s looking for.

Someone kind-hearted and down to earth. Someone who’s independent and established, but not just looking for a hookup. Someone with a sweet smile and a desire for enjoying the little things in life.

Someone like you.

He’d swiped right and left dozens of times on men and women alike, but as soon as he saw your profile on whatever dating app he’d downloaded, he was hooked.

You were gorgeous. He felt the heat from your smile through his phone screen, so happy and genuine and sweet.

You were funny, the answers to those weird icebreaker questions full of witty remarks.

You were smart, clearly, from your shoutout to your alma matter and the ‘boring’ job you mentioned in your profile.

He honestly figured he had no chance at all. His face is only getting more wrinkly, and his hair more gray, and he’s never been the sharpest or funniest guy in the room.

So when he swiped left and you matched, he was stunned. He was even more shocked when you messaged him before he could even think of what to say to you.

Hi cutie 🥰

Despite the fact that he was home alone on his couch, he had the sudden urge to look behind him, as if you’d be talking to someone else. The back of his neck got so warm, and your boldness only made him more into you.

So he messaged you back

Hi :) how are you?

I’m surprised we matched, honestly. Pleasantly surprised 😊

Same here :) Why the surprise though? I’m sure you match with everyone

Not at all, it’s hard to find people whose type I am on here. I usually use the queer dating apps but I opened this one out of boredom. What are the chances?

What are the chances, indeed, Frankie thinks, as he gives your profile another look over. Frankie doesn’t understand how you aren’t everyone’s type. He feels a little bit like he’s talking to a celebrity, looking at your pictures and just a snippet of who you are on this reductive dating app.

I like the odds :)

——

As your conversation continues normally over the next few days, Frankie learns a lot about you. He also learns a lot about himself.

It’s been so long since he’s played the field, so to speak, that he’s rusty as all hell and a bit awkward. He’s afraid to flirt too much, every message deleted and re-written at the risk of sounding too cheesy or too forward or too much.

You aren’t afraid to flirt. You send ‘good morning, handsome’ and ‘sweet dreams, pretty boy’ texts every day and night. You tell him your day would be better if you could cuddle someone, you tell him when you’re taking a relaxing bath that you wished he were there to join you.

And to say that Frankie likes it is a massive fucking understatement.

He adores it, he thinks about you constantly, all day long while he works without access to his phone, all evening long while he waits on your replies, all night long, when you’ve bid each other goodnight out of nothing but courtesy for each other’s sleep schedules.

You lead him along like a timid puppy on a leash, showing him new things with patience and care and it drives him insane. He wants to meet up with you so bad, or even just call you on the phone to hear your voice. He thinks about it, late at night, if it’s higher or lower in register, if it’s smooth or raspy. He wants to learn everything about you.

That being said, he’s not sure if he’s ever met someone who’s ‘non-binary/gender-fluid’ before. He doesn’t get out much, he hardly talks to anyone who he hasn’t known for years.

So he googles. It doesn’t really help. He understands what it means, but he doesn’t know what it means to you. He wants to ask you a million questions, but is afraid to bring up even one, and ruin the moment, or sound like an idiot.

You’re so kind though. So he bites the bullet.

Can I ask you a question?

Your response comes almost immediately, now that it’s evening time, both finished with dinner— his takeout vs. your leftover spaghetti.

Of course, pretty boy ❤️

He still flushes deep when you call him that, heat spreading all throughout his face and neck and chest.

How did you know you were non-binary/ gender-fluid?

He frets over the text a bunch before he sends it, making sure he worded it the same way you did in your profile. His heart pounds as he waits for your response.

I’ve always just kind of known I didn’t feel like a man or a woman. I used to think everyone felt somewhere in between, and it was just normal to not feel like I checked either box, but then I realized no one else around me felt the way I did. And then I learned all the terms and whatnot, later on, and knew that’s what I am. Just kinda in between, neither and both, sometimes one and sometimes the other. If that makes sense?

His smile splits his cheeks as he reads your in-depth response, eating up every bit of information you’re willing to give him.

That makes perfect sense to me. Thank you for sharing :)

It doesn’t scare you off?

Frankie scoffs, as if anything about you could scare him off. At this point, you could show up on his doorstep with a dead body in a bag, and he’d throw it in his trunk, dispose of it, and then ask if he could maybe kiss you.

Not at all. Nothing about you scares me :)

——

It’s a few more days before Frankie works up the courage to ask for your phone number. You tell him you were wondering when he was going to finally ask for it. It makes him itchy to think about you waiting for him to ask, making him be the one to do it. In a good way. In a way that kind of makes him stiffen up in his briefs if he thinks about it for too long.

But now, as he settles in from a long day at work, his grin splits his face from ear to ear as he reads your text.

Can I take you out tomorrow night?

He likes it… a lot. He feels so fucking new to all this, like a fumbling newborn calf taking its first steps, and how forward you are eases him so thoroughly.

I’d love that :)

Meet me here at 5 for dinner. Casual dress, but I’m sure you’ll be handsome in anything 😘

It’s the longest 22 hours of his life, and it’s the shortest, all at the same time. Texting you, making funny jokes like his bones aren’t about to creep right out from under his skin with all the nerves buzzing his body. Thinking about you, dreaming about you, one right after the other. When he wakes in the morning it’s like he didn’t get a wink of sleep, his anxiety drumming up a million different scenarios of how it could go right and wrong.

Calling Santi mid-morning on a Saturday when he knows he’s spending time with his family, because if he doesn’t talk to someone about this he may just float off into the ether.

“I’m so fucking nervous, Pope, what do I do? How do I act? Can you just stake out at the bar and feed me lines through an earpiece?”

“Pendejo, fucking— grow a pair man. You’re cute and funny, you’ve got this.”

Reading your texts with pupils shaped like hearts:

I can’t wait to see you tonight, cutie ❤️

and

I finally settled on an outfit

and

Is it weird that I’m not even nervous? I’m just excited to finally meet you

It is weird, Frankie thinks, but doesn’t dare tell you. It’s weird how he can’t even eat the plain toast he made for lunch without feeling bile rise in the back of his throat, and you’re just excited. It’s weird how he’s never, ever felt so gone over someone, and you haven’t even met yet.

It’s not weird, it’s sweet :) I’m excited too <3

It’s not a lie, but he’s omitting the truth a bit. He’s excited but he’s nervous, picking meticulously through his closet to find something casual but not too casual, something he likes the look of himself in, something he thinks you’ll like the look of.

It only gets worse as he stares at google maps. The restaurant is 2.6 miles away, 11 minutes from his house. It’s 4:30, and he wants to leave already, but thinks maybe it’s better to deal with the anxiety in the comfort of his home rather than the parking lot, in case you’re there early too, and you can see how much of a fucking wreck he is.

He watches the minutes tick up in the corner of his phone screen. At 4:36, he gets up, fusses in the mirror one last time, and leaves.

When he parks in the lot in front of the bar & grill, you’ve already texted him.

I’m here a little early, got all green lights. Saved us a table near the back. See you soon!

It’s 4:52.

He takes a deep breath through his nose, closes his eyes as he lets it out gently, counting just like his therapist taught him. And again. And one more time, and finally that anxious tingling in his fingertips is muted a bit and his heart rate is only slightly above normal.

4:54.

He pulls the key from the ignition, gets out of the car, and makes his way to the door.

He finds you instantly.

You’re looking at him, and you’re smiling, and getting up from your chair as he approaches you. He barely even hears you greet him with all his blood rushing in his ears.

“Hi, Frankie,” you say, and your arms stretch out to invite him in for a hug.

He melts into your arms, his strained “hi” muffled in the crook of your neck. You squeeze him tight to you, and he hears you chuckle next to his ear.

“Knew you’d be even cuter in person.”

He huffs out a laugh as you release him, and the tips of his ears burn. But you’re smiling so sweetly at him that it eases his nervous bones.

“You look— can I call you handsome?”

Fuck, he thinks, so fucking awkward.

But your grin gets even wider.

“Only if you mean it.”

“I do,” he sighs, “like straight out of the cologne ads I’d rip out of my older sister’s magazines.”

He holds his breath as you react, the flutter of your eyelashes and the quivering of your lips and your laugh, bubbly and bright and soothing.

And he isn’t lying, not even a little. You’re rugged but soft, romantic and alluring, and he can’t take his eyes off you.

Even as you take your seats across from each other, and the waiter comes to take your drink orders, and as your gorgeous eyes flit across the pages of the menu. He can’t stop looking, watching your mouth curve into a smile as you talk about your week and ask him about his.

It’s pathetic, really, when the waiter asks if you’re ready to order, and you ask if he knows what he wants, because he hasn’t taken a single glance at the menu himself. He just hopes to god the dim lighting of the bar hides his flushed face and tells you to order first while he skims the menu.

He ends up ordering exactly what you got, and floundering when your hand finds his on the tabletop. He watches your fingers trace his own from his nails to his knuckles, and flips his palm up for you to rest your hand in his.

“I’m glad you came out with me tonight,” you tell him.

His eyes flicker up from your joined hands to your smiling face, and his nerves completely melt away from the heat of your gaze.

“Thank you for asking me,” he says.

“Would you have asked me, if I hadn’t asked you?”

He bites the inside of his cheek, and there’s a teasing glint in your eyes.

“Eventually,” he nods, “I mean… probably.”

Your eyebrows turn up in question, and he realizes how that sounds, jumping to backtrack.

“Not like that! I just mean— You know… You’re uh… well, I feel like you’re way out of my league. And so maybe I’m a little… intimidated.”

You smile, then, and sigh, and squeeze his hand as you call him a sweet boy. It makes the room feel like it’s a hundred degrees warmer, like Frankie’s clothes are suddenly two sizes too small.

“You aren’t so good at asking for what you want, are you?”

He laughs then, and shakes his head.

“Not really, no.”

“We’ll have to work on that, then.”

He clears his throat, and tugs at his collar with his free hand, breaking his gaze away from your face as you chuckle. He looks to find a waiter, or maybe an HVAC guy that could crank the AC to sub-zero temps for the remainder of the date.

No luck.

The rest of the date goes well. Surprisingly well. Frankie was worried that he’d be so out of practice that he’d freeze up, or say something stupid, or do something stupid, like knock over a drink or get food stuck in his teeth.

But you’re just so easy to talk to, to click with. Of course, you’re the one who facilitates the conversation, asking him about his favorites— movies, TV shows, music, time of year.

But he likes to think that he keeps the ball rolling well enough, is aware enough to remember to ask for some of your favorites— holiday, food, cocktails.

By the time the check comes, he hardly realizes you’ve both had empty plates in front of you for a while, talking and laughing through your meals like you’re just catching up with an old friend.

He protests when you grab the check, because of course he does. You’ve given him this incredible night, your comfortable company, your sweet smiles, and he feels like his offerings pale in comparison.

“I asked you out, Francisco,” you tease him, having just learned his full name a mere 20 minutes ago.

And he can’t really protest anymore, what with the shiver that’s tingling his spine and the goosebumps he tries to hide by gripping the chair underneath him. So he lets you pay, and thanks the waiter, and feels a rush of sadness when they come back with the check to sign. He really doesn’t want this evening to end.

The apprehension falls second to the sensation of your hand on the small of his back, leading him out to the parking lot.

“Where’s your car? I’ll walk you there,” you say, your thumb pressing a soothing circle into the base of his spine.

So he walks to his truck, a little self-conscious about the out-of-dateness of it, and how he didn’t think to run it through a car wash before this. But mostly he’s just nervous about ending this date on a good note.

“This is me,” he says, barely above a whisper, stopping at his driver’s side door.

You smile at him when he turns to you.

“Thanks again for coming out with me. I really did have a great time.”

This makes him smile through the unease, even as your hand drops from the small of his back.

“I did too. Would you uh… wanna hang out again soon?”

Your face lights up, and Frankie wants to capture it in a bottle and take it home with him. Keep it at his bedside to use as a nightlight.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

He chuckles and looks down to his feet like maybe it’ll redirect the flush in his face. You grab his hand, hanging by his side, and luckily you don’t make him speak again because he doesn’t know if he’s even able.

“I’d love to. Really.”

He smiles when he looks back up at you, only briefly, because you drop his hand and take a half step back.

“Call me about it.”

“Wait!”

Your brow arches at him, because you weren’t really going anywhere, but Frankie’s mind is running a thousand miles a second. He thinks back to all the times you’ve goaded him into asking for what he wants, so far, and how it hasn’t bit him in the rear yet.

“Can we— I… Can I kiss you goodnight?”

Your smile softens, and you take that little half-step back closer to him, and he feels all the tension leak from his shoulders.

“Yes, you can. Thank you for asking.”

He huffs, and smiles at you, and you’re reaching out to cup his jaw and grab his hip, and Frankie closes his eyes far too early, but it’s okay, because he feels your body heat and then your lips.

He can’t hold back the hum that rumbles from deep in his chest, or the way that he goes a little boneless in your grasp. He finds your forearm and squeezes it, and your bicep too, anything to ground himself as your lips part and your tongue teases the seam of his lips.

But then you’re pulling back, and it’s over far too quickly, and Frankie is also acutely aware of how tight his jeans feel. His face feels like it could melt right off of his skull.

“Call me soon, Pretty Boy.”

He nods, speechless, and watches you disappear between the cars of the parking lot. On his way home, he’s already fretting over whether or not he should text you tonight, and what kind of date he should plan, and if his breath was okay when you let him kiss you.

——

Frankie is perfect.

You’re still not sure how you found this diamond in the rough that is Tinder. You thank every god you know the name of that you got bored and opened the app on auto-pilot that night.

First of all, he’s so cute. He’s handsome in such a boyish way, with his dimples and unruly curls and patchy beard.

But he’s also so kind, the way he talks to you like it’s a privilege, the way he asks careful and curious questions about you like he truly wants to know the parts of you that are deeper than what’s on the surface.

Every simple text from him makes you smile, the way he always tries to make you laugh or cheer you up when you’re overwhelmed with the demands of life, as you often are.

And meeting him in person solidified everything you thought about him.

He seems like the textbook definition of a golden retriever boyfriend, if you ever get to call him that much. You hope you do.

In fact, it seems like it’s moving quite quickly in that direction when Frankie asks if you’d be down for a movie night. Some blockbuster he missed in theaters is finally streaming, and he thinks you’ll like it.

You don’t tell him that you didn’t miss it in theaters, or that you thought it was just okay.

You do tell him you’d be down to watch it, only if he came to your place, where the walls are thin and your surrounding neighbors all know you and watch out for you. Just in case he’s really good at acting like a sweet, safe guy.

You find yourself giddy as the weekend approaches, daydreaming at work about how the night will turn out. You tell him to come in comfy clothes, because you’ll be damned if you wear jeans in your own home, even for this sweet man. He doesn’t seem to mind one bit, that’s my favorite kind of outfit :) is his cute response.

You get everything ready the day of; your coziest blankets hang off the arms of your sofa, your fridge is stocked with fresh fruits and your pantry with candy and microwave popcorn and chips (I’ll eat whatever you get :) his answer to your questioning of his favorite movie snacks, of course.)

And then you sit around and wait, excited nerves coaxing your body to straighten things up that have been straightened up a million times already. When Frankie texts you his ETA, you park yourself on the couch by the door and stare at it until there’s a knock on it.

You may count to ten before you get up to open it, just to hide how eager you’ve been to see him again.

Your throat does get a little dry when you answer it to find him in a dark blue t-shirt that hugs his arms and light gray joggers that hug… Other things.

“Hi handsome,” you smile, pushing down all the nerves and the less-than-PG thoughts.

“Hi. I um… I brought these. I noticed you ordered them on our uh– well, at the restaurant, and I didn’t want to show up empty handed.”

You watch a flush break out on his face, and his neck, and wonder how far under his collar it actually spreads.

He’s holding up a six pack of your favorite beers, and he’s smiling so shyly, and you have to crowd in closer to him to press a kiss to his heated cheek.

“That’s so thoughtful, thank you.”

He giggles— giggles, Jesus Christ— and you take them from his hand to let him come through the door.

You set the beers in your fridge to let them chill as he kicks off his shoes. You watch him from the kitchen as he takes in your place with his pretty brown eyes.

“It’s really cozy in here,” he tells you as he fiddles with his own hands.

“Snuggle up, get comfy, I’ll bring us some snacks.”

He nods, so obedient, and hovers by the couch before settling on the seat in the middle.

Sly move, you think, and you can’t hide your stupid grin as you gather some snacks.

When you turn off all but one lamp and deposit the junk food on the coffee table, you notice he’s inched himself closer to the arm of the couch, like he was second-guessing himself. That just won’t do, you think, as you settle in right next to him, so close that the length of your body is pressed against his.

He doesn’t look at you, just stares at the Roku City scrolling across your flat screen. For a second you think he might be uncomfortable, but the way his breathing is uneven clues you in on his nerves.

You reach over him to grab the blanket in the arm of the couch, and you feel his muscles tense up when you press against him.

“Frankie?”

“Huh? Sorry, yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head and sighs, heavy and long, before looking at you.

“I’m so nervous.”

He smiles in spite of it, lopsided, dimples so cute that your lips quiver with the urge to kiss them.

You smile back, and drape the blanket over both of you, patting his leg through it.

“Nothing to be nervous about, Francisco.”

It gets a laugh out of him, a huff through his nose, and his shoulders lower the tiniest bit. You slowly reach up to cradle his jaw in your palm, careful not to spook this little baby deer of a man, but his face leans into your touch.

“If it helps, I think it’s really sweet that you’re nervous.”

“Thank you… I think?”

You laugh at him, and watch as your reaction makes his eyes brighten. You want to kiss him. You want to smooch the absolute daylights out of him, but there’s still 3 hours of a pretentious movie to watch, and there will be plenty of time, if he’s amenable.

So you just pinch his cheek before you let go, and try not to look so smug at the heat that consumes his face as you get the movie up and running.

Fifteen or so minutes into the film, Frankie has relaxed into the couch, though he’s stock-still beside you with his arms glued to his own sides. You just want to cuddle, at least. You’ve been thinking about it for weeks— getting his warm, solid but soft body against your own.

You’re certain he won’t be the one to initiate it, but that’s all fine and dandy. You rearrange yourself a bit, and sling an arm over his shoulders. He looks away from the movie towards you, and you give him a smile that must be comforting.

He sinks lower on the couch, and leans against you, his messy curls pressed against your shoulder while his arm drapes over your lap. You think you hear his satisfied hum under the dialogue of the characters, and you let your head rest against his.

This is nice. Frankie’s so warm against you, the most comforting weight all lax against your side. Your hand creeps up from his shoulder to his head, and his hair is so silky when you finally work up the gall to run your fingers through it.

You can feel the way it affects him when he shivers and presses even closer into you. You watch the movie like that for a while, snacks untouched, fingertips stroking his scalp as his soft curls slip through your digits. Every once in a while his head tilts to look up at you, piercing brown, and each time you smile back down and ruffle his hair.

It’s just after the first big conflict of the film when you feel Frankie shift against you. His arm moves in your lap, and you watch his thick fingers grab your thigh over the blanket.

It shocks you how such a simple gesture makes your temperature rise. You hum and let your nails scratch more firmly against his head. You can hear him gasp, and feel him move impossibly closer, like he’s trying to fuse the two of you together. You glance down at him, past the curls you’ve lost yourself in, and his eyes are closed. Further, the curve of his nose and pout of his lips, his chest that’s heaving with his excited breaths, you notice a suspicious tent in the blanket, and you don’t want to assume, but the context clues are all there.

Frankie is hard.

You can’t blame him. You’ve been aroused since you pressed his body against yours, a slow simmering underneath the surface that’s made you feel so comfortably warm and relaxed.

You shift, and you swear you hear a barely-there whine leave his lips. You move just enough so you can press your free hand to his chest. Under your palm, you can feel his heart beating, a pace that’s concerningly higher than appropriate for sitting and watching dialogue in a movie.

His head turns toward you, his hair slipping through the grasp of your knuckles. He looks up at you with those puppy eyes and his pupils are so dilated that it makes you take a deep breath. He turns his body toward you next and there it is the hard line of his cock pressed against the outside of your thigh. You see him shudder at the friction, watch his eyes grow droopy as they flicker down to glance at your lips.

“Can I kiss you again?”

And he asks so sweetly, voice a little hoarse from the silence, that you couldn’t dream of denying him.

“Yes, Frankie.”

His lips tremble until they meet yours, so soft and chaste, a stark contrast to his scruffy beard and mustache. His breath hitches; you can hear it and feel it. His chest shudders under your palm and pushes air out to gust against your cheeks. You feel his prick, too, twitching against your thigh as your tongue peeks out to tease his pouty bottom lip.

He pulls back so much quicker than you want him to, but it’s also such a reward to look at him this close. His lips shiny, his cheeks flushed, his irises completely usurped by his pupils. His mouth hangs open and you can’t help yourself as you slide your hand from his chest to his jaw and pull him into you once again.

A surprised little noise works its way out of his throat, and his hips jerk forward, and then he’s groaning as his cock throbs against the outside of your thigh. The noise makes that feeling in your gut draw deeper, lower, and you make one of your own in response.

His hand rests dutifully still on your thigh, but you can feel his fingers twitching as your taste buds rub against his– a friction that has no right to be as delicious as it is. You want him to feel you up, to touch you all over, to give in to the desire that’s blatantly pressed against you. You want to hear these noises he seems to be holding back, the whimpers that just barely make it past his vocal chords before he cuts them off.

You pull away this time. Pride swells in your chest as you look at what you’ve already done to him. His curls are even messier now that you’ve run your fingers through them over and over. His eyes are all glassy when he looks at you, pouty lips slick and red.

He sits so still, aside from his heaving breaths, like he’s waiting for your command.

“Tell me what you want, Frankie.”

His eyes widen and christ, if they get any wider they’re going to suck you in like a supermassive black hole.

“I– I’m okay, I like this.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. He nods, trying to convince you, as he not-so-subtly pulls his erection free from its trap between his body and your thigh. His eyes cast downward, but you swiftly grab his chin in your hands to bring them back to you.

“Francisco,” you mumble, “ask for what you want.”

He gasps and bites his plush bottom lip, hard enough that there’s little indents when he opens his mouth. He shuts it again, and squirms against you, and finally opens it once more.

“I want you to touch me.”

His request comes out hardly above a whisper, all broken and breathy, and his gaze settles somewhere behind you.

“Is that all?”

He nods quickly, eyes snapping back to you.

“I swear– I just wanna feel your hands on me.”

Your smile widens as his face gets so serious, eyebrows knitting together.

“That’s good, that’s really good,” you mumble.

The shudder that visibly rolls through him is like a shockwave, sending every one of your nerve endings on-edge. You huff, an amazed little breath at this fucking guy in front of you, so responsive and timid and utterly fuckable.

“You like that? Like being good for me?”

He nods again, more apprehensive this time, but he can’t hold back his whine when his hips press against you. The possibilities of all the things you could do to this man stretch far and wide; it’s entirely overwhelming.

“Sweet boy,” you whisper, because he is, “c’mere.”

You pull the blanket off of you both, and Frankie reaches down to adjust himself so it isn’t so obvious, like you haven’t felt his cock twitching against you this entire time. It’s so endearing you think you could cry, but you’re much too turned on for sentiment at the moment. Instead, you guide him to straddle you, hands on his slender hips until his thighs cage your own.

For a moment you just watch as he sits patiently, obediently, waiting for your next words like his cock isn’t leaking a pretty little damp patch into his sweatpants. His chest heaves with every breath, and his tongue licks and bites at his swollen lips, and his eyes stay trained on your mouth in anticipation.

“So pretty,” you whisper.

His long eyelashes flutter at your compliment, and he turns his head to try and hide his reaction, but it doesn’t mask the way his prick twitches under gray fabric. Your hands find his waistband and tease the edge and you delight in the way he shivers.

You need to feel more, so you press your hands under his shirt and hum at what you find. A soft tummy and smooth skin that makes way for a small trail of wiry hairs. It’s all revealed to you a moment later when you hike his shirt higher, reach for pecs that are more solid than you imagined, and the smallest nipples you think you’ve ever had your hands on.

You look back up to his face for permission with a quirked brow, and he nods eagerly, grabbing the back of his collar to shed the material and bare himself and it’s so lovely. There’s so much tan skin, hardly any of it is obstructed by hair, just the errant freckle here or there. And you can’t help it, you have to lean forward and take one of his nipples into your mouth.

He gasps your name, but one of his hands finds the back of your head to keep you in place. You hum around the little nub, so small you have trouble getting your teeth to bite down on it, but you do and then he groans, his hips jerking in your hold on them.

“Is this how you wanted me to touch you?”

You lean your head back to look him in the eyes, to watch a pained expression flit over his face as he tries to come up with an answer he thinks you’ll like.

“I like this too,” he nods, “but I, um… fuck–”

He cuts himself off to hide his face in his hands. He is so cute and so sexy at the same time, it’s making your brain go haywire.

“Tell me, Frankie. Be good for me, Pretty Boy.”

He shifts on top of you as he looks up at your ceiling. You soothe your hands up and down his flanks and wait patiently for him to find the words.

He drops his hand from his face, fists clenching down by his sides, but he finally looks down at you and smiles, shy and sweet, just a hint of that dimple you adore rearing its head.

“Touch my cock? You got me so hard.”

You smile bright at his request, and nod, and press a kiss to his sternum.

“Anything you want,” you mumble, “just gotta ask. Just like that.”

He looks pretty proud of himself. There’s a twinkle in his eyes as you look up at him, and you take a playful bite of his skin and savor the gasp it coaxes out of him.

“Let’s get these off, yeah?”

Your fingers sneak under his waistband and his skin is so hot under there, searing. You only have a few moments to bask in the warmth before he stands up to remove his pants and briefs in one bashful move.

Jesus.

He’s so gorgeous, bare for you, vulnerable, excited. His foreskin is all pulled back, revealing a delicious looking string of pre-cum from his slit. You desperately want to lean forward and taste— but he didn’t ask for that, and you won’t give it to him unless he does.

Stunned a bit silent, you pat your lap, urging him to settle back over it. Much to your delight, he does, quick and obedient. An approving hum bubbles up out of your chest, and he preens as he sits on your thighs.

There’s a very wicked feeling in you as you stare at him, completely naked, while you haven’t shed a single layer of clothing. Control, and trust, and power. It’s overwhelming in a way that makes your lungs feel too inflated for your rib cage, to know you could take advantage of it, and to know you never ever would.

“Good boy,” you whisper, finally, testing those waters.

Frankie’s dick twitches between you two, and you huff and smile and wonder how something so perfect and precious has literally landed right in your lap.

He’s been more than good, and so with one hand you grab his hip to steady him, and the other takes his cock as gentle as ever. A sharp inhale inflates his chest as you stroke the smooth skin, a teasing, feather-light touch that makes his legs tense up in your lap. You watch him disappear and reappear through the loose circle of your hand, watch another clear droplet bead from his slit when you squeeze him tighter.

“Does this feel good?”

He’s watching your hand work when you look back up to his face. He nods, a jerky movement that seems to shake his entire body, and he’s so on-edge. You feel it in the way he shifts his weight on top of you.

“Words, Frankie,” you urge, a soft smile on your face.

“So good.”

You hum, taking in the way his eyes flutter open and closed, the way his adam’s apple pokes out when he leans his head back.

You reward him by speeding up your strokes. You squeeze his hip with your free hand, kneading at the soft flesh there, while you lean forward to press kisses into his virtually hairless chest. His skin is so hot it feels like it could burn you, flushed such a pretty color, just like you knew it would be.

He whines when you gather up more pre cum with your thumb and gently massage it into his frenulum. You look up to find him staring down at you with glassy eyes, bottom lip tucked tight between his teeth.

“Can we kiss more?”

His voice is breathy, and you nod, and a fresh wave of arousal flushed through your system when his lips eagerly meet yours.

It’s sloppier, this time. Noisier, too, as you tighten your grip on his cock and begin to properly work your hand up and down his length. You steal his breath and his noises straight from his lungs, feel every shudder he pushes out when you twist your wrist just right or squeeze tighter.

His hips start to meet your thrusts, rutting into your hand, such a desperate little thing on top of you, all for you. You want to encourage him to take his pleasure from you, and so you slip your hand back from his waist, find the perfectly pert globe of his ass with your palm.

“Haa— shit.”

His words muffle into your kiss as his hips stutter in rhythm and you lean forward to smirk into the bald patch of his beard.

“Yeah?”

A gasp wrecks through his heaving chest as he nods.

“Please, fuck— please.”

You hum into his jaw and squeeze his cock and his ass respectively.

“Please what, Pretty Boy?”

He leans back. You watch him squeeze his eyes shut and shake his head from left to right.

“Tell me what you want, Frankie. Know you can.”

A big gulp of air, and then he opens his eyes to look at you, then blinks them shut again as his head lolls back in his shoulders.

“Touch me there. I— I can’t—”

“Shhh,” you take mercy on him, bringing your hand up from his backside to cradle his jaw in your palm. He tilts his head into your touch and opens his eyes.

“I got you, sweet boy,” you remind him.

He nods in understanding, shifting to kiss the heel of your palm. You let him rest his lips there as he catches his breath, feel them quivering every other upstroke of your hand on his prick.

But as he makes to move, you hold his jaw steady in your hand. His eyes flicker back to your face, and you wonder if you look as wrecked as you feel, if he can tell how beside yourself you really are.

Slowly, so he can pull away if he wants, you trace the pad of your middle finger along the seam of his lips. You’re awestruck at how they instantly fall open for you, greedy, something you’re definitely looking forward to exploring more later.

For now, you watch with hooded eyes as he takes it into his mouth, tongue curling and lapping at it. You briefly wonder if fingers are erogenous zones, beyond turned on at how warm and wet the inside of his mouth feels, how he suckles and releases, bobs his head over and over until you snap out of it.

“Good boy. Fucking perfect,” you sigh.

He gets a cocky little goofy grin on his face at the praise, but his prick twitches against your grasp. You squeeze it for good measure, and more of his pre-cum dribbles over your knuckles.

You lean into him again, and he leans into you, holding each other up. Your mouth finds his pebbled nipple once again as his prick drags across your shirt and saturates it. He hisses at the friction, then gasps when your hand grabs his ass cheek again.

You pull it as best as you can with one hand. It isn’t too difficult with how it fits so perfectly round in your palm. You squeeze it, massage it, note how the littlest hint of peach fuzz feels against your clammy hand. You wonder how it would feel under your tongue, too, how it would taste, how the fatty flesh would feel between your teeth.

His hips stutter forward when your finger, slick with his saliva, strokes the very top of his crack. And you don’t mean to tease too much, but his jerky movements and satisfied sounds when you do are like music to your ears.

Finally you find his hole, fluttering around nothing, so little and tight, all for you.

“Ohmygod.”

Frankie sounds pained, so much so that you look up from nuzzling his chest to watch his face. His brows are drawn tight with how his eyes are squeezed shut, and his mouth is hung open, slick with a little drool around the corners of his lips. Without context, maybe he would look pained, too, but the way his cock throbs and dribbles in your hand paints a completely different picture.

And what a pretty picture he is, gulping for air above you, thrusting his hips back into your finger and forward through your fist, like he’s so out of his mind that he can’t even make it up.

You apply more pressure to his impossibly tight pucker and sink your teeth into his skin at the way he whines for you. You do it again, and again, a patient little rhythm until it relaxes and the very tip of your finger slips into his warmth.

He groans, clenching tight around you.

“Okay, Frankie?”

He laughs, a little puff of air, and you feel it where you’re inside him.

“Gonna make me come,” he chokes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, don’t— fuck— please don’t stop.”

You hum into his chest, squeeze your hand tighter around his prick as you speed up your strokes. He’s groaning now, deep and low and constant, like he couldn’t hold it back if he tried.

You wiggle your finger against his rim, tugging him open for you, toying with the elastic muscle. He’s so pliable everywhere, opening up to you, happily taking what you give him.

In a stiff moment you think he isn’t into it, because he freezes up and goes silent. You make to slip out of him, but his warmth just drags you in.

And then his cock jumps in your grasp, and his hole clamps around your finger as he gasps your name, and he’s coming.

He shakes with it as he soaks your shirt and drips over your hand. You stroke him through it and marvel at the way he feels in your grasp and around you, violent waves of pleasure that you can sense where you touch him.

You look up to watch him tremble through it and he’s gorgeous. Sweat drips from his messy curls at his temple and paints a glimmer down his neck, all pulled taught as his head hangs back. His chest tastes salty under your tongue where it heaves, you can’t get enough of the flavor, or the wicked beating of his heart under your lips.

And his noises, fucking delicious, wrung-out curses that just keep tumbling from his red lips. His stomach trembles with his shaky breaths, and he sounds so wrecked as the last bit of his orgasm tricked down the back of your hand.

His whispered chants of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” slow to a stop just as his joints unlock and his muscles relax. You take it as a sign to loosen your grip on his spent cock and carefully slip your finger back out of him. It earns you one last whimper before he sags into you, a boneless little heap in your lap.

You unhand him to hold him against you, wipe your hand on the discarded blanket beside you so you can stroke his back with one hand and his fuzzy little buttcheek with the other.

You tell him how good he was for you, how pretty he is when he comes, how much you loved getting to do that to him.

It takes a while for him to catch his breath, and his huffs tickle that sensitive spot on your neck just below your ear.

“Holy shit,” he sighs.

You nod, because he’s correct. Holy shit, indeed.

His voice is a little hoarse, and you’re conflicted. You want to hold him as long as he’ll let you, but you know you should get him some water and at least a towel.

You shift under him and he whimpers, wraps his arms tighter around your shoulders.

There goes that idea.

You hold him closer, and smirk at the contented sigh that leaves him.

“I think… I think I just imprinted on you.”

It startles a laugh out of you, and he chuckles too, a tiny happy sound against your collar bone. You turn to kiss his heated cheek, and he lets you, before he turns his own head to fuse his lips to yours.

This kiss is lazy, unhurried, and the adrenaline from making him fall apart is slowly making way for more of that sticky-sweet arousal from earlier.

“I wanna make you come,” he mumbles against your lips.

You shake your head, but kiss him some more, as to not give him the wrong idea.

“Another night, Pretty Boy.”

He makes a disappointed sound, but continues to kiss you until you have to part for air. His brow is turned upward in question when you pull away.

“Did I do something wrong?”

You’re shaking your head before he even finishes his question.

“Not a single thing, Frankie. Just wanted to take care of you tonight.”

His shoulders relax at that, but his face is still confused. It’s a cute look on him, with his pouty lips and big brown eyes.

“You’d tell me right? If I made you uncomfortable? You can tell me. I don’t wanna upset you.”

And christ, you feel your heart melting and oozing through your rib cage at how earnest his voice is.

“I promise, I’ll tell you.”

That seems to quell his nerves, as he sinks back into you again with his sweaty curls pressed against your shoulder.

You’re sticky in more ways than one, and Frankie’s only getting heavier in your lap the sleepier he gets, but a giggle bubbles up out of you when you realize you’ve never been more comfortable than you are right now.

Frankie huffs in response, and you press him even tighter against you.

You don’t know where one-and-a-half dates and one sickeningly hot orgasm places the two of you. And maybe it’s greedy to think about with a handsome, sweet man in your arms, but you can’t push down the overwhelming feeling of wanting more.

next part

#x reader #sub! frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #nb reader #gender-fluid reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal cinematic universe #frankie morales smut #triple frontier fanfiction

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definitelynotshouting · 8 months

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dance au you say 👀👀👀 is it like Grian and Scar typically do different styles of dance but are for some reason partnered together or do they dance the same style and gotta choreograph a routine together but kinda buttheads with how they choreograph

Not quite, although thats a super cool idea!!! :D my au is about Grian asking Scar for dance lessons while preparing for an event he's been invited to-- he's expected to dance, and has never really applied himself to learn more than the very basics until now.

Scar, however, is an excellent dancer and offers to teach him, builds them an intricate gazebo to learn in, shows up to their first lesson in an immaculate new suit, and proceeds to unintentionally but enthusiastically seduce Grian-- who's had a crush for a long time, but hasn't yet gotten up the courage to do anything about it.

The penultimate scene goes a little something like this:

Grian asks Scar for one last practice session before the event. He doesn't even need to feign nervousness-- he's practically sweating bullets. But practicing isnt really his motivation here; in all honesty, he just wants to spend one more time in Scar's arms.

It's evening, golden and sticky with summer, and they're dancing as the sun slowly begins to set. Scar's complimenting, hyping him up, telling him he's a natural now, he'll do so great. He'll be rooting for him at the event the ENTIRE time. The jukebox's music fades, and the dance ends with a flourish, and Grian finds himself nose to nose with a Scar who is gazing at him like he's everything.

Then Scar seems to shake himself, disengages, and gently tells him he'll do great. Amazing, even. The envy of the dance floor. They both step back at the same time.

But the sun is hitting Scar's face just right, and he's gorgeous, and Grian just had him in his arms, and-- and-- and--

Grian impulsively darts forward and kisses the life out of him, fast and a little messy, with his heart beating right out of his chest. And then in true Grian fashion, he freaks out about his own impulsivity and flies away without addressing ANY of this bc he Cant Be Normal Ever, leaving poor Scar to stare off into the sunset with his hand pressed absently against his lips.

What follows after that is some very strained event participation on Grian's part, and Scar trying desperately to talk to him while Grian dodges him like his life depends on it. Eventually, Grian gets exhausted by it all and takes a moment to recoup by wandering outside for some fresh air.

This is where Scar finds him; a little cold, a bit shivery, feeling VERY sorry for himself, and finally Grian doesn't have the patience or energy to run any longer. I actually wrote out a tiny snippet of this scene:

"You know, you're, uh, awful slippery when you want to be." Scar's voice is deceptively casual. "You've gotta teach me that vanishing trick sometime." "Grow wings," Grian suggests wryly, then sobers, pulling Scar's jacket a little tighter around his shoulders. "Sorry. For— that. Yesterday. Yeah." "Sorry you did it? Or sorry it happened?" "Scar," Grian says, pained, "you just said the exact same thing twice." "Not really." Scar's voice is quiet, contemplative. He still isn't looking at Grian when he speaks. "'Cause, y'know, there's— I mean, dancing is pretty intimate, right? Plenty of opportunity for things to just... happen, without them meaning to. It's pretty common, really." He's giving Grian an out, he realizes. An escape hatch left wide open, a gaping crevice Grian can slip through without snagging his feathers. He could lie, right here and right now, and Scar is telling him that would be okay. Everything could go back to normal. Maybe its the atmosphere. Maybe it's the night air, a cool caress on his face, and the moon rising high and bright in the sky above them. A waxing growth that limns them both in pretty silver, catching on the edges of Scar's profile. He's beautiful, as always, and as much as Grian's stomach trembles, he can't tear his eyes from the sight of him. "More like I'm sorry for ruining a perfectly good friendship," Grian croaks at last. Scar blinks, lips parting briefly, throat bobbing as he swallows. His gaze lowers slowly, until his lashes paint dark lines against his cheeks. "Who says it got ruined?" he finally asks. "Scar, I kissed you," Grian says miserably, huddling further into himself. "Yeah, that was kinda hard not to notice." "Scar." "What? It's true! I was there, I saw it!" Oddly, there's the hint of a smile threading into Scar's voice; when he turns to pin Grian's gaze, it reflects on his lips, tilted up the tiniest fraction. In the moonlight, his eyes almost glow. "But sure, lets assume you've ruined a friendship. Which you have not, by the way— in case you were wondering." All the air leaves Grian's lungs at once. He's paralyzed, tipping over the knife's edge of something only Scar can see. "I didn't?" "Nah." Scar's voice is achingly warm now. "Not even close. Actually, my only question right now is: do you wanna do it again?"

Anyway they smooch again and get catcalled by their friends and Grian dips Scar bc Scar deserves to get dipped and its very sweet bc sometimes u rlly do just need some low stakes pining THEE END❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

#scarian #goodtimeswithscar #grian #hermitcraft #hermitshipping #shouting speaks #asks #mcyt #my aus #my snippets #ITS A VERY SWEET SILLY LITTLE AU THAT MAYBE ONE DAY I WILL WRITE #but until then. here is a REALLY brief summary of it djdbdjdndjdj #long post #txt

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makeyoumine69 · 9 months

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I just want to post a snippet of my upcoming fic, I've missed writing the Cupcake series so much!😩

"No, I don't," he scoffed, pushing on your jaw. "'C'mon, Cupcake, tell me everything."

The surrounding darkness came in handy in this situation, not to mention the fact that almost everyone was focused on watching the show, so Bateman felt pretty confident knowing that no one would notice your little fight here.

"Get off!" You hissed, wrapping both your hands around his.

"Awww, look at those little hands," he pulled you closer so you could feel his hot breath on your trembling lips. "You are so small and yet so brave. It fascinates me, I won't lie."

You froze for a second as his sudden confession caught you off guard. Blinking several times, you didn't even notice that his large palm was now gently stroking your chin, moving up to your cheek and ending this little intimate moment by pressing lightly on your half-opened lips.

Actually, that was the worst thing he could do at that moment, because his illusory softness and tenderness hurt like hell. It was like a sweet candy with a sharp blade inside.

Just as you realized how close your faces were, you tried to pull away, but Patrick's grip was too tight. Fixing you in place by your chin, he captured your mouth with his, hungrily relishing your taste, your shiver, your muffled gasp against his lips. Bateman tested your limits so masterfully that every little move he made was as accurate as his side profile. Slowly he wrapped one hand around your neck while another was already resting on your waist, the kiss you shared was something more than just physical contact and you let yourself sink into the flow of emotions, closing your eyes and allowing him to kiss you deeper. You almost moaned, but the surrounding music of the show drowned out any obscene sounds that tried to escape your trembling lungs.

His strong, warm tongue danced along yours, not even giving you a chance to take the lead, so you opened your mouth wider and then your noses brushed together, forcing your hearts to beat in a crazy rhyme. God, this man was the darkest curse and the most delightful blessing.

After a few seconds, the people around started applauding so loudly that you had to open your eyes just as the lights came on. The strange delusion that was like a white veil behind your vision began to fade, and only then did you and Patrick realize that you were both staring at each other, your mouths still pressed together. A second, two seconds...

It seemed as if you were both waiting to see who would break away first, and as soon as you heard someone coughing behind your back, you pulled away from Patrick's strong arms, but you knew that you only managed to break free because he let you.

"Patrick! I thought I wouldn't see you here!" A familiar female voice echoed from above and you didn't even bother to turn around to see another bimbo Bateman was hanging out with.

To be continued...🥴

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale

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sugarcoated-lame · 24 days

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wip wednesday

(ik it’s technically thursday now i’m a little late lol)

@joelsgreys thank you for tag, my love!! 🧡

sometimes a bride - jake seresin x bradshaw!reader (sequel to always a bridesmaid)

here’s a little snippet <3

“Honestly… I’m kind of freaking out.” You tell your brother as he joins you on the sofa. Your voice is barely above a whisper, just loud enough that he’s able to hear due to his close proximity.

You’re looking down to where you nervously wring your hands in your lap when Bradley speaks.

“Why? You’ve got nothing to worry about.” His words are matter-of-fact, but his voice is soft in that comforting, brotherly tone that’s only reserved for you.

“I- I don’t know.” You tell him with a light shake of your head. “I guess I’m just nervous?”

The words come out as a question and your gaze lifts to meet Bradley’s before you continue on.

“You know, it’s such a big, important day that I’ve spent so long dreaming of and planning for and– that I’m going to remember for the rest of my life and I just…” your voice trails off as you realize you’re rambling, stopping to take a breath before you continue.

“I just love Jake so much and I… I just want everything to be perfect.”

…

untitled older bf!frankie morales x inexperienced reader - a little snippet from a *very rough* draft of an idea i’ve been working on

Tonight, you find yourself at his apartment for a little date night. The two of you cooked and ate a nice dinner together, and after Frankie cleaned up the kitchen and washed the dishes—which he refused to let you help with, ‘because I’m a gentleman’ as he’d told you with a playful roll of his brown eyes and a soft peck to your cheek, before sending you off to the living room to pick out a movie—the two of you are now sat on his comfy couch to watch said movie.

It’s some newer romcom that you honestly couldn’t remember the plot of, probably couldn’t even remember the title of if you were hard-pressed, because truthfully you haven’t been paying attention to the movie at all. Your mind is currently elsewhere.

You can hardly keep your focus on the film playing in front of you, your thoughts preoccupied by the man sat next to you on the sofa.

How can you be expected to pay attention to anything else when the soft, chocolatey curls that are spilling from the Standard Oil baseball cap you’ve come to learn is a Frankie staple, and his profile—the aquiline nose and the patch in his beard that you love to press sweet little kisses to, and the strong line of his jaw— are all caught in your peripheral?

Frankie’s broad frame almost makes the large piece of furniture look small, his long legs spread out comfortably in front of him and making his well-fitted jeans pull taut against his thick thighs.

no pressure tags: @sebsxphia @sunlightmurdock @hangmanssunnies @joelslegalwhre @blue-aconite @floydsmuse @floydsglasses @bobfloydssunnies @itsokbbygrl @inthe-dark-tonight @joelsgreenflannel @swiftispunk @sio-ina-bottle @topherwrites (sorry if you’ve already been tagged) and leaving the tags open for anyone who wants to share their wips 🧡

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x female!reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #older bf frankie #pedro pascal characters #tag game #wip wednesday

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gelenka-daria · 1 month

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The reincarnation prompt look so cool omg imagine a reincarnated melkor & manwë

i have a draft which i thought was half done but then i keep adding new things to the plot and it keeps getting longer, here's a snippet in case i never finish this thing🧍‍♀️

Friday morning is terrible. Manwë oversleeps his first alarm, then panics when he hears the blaring horn of his backup alarm, literally falling out of bed in his half-frenzied state. He doesn’t shower, doesn’t have time to make himself a cup of coffee, can’t find matching socks, and spends seven goddamn minutes searching for his car keys. His luck doesn’t change. Once he gets behind the wheel, his car won't start. Manwë screams into the sleeves of his hood. Thankfully, the subway is a mere five-minute walk from where he lives, one or two if he storms it. He pulls his hood up - no one is catching him looking this haggard, he has a reputation to uphold - as he races through the morning crowd under drizzling rain, his only hope now is that he hasn't missed his transport. Which, as his stupendous luck would have it, he has. Of course. Manwë’s body composition is roughly forty percent pure, blinding rage by the time he's bracing his hands against his knees as he catches his breath, trying not to bemoan his misfortunes, few that they are, as he watches the train glide away, the doors closing just a second before he could squeeze his body through. It's alright, he reconciles with himself, so you're a little bit late to your lecture, so what? When’s the next train, five minutes? No big deal. He’s been waiting even less than that when he hears the distinct clamor of the oncoming train as light appears down the distant rails, and the metal wagons are slowing down in wisps of steam right in front of Manwë in no time. The doors part, people rush in and he finds himself a decent seat before the train moves again. He’s already settled when something flashes in the corner of his right eye and he whips his head to look without thought. The guy stands out a mile in the crowd, his steps languid, barely escaping the door clamping shut on long, dark hair. Manwë’s eyes catch combat boots, dark pants, and a dark red jacket over a black tank top and he can’t help but think the guy looks refreshing, a splash of color in their otherwise dull surroundings. He sweeps a look across the people scattered across the trailer, his gaze laser-sharp and focused and for some reason, Manwë is relieved his choice of dress is shielding him from that stare. Whatever the gu's looking for, he doesn't seem to find it, because his demeanor quickly grows lax and he turns bored eyes to his phone as he takes a seat one elderly couple away from him, and if Manwë tips his head up the slightest, he can get a real good look at him. But when his eyes zero in on the deep golden eyes and the sharp cut of bone under coppery skin the stranger's profile has to offer, an echo of 'don't I know you' chimes in his brain out of nowhere and he has to physically stop himself from getting closer to get a better, clearer look, confused as to why he suddenly, desperately, wants to. He doesn’t quite know how to put his finger on it, but this guy has something about him that makes his gut twist, like he's a face he’s seen in a dream and is now manifesting right before him. It makes his skin crawl but also itch for more. Manwë scoots away in his own seat, looking away and willing his eyes to follow suit, to not stray, but they flit sideways anyway a minute later, catching a hint of the impassive profile. He suddenly wants to speak, talk to this stranger, say something, anything. Why? What does it matter? You don’t know this guy. Manwë quells his interest with a frown, pretending as if the small kernel of disappointment in his gut isn’t attempting to flower. He gets off at the next stop in a hurry, exiting through the door furthest from the stranger. He suffers the couple of classes he has and sits through dinner with his friends, goes home, showers, studies into the early morning hours for his Human Physiology final until he falls asleep, drooling over scattering textbooks. He forgets the brief, trivial encounter of this morning had ever happened.

#melkor x manwë #tolkien #anonymous

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tackytigerfic · 4 months

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oh wow you are on your last scene for the Voldemort Wins AU long fic :o?

Hi Anon, thanks for the message, yes I'm writing the final (long) scene for that WIP. it may have taken two years but I did get there 😅. I wrote 17k each in November and December so made good inroads into the last section. Then I got covid and felt absolutely awful and had to take a week off, as the final scene is quite tricky in terms of the plot and my brain just wasn't up to it. It'll still be weeks before I finish but hope to start posting this spring. It's over 200k now and needs a good edit!

Here's a little snippet from a sex scene. Draco is undercover with the Death Eaters and has come back to visit Harry in secret.

“I can’t believe that ten minutes ago I was asleep,” Harry said, and bent so he could drop a kiss on Draco’s skin just where his thigh creased under the curve of his arse. His skin was smooth there and very pale, almost hairless. “How long do we have?” “I wish you wouldn’t ask that every single time,” Draco said tightly. Harry could see the side of his face, his closed eye, a pink flush rising on the back of his neck. “We never have much time, you know that. Just, hurry up.” “I want you to be safe,” Harry said. He felt slightly stung, a small irrational hurt. Draco was very often rude, but rarely cruel. “I have to be sure no one will notice that you’re gone. I couldn’t bear it, you know, if anything happened to you because we got careless.” “You’d bear it,” Draco said. “If you had to, you’d bear it.” “Draco.” Harry kissed his skin again, stroked all around the mess of lube, shiny in the moonlight. He tried for jokey, though his voice was too raw. “I don’t want to have to bear it. It’s a significant part of my mission, making sure that you come out of things alright by the end of it.” Draco lifted his face from the pillow so Harry could see his face in profile, the lovely strong nose, his bitten lower lip between his teeth. He was trembling again, just slightly. “You’re still wasting time,” was all he said.

#drarry #tacky's fth #drarry fic #wip snip

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wildlife4life · 9 months

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Seven (+) Sentence Sunday

Tagged by the award winning talents of @hippolotamus, @panbuckley, @forthewolves, and @wikiangela.

Ya'll have spoken! Here is NFL Buck as voted on by my earlier poll (which I ended at 69 votes, bc I'm quirky like that lol) Enjoy!

“Howard, we just agreed to stop prying into Eddie’s life.” Hen snaps, cutting of his stream of information. Because Bobby was right, they were never going to earn Eddie’s trust and respect if they keep digging into his life behind his back. “And I will, but everything I’m telling you now is before said agreement.” Trust Howard Han to find a loophole and as long as they didn’t pester Eddie or his kid, they were in the clear…to a degree. But damnit Hen couldn’t stay out of a good mystery, especially one in her workplace. “Okay. We share what we’ve each learned and then leave it at that. No more wheedling through his Instagram, asking invasive questions or trying to corner guest that come here for Eddie. Like Cap said, we wait for him to come to us and just listen a little better. He won’t have those walls up forever.” Chimney bobbles his head up and down eagerly, “No more snooping, share, and listen. Just like the rules of a new relationship.” She quirks an eyebrow stepping into the back of ambulance, “Is that why most of your relationships crash and burn before they really begin? You snoop?” Her best friend gets into the cab right behind her, his right hand raised, “I plead the fifth.” Hen rolls her eyes, Chimney could be a bit of mess, but she loved the man too much and she wanted to know what he gleaned from Christopher, so she wouldn’t call him out on it today. “So, he has a dog?” Hen prompts, getting them back on track and starting on the ambulance check list. “Yea, a rescue Buck adopted named Jade. It’s the dog in Buck4life’s profile picture. She’s apparently a bed hog and super smart. Its Chris’s job to feed and clean up after her.” They both laugh at that because Hen told Chimney all about giving the same responsibilities to Denny with Paisley. “Well Bobby got the fact that Buck is his boyfriend. They’ve been together almost 10 years, but the subject of marriage is super sensitive. Eddie shut down the moment Ravi brought it up.” Hen shared. Chim shakes his head in disappointment, “Of course probie ruined it all. But damn, 10 years is a long time. How come they aren’t married yet?” He pulls opens the cabinet of saline, counting them.

They so nosy, but now is much more respectful way. But it won't last forever...

If you want to see the other snippets and posts for NFL Buck, just search under the nfl tag on my page.

Tagging (no pressure): @thewolvesof1998, @alyxmastershipper, @transbuck, @911-on-abc, @cowboydiazes, @cowboy-buddie, @brokenribsdiaz, @thekristen999, @lizzybizzyzzz, @shortsighted-owl, @sibylsleaves, @homerforsure, @spaceprincessem, @heartbeatdiaz, @monsterrae1, @jesuisici33, @try-set-me-on-fire, @bekkachaos, @spotsandsocks, @rogerzsteven, @911onabc

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frozenjokes · 26 days

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grub snippet

“Right.” Cub looked amused, “I guess that means you’ve made plans then?”

“Of course I’ve made plans!” Grian straightened up, pleased, and flared his wings to show them off, feathers recently preened and painstakingly brushed through. It took a moment for him to catch the undertones of Cub’s words, the hint of disappointment behind the question. “I- I mean unless you had any ideas! I’m very flexible.”

“Oh, it’s nothing much, really. I was just curious about that government building all the superheroes file in and out of, y’know. Where you and HotGuy have been working out? You said a lot of stuff was centralized there, right? Tailors and such for costuming, private gyms and break rooms, weapon smiths.. anything a hero could need, really.” Cub shrugged, a lazy, deliberate smile crossing his face, the kind of expression Grian only saw on Cub when he was about to suggest something stupid or illegal.

“Okay..”

“You think they have gunpowder? I mean, I’m sure they do, but I’m also looking for other minerals, dyes, things along those lines. I bought the casings already, but I was just thinking, your place probably has an abundance of the stuff I need, and I doubt they’d notice if a few things went missing.”

So stupid AND illegal today. “Cub, are you asking me to steal extremely shady materials from a government facility for you.”

“Of course not. You don’t know what I’m looking for exactly, and you don’t have the tact for this sort of thing. I’m asking you to bring me with you so I can steal shady materials from a government facility.”

Grian was suddenly forced to reconsider every denial of his feelings for Cub at therapy today in one fell swoop. He barely had the words to speak, the revelation making his mouth run dry. “That sounds very illegal, Cub. They don’t even like me there, I don’t know if that’s a great idea at this point in time.” There was no rejection or denial under Grian’s voice, only some sort of lovesick fascination, the kind of feelings he always felt when he remembered Cub was easily just as fucked in the head as he was.

“I don’t think we’ll have any issues. If I’m being honest, I’m sure you’re far from the only bad tempered hero in their roster. They probably hate everyone who goes in and out of that place. I was thinking you get me in as your private scientist, assistant, whatever. I make you shit. And if they push back, you give them hell. You’re probably high profile enough to get what you want, right? Or maybe you should be nice instead. They might appreciate that. Or they might be suspicious. It doesn’t matter. I bought a lab coat and everything.”

“You- seriously?”

“Well I wanted one anyway, and I thought I might need it. You’ve got a job now, so I figured I’d treat myself.”

“Lab coats can not be that expensive- actually, don’t respond to that. I don’t want to know. I do want to know what you’re planning on doing with gunpowder though. You’re not making bombs, are you?”

“Not like, big bombs.”

“Cub!”

“I want to make fireworks. I want to try. How much do you know about fireworks, Grian? They’re really very cool. I’ve been watching all sorts of videos; went all the way down the rabbit hole. They’re awesome, man. I gotta try. I gotta.”

“You. Are going to lose all of your fingers. Possibly your arms.”

Cub didn’t miss a beat. “Technology is crazy, I bet they can sew that shit right back on.”

“Not if you blow yourself up!”

“I probably won’t blow myself up. I’m assuming that’s a ‘no’ then for working on this in the apartment.” Cub smirked, and Grian could only gape stupidly for a few moments, utterly shocked.

“You absolutely can not play with explosives in our apartment!”

“Gotcha,” Cub laughed, and Grian groaned into his hands, dragging them all the way down his face.

just a wip I wanted to share. I’m having a bad day so I just wanted to post a little something. If you’re interested in the rest of the story you can read it on ao3 here

#hermitcraft #hermitfic #grian #cuteguy #cubfan135 #cubfan #hermitshipping #grub

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cookii-moon · 1 year

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Ninjago has social media so why not share some headcanons

so I was chatting with a friend and this came up and I wanted to expand on it and talk about it

Basically... how the ninja interact with the canon social media. Yeah. Twitter- I mean Chirp... is a thing in Ninjago. Canonically. And then never brought up again. So uh

What better to do than explore how the Ninja's social media life is going in relation to them being celebrities. And then post it on a social media at 9 pm. Headcanons under the cutoff yayy

Ok so first off Cole because he started this mess and I want to get him out of the way because I want to get to the other's.

He's... I mean are we going to deny he's popular... He was kinda already a celebrity before becoming a Ninja thanks to his family history. Either way, he is very afraid of the omnipresent conglomorate known as a fanbase. They scare him so he just does not interact with them whatsoever, yet he still somehow manages to remain VERY popular with fans for... a variety of reasons... his lack of interaction means they feel like they can get away with a lot of things. Despite this Cole does still have exactly one active social media account and it is an anonymous (Insert Ninjagan equivalent to Instagram here) where he quite literally just posts art randomly and daily and says absolutely nothing. By anonymous, I mean he pretty much just has an online name and profile picture that he made up that has no connections to his personal life or being a ninja. The other Ninja are aware he has an art account, but not of the name or any other details, so they've made a secret game out of finding his social media identity. It remains yet to be found, which is either a relief, to Cole (though he isn't even aware of it) or sad, to the people who are betting on it.

Lloyd!! Little candy loving goblin man!!! Lloyd is awesome I want to draw him more often hhh

Lloyd kind of just talks about funny things, posts memes, and shares cool fanart. He tries to steer clear of negativity in general because good lord knows he's far too exhausted from his own trauma and stress to fight the internet. He just tries to turn a blind eye to stuff but he still gets caught up in the web that is social media sometimes, what with fame and all that, which often ends in him getting emotional. And subsequently having Kai offer to punch somebody. His socials are public but he doesn't advertise them much at all for the sake of a peaceful atmosphere, so he has like a decently small follower/sub/whatever count for how popular he is. His fanbase is pretty tame for the most part, though there are a few overbearing young children who don't quite understand things just yet.

Kai, the guy who made chirp canon by posting about being in the hospital and causing a break in that probably violated several laws and frightened the children.

... I mean it's kind of canon that he uses socials. Since he's likely one of the only two Ninja with public and advertised accounts, people flock to him a lot over that fact alone, so not all of them are necessarily there for Kai. He has a pretty dedicated fanbase of people who like him for his charm and personality, but he also has a few people who find him annoying and pretentious. Some people kinda don't mind him and just follow him for Ninja news or snippets in general, even though he doesn't just post about Ninja stuff. Since it's kind of hard to convey a personality in.. you know... text... unless you know someone REALLY well, he tends to have a bit of a divide in the community over how he comes off as arrogant or full of himself sometimes.

Nya our local girlboss who's movie counterpart rides a straight up motorcycle through hallways endangering hundreds of children- look I love Nya but principal where are you.

She does have a social, but she rarely uses it. When she logs in every month or so it mostly just consists of roasting Kai or answering curious fans. Despite this she does look at the fanbase every now and then because she finds it equally parts heartwarming and, when it comes to the idiots and trolls, amusing. She's pretty popular because of her general attitude and girlboss vibes.

Zane, robot man with infinite access to the entirety of the web.

So hear me out here... I don't think he has an actual social, but I think he edits wikipages. Like not fandom or anything just straight up Wikipedia. In every language. (or, well, regional dialect?) I know it's really specific but that just seems like something he'd enjoy. It's a secret hobby. He'll be up at night facing the wall in his bed, eyes open trying to finish this wiki article because new info about prehistoric dinosaurs and their connections to birds came out and he has to document it right now oh my god, and the others think he's just like asleep or smthn. It just makes him really happy. His fanbase isn't as large as the others, but he's still very well liked by the majority of the ninja fans, even though he rarely interacts with social media outside of interviews (because Jay is actively trying to stop him from getting anywhere close to it so that he doesn't have to explain certain things)

And last but not least... Jay... the social menace of the internet.

He's the second ninja with a public and well known account, and he's very popular. He talks about everything. Funny memes. Fanart. Silly thoughts. And he loves gossiping about the other's in good fun. His sole purpose is to entertain both others and himself, and he is very good at it, even online. He's also really involved in the community and likes giving shout outs to talented people and such. Being really involved also means he knows their secrets. He knows about the more sus parts of the fanbase. He knows about the secret Benedict cult. He knows about the real reason Cole and Nya are so popular. Sometimes, he'll deliberately mention these parts of the fanbase, randomly and oftentimes months apart, and just set the place ablaze because he finds it funny. Nowhere is safe from him and they all know it. It's become a meme at this point with some even people making up wacky conspiracy theories about him being omnipresent or the account being run by a robot with very well programmed bad jokes. But his sheer presence in the fandom and his personality makes him very popular. And the social he uses is probably YouTube, but he also streams sometimes. On YouTube. Not twitch. He never changed. Ever. The others love coming in during a stream and messing with him or teasing him in chat. Mostly Cole and Nya. They're subbed both to be supportive and so that they get the notification whenever he's live or uploads so that they can leave a comment. Because of course they would. Cole's YouTube account is the only account he ever uses that's public, and he made it for the sole purpose of teasing Jay. If that doesn't say best friends, then I don't know what does.

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kreauxlighe · 1 year

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Gaymer Au Snippet

Alright so. A few people throughout the mp100 fandom have been like lol what if they were gamers tho? which is top tier content, A+, big brain work. so i've started writing a gaymer au fic and i love it so much and @crownorclover has been brainstorming and developing the plot with me and its AAA i feel normal about it. so normal. anyway i'm like 25k into this thing and wanna share a bit.

all you need to know going in is that reigen has borrowed tome's switch so that he and serizawa can play a game and reigen knows next to nothing about anything game-related. it is. so tragic. he & wawa have just moved one of the couches and the tv into the massage room in the office.

---

“Alright fine, I guess that’s that then, we’re good to go.” He looked around the room once more before turning to Serizawa, “How you feeling, big guy?”

He managed a strangled sort of sound which Reigen seemed to think was the result of general game-playing nerves and not a result of what he’d just called him.

“Remember, trial run. No pressure. If you don’t like doing this we’ll stop and do something else. Watch a…movie or something, I don’t know, I don’t really hang out with people anymore I don’t know how this works but it’s fine we’ll figure it out I think I’m gonna have another cup of coffee do you want a cup of coffee?”

“Uh…no.” Maybe he wasn’t the only one feeling anxious about this. Maybe normal people got anxious about hanging out, properly hanging out, with friends for the first time too.

“Oh. Okay.” He sat in his office chair. So he supposed he wasn’t getting more coffee then. Probably for the best.

Serizawa got settled on the couch, it only had two seats really, leaving the seat between him and Reigen empty, save for his hoodie. He navigated to the users and it was immediately clear which one Tome had designated for Reigen. It was just called ‘Stingy Old Man’ and the icon was Tom Nook. Serizawa had to try very hard not to laugh.

“Well we’re changing that right now,” Reigen said.

“Okay, what should I rename it to?”

Reigen was already chewing on a choco pie, “Just call it Serirei.”

“...what?”

“That’s our names mashed together.”

“No, I know that I…okay.” He didn’t have the mental fortitude to explain ship names to Reigen. Hopefully Tome wouldn’t either. Once that mortifying ordeal was settled they moved on to profile picture.

“Oh, let’s use the little elf dude.”

“...Link?”

“If that’s his name.”

“Link is not an elf,” Serizawa said, “he’s Hylian.” He supposed he was grateful Reigen didn’t call him Zelda.

“Which is basically a fantasy elf, isn’t it?”

“No, an elf is already fantasy.”

“He’s got pointy ears.”

“So do vulcans!”

“And those are just space elves.”

Serizawa buried his face in his hands. This man wanted to stream to anyone with an internet connection and he didn’t know Link’s name, he didn’t know what a Switch was, he didn’t know games were digital. It would be a nightmare. Or his ineptitude would make him very popular. There really wasn’t any way to tell.

“You okay, big guy?”

“Mhm,” he said into his hands.

“Haven’t given up on me already, have you?”

He dragged his hands down his face, “No. Just… promise me you’ll never call vulcans space elves again.”

Reigen leaned over the empty space of the couch, putting his hand on Serizawa’s shoulder. “Serizawa,” he said softly and Serizawa could feel his entire face get warm, “I will never make that promise.” He slapped his shoulder, “Let’s pick a game!”

---

please scream with me about them i feel SO NORMAL

#mp100 #mob psycho 100 #my fic #serirei #serizawa katsuya #reigen arataka #gaymer au

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auxiliarydetective · 2 months

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We've done it!

Or, more accurately, you've done it! Thanks to you, my fellow Tumblrinas, I've actually managed to hit 200 followers!

I never thought I would get this far, but I'm eternally grateful for all the love you've given me, and I can't wait to share many more brainrots with you!

In tune with that, I've decided: Why not let you look even further into my mind? I've given you lots of writing, but why not provide some visuals? And so, in thinking about what I wanted to do for my 200 followers celebration, I came up with...

⁕ Evie's Mind Palace Festival! ⁕

(Placing a cut so this doesn't get too long ^^)

As depicted in this lovely graphic above, I'm going to be focusing on my OCs' fashion for this little event. But not just that! I'll get to the bonuses later :)

For now, text version! Because Tumblr likes not loading images and some people may not be able to view the image

↬ Step 1: Pick an OC of your choice! From my OCs, that is. Hope that was clear. Anyone from the list. I'll even throw in a little bonus and say that unintroduced OCs are allowed! That means the ones on this list AND ones I may have rambled to to you in a chat we've had.

↬ Step 2: Pick an occasion prompt! The prompts are as follows:

Casual (aka everyday wear, aka their basic character design or an alternate outfit or it)

Formal

Training/Athletic

Battle (this may overlap with either 1. or 3. for some characters, but let's assume they actually get geared up for battle)

Hot weather (your typical summer clothes)

Cold weather (sweaters, winter coats, you name it)

Swimwear

Canon event (may overlap with some other categories, but I made this a separate thing for the lore opportunities it provides) - Make sure to specify what canon event you want!

Stealing clothes - You can include who the character should steal from in your ask, otherwise I will pick the victim myself.

Holiday-themed - Pick your holiday! Any holiday counts.

Fandombend - Pick your fandom! (This will probably come with some headcanons on what the OC would be like in the new fandom)

Inspired by a song - Please, pick a song! Preferably from the OC's playlist. I should have a playlist for almost every OC. Hop into the "#playlist" tag on my blog to find them and, if they're not posted over there anywhere, tap on any playlist that's there, let it take you to my Spotify profile, and hop into the "Character Playlists" folder!

↬ Step 3: If you want, pick an extra prompt! Your options are:

Historical - Please specify your time frame! You don't necessarily have to, but I tend to be an indecisive little gremlin, so it would make things a little easier if you could pick ^^"

Fantasy (This, of course, makes little sense if the OC is already in a fantasy setting)

Sci-fi (Once again, this makes little sense if the OC is already in a sci-fi setting)

Steampunk

Cultural - Please pick a culture for me to take inspiration from! It doesn't have to be a real-life culture. For example, you could pick Japan for some kimono art or you could pick the Kuja from One Piece!

Color prompt - Pick your color! I ask that you do keep it at one color so that I have some more freedom, and I won't take specific hex codes either because those specific hex codes might clash with the OC's color palette

Prompt of your choice - This can be literally anything! Yes, also an occasion, in which case it would replace your original occasion prompt. I just didn't have the space to add in all occasions known to man, so if you have another idea, this is where to put it.

↬ Step 4: Send your ask! Done!

Once you've sent your ask, please keep in mind that it might take me a while to answer it. I'll then make a collage/moodboard and get the ask posted. Maybe, I'll also draw your prompt, depending on if I have the energy and/or time for it. If I plan on doing that, I'll let you know in the post and tag you once I have the drawing finished! I may also be swayed into adding a little fic snippet to the answer, if I do feel so inclined. Maybe a song to match the vibes? It'll be a little surprise!

► Rules:

Be nice! It's not hard, and it's basically all I ask.

This is the one time you might not want to shower me in asks because these asks might take a bit to answer. I'm not putting a cap on how many asks per person you're allowed to send, just maybe be mindful of how long they take to answer and space them out over the time of the event.

I'll be accepting asks from the time that this is posted until March 17th. The event ends with the strike of midnight starting the next day. Whenever that may be in your time zone. As long as it's still 23:59 on March 17th somewhere around the world, send in your ask. I might also extend the event if asks keep coming in and I have the energy to keep going.

↬ Additional info for mutuals: You get to ask for crossovers! Just pick one of my OCs and one of yours and I'll try my best to draw them. I might bother you for references though, so be prepared! It doesn't matter how long we've been mutuals for! It could've been five minutes, you're still allowed to send in crossover asks. As long as we're mutuals, let's say, at the time that the ask is answered, it's all good. In practice, that means that you just need to be following me to be able to send in a crossover request. If you ask nicely and maybe say something about why you'd think why our two children would go well together and we share a fandom, it's very unlikely that I'll deny your request and won't follow you back.

Also, if you've ever wanted to say something about my OCs and/or me and my blog, this might be the perfect time for you to do it.

Okay, that's it for now! Love you, everyone! Here's to more fandom-y shenanigans!

Also, behold my new non-OC post divider! It features a lineart sketch of my blog icon in the middle! The icon was designed by @benevolenterrancy pretty much exactly two years ago when they realized my old icon was not, in fact, a unicorn. I still go full-on heart-eyes mode whenever I see my icon, so I figured it was time to remind everyone of the amazing artist that created it <3

Taglist: @starcrossedjedis @oneirataxia-girl @daughter-of-melpomene @fluffle-system @wheresmybloodynauglamir @supermarine-silvally @nanukanal @cody-helix02 (I believe this is the first time I've ever used my full taglist, aka the basic taglist plus everyone from fandom-specific taglists - wowie!) - Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed, for specific fandoms or the general list!

#evie's events #evie's mind palace festival

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ralith · 1 year

Text

Canvas

Ghost/Soap fic

Rated M for suggestive themes. Fluff, Body and scar worship. Edible body paint.

Soap has run out of journal space so Ghost gifts him his body to use as a canvas. He wants to see in himself the beauty that Soap envisions with each of his sketches.

Can also be found posted to my AO3.

“I hadn’t taken you for much of a reader,” Ghost had commented on the first day he moved in with Soap, bringing with him only a few boxes of personal belongings. Soap’s house off base was slightly smaller than his own had been, but it was so much brighter and warmer. More lived in. In the corner of Soap’s, no, their bedroom, was an overfilled bookshelf.

“They’re journals, not books. Well, there’re enough stories there to fill novels, but it’s mainly doodling. Little snippets of what’s on my mind at the time.”

Ghost was aware Soap enjoyed drawing on the nearest available paper, stealing napkins from his mates at the bar or scribbling in the margins of official paperwork much to Price’s irritation. But he had no idea it was to such an extent as to fill bookshelves.

“You’re free to look through them whenever. If you’d like.” Ghost had caught the slight blush on Soap’s cheeks. He was taken back at how easily Soap trusted him. First letting him into his life, his home, and now the inner workings of his mind. Ghost hadn’t allowed Johnny to so much as see him unclothed from the mask down, still uneasy at undressing in front of the sergeant, instead slipping away to the bathroom.

A nod was all Ghost could muster, and Soap smiled at him. “Not to brag, but I’m a pretty good artist.”

He was an exceptional artist as Ghost would learn. He had found himself spending hours flipping through those journals, admiring the sweeping lines and attention to detail. The journals looked like they went back to Soap’s basic training days through to the present. The newer journals were all about the 141, sketches of Price and Gaz, their latest missions, trips to the local bar which turned into late night karaoke sessions with Gaz belting out tunes to a riveted audience.

Then, Ghost noticed he quickly became the center of attention in the most recent collections. Side profiles, headshots, the mask, the mask, the mask…Soap was obsessed for a while there until just after the ordeal in Las Almas. And then his face was everywhere.

With a finger, Ghost had traced these images of himself. He marveled at how Soap had made him look so soft. In the mirror, all Ghost saw of himself was sharp edges and severe angles. He saw no gentleness in his scarred form. But Soap clearly saw him otherwise.

Soap had a preference of what kind of journal he used. These weren’t bargain bin notepads. Each journal Soap had bought while on leave, visiting a small artisan shop in town where each leatherbound journal was handmade. He would usually buy enough to hold him over until his next leave, whenever he estimated that may be.

But due to a scheduling error, Soap’s latest leave had been pushed back to an indeterminate time and his last journal was full. And it was frustrating the hell out of him. Soap was desperate for a relief to the mounting thoughts in his head. Bar and restaurant napkins were far from a sufficient replacement. Ghost didn’t want to see his Johnny in such a state.

So, he had set out to plan a mission. One that would benefit Soap’s creative output and where Ghost would force himself to be more open. The idea left him a bit shaky, but he wanted to do this. For them both.

Soap was freshly showered when he walked into the bedroom wearing only sweatpants. Ghost looked up from where he sat on their bed, eyes momentarily fixated on how the sweatpants clung to damp skin in all the right places.

“Like what you see?” Soap chuckled, the lieutenant’s gaze all too obvious. He bent down and nuzzled his cheek to Ghost’s in greeting. His skin was still warm and the stubble catching on Ghost’s mask created delicious friction between them.

“Always,” Ghost murmured. Soap placed a chaste kiss to his temple and sat across from him on the bed.

“What’ve you got there?” The sergeant nodded at a box that rested casually in Ghost’s lap.

Ghost contemplated the box. He had no idea how Soap would react. Would he think it’s stupid? Have a good laugh with Gaz later, telling him how ridiculous Simon Riley was to think of something like this? But Ghost was a man who followed through with each mission. He had planned this and would see it through to the end. He was a good soldier. And he wanted to be an even better lover, the softer man Soap envisioned in his art.

“A gift for you.”

“A gift?” Soap’s eyes lit up immediately, though it didn’t ease Ghost’s nerves any. The lieutenant was a man of few words and an unstoppable force of the battlefield, but Soap had come to know the tenderness Ghost was capable of, in his words and his touch. But a gift, this was a first in their relationship.

Soap took the offered box and balanced it on a knee. Inside were several jars of brightly colored liquid. He withdrew one and gave it a shake. It jiggled some, but that didn’t help identify the contents. Next, he gave it a quick whiff. Was that fruit?

“Lime?” Soap questioned, looking a little bemused.

“It’s body paint,” Ghost clarified. His voice came across a bit sheepish. “I made it. It’s…edible.”

“Edible body paint,” Soap repeated. Ghost could see the gears turning slowly in Soap’s mind. His next move helped to grease those gears.

Ghost began to tug his hoodie and undershirt over his head. He felt like he was peeling away so many layers of himself that had accumulated over the years.

“I noticed your last journal was full. Your art is an expression of your soul. It’s a part of you, a damn beautiful part of you. You miss sketching. And I miss your art.” Ghost tossed his clothing aside and laid back with his legs coming to rest on either side of the sergeant, hooking his heels just beneath Soap’s ass to coax him forward and atop him. Soap followed effortlessly. “I know painting isn’t your preferred medium, and this body isn’t high quality material. It’s been scorched and torn, stapled and taped back together repeatedly. But, if just for tonight, I hope this body can suffice as your canvas.”

Ghost watched Soap’s face, waiting for any minute shift in his features- a furrowing of the brow, a wrinkling of his nose in disgust, anything to tell the lieutenant that this was a bad idea. Behind the mask, his cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“Fucking beautiful, Si,” Soap breathed and the tension in Ghost’s body bled away. The Scotsman raked his eyes slowly down Ghost’s chest, over his clavicle, the gentle swell of his breasts, the curve of each muscle that built the solid wall that was Ghost’s frame. Soap traced him deliberately with his eyes and Ghost could swear he felt his gaze as if it were a physical caress.

“You like it?” Ghost’s voice was uncharacteristically small.

“I love it.”

“I’m sorry there’s not much room to draw,” Ghost spoke, referencing the scars carved into his flesh, the agony inflicted on him by other’s hands. “These marks can’t be erased, no matter how hard I’ve tried.”

“Aye, some art is indelible. But sometimes art is about taking what you already have and redesigning it. Telling new stories with it.”

“There are…a lot of stories here.”

“Think of them more as individual words and write a new story. Sometimes it’s easiest to write from past experiences.”

Ghost had enough of his past experiences. Saw them written on his skin every day he looked in the mirror. Soap could make something new from them, something he could smile or laugh about instead of flinching away when he touched himself.

“Can you tell me some of your stories?”

Soap searched Ghost’s chest for a starting point and zeroed in on an old keloid scar along his ribs. He grabbed a jar of white paint and dipped a finger in before bringing it to his lips and licking a long, slow line up the digit, Ghost’s eyes wide. He pushed the digit past his lips down to the knuckle, sucking hard and loud.

“Coconut,” Soap hummed, his finger now nice and wet. He dipped it in the paint again and began to doodle along the scar like his little show hadn’t left Ghost breathing harder.

“When I was a kid, maybe nine or ten, my family went skiing.” Soap sketched the outline of a mountain range along the raised scar. “I was nervous as hell. I’d never been skiing, let alone up in the mountains. Well, I didn’t make it very far up the mountain. Broke my fucking leg first thing.”

“Did you hit a tree?”

“Nope!” Soap laughed. He capped the mountains with snow. “I couldn’t sit still on the ski lift. Was kicking my legs and I slid right off the damn thing! Wasn’t a huge drop, but it was enough.”

“Ruined the family vacation.”

“It wasn’t all bad. When I got out of the hospital, mom brought me to get ice cream.” Soap bent forward and dragged his tongue along the creamy mountain range he’d drawn. The sudden wet heat had Ghost sucking in a breath. The sergeant smirked against the fluttering muscles beneath and suckled a red mark into the skin beside the scar. “It was delicious.”

Next, the tease of a man eyed a cluster of knife marks. He scooped some of the green, lime-flavored paint onto a fingertip and began to draw the outline of a box from the ends of several scars.

“A bit further back from the ski incident, there was a Christmas my parents thought I had disappeared. Christmas morning rolls around and I’m nowhere to be seen. They said they started to freak out, but all the doors and windows in the place were locked so I couldn’t have gotten out.” Soap switched to purple, grape, and doodled little swirls and stars into the box, making a present complete with bow. “They found me a while later, curled up inside one of the presents. A large box at the back of the tree with a giant teddy bear. I’d gone snooping earlier that night and crawled inside with the bear and apparently fell asleep.

“Somewhere at my parents house there’s a picture of me curled up in tissue paper around a big ol’ teddy.”

The sergeant swept away the present as quickly as it was drawn, tickling the nest of old wounds with kisses and nipping. He tasted it all, lime and grape and beneath it all, Ghost, a man he had longed to taste this way.

Soap shimmied up the larger man and pressed a kiss to Ghost’s masked lips, kissing with fervor as if the mask were nonexistent. Ghost was pressing back, trying to capture the sergeant’s lips. When they parted Soap noticed the absolute mess he had made of the man’s mask. It was now smeared with body paint, Soap’s own face sporting a similar look.

“Ah shit. Sorry, Si,” Soap apologized. Ghost was smiling though, the corners of his eyes crinkled with a joy he hardly let himself experience.

“Don’t worry, Johnny. I would have stopped you if I didn’t want it.”

“Ghost,” Soap murmured and pushed in for another kiss, sloppier and more awkward than last but nonetheless exciting.

“Do you want to hear more?”

“Please,” Ghost sighed, almost breathless.

Ghost propped himself up slightly, watching Soap’s work with fascination, the quick, fluid motions of his fingers dancing along his skin, weaving stories out of scarring both new and old. Tales from his childhood, family gatherings and holiday mishaps that had them both laughing and leaving Ghost a bit envious of those joys he never got to experience. The many times Soap had almost blown himself up as a cocky new recruit. Things he had seen while on missions, both benign and unbelievable.

“You did not see a UFO!” Ghost challenged, trying not to moan as Soap worked over a perked nipple, drawing what he remembered of the flying object.

“Swear on my life I did! Damn thing probably would have abducted me if I hadn’t squeezed off a few shots at it.”

“You said you hadn’t slept for three days. Not only were you hallucinating, you gave away your field position!”

“But the aliens didn’t abduct me.”

“Fucking hell, you’re stupid!” Ghost laughed.

When Soap wasn’t chattering away, his mouth was full of Simon, the lieutenant’s flesh reddened with bite marks and hickeys sucked into tender spots. He worked his tongue along every rise and dip of Ghost’s abdomen, taking his sweet time to learn his partner’s body. Where to scratch with fingernails to elicit a repressed moan, or where to tug with teeth that had Ghost’s hips rolling. Soap peppered kisses amidst the trail of blonde hair that disappeared into the waistband of Ghost’s pants, fingers scratching down his sides. Ghost was left quivering.

Ghost’s eyes fluttered open when he felt fingers slip into the waistband of his pants. He didn’t remember shutting them. Soap was looking up at him, his chin resting on the other man’s navel, his cheeks bright with a rainbow of paint. He was asking permission to delve further south. He nodded and Soap all too enthusiastically made short work of the lieutenant’s pants.

Simon’s thighs were no less scarred than the rest of him. Pink and pale lines were carved into the creamy surface. A burn scar here. A shrapnel wound there. A bullet wound that had carved a small chunk of Simon’s outer thigh away.

Here Soap paused his artwork, instead wanting to taste Ghost pure. He followed the curvature of muscles from knee to groin, breath hot on the rarely exposed flesh. He made each scar sloppy with wet kisses and dragged teeth down the inner thigh, biting his own marks into Simon, claiming the man.

Ghost’s breathing quickened. Over the rise and fall of his chest, he could just make out the mohawk moving as Soap devoured him. He reached down, his hand finding the ridge of hair and grasping. Soap growled low and pressed sucking kisses dangerously close to the clothed dick.

Then Soap bit down hard, growling Simon’s name hungrily against the tender flesh and Ghost practically yanked the Scot away, Soap eliciting a rather undignified moan at the movement. He held the ravenous man at a distance to catch his breath, admiring how absolutely debauched the sergeant looked. Ghost mused he probably looked worse.

“You’re like a fucking leech.”

Soap chuckled and wiped spit from his lips with the back of his hand.

“You taste so fucking good, Simon.”

Ghost released Soap, the sergeant sitting back to admire his work. Ghost’s body was a smattering of colors, most scars now hidden beneath a layer of paint. Designs had been doodled, licked clean, drawn anew and licked away again. Over and over again from neck to navel.

“You look like a fucking treasure, Simon. Beautiful, ornate.”

“Well, you have the hands of an artisan.”

“Aye, I’m pretty good. But I bet you’re capable of making a masterpiece too.”

Ghost made a questioning hum. The only thing he was good at making were bodies drop. His sewing skills weren’t complete shit, though.

“Simon,” Soap breathed and hooked a finger beneath the edge of his mask and tugged. He guided the lieutenant to switch positions, Soap now shaded comfortably in the larger man’s shadow. He angled Ghost’s head down to whisper against clothed lips. “I want you to touch me. Make me beautiful.”

“I can’t improve what’s already a masterpiece.” Soap was all solid muscle and dark hair. Bright eyes that warmed Ghost’s soul. He was strength when Ghost needed to feel weak.

“Ghost. Simon. Will you touch me?” Soap’s palms rested on his cheeks.

“I don’t have heartwarming tales to regale you with. Nothing funny or feel-good.”

“Then tell me something that you want to happen.”

Ghost contemplated the jars of paint. Of all the colors, red and yellow were still mostly full. Soap had steered clear of red, averse to staining Ghost’s skin the color of blood.

Yellow though. A color Ghost heavily associated with spring and new beginnings. Sunshine. Johnny was his sunshine on the darkest days.

Didn’t hurt that it tasted like pineapple.

“Something that I want,” Ghost mused, dipping a finger into the paint and beginning to draw along Soap’s collarbone. “I’ve found myself thinking about retirement more often lately. To be honest, the thought of leaving active service scares the shit outta me. I think I might lose a part of me that day. There’d be nothing to tether me to reality. But if I had someone to keep me grounded, someone who knew that feeling too, we might make it through together.”

“What kind of someone are you looking for? Someone you intend to keep around?”

“Someone for the long haul.” Ghost teased the swell of a pec and down over a nipple, bending to brush his nose against the other. Soap sighed and pressed his head back into the pillow. “Someone who is the first thing I see that day. Someone I want to curl around on cold mornings, their body like a damn furnace. And I’m cold because they like to steal the blankets in the night and somehow keep one while tossing the rest on the floor.”

Ghost worked his hand through dark curls of chest hair, making no effort to draw any specific design, just wanting to mark Johnny.

“I want someone who can cook an amazing breakfast and yet still manage to brew an absolute dogshit cup of tea.”

“That was one time,” Soap grumbled.

“But I choke it down because I love them.”

Ghost clawed at Soap’s stomach, fingertips tracing the sergeant’s own scars, concealing them in paint. He painted the dark hair that disappeared into Soap’s sweatpants. The sergeant’s hips rolled up, eager for more, but Ghost pulled back and instead buried his face into Soap’s belly, rubbing his cheeks and pressing masked kisses into the fluttering abdominal muscles.

“Want someone who has my six, and every other time of day. Who gives me their all and expects nothing in return, when they deserve it all and more. Someone who has all the patience in the world for a slow sod like me to come around.

“Just someone I can love unconditionally.” Ghost spread paint over the palm of his hand and pressed it over Soap’s heart.

“Sounds like a lot to ask of one person,” Soap smiled sweetly and his hand brushed over Ghost’s skull. “Do you have anyone particular in mind?”

Ghost closed the distance between their frames, grinding his body into Soap’s as he came up to meet the sergeant’s face. He pulled away his mask and tossed it to the floor.

“I love you, Johnny.”

They kissed soft and slow, hands buried in hair, their bodies feeling as though they were melding into one.

“I love you, Si,” Soap whispered against the other’s lips when they broke apart.

Ghost hunkered down atop Soap and nuzzled his face into Soap’s throat. The Scot held him tightly, one hand idly toying with his hair.

“Our hands are filthy, so I’ll let you grab it later, but I hid a second present in your bedside drawer.”

“Oh? You engaged on a stealth mission?”

“Sort of,” Ghost chuckled. “I ordered a few new journals from your favorite hometown shop.”

“You beautiful bastard!”

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