#he hates going out to drink with his boss past work hours !

[aphomic]

D.OPPY ON THE NEW MV

[bobafetts-princess]

Stranger and the Bear Pt1

Summary: A handsome stranger has been warming a stool at the bar you work at. What happens when ghosts from the past make an appearance?

Pairings: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: drinking, a touch of Logan smoking the cigar, abusive relationship mentioned (no abuse shown), I think that’s all for this chapter

A/N: if you saw this on ao3, I’m the same person! I’m deep in a Logan crisis and have been thinking about moving my Logan fics over to tumblr so his resurgence has given me the boost I need!

Part 2 can be found here

“Hey stranger!” You shout to your newest bar customer, tossing a coaster in front of him before turning around and grabbing his usual.

“Hey Bear,” he responds, his deep voice silky and rough at the same time.

“I can’t believe you still call me that,” You laugh, “it’s been like, three months.”

“You mentioned it first, so I ran with it.” He smiles and winks playfully at you, the most lighthearted you’ve ever seen him. The tall and handsome stranger had first come into the bar you work at a few months ago, ordering a whiskey neat and a beer.

You’d given him your name in the hopes that he would give you his in return, but no luck. “My childhood classmates called me care bear though, they claimed I was as sweet and cuddly as a care bear,” you tell him, smiling at the old memory.

“Care bear, huh?” The stranger had said, deep voice rumbling through his chest. “How about just Bear?”

“Ooh! I like that,” you say before asking him what he would like to drink.

The two of you had fell into an easy camaraderie, always some light flirting, at least from your end. You’d never asked his name and he’d never offered. Your stranger was a good looking man, neatly trimmed facial hair and sideburns, usually in a leather jacket and form-fitting jeans. He was the definition of ‘hate to see them leave, love to watch them walk away’ and you looked forward to the one or two days a week he would come in. He was always respectful, drank the same thing, and left a decent tip.

The evening passed in a blur, patrons coming and going but your stranger stayed where he was. You refilled his drinks at the exact moment he was finishing the last, that was your routine. You’d refill his drinks and he would hang out for a few hours. He watched you work, sometimes from behind dark sunglasses, sometimes through hazel green eyes.

“Hey Bear, c’mere.” Your stranger asked, cigar hanging from his mouth. You made your way towards him, thinking about how no matter how much he drank, he seemed perfectly sober. “You from ‘round here?” He asked, no sunglasses today. You could see his pupils were blown and for the first time in two months you wondered whether he was actually buzzed. He smelled like good worn leather and the cigar he was smoking. You had to prevent yourself from closing your eyes when you inhaled his scent.

“Uhh, sorta kinda. Why?” You told him, shocked at the personal question, and also embarrassed.

The truth was that you weren’t from here, you’d moved here to be with an ex-boyfriend and it had ended badly. You’d gotten home from work one night to find the locks had been changed on the apartment as well as his phone number. Come to find out, he’d been sleeping around on you since you started dating and decided he liked his side piece more. So you’d called your boss, Sally, begging for somewhere to stay and she rented you the studio apartment upstairs. You struck up a deal, the apartment for half price as long as you closed the bar down every night.

When your ex’s side-piece decided she didn’t like him as much as she'd originally thought, he’d begun stalking you and things had gone downhill. He tried to get physical with you once but Sally had threatened him with a shotgun and he hadn’t shown his face again. That was ABOUT the same time your stranger had started coming to the bar, and for some reason you felt safer when he was there.

Apparently Sally did too because on nights he showed up, she took off early and let you close down by yourself.

“So I presume you know that guy in the corner over there? He’s been watching you most of the night.” He told you, clamping the cigar between his index and middle finger. You began to turn your body in the direction of the person he was talking about but a warm hand a-top yours stopped you. “Don’t make it obvious, Bear. Don’t want him to know.” His eyes raked down your body as he was speaking, drinking you in. You weren’t wearing anything fancy, fitted jeans and a black cropped tank with the bars logo on it, but the way he was looking at you made goosebumps cover your skin.

Forcing your mind back to the issue at hand, you glance in the corner, keeping your body facing your stranger. When you caught sight of the face in the corner, you paled. It was your ex, and Sally was gone, her shotgun locked in her office.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Your stranger asked, noting your expression, his hand rubbing back and forth across your knuckles. If you hadn’t been worried, you would have blushed at the way his hand held yours and the nickname he called you.

You forced your voice to sound normal when you spoke again. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just ghosts from the past.” You forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes and were surprised to look up and find your strangers face held concern and a touch of tenderness.

“I’m gonna stick around late tonight, Bear. So keep ‘em comin’.” He told you and you felt a bit safer.

You worked the night away, one eye on your next drink ticket and one eye in the corner where your ex sat, unmoving. Your stranger did the same, only he kept one eye on you and one eye on your ex. At ten till close your voice rang out into the emptying bar, “last call!” The few that were still hanging out left not too long after, leaving you, your stranger, and your ex in the bar. You chose not to acknowledge that you knew it was him, hoping that the dark shadows of the bar would convince him that you didn’t notice who he was. After a few tense moments he stood, heading towards the front door so you turned to your stranger.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom, Bear.” He said, the sultry tones of his voice soothing you. You took a glance at his retreating back before turning around and starting your wipe down of the back bar. A rough hand grabbed your wrist, pulling and making your body spin. It happened so fast that you didn’t get a good look at the face until it was the only thing in your line of sight. It was your ex, which shouldn’t surprise you but somehow it did. Your voice caught in your throat and you couldn’t attempt to shout for help from your stranger, your fear paralyzing you.

“I thought your miserable ass left this fucking town.” He snarled in one ear, face pressed against yours.

“You would think that when I left you, you’d have tucked that tail and ran back to mommy and daddy. Why are you still fucking here??” He sneered and you could smell the alcohol on his breath and when he pulled back, your wrist in his hand, you could see that his pupils were blown wide. He was high too, but you didn’t know what on. You didn't know why he was so obsessed with you, it wasn't like you had a great and powerful love. You thought his feelings were just hurt because you didn't take him back. “You stupid. Fucking. Bit-“ But he didn’t get a chance to finish because his body was ripped away from yours. You blinked and saw your stranger standing over him as he lay on the floor where he’d been thrown.

“Attacking a woman while she’s alone?” He snarled, that deep vibrato now a growl. He picked your ex up by the front of his shirt, his strength shocking you. “You piece of shit. Picking on a woman half your size while she’s alone?” He growled, shaking your ex while he was holding him up in the air. “What kind of an asshole gets off on that?” Your legs were shaking so bad that you sunk to the floor, the butt of your jeans wet from the beer and liquor that had been spilled during the course of the evening.

Your ex looked terrified, used to always being the bigger in a fight but he looked like a teenager next to your stranger. His mouth was moving wordlessly, almost like he was trying to make sounds but was too frightened.

“I’m not gonna hurt you tonight, but I swear to god if you come back, I’ll rip you limb from limb. And I’ll be here every night to make sure she stays safe. Get outta here before I change my mind, you piece of shit.” He snarls, dropping your ex unceremoniously on the floor in a heap of fear and embarrassment. He scrambles to his feet, sprinting towards the front door, letting it slam behind him. You see your stranger following behind him to lock the door before your vision starts to swirl with the beginnings of a panic attack.

“In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.” You repeat over and over to yourself when you feel a large, warm hand on your shoulder and a low gravelly voice speaking in your ear.

“Bear. Bear. Are you alright?” You continue your breathing, adding a small nod to ensure your stranger you were fine.

“I’m gonna pick you up. You live upstairs right?” He asked and in the back of your mind you wondered how he knew that. But thoughts left your mind as strong arms wrapped underneath your legs and behind your back. Your heart rate was slowing, and your panic attack subsiding, so when he asked you which way the stairs were you were able to answer. His strong body carried yours up the stairs and into the studio apartment you resided in, slowing as he crossed the threshold.

“I’m okay to stand. You can put me down.” You told him, but he seemed hesitant and you swore he clutched you even tighter to his body. “Really, Stranger, I’m okay.” You said, smiling up at his kindness.

“Logan.” He whispered as he lowered your legs onto the ground, arm staying around the small of your back until he was sure you were okay on your own two feet.

“What?” You asked, not sure of what he said.

“Logan. My names Logan.” He repeated, fingers digging into the exposed flesh of your hip, biting slightly.

“Okay, Logan. It’s nice to not refer to you as Stranger in my mind.” You giggled. You stepped reluctantly away from his embrace, heading towards your ‘kitchen’. “Would you like a drink, Logan? All I have is beer and water.”

You heard him clear his throat and when you looked at him, he looked like he was warring with himself.

“Uhh, ya, sure Kid. Bear. I’ll have a beer.” He said and for the first time since you’d met him, there was a twinge of uncertainty in his voice. You popped the top on two, handing him one before heading to the small couch you had, a mere 10 feet from your bed. He followed, sitting next to you and doing his best to make sure he wasn’t touching you, but the area was so small that your knees touched anyways.

“So that was my ex. He was stupid enough to try and get physical with me once. Sally threatened him with a shotgun. I didn’t think he would be stupid enough to try it twice.” You tried to explain without going into the entire sordid story.

“I’m going to tear him in half.” He answered, taking a long pull of his beer and you felt ashamed at what the dominance in his voice did to your lady bits.

“I don’t think he’ll be stupid enough to try this again so hopefully I don’t ever have to worry about him again.” You assured your stranger.

“Logan.” You mused aloud, a small smile crossing your face.

“Ya, Bear?” He answered, thinking you were going to ask him a question.

“It’s such a normal name.” You snickered.

“What’s wrong with my name?” He asked, faux defensiveness in his voice at your teasing.

“I’ve wondered for WEEKS what your name was and it’s Logan. It’s so normal. It suits you though. I like it.” You smiled at him, hitching one knee up on the couch and turning your torso towards him.

“I’ll be comin’ by more often and stayin’ until the bar is locked down. Just to make sure that moron doesn’t come back.” He told you, venom in his tone, but in a way that had you suppressing a shiver. You wondered what he sounded like first thing in the morning, his voice filled with sleep. “What’re you thinkin’’ about, Bear?” He asked, almost knowing your thoughts. You flushed, embarrassed to be caught in your thoughts.

“Nothing, just how you manhandled him. I think you humbled him.” You lied through your teeth, hoping he wouldn’t realize you were thinking about HIM manhandling you.

“He’s a lightweight. Pushin’ people around that are smaller than him.” He told you, eyes skimming over you. You heated at his gaze and wondered to yourself how long it had been since you’d gotten laid. When you couldn’t remember immediately you’d decided it had been too long. “People like him always need to be manhandled, otherwise they don’t learn their lessons,” You glanced at his beer, bartender habit, and stood to get him another. Yours was still half full, so you only popped the top off of one and brought it back to him. You felt his eyes glued to your frame as you walked and tried not to let it go to your head.

“You didn’t have to do that.” He told you, even though he took the beer from your hands when you stretched it out to him.

“Thank you Logan. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there. How did you know I lived upstairs though?” You asked, the memory hitting you quick.

“I’ve heard you speak to the woman about rent. Sally? And I’ve stayed after a few times when I come by to make sure you get to your car, and you never come out of the building. The lights go out though.” He told you, unashamedly. You were struck by the kindness of this stranger. He was looking out for you and you hadn't even known. He watched out for you and all you'd ever offered him was a warm smile and a cold beer. Your breath hitched in your throat as you muttered out a small thank you to him, but he simply shrugged and took a long pull.

"I don't know how to thank you." You admitted to him but he waved you off.

"Don't worry about it, kid." He said, finishing his beer. You decided it was better off to just thank him in a different way, probably with free booze. You decided in that moment that this man would never pay for another drink in the bar again, and you felt that Sally would agree. You would speak with her about it first thing in the morning, after you filed a restraining order.

[warframe1999]

Sooo…

The protoframes, huh?

i wanted to go a bit into what each member of the Hex (yay, new syndicate!!) had to say when you got into proximity of them in the relay. there’s honestly a lot here to set the scene not only for 1999 itself, but introducing each protoframe as well as sort of hinting at their interpersonal relationships, and how they interact with one another! some of my favorite kinda of lore is specifically character development and personality-focused dynamics like this so here!!!! i walked back and forth for an hour for YOU! here is all proximity dialogue for each character in the Höllvania Mall relay:

ARTHUR:

“Question. Could I take Quincy down if he turned on me?”

“We’ll find you, Doctor. That’s a promise.”

“Stop sniffing around my head, Eleanor. If I want to talk, I’ll talk.”

“We need to keep Lettie on her feet. If she goes we all go.”

“Dunno why we even bothered with that cleaning rota.”

“Yeah, we can hold this place.”

“One day, Aoi. No more roadblocks and checkpoints. Just you and me and the bikes, open road for miles, all this bullshit far away. I swear to Sol.”

“Still too open. We need more chokepoints.”

“Bottled water. Like sodding gold dust.”

“Well Amir’s still alive. That’s a win.”

LETICIA:

“I got nothin’ to prove to you, Quincy! Go play your little games, niño.”

“¿Qué onda? The Lady Eleanor ain’t no more freaky than the last time you checked in. ‘Less you know different?”

“Yo, Aoi. Chill, hermana. Do something for yourself, for once. Arthur ain’t going to blow away if you blink.”

“The boss says care for his sister I care for his sister. As long as you still are his sister… and as long as I feel like listening to him.”

“Being loved and being hurt? Yeah, I make no distinction. I knew someone, once, wired the same way. Kept me sane. And what of it? Te crees muy acá ¿no? Get outta my head, Eleanor.”

“Never signed up for this. I’ll be home Mamá. Your little girl doesn’t end here. No te preocupes.”

“Man, I’ve been awake so long that even the spiders in my head have all gone to sleep.”

“Wacha: unless you’re pissing blood right this second, whatever it is can wait.”

“I swear, should lock Aoi and Amir in a cuna. Didn’t sign up for no babysitting gig.”

AOI:

“I don’t wanna go on patrol. I wanna take stuff apart.”

“Nearly time for the On-lyne boys.”

“Metal, metal, metal, what do you want to be?”

“Yep. I can live like this.”

“Arthur needs to keep some fuel in the tank for himself. Goddamn savior complex that man has…”

“I oughta get some headphones. Then I wouldn’t have to hear Quincy work off all that surplus testosterone!”

“If they take Entrati out, who’s going to look after that mutant jaguar of his? Poor thing won’t last five minutes in the wild.”

“Amir! Remember to hydrate!”

“Dear past self: we finally got those super powers we always wanted. Whaddayaknow.”

“GodDAMN. Lettie would you keep your frickin’ rats OUT of my SPACE?”

QUINCY:

“Don’t look up, Doctor.”

“Arthur needs to leave the Major to me, innit. Respect my methods.”

“Don’t mind the waiting. Plenty to be thinking about.”

“You don’t know me. Never see what darkens your rooftops. Inevitable, like the rain. Handing out consolations in a transient connection. Boom. Smoke. And ghost.”

“You wiv me, Eleanor? How deep in you go? See anythin’ you fancy, girl?”

“Amir is a weak, weak boy. Like Aunty said, ‘duppy know who fi frighten.’”

“Thassit… nice and steady.”

“How many man have the opps got? Not enough t’be takin’ me. Never.”

“Oi, Lettie! Grab y’ strap and let’s go. Best a five buys the drinks?”

ELEANOR:

“Don’t expect me to tell you what I’ve seen in Amir’s head. He’s not a beautiful, broken marionette, and he’s nobody’s project. He’s one of us.”

“Quincy thinks he’s going to wake up one night to me chewing the flesh from his ribs. Maybe he’s right.”

“I know you’re there. I can feel you. It’s okay, I won’t tell the others.”

“Aoi? She’s lovely and kind and strong, and… I kind of hate her a little bit. Because it should have been her spreading her happiness into everyone’s heads, and me throwing cars and trucks around.”

“I thought there were going to be two of you! Where’s the other one?”

“Blood. There’s gonna be a fight. Something… bursting. Crossed swords. Arthur!”

“What on earth is a ‘Mara Lohk’?”

“Oh, you’re going to make such a difference this time around.”

“I don’t think Doctor Entrati expected me to survive. I had a lot more than just a cough. But… survive I did. And Lettie has not forgiven me for it.

“Oh. OH. She’s wonderful! Triple-faced goddess! But there’s a shadow on her, isn’t there?”

AMIR:

“A little zap, and… infinite credit! No more ‘insert coin’! Not that we could insert coin. We have no coin. Once we had coin, but now Aoi has smooshed all the coin. Coinnnn.”

“Why did they never make a console port?”

“BAD MOVE, SPACE CAA-DET.”

“But the one thought none of them spoke out loud was - could Lettie reattach a head?”

“Hey, Arthur! Arthur! Arthur! Arthur! Arthur! Dahh, you missed it.”

“Eleanor? Are you there? Can you - can you give my brain a hug please? Thank you.”

“We’re getting a little too excited, let’s step it down, step it down before we get the blue cracklies. In one two out one two.”

“Oi’m Quincy. Oi’m gonna blow out yer kneecaps. Mashup in yer chip shop alright.”

“Ungh! This violent video game is influencing my emotions! Societal norms… eroding! Morality… subsumed! I MUST KILL!”

“This place used to smell so good. Coffee. Cookies. Fresh clean socks. Now it’s just rust, pain, and old socks.”

[glossdebut]

Take a Bite Ch. 2

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you're finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off... Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You've accepted the fact that romance isn't for you, under any circumstances. You won't risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

✧ TAGS: slow burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, producer yoongi, music journalist reader, neighbors to friends to lovers? you'll see, reader is bad at feelings, reader is post-break up

✧ WARNINGS: more social drinking in this chapter, horny thoughts from y/n, seokjin is a warning of his own tbh

✧ WORDCOUNT: 3.2k

✧ STATUS: ongoing

✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE: yoongi being sweet, y/n being terrified, and jin cameo to celebrate his return <3 btw if you're noticing a theme with the chapter titles, let me know teehee. taglist is up, so feel free to join if you want to be tagged in future chapters! clover beat you all to it

Chapter 2: Tell Me What You Want From Me

Unsurprisingly, it’s less than twenty-four hours later when you run into him again. It tracks, now that it’s clear that the universe is dead set on throwing Yoongi in your path, that you’d see him in person before he’s even gotten the opportunity to text you. If he actually was planning to text you, that is.

It’s a little past four in the afternoon, and you’re both making it home from work. It seems that way, anyway, based on the bag slung over his shoulder and his business casual clothes. No one looks good in business casual, but he does. You hate him, you decide.

He’s also holding a huge bag of tangerines, which is… Well, you guess it’s a talking point. If you’re going to be forced to interact again (although you’re very much considering doing the rude thing and just running inside without saying a word) you might as well make up for the last time you saw each other. Last night. Or, this morning, really. You, drunk and drooling over him. Him, stupidly charming and a very good sport.

You’ve been hungover all day, but it started to wane on your way home from work so you decide to do the neighborly thing and talk to him.

“That’s a lot of tangerines,” you say, and you feel a little smug when Yoongi visibly startles at the sound of your voice. Serves him right after making you practically jump out of your skin last night.

He pulls out one of his headphones and grins, raising the bag triumphantly.

"I have a thing about tangerines,” he explains. If that can even count as an explanation. "You want one?"

You can hear your mother in your ear chastising you for taking food from a virtual stranger, but you reason that just because you take one doesn’t mean you have to eat it, and you walk over to his door with your hand out.

“Sure,” you say, eyeing the bag warily. “Only because I’m not convinced you could eat all of those by yourself.”

He hums, staring at your hand as he pushes his door open, tilting his head toward the inside of the apartment in invitation. 

Your eyes widen. You open your mouth to protest, to tell him he could just hand you one, but Yoongi already has his back to you as he walks inside, kicking his shoes off at the door. You linger lamely in the doorway of his apartment. 

“Oh—Uh, are you sure?”

"Would I have invited you in if I wasn't sure?" You continue to linger as Yoongi sets the bag down on the kitchen island. He opens a cabinet, procuring a plate. "I don't bite,” he calls, turning on the tap of his sink to wash his hands.

You tentatively step inside, shutting his door behind you and setting your bag by his shoe rack. You follow his lead, toeing your shoes off before joining him in the kitchen. You watch as he starts peeling the fruit across the island, shifting awkwardly. 

Yoongi's eyes dart toward you for a moment as he continues to peel.

“You're acting like you're scared of me or something. You know I'm not gonna murder you, right?" he asks with a laugh, now starting to separate the sections of the tangerine.

“I know you’re not going to murder me,” you assure him, visibly relaxing a little so as not to look like such a hopeless, awkward freak. 

"Good. Just checking." He holds out a section of the tangerine, offering it to you.

You take it, smiling gratefully, but you let him eat his own piece first. It’s the least you can do, for your poor mother’s sake.

You do a shit job of being subtle as you glance around Yoongi’s apartment while you chew, but it’s not like you’re trying very hard to hide it. It’s a natural curiosity, to be in an apartment with a structural layout identical to your own, but so differently decorated. You feel like it’s not weird to look. 

"What?" he asks as he eats his own section of the tangerine, and when you look back at him his eyebrow is raised in question. 

“Your apartment is cleaner than I would’ve thought,” you say, laughing a little.

“Did you think it would be gross?” Yoongi asks, amused. “Do I give off a gross vibe?”

You snort, because he absolutely does not. If anyone gives off a gross vibe between the two of you, it’s probably you, the sloppy drunk that almost threw up on him last night because he was so hot and so close and you were so wasted. But you keep that bit to yourself. “Not gross. Just… messy?” you offer, snatching another section of the tangerine from his hand. “Not gross, though.”

“Oh, well that’s good,” he teases, starting to peel another tangerine and dividing it in half, sliding one half to you on the plate. “That you don’t think I’m gross, I mean.”

“No, it’s very neat in here,” you hum appreciatively, taking the plate. “The constant bedhead thing you’ve got going on is very misleading.” You point at his mussed hair. If you were a different person, maybe you’d touch it.

He does it for you, though. You watch as he ruffles his hair, smirking at you. “You don’t like my hair?”

“I didn’t say that,” you say. Something about Yoongi makes this back-and-forth come easily for you, and it feels dangerous. You should leave it alone, but you can’t. “Putting words in my mouth.”

He hums, and you watch his gaze flick down to your lips as you say the word ‘mouth.’ “You… have a little…” You watch as he brings his hand up to his own lips, rubbing his thumb at the corner of his mouth to indicate where you have something, apparently.

You hurriedly bring your own hand up to rub at your mouth. He shakes his head, laughing in a way that’s more of a sharp exhale through his nose, and then he’s rounding the counter. 

When he gets to you, he holds your chin, and you hold your breath in return, looking at him with wide eyes as he wipes it away himself.

Something shifts. You can feel the charge in the air as his thumb brushes against your bottom lip, and your heart does that stupid flippy thing again. This is a bad idea, you think. Since when did your life become a cheesy romcom? You don’t have time for this. Based on the sympathy in his eyes last night when you told him that, he doesn’t either. You both just got home from working on a Saturday when you were both drinking last night, for fuck’s sake. But you can’t bring yourself to pull away even as every cell in your body screams at you to run out of his apartment right now, future awkward hallway run-ins be damned. 

And then Yoongi’s apartment door is swinging open, and you’re flying away from him like shrapnel as a broad-shouldered man in a fuzzy pink sweater walks in like he owns the damn place, brown paper bags bundled in his arms.

“Yoongichiiiii,” the man sing-songs. “Your Seokjinie-hyung is here to make you dinner, you cretin!”

Yoongi, who hasn’t moved, who didn’t fly away from you like shrapnel at the interruption, finally breaks eye contact with you to look at the man. Seokjinie-hyung, apparently. 

“Do you have to barge in here, hyung?” he says, with the type of tiredness that can only come from a person who endures this kind of thing five days out of the week, minimum. Can’t relate , you think. There’s nobody breaking down your door to make you dinner. “Can’t you knock, like a normal person?”

“I didn’t anticipate you’d have company, Yoongi-yah,” Seokjin says, waggling his eyebrows and looking at you. “I’m Seokjin. But you can call me oppa.” He smirks. “Unless, of course, you already call him that.”

Ew, for one. You stare at him, your lips parting in shock, because what the fuck do you say to that? You’re completely dumbfounded by this beautiful, broad, gross man. 

“Hyung,” Yoongi says sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose, and you finally find your voice.

“I’m Yoongi’s neighbor,” you say quickly, because this complete stranger does not need to think that you are sleeping with this other complete stranger and calling him oppa, of all things? What planet did you just beam to?

“Okay, Yoongi’s neighbor,” Seokjin says, walking further into the kitchen and setting the grocery bags down on the counter. “That’s a beautiful name. Is it French?”

“Hyung, ” Yoongi repeats, louder this time, smacking the back of Seokjin’s head. “Don’t be an asshole to my guest.”

“Yah, when did you become so disrespectful!” Seokjin says, surpassing Yoongi’s volume, smacking him right back, waving his hands around as he speaks. “Am I not a guest, too? Here I am, selflessly providing you with dinner, because god knows you’re incapable of feeding yourself properly. Don’t think I don’t see the tangerines, Yoongi-yah. Was that dinner?”

Okay, yeah. You are officially a spectator to whatever the fuck this is. You’re convinced that if you try to intervene in any way, you’ll lose an arm, and you can’t seem to get your legs to work to walk out the door, as much as you may like to. You’re frozen to the spot, entranced. 

“You’re an unwanted guest,” Yoongi hisses, smacking Seokjin once again. “And I am a grown man, fully capable of feeding myself.”

“Yes, a grown man whose height topped out at five-foot-seven because of his horrific eating habits,” Seokjin retorts, narrowing his eyes at Yoongi as he starts unpacking the grocery bags. “Do you think these broad shoulders were bestowed upon me by god? They weren’t. It was kimchi-jjigae.”

“Yah, you’re only three inches taller than me, hyung. Don’t get cocky just because of a few inches,” Yoongi complains, and you swear you see him lift onto his toes for just a moment.

“Oh, but a few inches can make a world of difference, Yoongi-yah,” Seokjin practically purrs, and at that you find your voice, because really, enough is enough.

“I should go!” you blurt out, and both of their heads snap in your direction comically fast. Seokjin looks amused, but also like he forgot you were there entirely, which you think is fair. Yoongi, however, looks incredibly guilty. You’d think it’s cute, if you could think anything besides ‘get out while you still can’ right now. 

Yoongi steps a little closer to you, lowering his voice so it’s only for you. You can feel your change of heart before you even process anything he says.

“I’m sorry…” he says, glancing back at Seokjin for a moment. “…For that.” He sighs. “Look, I get it if you want to bolt right now. Seokjin-hyung has that effect on people.”

You hear Seokjin’s cry of protest behind Yoongi, which Yoongi ignores.

“I just don’t want to intrude,” you say. Polite. To the point. Your last line of defense, which Yoongi is quick to crumble with his soft voice and earnest words.

“You wouldn’t be. Despite being a pain in my ass, hyung is a good cook. And he makes enough food to feed an army even when it’s just the two of us,” he continues. “I… You can stay and eat. I’d like it if you did.”

What the fuck is happening to you right now? You can’t even begin to understand why you can’t seem to say no where Yoongi is involved, despite only meeting him less than twenty-four hours ago. 

The only thing that you can tell is that it’s not just because of your attraction to him, as undeniable as it may be. You may be an introverted homebody, but you’re still a woman who gets hit on semi-frequently. If that’s what this was, no matter how pretty Yoongi is, you’re sure you’d still be able to say no. But you’re not saying no.

“…This is all very, very weird,” you say, and Yoongi breathes out a strained ‘ I know, ’ which makes you relax a little. “I’ll stay, if you insist.”

“He insists,” Seokjin says, not even bothering to look up at you as he chops vegetables.

To your surprise, Yoongi doesn’t make any kind of cutting remark in Seokjin’s direction. He just keeps his eyes on you, nods in agreement. 

“I insist.”

So you stay.

★ ★ ★

Seokjin is very insistent about not letting you help in the kitchen.

“Unless he’s chopped off a limb to get out of it in the past ten seconds I haven’t been looking at him, Yoongi-yah has two fully-functioning hands and knows his way around a kitchen. So you just sit and look pretty, and let your oppas take care of everything,” he tells you. 

You hate the delivery of that, really. But you do as he says, and it’s actually pretty nice.

Plus, you get to see just how fully-functioning those hands of Yoongi’s are. You have a fucking front row seat to the capability of those hands. 

It does not help that Seokjin insists on refilling a wine glass for you every time you take a sip, but what does help is focusing on Seokjin’s weird, kind of cute pinky fingers instead of Yoongi’s fucking sinful everything that you want in your mouth more and more as the alcohol warms you. 

The bickering between the two even seems to die down as they cook. It’s clear that the two of them have done this together before, and it even makes you wonder if they lived together for a point in time.

You learn a lot about Yoongi, too. That he works too hard, which he himself had alluded to last night, but Seokjin confirmed with a gusto that makes you think it’s probably worse than you assumed. That he’s completely powerless to his dongsaengs, which Yoongi didn’t even try to deny. That there are seven of them altogether, a close-knit friend group that will always be the seven of them barring death, and maybe even then. It’s all very sweet. 

You’re in the middle of fantasizing about what it would be like to have six friends who love you so much when Seokjin turns the conversation to you suddenly.

“What do you do, Y/N?”

“I’m a music journalist for Look Here Magazine,” you reply, starting to straighten up with pride just as you did last night when you told Yoongi, but something in Seokjin’s expression makes you freeze.

He looks pleased as fucking punch, and you’re beginning to realize that is probably never a good thing.

“Oh, are you?” he purrs.

“Hyung,” Yoongi says warily, but he looks just as confused as you feel.

“You know, our Yoongi makes music.”

“Yes, he told me,” you say slowly, your eyebrows furrowing.

“He’s very good,” Seokjin continues. “Back in college, he used to write all of these raps about eating pus—“

“YAH! Stop!” Yoongi interjects, and when you look at him he is completely pink. You were already pink from the wine, so you would guess you’re fire engine red right now, if the heat in your cheeks is any indicator. 

“You weren’t ashamed of it then, Mr. Tongue Technology,” Seokjin sniffs, doling out rice into three bowls like he didn’t just drop a bomb that you’ll be thinking about for the rest of your life, maybe. Tongue technology.

“I was twenty,” Yoongi complains. “I was young and cocky, and I had an awful group of friends who never told me how fucking stupid I sounded.” He turns to you, although he is barely able to hold eye contact. You’re in the same boat. “Please forget you ever heard that.”

You nod, stiffly. What else can you do? Say you’d like to take that tongue for a spin, right now preferably? No, no, no, no.

“How about we talk about something else?” you offer, quickly. “What do you do, Seokjin?”

That seems like the right thing to say, because even when the three of you finally sit down to eat, Seokjin is still happily going on about his aspirations as an actor.

★ ★ ★

Seokjin rubs his belly happily, slumped against his chair.

“God, I’m good,” he sighs. “Tell me how good I am, Yoongichi.”

“You’re so good, hyung,” Yoongi says flatly.

“Thank you again, for having me,” you say, smiling a little. Despite your apprehension towards Seokjin at first, dinner was surprisingly pleasant and, to his credit, really fucking good. “Both of you.”

“Ah, you should come next time all the kids are around,” Seokjin says, grinning. “It’ll be a hoot.”

Yoongi stays quiet across from you, but he meets your eyes and nods. Flip.

“Well… I’m only two doors down,” you say softly, looking down at your empty bowl.

“Just wait until Jiminie and Jeongguk get ahold of her,” Seokjin says to Yoongi. You don’t know what that could possibly mean, could mean a lot of things coming from Seokjin, but Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“It’s getting late. We should probably clean up,” Yoongi says, starting to stack the bowls. “Do you need a ride home?”

“I’m not an invalid, Yoongi-yah,” Seokjin scoffs. “I can take the bus.” He stands up, snatching the bowls away from Yoongi. “Let hyung clean up and I’ll be on my way.”

Yoongi doesn’t put up a fight, handing off the bowls, and then Seokjin is in the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone for the first time since tangerines and Yoongi’s thumb on your lip.

“Thank you,” you say again, this time just for Yoongi. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a night like this.”

“I wouldn’t have any nights like this if it weren’t for Seokjin-hyung and the rest of my friends,” Yoongi says, brutally honest in the way you’re figuring out he always is. “When you love what you do, it’s hard to remember that there’s anything else.”

You nod, because you know exactly what he means by that.

“I really know what it’s like. I know we just met last night, but if you ever need…” He shakes his head, putting his words together. He looks unbelievably shy, not for the first time tonight. “Ah, I’m not used to being the one to give this speech. Look, we can hang out, is all I’m saying.”

You realize then and there what Yoongi is offering, and something clicks into place. Friendship. Despite the charged moments, the clear attraction, he’s offering to be someone you can go to. Someone who gets it and won’t judge. It doesn’t feel like pity, either, strangely. This is why you can’t bring yourself to say no to him, you realize. He’s offering you something you desperately need.

You smile, despite the fact that you kind of feel like crying.

“Only if you show me those raps Seokjin was talking about.”

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future chapters!

@dollfaceksj

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[cinnaminsvga]

Harana Preview | Jungkook

harana (n.): the act of wooing someone by serenading them

→ summary:

Unwilling to settle down with you after five years of dating, Jeon Jungkook decides to break up to chase after his dreams. In the aftermath, you leave your hometown, desperate to forget your past and relearn what it means to be on your own. Two years later while on your way to work, you pass by a familiar voice singing songs about a girl he had left behind.

{or alternatively: Jungkook still sings the love songs that he wrote for you. He still means them, too.}

→ genre: busker!au, exes to lovers, fluff, angst → warnings: jimin is insane and kinda crude (he has some issues going on), jungkook is a pathetic wet bunny but he's trying his best, so much yearning, ambiguous ending??? but my god there is hope!! the humanity of it all!! → words: anticipated 10-15K → a/n: what da hell who is she... HEY SO its been a while since ive written anything longer than 2k words and i really wanted to get back into writing, if only for practice... plus this is part of my heart full of hugot series that i teased literally eons ago and i want to finish it before the year ends... pray for my sanity ( ; ω ; )

part of the “heart full of hugot” series

As you struggle to pull yourself together, a familiarly loud voice rings outside the edge of your consciousness. “Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you here…” Jimin greets you, his usual jovial demeanor halting midway when he sees your panicked expression. He clears his throat, perplexed. “Umm… Are you alright there, girl? You’re looking a little pale.”

You do not even have the mental capacity to wonder why Park Jimin was miraculously early to his shift, nor why he seems genuinely worried for you. Rather, all you can do is wave him off and use what little time you have before the restaurant opens to steel yourself for hours of melodious torture. 

“I’m fine, Park. You should get to work,” you grit out, wiping your sweaty palms on your uniform. Normally, Jimin would have teased you about the obvious wrinkles on your skirt. 

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jimin huffs, always the contrarian. He thinks better of it, however, and softens his tone. “Are you feeling sick or something? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You freeze, perhaps giving yourself away a little. “I’m fine,” you repeat. 

“You know, if you refuse to elaborate, I’m going to have to retract your shower privileges,” Jimin taunts with a smirk. 

You feel a migraine growing by your temple, making you wince. God, why must men be the source of all your problems?

“I’m just… a little annoyed by the busker outside the restaurant,” you eventually admit, trying to be vague. Unfortunately for you, Jimin hates beating around the bush and would never take your crap if he knows something is up.

Unable to withstand the weight of his unimpressed stare, you continue, “He was someone I used to know, that’s all.” You aren’t going to be any more specific than that, though you imagine Jimin gets the picture. You zip your lips, hoping to whoever is causing you pain that Jimin would somehow let the matter drop and leave you to your misery.

You brace yourself for his onslaught of questioning to come, and… it doesn’t happen. Instead, when you glance at Jimin, he is mysteriously stone faced. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a few minutes, but he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to tease or ridicule you. He simply watches you with a pensive expression. You can barely stop yourself from staring back at him, slack-jawed at his silence. 

Of course, you aren’t just going to question your luck, or what little you have at least. So, you stay silent back and purse your lips uncomfortably.

Finally, Jimin seems to snap out of his strange reverie. He fixes you with a bizarrely sympathetic grin, patting you affectionately on the back. “I see… Well, if you ever need a drink tonight, head over to the bar for a little sip. I got you covered,” is all he says in response before sashaying away. 

That was so fucking weird. You want to chase after him, perhaps beat the truth out of him. Jimin is nothing but a scheming dick, and you aren’t about to let him roam free with such sensitive information about yourself. Just as you’re about to stomp his ass (perhaps to relieve some of the building tension from your weary soul), your manager pops his head from his office door. 

“Y/N! Make sure you’re logged into the booking system. There’s going to be a party of 20 coming in about an hour,” he reminds you, shooting you an apologetic look. You nod back with a sigh, swiping the booking tablet from the hostess desk and scrolling through the logs. Sure enough, it is going to be a busy night despite being a Monday evening. Perhaps a little busier than usual, in fact.

Whatever. You will use whatever distraction you can get, and perhaps the approaching noise from the restaurant patrons will be enough to drown out the sound of his voice. 

You aren’t religious by any means, but you pray to whatever higher power exists that Jeon Jungkook doesn’t somehow decide to enter the restaurant. Stay outside, you plead. Outside the restaurant and your life, if possible.

Throughout the evening, you do your best to push aside the memories that threaten to resurface. You greet customers with a smile, lead them to their tables, and ensure their dining experience is pleasant despite the anxiety poisoning your insides. It's a routine you've perfected over time, a shield against the chaos of your emotions.

As the night wears on, you can feel Jimin's eyes on you from across the restaurant. You sneak glances back at him, and you blanch at his pitying gaze. If the restaurant had been slightly less crowded, you would have flipped him off. 

He’s probably enjoying my suffering, you think darkly. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you straighten up and do your best to appear more unaffected. Just as you do so, you can hear Jungkook perfectly hitting a soulful high note. 

“I’m so sorry for thinking I was strong,” you whisper to the universe. “Forgive me for my insolence.” You clench your fist in anguish, ignoring the confused looks from the customers in front of you. 

By the time your shift comes to a close, you are completely and utterly drained. You feel like a snail that has been continuously salted over the past eight hours, and you cannot help but cheer in relief when the clock finally strikes two in the morning. You have to wait for the last few diners to make their leave, but otherwise you are ready to let your bed swallow you whole. 

You stand by your hostess desk, leaning your head against it with a defeated sigh. Jungkook’s voice had died down only a few minutes ago, and you hope that by this point he has mercifully left the premises. You want to take a peek to make sure, but just as you’re about to make your way to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder stop you in your tracks.

“‘Sup, bitch.” Jimin still has that weird, pitying gaze pointed at you, though his words don’t match it. “Are you okay to go home alone tonight? I can bring your dumb ass home if you want.”

You shove his hand away, ready to bite his head off when you think better of it. If Jimin drives you home, then that lowers the chances of seeing Jungkook down to pretty much zero. 

“You know what? Thanks,” you grouse. Jimin smiles at you winningly, and the image of it brings a shiver down your spine. You hit him, creeped out. “Hey. Stop that, will you? You’re being really weird?”

Jimin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Me? Weird? At least I don’t look like a damn firework ready to explode just because my cringelord ex-boyfriend is singing sappy love songs outside—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you seethe, stomping on his foot. He yelps in pain and slaps your shoulder in retaliation. 

“Ouch! Watch your ogre feet! My shoes are worth twice your monthly rent I’ll have you know,” he bristles. He breathes deeply, likely finding his inner calm (which you doubt exists). “But because I’m so nice, I’ll ignore your earlier transgression and blame it on your underdeveloped amygdala.”

You don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that Jimin knew what an amygdala was or that he was forgiving you in the first place. “Whatever. Let’s finish closing up and then head out. I’m exhausted.”

[byunbun01]

TBZ PROMPTS | 18+ content.

(( hihi ^^ so my friend @oceansuncherry has given me prompts for each member of the boyz and these are the little scenarios that came to mind, please enjoy !! each members content will be tagged accordingly , as i edit this post with each member i'm realizing how out of control i am... ))

 ♡ Explicit, 14k.

 ♡ Reader is gender neutral in every scenario, because in this house we love being delulu and inclusive ^-^

 ♡ All members included.  Sangyeon - “Do you think you can handle it?”

[[ boss /worker, thigh riding, make out, there is alcohol involved ]]

— You’re currently out for drinks with a few of your co-workers, honestly, you didn’t really want to go but you’ve already denied so many invitations that everyone in the office was beginning to think you hated them. It wasn’t that you disliked your co-workers, but you would just rather be curled up on the couch with a glass of wine watching a new drama after dealing with emails and phone calls all day.

“Y/n, you want more?” Sangyeon questions, holding a bottle of soju in his hands.

You slid your hand over the top of your cup, shaking your head, “No, thank you.”

He nods. Setting the bottle back down on the table to bring his freshly poured drink to his mouth. You watch out of the corner of your eyes, watching the way he laughs at the others' jokes and sips his drink. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbow, exposing his long arms and a silver watch on his wrist.

You’ve already had two glasses of peach soju and you’re warming up, feeling your cheeks warm and your thoughts swaying. Sangyeon was so handsome, reminding you of the lead in one of the office dramas that you had been watching recently. It was dangerous, thinking about him this way, he was above you… You were just an intern and he was the one in charge of overlooking your group. He was just so friendly and handsome.

“Ah, it’s getting late,” One of the other interns hummed, their heads swaying as they checked their phones.

Everyone began to excuse themselves one by one… But Sangyeon kept drinking, laughing and chatting with his co-workers. 

“Y/n, are you feeling okay?” Sangyeon questions, tilting his head, “You’ve been so quiet all evening?”

“Oh,” You hum, nodding your head and looking down at your barely touched drink, “Just enjoying myself Mr. Lee.”

He tuts his tongue, “You don’t have to be so formal after work hours.”

“Sorry…” You mumble, almost calling him by his office name again but stopping yourself. You pick up your drink, taking another sip. 

Sangyeon smirks. His eyes drag over you slowly before turning back to one of the older workers. And suddenly it feels like it’s a million degrees in the restaurant. You excuse yourself to the washroom. 

Leaning up against the wall, you touch your cheek, it’s warm to the touch and you exhale…Why did he look at you like that? There was no way you had just imagined all of that, maybe it was best to call it a night and go home as well. You had almost prepared yourself mentally enough to go back out there and excuse yourself when the door opens and Sangyeon appears. He smiles, stepping towards you and suddenly it feels like your heartbeat has multiplied. Why was he so handsome?

“I-I was just about to say my goodbyes,” You stutter, trying to avoid any unnecessary interaction with him. You tried to step past him but you were stopped by his hand on your waist. 

You tried to step back, trying to escape him but all you’ve managed to do is back yourself into the wall and he takes the opportunity to lean into you. 

“You’ve stared at me all night,” Sangyeon breathes, “It was so hard to pay attention you know, you look so…” His hands tighten on your waist, leaning into your neck, “Pretty…You’re always trying to steal my attention, hmm?” 

“Mr. Lee,” You gasp, squirming against him. 

Sangyeon grabs your hands, pinning them above your head… Your skin feels like it’s on fire and your heart is throbbing. He smells so good, the mix of soju with his cologne has your head spinning. 

“If you keep calling me that, I’m not going to be able to contain myself,” Sangyeon groans, resting his head on your shoulder, “Do you think you can handle it? ”

You squeeze your thighs together. He’s holding your hands up with only one hand, the other dragging down the front of your chest. Stopping at your waist again, his fingers squeezing as he inhales and exhales. He slots his knee between your thighs. And you let him. Stretching out your neck as his teeth graze your neck, peppering you with kisses. 

“A-Ah, Mr. Lee,” You moan…Squirming your hands, but his grip tightens. Biting down into your neck. 

He tugs you forward by your waist. You gasp at the friction, grinding yourself over his thigh, rocking your hips with the rhythm of his strong hands. His lips against your neck. There was no way you were leaving this bathroom without such a visible mark. 

“You can’t leave a mark,” You pant breathlessly, “They’ll know.” 

“Embarrassed of me, babe?” Sangyeon whispers against your neck…”How about here then.” 

His lips entangle with yours, kissing you deeply. His tongue slips into your mouth and you can taste the soju on his tongue. Your own intoxication has your mind spinning, you’re so dizzy you can’t think straight. Grinding yourself on his thigh seeking your own pleasure, lost in the pressure that was pooling between your thighs. 

“So eager,” He coos, kissing down your jaw, his lips pressed against your neck again, “I want to hear you, sweetheart.” 

Sangyeon lets go of your hands, both of his hands now attached to your waist. Squeezing and tugging…You can’t help but moan so pathetically. Falling into Sangyeon, burying your face into his chest, panting and gasping for air. 

“Say my name,” Sangyeon groans, his voice raspy and heavy. 

“Mr. Lee,” You moan, “Sir, I’m going to cum…” 

“Fuck,” Sangyeon exhales, “Cum for me sweetheart.” 

His hand slips between your thighs, rubbing you through your clothes and it’s game over. You gasped and jerked forward, your entire body trembling as you rode out the pleasure that surged between you.

“How are you going to call my name in the office now?” Sangyeon teases, his hands dragging over your thighs. 

You lean back, resting your head against the cold wall... You stare at him, smiling, “I think I’ll be fine, Mr.Lee..” 

He scoffs, biting his lip and nodding, “Touche...Touche..” 

You had never expected this side of him. He was always so sweet and kind in the office, walking in late with donuts and coffee. Always smiling widely and catering to everyone's needs, you would never expect in a million lifetimes he’d have you pinned up against the wall taking what he wanted from you. Jacob - “I’ve wanted something like this for a while now.”

 [[ rough sex, nails, spanking, jacob lets out his anger in a healthy manner, minor derogatory names (slut) , jacob manhandling you is so hot wtf ]]

– Your boyfriend Jacob has always enjoyed gaming, spending a lot of his spare time playing matches with his friends. You’ve never minded though, truthfully you found it cute and enjoyed that you could both be in the same room enjoying each other's company while doing the things you enjoy.

You’re currently laying in his bed. Wearing one of his hoodies and no pants, cocooned in his comforter while one of your dramas plays on the screen. Your full focus is on the show, reading the subtitles and lounging in your comfort. But the focus is lost when Jacob groans, frustrated. His fist clenched, clearly, he wanted to hit something but instead, he breathed in and out.

“You good?” You question, reaching for the remote to pause your show.

“Yeah,” He muttered. Reaching for his mouse again, there were a few clicks before he lazily threw his mouse. Leaning back in his gaming chair.

He was silent.

And you knew that internally his mind was a fucking storm right now.

You pulled the blankets off yourself, crawling out of the bed. He looks up at you tilting his head as you crawl into his lap.

“What are you doing?” He questions.

“You’re upset,” You hum, “I want to make it better.”

You place your hands on his shoulders, adjusting yourself so that your knees are a little more comfortable in the chair, straddling Jacob. You arch out your back, sliding a hand down his chest until your hand is now between your own thighs… You brush your fingers over his crotch.

“How are you going to make it better, hmm?” Jacob questions. His hands latch onto your hips, one slipping under your hoodie and pressing into your back.

“Take your anger out on me,” You say sweetly, your smile as you sit back a bit. 

Jacob’s intrigued, chewing on his lip as his eyes drag over you slowly. He slips his hand under the front of your sweater, his fingers tracing the waistband of your underwear… slipping his fingers in and pulling them and letting go, the elastic snaps back against your skin and you gasp.

“Limits?”

You shake your head, “I'll tell you if it’s too much.”

He inhales sharply, slipping his hand under your hoodie and dragging his nails over your stomach, “Fuck, I’ve wanted something like this for a while now.”

“Mmm,” You hum, tilting her head back.

He drags his nails down the inside of your thighs. The heat pools on your skin, welts already forming in the wake of his wandering hands. He squeezes your thighs, pinching skin between his hands. He’s silent, touching and feeling you, but it’s so rough… His fingers were laced with rage and turmoil.

“I want you,” He groans, “Get up.”

You do as he says. Climbing off his lap again. He grabs you by the hips pulling you into him. His face pressed into your stomach as he pulled down your underwear, he kissed your thigh, pushing your underwear past your knees. They fall to your ankles and you step out of them. Your hands cradling Jacob’s head, your fingers weaving into his hair. He grabs your ass, squeezing the skin before pulling his hand back.

The slap rings in your ear, and you jerk forward, fisting his hair and tugging his head back. He looks up at you smirking, his tongue prodded into his cheek like some cocky asshole. Fuck, you’re so turned on by this version of him. He slaps your ass again.

Your reaction is exactly what he’s looking for… He slaps your ass again, this time dragging his nails down your thighs. Your squirm, your skin inflamed. But it feels good. His hands are on your hips, pushing you back. He stands up. Towering over you as he pushed you around so effortlessly.

Jacob puts his hand on your neck, pushing down, “If you make a mess, I’ll be upset, baby.”

At first, you were confused until your chest was flush with his keyboard, the led lights were glowing, flashing an aurora of reds and blues…If you messed up anything on his desk, there was probably hundreds of dollars worth of equipment. Fuck. Fuck.

You’re so focused on holding yourself up. It takes you by surprise the way he kicks your feet apart, lining his cock up with your hole. He fucks into you quickly, the stretch takes you by surprise, but it has you moaning. He doesn’t give you any time to gather yourself before his hands are on your hips, fucking into you hard and deep. Your hands are gripping the edge of his desk, trying with everything in your power to not let yourself put your weight down on his keyboard.

He’s fucking into you so roughly that the desk has begun to shake. And your entire world feels like it’s crashing down around you. It’s so deep you feel like you’re going to cum in seconds, his nails digging into your hips.

Jacob is grunting and groaning, letting out a series of fucks and you’re so fucking tight, you can’t help but clench around him. Everything inside of you pulsing and throbbing.

“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck…'“ You moan, “Ugh, harder, fuck me harder please.”

You couldn’t even possibly imagine that he could fuck you harder, but he does. He pulls out slowly, before grabbing your hips and pulling you back into him with one quick movement. Holy fuck. It hurt so good. You’re so wet it’s dripping down your thighs. He pushed you back into the desk, slapping your ass a few more times.

“What a good slut, you take me so well..”

He pulls you back into him and your entire body feels numb, you can barely hold yourself up anymore. You feel so dizzy. It was like Jacob was a completely different person. You knew he got mad but you couldn’t even begin to imagine this was how this was going to happen. 

"Cum inside of me,” You moan, so delirious for pleasure.

Jacob fucks into you, his rhythm steady and his hands latched to your hips as he pulls you back into him. You’re moaning with each thrust. You have your head shoved into the bend of your arm, drooling all over the sleeve of your sweater. Panting hard.

“Shit,” Jacob hisses. Pushing himself in as deep as he could and holding himself there.

You can feel him pulsing inside of you and it feels so inexplicably good. You feel so numb and sensitive. You can’t even remember when you came, but you felt exhausted like you had cum over a hundred times…

Jacob stays inside of you. Basking in the afterglow. 

“Holy fuck,” You groan, wiping your mouth on the sleeve of your sweater before standing back up. You examine the desk and there is little to no damage, just a few figures had fallen over.

“Thank you,” Jacob hums, grabbing the back of the sweater and stumbling back, you fall into his lap, and he wraps his arms around your waist, nuzzling his head into your back, “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“Mmm, I’m good… Are you feeling better?” 

“Yeah, a lot better.”

 Younghoon - “It’s not something that I can easily forget.”

[[ heavy make-out, touching in public, confession, virgin reader, finger fucking, idk why this one is a little soft??? ;u; ]]

– You had almost gotten away with it, almost… 

That night replaying in your head, you still couldn't believe the way that you had kissed Younghoon. You could blame the liquor or the chanting of all of your friends outside of the stupid closet. But it was all so cliché…

7 minutes in heaven. It was a game for kids and yet there you were, the minutes passed by like seconds. Wrapped up in Younghoon with his tongue in your mouth and your back against a cupboard. It was the furthest thing from heaven you had ever known.

But that night was weeks again. And the shame was eating you alive, you were a virgin and yet you were so lost to the temptation that your friend had to drag you out of the closet. Vodka and Cherry whiskey mixed on your tongue. It was so embarrassing. You hoped that Younghoon had forgotten about it… He was the head of the musical arts department. So thankfully running into him on campus was the least of your worries.

You had let your guard down. Going to karaoke with your friends, two drinks in and you were belting out a song with your best friend. You were aware that your friends had invited another group of friends to come and join but you were having fun, dancing around with the mic in your hand.

Everyone was laughing and singing along, the table was full of drinks and snacks. It was a good night. 

When your song ends you turn around to hand off the mic to somebody else, and your stomach drops. Being so absorbed in your musical number that you hadn’t noticed that everyone else had arrived. And Younghoon was sitting across from you, his eyes watching you. 

He looks so handsome today…

One of Younghoon’s friends jumps up, snatching the mic from your hand and you left walking to your spot awkwardly. You sit down next to him, wondering if the tension is so obvious that you’re exposing yourself to the entire room that you haven't been able to stop thinking about Younghoon. It had been weeks but you hadn’t forgotten the way he tasted or the way his hands felt under your shirt. Was it just the desire? Or have you developed a crush on Younghoon?

God. You felt like you could die right now, letting your shame and embarrassment be buried with you. 

“Hey,” Younghoon greets, smiling... “You’re y/n, right?”

"Yeah,” You answer, reaching for your drink off the table and bringing it to your lips, you have to fight yourself from finishing off the glass. The liquor courage was a little too tempting, “Younghoon, right?”

He chuckles, leaning into you a bit with his arms crossed over his chest, “This small talk is a little boring, y/n... Do you know how hard it was to get you alone again?”

“Ah, sorry,” You mutter, not even sure what you’re really apologizing for, “Let’s just forget that happened okay?”

“It’s not something that I can easily forget,” Younghoon breathes, his hand creeping up onto your thigh.

You inhale. Looking down at his hand and back at your friends that were all fixated on the screen of flashing lyrics. There was no one paying attention to you. But you still felt like all eyes were on you… His hands slid further up your thigh and you swear you could see stars, your stomach twisting.

You jump up.

Everyone looks at you and you awkwardly smile, excusing yourself with a quick excuse of needing to use the washroom badly. You stumble out of the dark room, and the second the door opens you’re greeted with cold air that feels nice. Your cheeks are so hot and your heart is racing.

Why the fuck would he touch you like that around all of your friends? What if you had both been caught?

You stumble forward, heading towards the back door that people often used to go for cigarette breaks or to get some fresh air. It could easily get stuffy in a room full of people. You stepped outside and it was exactly what you needed to help calm down but you’ve only just realized that you’ve forgotten your phone inside, tucked away in your purse. You sigh. Pressing your back into the cold wall.

How were you supposed to go back in there? Fuck.

The door opens and you can’t help but laugh as you watch Younghoon step toward you. Because of course he would chase after you and get you alone, and now you had no excuse or reason to get away from him.

“No…No, go away,” You say while shaking your head, you didn’t really mean it. Fuck, you wanted him so badly. And you hated that he had this effect on you. 

“If that’s what you want, I’ll leave you alone.”

He turns to go back inside and you feel yourself begin to panic. You reach out grabbing onto the sleeve of his sweater, stopping him from leaving. He turns around, smirking. You barely have a chance to register what you’ve done as he pushed you up against the wall. His hands are on your hips and you’re squirming and gasping for air. His lips are on your neck, sucking the skin in between his teeth and biting down. His hands are rough and dry, dragging up your soft tummy. You don’t even know when or how his hands had gotten under your shirt so quickly.

“Younghoon,” You gasp, “What if someone sees us…”

“So?” He whispers, “Let them catch us, I’m not ashamed that I like you.”

You feel like you're about to explode. Your heart racing and your mind dissolving into a muddled mess.

“Kiss me,” You beg, “Please…”

And he does. His mouth crashes against yours, the kiss is so deep you’re left panting for air and pulling away in an attempt trying to regather yourself. He’s breathing heavily. Pressing his body weight into you as he pants against your chest.

“I’m a virgin,” You whimper, nervous and beginning to panic.

“That’s okay,” Younghoon nods his head, “I’ll go easy on you.”

He kisses you again. This time his hands are on your neck, holding your face in his hands while his lips meld with yours, his tongue slipping inside your mouth, swallowing every pliant noise you made. He shoves his hand into our pants, massaging you slowly. You don’t stop him, melting into his touch. Kissing you until he’s satisfied you're ready… Pressing two fingers at your entrance and slipping them inside of you slowly. You mewl so pathetically, your hands clutching into his sweater. He kisses your forehead, praising you for taking him so well. His fingers are pumping in and out of you. You bury your face into his chest, trying to muffle your voice that you can’t seem to control. 

“You’re so tight,” He croons, “Fuck…” 

You moan. Allowing Younghoon to take complete control of you, clenching around his fingers as the pleasure built up until you couldn’t handle it anymore. Trembling as you came, panting into his chest as you tried to gather yourself. So overwhelmed by him.

Younghoon holds you in his arms, praising you sweetly as you come down from your high… You can’t believe you’ve just let him finger you in the back of an alleyway. You barely knew him, but fuck you wouldn’t mind getting to know him better.  Hyunjae - “Is that a challenge?”

[[ car sex, finger fucking, you challenge hyunjae he can't make you cum, guess who cums lolol, freinds to lovers vibes ]]

“I bet you can’t even make me cum,” You chuckle, tossing one of your french fries at him, grabbing another and shoving it into your mouth.

“Is that a challenge?” He cocks his head, “If you wanted me to fuck you, all you had to do is ask.”

He picks up the fry off his lap and shoves it into his mouth.

“Shut up,” You roll your eyes, reaching for your drink from the cup holder, you take a sip cleansing your palette, “I’m just saying. It’s like impossible, everyone always talks about these mind-blowing orgasms and yeah sex feels good but I’m always so in my fucking head that I can’t cum or something. And if I do, it’s because I had to do it.”

“I’ll do it,” Hyunjae challenges, “If I can’t make you cum, I’ll buy you dinner for a week.”

“Mmm, two weeks,” You smirk.

“Fine, but if I win you have to do anything I want.”

The realization hits, holy fuck you’re going to fuck your best friend? You’ve known Hyunjae most of your life, and you were both so close that it wasn’t even surprising anymore when people would question if you were both a couple. You’ve never thought about him like this… That was a lie, occasionally you would steal a glance or have a question if you liked him. But that was normal…right?

You take another sip of your coke and set it back in the cupholder, “So… uhm now?”

Hyunjae chuckled, “You don’t sound so confident now.”

Scoffing, you set your drink in the cupholder, “Back seat? Or here? I won’t lose to you.”

“Purposely not getting off is against the rules,” Hyunjae groaned, feigning annoyance as he reached for his phone and began to scroll, “Backseat.”

You nod. Opening up the passenger side door and climbing into the backseat. The spot that Hyunjae parked to eat was always abandoned so worrying about someone seeing you both wasn’t a thought in your mind. You feel a little anxious as you wait for him to climb into the backseat with you.

Hyunjae puts on a playlist that’s familiar to you, it’s one you both made together combining your favourite songs before he gets out of the driver’s seat and opens up the back door. You adjust yourself, leaning up against the door, your head against the cold window. He kneels onto the seat, closing the door before he crawls between your legs.

“Limits?” Hyunjae questioned, resting his hand on the top of your thigh.

You shake your head. Your stomach all of a sudden doing flips as his hand dragged up your thighs slowly. This is really happening… Holy fuck. This was really happening.

His hands drag up your thighs. You’re both silent, Hyunjae grabs the waistband of your pants, dragging them down while you lift your hips. He pulls your pants down to your ankles. He’s so gentle with you. You bite your lip as his hands grip your inner thighs, spreading your legs apart.

You watch him, taking in the way his expression changes… The way his eyes stare at you like he’s going to consume you. You’ve never seen this side of him before. He lowers his head, kissing in between your thighs, he looks up at you as his hand begins to massage you. You gasp, tilting your head back and looking away.

It’s teasing the way he touches you so slowly. It’s driving you insane.

“Hyunjae…” You whine. Reaching out to weave your fingers in your hair.

“You’re so pretty,” He coos, placing a wet kiss on the inside of your thigh, “Be good for me, hmm?”

“Shut up,” You mutter, your fingers tightening in his hair and tugging.

He chuckles, brushing his hand over your hole. Circling it with two fingers, it has you jerking forward. He pulled back his hand long enough to spit onto his fingers. Smearing the spit at your entrance and pushing in. Sinking his fingers in knuckle-deep. You can’t help but gasp.

“So tight,” Hyunjae breathes, pulling his fingers back out and in, slowly.

You can feel them inside of you and you can't help but clench around his fingers. He smirks, lifting his head to watch the pleasure on your face. He pumps his fingers in and out of you at a faster pace, quick jabs that make you moan. It sounds so needy and fake the way his fingers have you biting at your lip in an attempt to stop your noises from being so loud.

Why was Hyunjae having this effect on you?

Normally you were always so in your head, but right now with each stroke of his fingers, you can feel yourself slipping, succumbing to the pleasure that pooled between your thighs.

“Fuck me,” You whimper, “God. I want your cock, please.”

Hyunjae tilts his head, looking at you with excitement in his eyes. He sits back, undoing his pants to pull out his cock. God, you hate the way your mouth waters staring at his cock. He strokes it a few times and it has your thighs trembling with desperation.

“Lay down a bit,” Hyunjae says, “You might hit your head.”

You nod, lowering yourself on the seat until your head is flush with the seat. The anticipation is killing you, the way he crawls in between your thighs, one hand on his cock and the other holding your leg up. He presses his cock to your entrance and slowly pushes forward.

The stretch has your lips parting, it feels so much better than his fingers, so deep and pressing against your walls in all the right places. You feel dizzy, your cheeks burning up. It’s like heatstroke. He falls forward, his chest against yours, he puts a hand above your head, cradling you as he begins to fuck into you, each thrust harder and deeper. You have your eyes closed, allowing the waves of pleasure to take over.

You think about how his arm is above your head, protecting you from hitting your head against the door with each thrust and it’s game over. Clenching around him. Panting and gasping for air, your heart racing.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Hyunjae moans, burying his head in the crook of your neck, his lips against your neck.

“Shut up,” You whimper, it sounds so pathetic on the verge of tears from how good it felt, you just wanted him to be quiet, to stop having this effect on you.

“You sound so pretty.”

Hyunjae moans in your ears, it’s so fucking hot. Your stomach twists and your thighs tremble. It’s so hot and sweaty, he’s suffocating you with his body weight on top of you. Fucking into you at the right angle, you whimper, your entire body trembling as you cum.

“Fuck…Fuck…” You hiss as he continues to thrust inside of you.

Your hands are on his back, your fingers clutching his sweater tightly trying to ground yourself as he continues to milk out your pleasure with each thrust, you can’t take it anymore, squirming with each stroke from how sensitive you feel. You feel like you’re seeing stars, your eyes fluttering with each pulse.

“I’m gonna cum,” He moans, trying to pull himself out.

But you grab him, wrapping your leg around his hips and holding him in place, tightening around his pulsing cock. You can feel cum inside of you and it’s the best feeling you’ve ever felt, you feel like you’ve cum again. Everything is throbbing and your heart is racing like you just ran a fucking marathon.

“Shit,” You groan, only just realizing what you’ve done… Letting the heat of the moment get to you, your thighs trembling.

“Ugh,” Hyunjae mumbles, trying to lift himself up, he looks at you with apologetic eyes even though you were the one who had held him captive, “I tried to pull out.”

You grab his face and lift your head, kissing him. You kiss him until you can’t breathe, throwing your head back into the seat, “Guess, you won.”

Juyeon - “Are you sure you can handle me?”

[[ college au, sub juyeon,  enemies to lover type of vibe, heavy make-out, pet names ( kitten ), hand-job, you find out juyeon’s weakness, aftercare ]]

 – You don’t know exactly how it happened, but here you were in the bedroom of your enemy… The guy who has always placed first in everything, always making you come second. He looks tense reading through the textbook, fidgeting with the pen in his hand. 

“I can feel you staring,” Juyeon groans, setting his book on the table and glaring up at you, “What?”

“It’s just weird,” You lean forward into the table, smiling, “I just assumed you were some kind of android but your room is actually normal, and look no charging station.” 

“Ha…So funny,” Juyeon shakes his head, “This project is worth 30% of our grade, so can you please focus.” 

“We’ve been working for hours already… I’m hungry.” 

Juyeon rolls his eyes, “Fine. We can take a break but we have to at least get an outline done tonight, so if you want to be stuck here with me longer be my guest.” He gets up from the small table in his room and grabs his phone that’s on his bed, “I’ve got ramen or we can order something.” 

“Ramen,” You hum, standing up and stretching your arms above your head. You moan at the stretch, it felt so good after sitting cramped up at the table for the last three hours. But Juyeon glances up at you and he looked flustered. 

God, he was so weird. 

He cooked the ramen while you walked around the living room, snickering at the family photos on the walls, he looked like such a dork as a child. He’s silent. Back turned to you as he mixes in the seasoning packets. 

It smells so good, your mouth begins to water as your nose carries you to the smell. You lean your head into the stove, looking at the bubbling pot of ramen that smelled so spicy and delicious. Ugh, it was going to taste so good. 

“You might get burned.”

“Aweh, you're worried about me,” You tease, bumping your shoulder into his playfully

He jumps back a bit, looking at you with those same terrified eyes from earlier but this time you take offense. You barely even touched him and yet he was acting like you were some disease. God, he’s always been so full of himself, constantly acting like he’s better than everyone just because he’s handsome and smart.

“Jeez, don’t have to get your panties in a twist, I was just joking,” You scoff, your lip curling as you tut your tongue to signify your distaste for you, “I know you don’t like me, but we have to work on this project multiple times a week, so can we at least be friends?”

“I don’t,” Juyeon shook his head, “I don’t dislike you.”

“Could have fooled me,” You say, leaning back into the counter and crossing your arms over your chest.

Juyeon turned off the stovetop and lifted the pot, setting it down on a coaster on the counter, pulling open a drawer and grabbing out a second pair of chopsticks and holding them out to you. You grumble, stepping forward and taking them. You both stand in silence eating the ramen out of the pot. It was as delicious as it smelled, and the spice was at the perfect level. But after a few bites, Juyeon puts his chopsticks down on the counter.

“I’m gonna go continue reading, clean up when you’re done.”

You don’t get a word in before he’s gone, you’re too hungry to mind, gobbling down the food and rinsing the pot out in the sink. When you head back to the room, it’s obvious how pink Juyeon’s cheeks have turned and his lips are red.

“You don’t like spicy food, do you?” You question, sitting down at the table.

He shakes his head.

“Then why did you let me pick that one?”

“You wanted it,” He shrugs, staring down at the textbook in his lap. 

You notice it’s lower than usual, sprawled out over his lap like he’s trying to hide something and the pieces are starting to make sense… No, there was no way…

“Juyeon… Are you okay?” You coo.

“What,” He looks up at you, his eyes wide, “Y-Yeah, I’m fine.”

You crawl towards him and you can watch the way his expression falters and it’s so painfully clear. You snatch the book out of his lap and you gasp at what he’s been hiding. He’s turned on, sweatpants tented and his cheeks flush a deeper pink. You toss the book onto the table and he begins to stumble on his words.

“It’s not what it looks like,” He whimpers, “It just happened, I promise.”

“Aweh, It’s not from me,” You pout, feigning innocence as you reach out, brushing your fingers over his swollen cock through his pants.

He moans and you stare up at him. There has never been a time in your life when you could beat Juyeon, he was always smarter and stronger in every competition. But right now it looked like he was about to cry just at you touching his cock. And it was a good feeling…

“I can help you,” You offer, leaning forward and lowering your face closer to his crotch, “Do you want that?” You look up at him through your lashes and he’s squirming, “I can take care of you, baby.”

“P-please,” He whines, "Are you sure you can handle me?"

You apply pressure, circling your palm over his bulge, resting your head in his lap as you look up at him. Watching his expression, watching as he falls apart and it brings a smile to your face.

“Feel good?” You ask, reaching for the string of his sweatpants and pulling on it until it comes undone.

You pull them down enough that his cock is now resting against his shirt, it’s so swollen and red.

“You poor thing,” You gasp, curling your fingers around his length, “Let me kiss it better.”

You’ve barely begun to stroke him and he’s already squirming around, his lips parting and moaning so sweetly. He’s such a fucking wreck already.

“Call me your kitten.”

You perk up, running your tongue over the slit in his cock. You kiss the tip softly, before looking at him.

“You’re such a pretty kitten. So eager and well behaved…”

You lick the inside of your palm and use it to circle the tip of his cock, massaging him while you stroke his length. You sit up, your eyes washing over him. Watching the way he jerks, his entire body trembling while he’s panting hard.

“Are you going to cum, kitten?”

You can’t believe the effect such a nickname has on him, throwing his head back as his cock pulsed in your hand. You continue to massage him, using his cum as lubricant until he’s whining and begging for you to stop.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Juyeon says sadly, You've only just noticed that he’s been crying.

“It’s our little secret,” You promise him, “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

You head to the kitchen, searching around for a bowl and cloth. You fill it with warm water and return to his room. And he hasn’t moved an inch, he’s just staring at you like some lost puppy. You kneel in front of him, squeezing out the excess water and cleaning up the mess you’ve made.

“All better,” You smile, tilting your head, “Wanna finish our outline? I’ll order some takeout.”

He nods slowly. But you still don’t feel like you’ve done enough. You set the bowl of water aside and fall into him. Nuzzling your head into his chest. You can hear the way his heart is racing, you lift your head and kiss his cheek quickly.

“You were so good,” You praise, ruffling his hair and smiling brightly.

It seems to do the trick. He smiles brightly, “You don’t think I’m weird?”

You shake your head, “Is it weird that I liked being in control?”

Juyeon shook his head.

“Good, we agree on something for once,” You smile, pinching his cheek and cooing before you sit up again, “Okay, back to studying. As much as round two could be fun, I don’t want to be here all night.”

Kevin - “I don’t like to be ignored.”

[[ hard dom, hickeys/love bites, brat tamer, orgasm denial, punishment, spanking, manhandling, aftercare ]]

“Babe,” Kevin calls you from the kitchen.

You groan, clicking your mouse trying to focus on your game. You’ll answer him in just a minute, you continue clicking. Your entire team is in a raid and you can’t exactly pause. Minutes later and you’ve completely forgotten that your boyfriend has even called.

You’re sitting in your game chair, one knee tucked to your chest and you’re leaned forward, so fixated on the screen that you didn't notice that Kevin had come into your office. He watched for a while, arms crossed over his chest. Pondering what he should do to teach you a lesson.

Because truthfully. You knew he was preparing dinner and you were instructed to not play a round until after you had eaten. So, you were in the wrong. Just as you were about to beat the boss, your world began to spin, physically. You had no choice but to let go of the mouse but it didn’t stop you from trying to turn the chair back around. But Kevin overpowered you and he didn’t look happy.

“What the fuck,” You groan, trying to look back at the computer.

Kevin simpers. Reaching over and pressing the power button.

Your jaw drops… Typical gamer rage immediately took over as you began to cuss him out, you reached out trying to hit your fists into his chest. But he grabs your wrists and pins them onto the arms of the chair.

“You done?” He questions, his eyes dragging over you.

“I was coming,” You huff, glaring up at him.

“I don’t like to be ignored,” Kevin breathes… His grip tightens around your wrists, “And most importantly, I don’t like to be ignored over a video game you were told not to play yet.”

“It was just one round,” You pout, and your demeanour softens. Batting your eyelashes playfully, “I’m sorry…”

“Nice try,” Kevin coos, leaning in and biting down into your neck. He sucks the skin into his mouth. Making sure that he’d leave a mark.

It takes you by surprise, the sudden burn of his teeth sinking into your neck. It’s so hot and wet, the pain radiating down into your chest. You whine, squirming around in the chair but there is no way you’re going to escape your punishment.

“I’m sorry,” You whimper, squeezing your thighs together as he kisses up your neck.

“I’m going to teach you some manners, and since you didn’t come when you were called you won’t be allowed to cum tonight, you hear me? Use that naughty mouth of yours to tell me when you’re close”

“No-no,” You gasp, trying to get away from him, “I promise, I’ll behave.” If behaving was that easy, you wouldn't be in this situation. 

“Too late, sweetheart,” Kevin simpers, caressing your cheek sweetly before he grabs you by the hair, dragging you out of the chair and up against the wall.

— 

Kevin grabs the back of your thigh, lifting and guiding his cock to your entrance so effortlessly, he fucks into you, his hips flush with your ass in seconds. His cock reaches so deep it has you seeing stars. You can’t take it anymore.

You feel like you’re going to pass out, so exhausted from nearly coming multiple times already, he knows your body well, and he knows when you’re about to come. Even before you can whimper that you’re close. He’s already pulling away. You’ve almost come at least a dozen times already, and he’s still going. Fucking you in every position. Your body was littered with red marks. 

Between your legs was so numb, swollen and dripping in your pleasure.

“Aweh, are you going to cum sweetheart?” He simpers.

Fuck. He was so hot.

His bangs were pushed back, sweat forming on his hairline… His muscles were so defined, abs slicked in sweat. He gives one more thrust before he’s pulling out again and drops your leg. 

You can’t help but crumble to the floor.

Your thighs are trembling, unable to hold yourself up and you can’t stop panting. You squeeze your thighs together but you’re immediately scolded. 

“I-I can’t,” You whimper, falling forward and shoving your hands between your thighs to touch yourself.

Kevin tuts, “Still breaking rules? Guess you haven’t learned any manners yet.” He sinks his hands into your hair, tugging you back… You stare up at him with pleading eyes as his hand connects with your cheek. He simpers. 

You’re left whimpering as you raise your hands in the air and begin to cry harder. The tears are so hot as they stream down your face and bead down your chest. You began to blubber out apologies. You feel dizzy and hot and you can’t help but gasp for air between each sob.

“There you go,” Kevin smiles, crouching down to caress your cheek sweetly. His thumb wipes away the tears, “Are you going to behave?”

You nod your head. Desperate to please him… to prove that you can really behave.

He kisses you so roughly. Lips mashing together in such an unmatched tempo, his tongue running over your lip before he’s pulling away again. You stretch out your neck, whining at his absence.

“We’ll end here then,” Kevin says while standing up, “I think you’ve learned your lesson.”

He goes to step away but you reach out for him, grabbing onto his thigh and clinging to him like a lost child. You couldn’t bear to be left alone, you needed him.

“More,” You whimper, looking up at him through your wet lashes.

“So broken and mindless,” Kevin coos, petting your head sweetly, “Such a pretty cock whore for me...”

You’re so fucking broken, a crumpling mess as he picks you off the ground and tosses you into your gaming chair. You’re blubbering incoherent words as he pushes his cock back inside of you. His hands are on your hips, pulling you back into him like you’re some toy for his pleasure. 

“You’re so tight,” He breathes sharply, hissing at the way you squeeze around his cock. 

With each thrust, you can feel yourself about to explode… You’re so sensitive, trying to pull away but you’re no match to his strength. Hips burning from the welts forming under his nails as he holds onto you tightly, pulling your ass back into him. Slamming his hips forward at the same time.

You’re going to come.

You can’t tell him.

Everything is moving so fast. Cuming on his cock, your insides constricting and swallowing his cock deep inside of you. You begin to tremble and shake, screaming into the chair as you finally cum and it’s too much. He cums with you. Pulsing back and forth as he cums deep inside of you.

He grabs your ass, exhaling. You both just sit there panting, trying to catch your breath.

You couldn’t form a cohesive thought if your life depended on it.

“The ramen is probably gross by now,” Kevin sighs, running his hand over your back, “It’s not too late, if we shower quickly we could go for a drive and get fast food.”

You hum, sitting up slowly. His hands are on your waist, helping you get up from the chair and he continues to support you all the way to the bathroom.

“I want a milkshake,” You pout, leaning into the wall as he gets the shower ready.

He chuckles, pulling you into a hug. Kevin kisses your forehead sweetly, “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

Your heart swelled. Stomach fluttering as your mind replayed the last hour or torture you had just endured… Kevin was so hot. The way he could take charge and fuck you senseless, but in the next breath he was praising and spoiling you, always giving in to you. And that’s why you were always going to be his perfect brat. New - “Don’t underestimate me.”

[[ humiliation ( he catches you touching yourself), lots of derogatory terms, looks innocent but is fucking mean and hot , rough sex ]]

Sharing an apartment with Chanhee was exhausting. The nights were always filled with loud moans echoing through the walls, sometimes it was so hard to not touch yourself to them… So hard to not close your eyes and let your imagination run wild. Which always left things awkward while you were getting ready for classes in the morning, with him sitting at the breakfast bar with a bowl of cereal like he wasn’t up all night. You were beginning to question if he was a vampire that never slept and had ungodly stamina… You two didn’t talk much. Chanhee was rarely home and when he was there was usually someone occupying his attention.

So you don’t think much about it when you come home, kicking your shoes off and rushing to your room. 

You’ve been horny all day, squirming and throbbing between your legs for most of your last class. And you don’t know why, everything was just turning you on and you needed to touch yourself now. Your mind was only fixated on the need to touch yourself that you just fell into your bed, face shoved into the blankets as you reach between your thighs, slipping your hand into your pants and massaging yourself.

Suffocating in your moans, you’re so close… All the pent-up frustration was finally about to be released after so long.

“Cute,” Chanhee coos, leaning up against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, “I thought I heard you…”

Your stomach drops. 

“Get out,” You whimper, pulling your hand from your pants and dying mentally in your bed. You don’t even want to look at him, the shame taking over. 

“You put on a show like some desperate whore and then tell me to get out?” Chanhee scoffs, “You’ve turned me on, now how are you going to fix it?” 

You sit up, grabbing one of your pillows and throwing it at him, “I’m not a whore! It’s not my fault you moan so fucking loud all fucking night, it’s all I can think about!” 

He catches the pillow, his eyes darkening as he steps toward you. You never thought someone so pretty could look so terrifying… You're frozen, like a deer in headlights. Just watching as he sets the pillow back on your bed. 

“So, you think of me?” He questions, simpering. 

Of course, that’s all he would hear out of that sentence, what a psycho… 

“Ugh, get out,” You groan. Ready to die from your embarrassment, if only you had just closed the door you wouldn't be in this situation. 

“Make me,” Chanhee challenges. 

You scoff, getting up defensively to push him out but you’re overpowered in an instant, thrown back into the bed and Chanhee is crawling on top of you. And he’s staring at you with such ravenous eyes. You squirm. He grabs the hand that you just had in between your thighs, bringing it up to his lips. You can’t help but watch, helplessly pinned to the mattress. He smirks, guiding your fingers into your mouth. 

“Chanhee,” You whisper…  

Your stomach twists into knots as he sucks on your fingers, tasting you. He removes your fingers from his mouth and guides your hand to his crotch. Pressing your hand down into his bulge. 

“I’m so turned on,” Chanhee hums, “Watching you touch yourself so carelessly, so desperate– fuck, you looked so hot…” 

He has you completely wrapped around his finger… And he felt big, like really big. Fuck, you wanted to be fucked so bad. Who cares if he was your roommate. 

“Fuck me,” You whimper, massaging your hand into his cock… You feel good, your mind looping on the fact that this was all because of you... 

“Don’t underestimate me,” Chanhee breathes, diving forward and crashing his lips against yours. 

The kiss is deep and messy like Chanhee is trying to devour you. You can’t keep up. You’re both messily stripping off your clothes. Tumbling and rolling on the bed, kissing each other so desperately. It feels unreal when he’s between his thighs, stroking his cock before he lines up with your entrance. 

You’re fucking mewling for him, begging for him to just fuck you already but he just keeps teasing you, running the head of his cock in between your thighs and laughing at your desperation. 

Chanhee always looked so innocent in your eyes, beyond having the sex drive of a rabbit, he seemed so gentle. But in reality, he was so mean and devious. Tearing you apart piece by piece and taking what he wanted. Until finally his cock was inside of you, stretching you open until you were begging him to slow down. 

He was so big, there was no way you could take all of him... You were already so full and he was staring at you with these eyes that made your heart race. He grabbed you by the hips and pulled you into him, his cock penetrated deeper than you’ve ever taken before. You lift your head, gasping and trying to claw onto his shoulder. 

But he’s laughing and cooing at you. 

You throw your head back into the mattress, moaning and panting as he fucks into you. Slamming his cock so deep with every thrust. 

It hurts so good. 

On the verge of tears, he dives in again. His lips melding with yours and devouring your noises until he’s pulling back again. Grabbing you by the hips and flipping you over like some weightless doll, you’re on your stomach. Your face shoved into the mattress and his hands are on your waist, forcing your ass in the air as he pushed his cock into you again. 

The sound of slapping skin and moans fill the room. Your spine aches as he pins you into the mattress, all of his weight pushing you down. Every thrust has you going numb, your insides finally getting used to Chanhee’s length and you're chasing your high. The steady rhythm builds up, and your drooling into your bedsheets. 

You’re clutching the sheets and you're trying to push back your hips, so desperate for him.

“Such a perfect cock slut,” Chanhee teases, holding his cock deep inside of you as he reaches for your hair, pulling your head up, “Look at me.” 

You turn your head and he shoves his thumb in your mouth, holding you, forcing you to watch as he fucks into you. He tips his head back, groaning so roughly… His chest is slicked in sweat and you cum on the spot. Unable to hold back as you clench around him, trembling as he continues to fuck into you. 

You’re so swollen and sensitive, but he continues. Ungodly stamina was an understatement with the way that he didn’t seem to slow down, thrusting in and out of you until he was falling into you. Kissing your shoulder blades as he cums inside of you. 

“So good,” He praises. Both of his hands are on your shoulders as he kisses your spine. 

Every inch of your body aches, but the soft sensation of his lips kissing you so sweetly has you melting into the mattress like putty. So exhausted that sleep was all you could think about, so blissed out and content. Chanhee seems to have the same thought. Falling into the space beside you, draping his arm over your back. 

“You’re never getting rid of me,” Chanhee whispers, tugging you into him. 

“Shut up,” You grumble, wigging back into him before drifting off to sleep. 

What have you gotten yourself into… Q - “Wait until I get home…”

[[ riding, power bottom reader, you send nudes while he's in an important work meeting ]]

You stared at the text that flashed on your screen, you were giddy thinking about the damage you must have caused while Changmin was in his meeting this afternoon. It wasn’t your fault that you were home alone on your day off, after all, he had promised he would be home today. 

But of course, there was always some kind of surprise meeting. 

You were a little upset, so you did what you knew best. You played dirty… Pulling out some of your best clothes and dressed up for the camera, taking a good collection of sensual photos. In one of them you’re wearing one of Changmin’s favorite dress shirts, the unbuttons undone and exposing your skin so tastefully. 

You send them all one by one… Watching as the delivered mark changed to read. He ignored you. You had expected that, but you still pout and continue to send more. Sending them all one by one slowly, watching as the text bubble appears and disappears. 

Darling: Just wait until I get home... 

It has you completely riled up, dancing around the house with your favourite music playing softly in the background. You can see it now, him walking through the door with those lustful eyes. You’re about to get the attention you deserve. You’re still wearing his dress shirt and a pair of black underwear, the contrast of black and white had you feeling so pretty as you danced in the mirror freshening yourself up.

You hear the beeping at the door. Your heart begins to race as you step out of the bathroom and watch Changmin walk through the door, dropping his briefcase onto the floor and tugging at his tie and unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. His eyes meet yours.

“Darling,” You coo happily, walking towards the entryway. 

He shakes his head, his eyes darkening as they wash over you, he sighs… “You think you’re funny, huh?” 

You pretend to ponder the thought, smiling, “Kind of.” 

“I tried to ignore my phone, but you see someone just kept texting over and over, completely bypassing my do not disturb setting. The CEO of the company we're trying to work with urged that we pause so I could check my phone because it must be important…” Changmin explains while unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling his sleeves up, "Do you even understand what you did?"

"Did you like it?”

He growls, frustrated as he pushes you up against the wall. His nose shoved into your neck as he breathes you in. Hands-on your hips as he lets his desires take over, turning him into the hungry animal that you wanted; that you deserved.

His cock was already hard, rubbing against your leg.

Changmin grabs the back of your thighs, lifting you off the ground. You wrap your legs around his waist, draping your arms over his shoulders. He pressed his full weight up against you, pinning you into the wall. He kisses you softly, teasingly flicking his tongue over your lips. He kisses down your neck, playfully nipping and biting your collarbone before he exhales.

“Wanna ride you,” You coo so innocently, like some love-sick dove calling for your mate.

Changmin carries you to the bedroom while you giggle, your hands weaving into his hair, your lips against his sensitive neck. One minute you’re on top of the world and the next you’re falling, landing into the pile of blankets and you feel your stomach drop. Changmin crawls over you slowly. A hand on your hip and the other sliding against your stomach.

You reach for the buttons of his shirt, undoing them as fast as you can and pushing the shirt off his shoulders. He sits back taking it off the rest of the way before he’s falling back into you, his hungry lips on yours again. This time the kiss is deeper and suffocating. Your hands are on his belt, blindly pulling at the leather strap until it comes undone.

“So needy,” Changmin groans. Sitting back on his knees, he begins to tug your underwear past your hips and down your thighs until he’s tossing them to the floor.

You sit up, pushing him back onto the bed and crawl into his lap. You reach in between your thighs, grabbing onto his cock and guiding yourself down onto it. You’re impatient and demanding. He groans, jaw tightening as you drop yourself. Taking all of him, you moan, circling your hips and leaning forward. You kiss him, your tongue slipping into his mouth as you lift and drop your hips. 

It feels so good, taking control and using his cock to fuck yourself the way you want. 

Changmin has his hands on your waist holding onto you as you sit up, putting both of your hands onto his chest to stabilize yourself as you ride him. Rocking your hips back and forth, lifting and dropping… 

“You feel so good,” You whine, “So big and thick..” You feel yourself tighten at your own words, throwing your head back, “So fucking hot inside of me.” 

Changmin has his hands on your hips, holding you in place and fucking into you until he’s panting and gasping for air. His stomach tightens as he throws his head back. His nails digging into your hips.

“Ugh, fuck… fuck…” 

You can feel the way he pulses inside of you, his cock twitching and filling you as you continue to ride him. Rocking your hips as the pleasure builds and builds until you’re on the verge of coming and Changmin can’t stop trembling, overstimulating as you continue to ride him until you’ve finished. Your thighs squeeze his hips as you fall into his chest. 

You cum.  

And it feels just as good as you had hoped, pulsing at every movement. Panting hard into Changmins chest. He wraps his arms around you and you both stay like that for a while. 

“You’re such a brat,” Changmin sighs, rubbing your back. 

“You love it,” You hum. Basking in his warmth with your cheek pressed against his chest. Haknyeon - “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

[[ ceo/intern au, submission, soft dom, marking/hickeys, bondage/rope, neck kisses, finger fucking, subspace , lots of praise ]]

You’re nervous.

And understandably so considering your boss has just finished tying your arms behind your back with the blue jute rope that you had picked out a few nights ago when you had first discussed the deal together. And you’re beginning to feel the effects as he sits in the chair across from you. 

You loved your work, loved the company and your boss. He was such a sweet and gentle person, you would do anything for him. In your worst, he was always there cheering you on and though he had his moments of being stern, he was a caring person that wanted his team to thrive. 

In every way, you owed your life to him because you were finally living the dream and waking up every morning with a reason, a purpose. You would do anything for him. 

So, when you found out how stressed he was it was only natural that you asked your therapist during one of your sessions about a hypothetical way to help somebody's stress. She listed many things. And you tried a few of them, bringing him herbal teas and offering to work overtime to help with keeping him company late into the evenings. But the bags under his eyes only grew darker and darker from the lack of sleep. 

Haknyeon had choked on his coffee when you had first offered to be his submissive. Staining his dress shirt as he jumped forward in his seat. He got up and closed the office door, staring at you with such utter disbelief that you had even just suggested a thing. You begged, explaining a few of the things you had read and he seemed to listen. Nodding his head with his arms crossed over his chest, leaned up against his desk. 

That day would always be imprinted in your mind. The day your boss said yes to becoming your dominant and the day you realized you were a little more than just thankful for him. 

And now here you are. Heart racing and you know deep down this is more than just some office crush, more than just your admiration for him. You watch as he unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt, rolling up the sleeves to his elbows. 

“Safe word?” Haknyeon said, leaning forward into the hand on his thigh.

“Ocean.”

“Good. I’m going to touch you now but the second you say the safe word everything will stop, okay.” 

“Okay…” You pause for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts, “Master.”

Haknyeon stands up, stepping towards you and you can feel the butterflies… The way his shoes click on the floor and the scent of clean linen and sandalwood burning from the candles on the table. The scene is set. 

Ready…3…2…1…

Action.

Haknyeon tilts your chin up, his eyes washing over your exposed body so slowly it has your heart racing, feeling insecure as he takes in every inch of your skin. You try to look away but he tuts softly, turning your head more to look up at him. 

You watch as his demeanour completely changes, the softness in his eyes exchanged with this look that makes you feel so small and uneasy. He looked like a completely different person, eye-fucking you as his hand lowers, tickling your skin as he crouched down in front of you. 

Two fingers trailing down your stomach and down the curve of your hips, his eyes following the hand that is now between your thighs.

“I wanna kiss you,” Haknyeon whispers, “Everywhere…”

He leans in, kissing your shoulder softly… His lips tag you with invisible marks until he’s made his way to your neck. He slips his hand between your thighs, massaging you and sinking his teeth into your neck at the same time.

You gasp.

Your vision blurs as you blink slowly, your head spinning as you slip further and further out of control. He continues to bite at your neck, sucking and kissing until it’s so tender you swear you have to be bleeding by now. He pulls back. His attention was now directed to your thighs once more as he spread your legs apart, enjoying the view as he touched you so teasingly. His fingers slicked with your pleasure. 

Haknyeon's shoulders slump, exhaling. He’s falling into the role easier than he thought, touching you so slowly and basking in the moment of worshipping you slowly. His lips meet your skin again, kissing along your chest as he slips two fingers inside of you. Pumping them in and out so slowly, listening to the way your breathing has changed, the way your chest rises and falls with the push of his fingers. 

“You’re so pretty,” He praises. He caresses your cheek, leaning in to kiss you. 

The kiss is so soft at first, deepening gradually as he swallows down every soft whimper and moan you make until you’re trembling so hard, squirming and trying to close your legs to escape his touch. 

“I want to fuck you…” Haknyeon says, and it almost sounds like he’s begging for your approval, like he’s so desperate and unable to stop himself, “On your knees.” 

You do as he says, tucking your legs underneath you and getting into a kneeling position. He helps support you with your arms tied behind your back. He gets behind you and you can hear his belt being undone and you’re already squeezing your thighs together. 

Haknyeon was going to fuck you. 

Your boss was going to fuck you… On the floor of his living room, with your arms tied behind your back… You felt like you were floating, barely comprehending the way he pushed you forward, your chest pressed against the floor and your ass presented in the air. Your eyes roll as he pushes himself inside of you, stretching you open, taking him inch by inch. It feels like it’s never-ending. He feels so warm, pulsing inside of you… 

Haknyeon takes your hand and you grab onto his tightly, grounding yourself as he begins to move in a slow push and pull. Basking in the way you feel around his cock, so warm and tight. He tips his head back groaning. 

The roughness in his voice has you seeing stars... Eyes closed as you let the waves of pleasure wash over you. Moaning and crying as he fucked into you, pulling you under the current of his lust. You’re so blissed out. 

“So tight,” He praises, “You’re doing so well, so perfect, just for me.” 

The praise loops in your mind. 

So good…So perfect…

Drool dripping from your lips, glossy and swollen…Your cheek is wet. And you feel so overwhelmed, tears forming in your eyes as the pleasure takes over. The final wave pulls you under and holds you hostage, as you whimper into the floor. Crying out for Haknyeon so sweetly. 

He answers your call, praising you… Telling you how beautiful you are, how sweet and perfect… Made just for him. Time escapes you, unable to keep track of how long Haknyeon fucks you, pulling you into his lap and fucking you from this angle. He’s surprised how gone you are, drooling and moaning, barely able to hold yourself up. 

It’s exactly what Haknyeon needed. All of the stress washes away with each sweet moan you sing into his ear. 

He holds you close to him as he cums, his body melting into yours, panting and breathing heavily. Until he’s untying your arms and picking you up. He carries you to the bedroom, wiping your body with a warm cloth before he crawls into the bed with you. Holding you against his chest and you both fall asleep. 

Haknyeon sleeps through the night, and it’s the first time in months that he’s woken up to the sun and not the usual late-night darkness. Your head is on his chest and you're holding his waist… You were his insomnia cure. Sunwoo - “Now that I got your attention…”

[[ cliché brothers bestfriend, minor violence ( he protects you ), he's so soft and hot ngl, like hear me out sunwoo would be the ultimate simp and this just fits him so well ]]

It’s not that you haven’t noticed his attempts, it’s that you had dodged them so well that he must have thought you didn’t notice. His efforts were only getting more and more drastic and bold. 

But Sunwoo was your brother's best friend, they had been friends most of your life and you weren’t about to get involved in that kind of a mess. 

Of course, that’s until Sunwoo has a guy that has been pestering you all night by the collar and he’s punching him hard. Until he lets go and the guy topples to the floor. Everyone is watching silently, all confused and curious. But you…Fuck, that was so hot. 

“Fucking creep,” Sunwoo spits, his cheeks are red and you can tell that he’s holding himself back, “Think of this pain every time you get the urge to be a fucking perv.” And he kicks the guy right in the crotch. 

The guy lurches forward, holding his cock in his hand. Whimpering and whining on the ground, his face bloody and already bruising. Sunwoo’s lip curls in disgust as he turns around and grabs you by the arm roughly. You’re silent as he drags you away from the party and towards his car. 

“What are you doing?” You finally question as you get into the passenger seat. 

“I’m taking you home,” Sunwoo says as he turns the ignition, “I don’t trust you alone. Why are you even at a party like this?”

You smile nervously, “Well. It was my friend's idea and I’m supposed to be staying at her place tonight, so I kind of told my brother that I was staying with her… But we planned on staying out all night, but uhm she kind of left with a dude.” 

“Are you kidding me, y/n?” Sunwoo scoffs. “You’re an adult already, why are you lying?”

“You know how my brother is,” You whine, “I don’t get why he always has to be so goddamn protective all the time, it’s normal to be adventurous in college.” 

Sunwoo sighs, “You can stay at my place and I’ll keep your secret. And y/n?”

“Mmm?” 

“Get better friends.” 

You scoff, “Like that’s possible. Can we get food?” 

The drive is the most fun you’ve had in a while, listening to Sunwoo’s loud music while you fill your face with fries. Watching the blur of streetlights and light rain that pelts the windshield while you drive back to the apartment. 

At a stop light, you notice how bloody Sunwoo’s knuckles are and for some reason it has you squirming in your seat… Has Sunwoo always been this attractive?

He catches you staring and you can’t look away, staring at him like it’s the first time you were really seeing him. The lights flash green and he pulls his eyes away to go and you watch the way he drives, it’s so ridiculously attractive and it was driving you insane. 

You flop down onto his bed, moaning at how squishy and comfortable it is. 

“Your apartment is nice,” You say, sitting up and looking around his room. It’s not what you were expecting at all. 

Sunwoo is standing across the room staring at you and you start to feel a little awkward under his stare. 

You knew he liked you and he was always making passes behind your brother's back so you could only imagine what he was thinking right now. Most of all…You were going insane because you knew he would do anything for you. And there was too much power in knowing that if you asked him to fuck you, he’d been across the room in a second to touch you. 

The thought gives you butterflies and you look down at the bed. 

“Does your hand hurt?” 

“A little,” Sunwoo confesses, looking down at his bruising knuckles, “I’m sorry if that was a lot. I just saw the look on your face as he touched you and I lost it.” 

“No-no,” You shake your head, “It was… uhm really cool.” 

“Cool?” Sunwoo chuckles, “You flatter me..” 

He shakes his head, repeating the word 'cool' as he turns around and starts to pull open drawers and dig through his dresser. He sets them beside you on the bed. 

“You can uhm shower and put these on, and you can sleep in the bed tonight.” 

“Where will you sleep?” 

“Are you asking me to sleep with you?” He simpers, his eyes doing a slow swipe over you.

You shake your head. Grabbing the stack of clothes and excusing yourself to go and shower. 

Sunwoo is sitting in the living room when you come out of the shower and suddenly you feel a little self-conscious wearing his black t-shirt and sweats. He looks like he’s prepared a blanket and pillow on the couch. He’s wearing a pair of sweats and he’s taken his shirt off. Your eyes fall onto his chest, it’s so obvious that you’re staring. 

“Sunwoo,” You whisper... It’s almost a whimper, your face feels like it’s on fire, “Sleep with me tonight….” 

It’s so bold…possibly stupid. But you don’t care, he gets up off the couch and in a second his hands are cupping your face and his plush lips are pressed into yours. He kisses you roughly, and in a matter of seconds, your lips are already aching from the force that he crashed into you. His hands were holding you so tight like you’d disappear. It was so full of passion and desperation, for years he had only ever dreamed of being able to kiss you. 

The next thing you know you’re both making your way to the bedroom, taking turns tossing eachother into walls and removing your clothes until you’re naked and being pushed into the bed. Sunwoo is on top of you in seconds. His lips against your thighs, kissing every inch of you as his hands hold onto making sure you don’t run away from him. 

“I should have punched someone sooner,” Sunwoo moans, kissing the inside of your thighs and you grab onto his hair, tugging and throwing your head back into the bed. “Now that I have your attention…Let me take care of you, baby.” 

“I want you,” You whine. 

“You can have all of me,” Sunwoo says as he kisses your stomach, “You’ve always had me…” 

You’re melting. How was he so fucking adorable and sweet, but so annoyingly hot. He kisses every inch of your body, praising you. Telling you how beautiful you are, complimenting your skin and your curves. And you’re so desperate you’re begging for him to fuck you already.

He assures you that he will, that he’ll fuck you so good… And it makes your stomach flutter, ugh why was he so..ugh. 

And finally, you’re laying on your side and he’s laying up against you, his lips kissing your shoulder blades softly. He grabs your thigh lifting it as he pressed his cock to your entrance and pushes in slowly. It feels so inexplicably good, the angle has you swooning. He lowers your leg and wraps his arms around your waist, holding you tightly as he fucks into you nice and slow. And you’re going insane. 

He’s taking his time and enjoys this moment. 

He’s so disgustingly sweet, making sure you’re okay and kissing your neck. Laughing sweetly and confessing how much he’s enjoying this. He was such an embarrassing flirt but you were going crazy over it, loving the way he was worshipping you and taking care of you. 

“You’re doing so good,” Sunwoo hums, running his hand over your hip, “So tight and wet for me…” 

You’re pulsing between your thighs and all you can do is moan so pathetically, your eyes fluttering as you feel him moving inside of you. He’s so warm and comforting… It’s easy the way you seem to overflow into him. Cumming on his cock with a muffled whimper, your body trembling as he continued to move in and out of you slowly. It’s such a slow pace and you can’t believe you’ve come just from this, but every stroke is so slow, stretching you open, feeling how full you are with him inside of you. His warm body against yours, his moans in your ear. Every twitch of his cock. 

Fuck. 

“I’m going to cum,” Sunwoo whispers into your back. He pulls you into him as he begins to pant harder with each stroke, his voice is so raspy and low it makes your heart race. 

You can feel him inside of you. The pulse of his cock and the warmth. It has you mewling, pushing yourself into him. 

“I’ll lie for you any day,” Sunwoo teases, chuckling faintly. 

“If my brother finds out, he’s going to kill you,” You say smugly, playing with his fingers that are still pressed into your stomach. 

“It’d be worth it.” 

Eric - “Anything you want I will do it for you, please just…”

[[ nsfw videos, he likes to wear cute kitty ears and be called cute in the bedroom, he talks a lot when he’s nervous, so cute and whiney ]]

You’ve always been a curious person by nature, so it comes as no surprise that you spend your free time alone watching everything and anything. It’s not surprising you’ve made an NSFW account and it’s not surprising you enjoy following random accounts and watching their porn videos. It was never really for pleasure, mostly a cure-all to your boredom. Scrolling through videos and watching a few seconds of someone getting railed before you continued on. But that was until you stumbled upon a video that captured your full attention. 

He’s fisting his cock and his moans alone are enough to have you shoving your hand between your legs to touch yourself. You’ve never felt this effect before, never felt this kind of desperation over a video. But he was so alluring and sexy. He was so needy and whiney. 

You let the video replay until you cum. And you pick up your phone again to look at the video just as the guy’s hand moved out of the way just enough that you see black ink on his skin that looks familiar. You sit up, clicking on his account and scrolling looking through all of his photos and videos. And there is no doubt in your mind that is Eric… 

Oh fuck, he was always so annoying and loud in classes. You would have never pegged him to be this kind of a person. He was friends with a few of your friends, so there was the odd occasion where you would see him at a party or he’d join you all for karaoke. But fuck… You wanted him more than ever now. 

A few days pass by and you’ve found yourself in the perfect opportunity to get him alone.

“I’ll go get more beer,” Eric chirps, jumping up from his seat the second that someone complained they were out. 

You were all having a BBQ on your friend's rooftop, celebrating their new internship. 

“I’ll help,” You offer, grabbing your jacket and following him downstairs. 

The walk is awkward at first. Obviously, you’re thinking about how much you want to fuck him and he’s mindlessly talking about something you don’t understand. You stop.

“You okay?” 

You shake your head, “Uhm... I’ve watched your videos.” 

He runs his hand through his bangs, laughing nervously, “What videos?” 

“The ones you posted on your blog.”

“I dunno what you’re talking about,” He shakes his head, “What kind of videos are you watching, y/n.” 

“I know it was you,” You say, looking up at him, “I know your tattoo.” 

He takes you seriously now. He looked like a deer caught in headlights and he began to stutter, rambling on and not really making sense. 

Until finally, he’s stepping towards you, resting his forehead on your shoulder, “Anything you want I’ll do for you, please just…don’t tell anyone about those videos.” 

“I won’t,” You shake your head, “God, no. Eric, I would never show anyone your personal videos, I just uhm...fuck, I just feel so guilty that I’ve gotten off them…” 

He pulls away, his eyes washing over you with what feels like excitement, “Really? You don’t think it’s weird? Everyone always says it’s annoying and weird that I get so worked up and vocal, I just can’t help it,” He’s rambling, “I always suppress it…And I hate it…It just feels so good to–” 

You fall into him… Kissing him to shut him up, your arms draped around his neck and your tongue slipping into his mouth. He wraps his arms around your waist pulling you in closer. The kiss is more intense than you could have imagined. He’s already moaning into the kiss. You pull away, kissing his jaw all the way down to his neck. 

“It’s so hot,” You whisper. You place a wet open-mouthed kiss on the inside of his neck, sucking on the skin and biting playfully.

Eric moans in your ear and you feel giddy… You can’t believe this is real and not just a video on repeat, you want more. Biting hard and sucking until he’s breathless and pushing you away. 

“We can’t do this here,” He pants hard. Taking a step back. 

Completely neglecting the beer run, you’re both falling into his bed, fighting against your clothes and the desire to not stop kissing for longer than a few seconds. 

“Did you really get off to me?” Eric asks, kissing down your chest. 

“Yeah,” You pant, your nails dragging across his back, “You’re so cute…”

You panic, worrying that cute wasn’t the right term but he’s looking up at you with those beady eyes, flustered and blushing. He kisses your stomach and sits up to lean over the bed. He pulls up a black box and looks at you, almost seeking confirmation. 

“What?” You question, tilting your head and sitting up. 

He opens the box and pulls out a pair of black ears and you immediately coo about how cute they are. He looks at you with pure excitement and he's rambling on excitedly about how they're his favourite ears and he thought he looked cute in them too, but he's never shown, anyone. And you can't help but watch him ramble, your eyes softening at how fucking adorable he is. He puts them on his head and asks you how he looks. 

“You look so cute, baby,” You say, “Wanna ride you…”

Eric is on his back. His hands are on your hips as you guide his cock to your hole and lower yourself. It feels so good, sinking down until your ass is against his thighs. Your hands against his chest as you lean forward to kiss him, you rock your hips until he’s mewling against your mouth. He's panting, trying to breathe through it. You sit up, arching your back to raise your hips easier. Fucking yourself on his cock while you listen to him moan, every second passing and you’re in heaven.

He really looks so cute with those ears on and his voice… It was such a turn-on. 

You can’t help but reach between your thighs touching yourself. And he looks up at you, his eyes glossy and watching you like you’re the best things he’s ever fucking seen. His hands drag over your thighs, squeezing each time he exhales. 

“You’re doing so good,” You praise, “So cute and good for me, hmm? Fuck, you’re so big…” 

“So tight,” Eric coos, throwing his head back into the pillow, “Feels so good, so good, gonna c-cum.”

“Cum for me…You’re so deep.” 

He’s moaning so loud, it’s so high-pitched and breathy and it’s so much hotter than the videos you had watched. You sink yourself down, dropping your weight and clenching around him. Pulling your hand from between your thighs as you let your orgasm take over. You can feel him pulsing…He’s a mess and you soak in every second, watching his eyes flutter and he pants hard. 

You lay on top of him, resting your head on his sweaty chest. 

“You sound so pretty,” You hum, happily. 

[[ Ahhhh thank you for reading, again I'm sorry this is so long hhh I really did try to contain myself. This was both a nightmare and fun so I hope you enjoy, it's been so long since I've written so I really hope this is okay ㅠㅠ ]]

[atimeofyourlife]

A coffee delivery

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: coffee shop/ tattoo au | rated: t | wc: 906 | tags: coffee shop au, tattoo au, tattoo artist eddie munson, barista steve harrington, pre steddie

Steve had something of a love/hate relationship with the morning shift at the coffee shop. On one hand, it meant he didn't have to take part in the evening cleaning, and he had most of the afternoon free. But on the other hand, it meant he had to be up early and had to deal with opening and set up.  Rude customers occurred at any time of the day. In the morning it was the customers angry that they weren't willing to open thirty minutes before their scheduled time. In the evening, they were angry that they didn't stay open over an hour past their scheduled closing time. There were two main things that made up for the rude customers. Being an independent coffee shop over a chain meant they didn't have a corporate office to answer to, so the boss allowed them to talk back and deny service to any customer that was too rude. And the nice customers generally outweighed the bad ones, the ones who would tip generously, who were always polite and kind, who would stick up for them against the bad ones.

But Steve's favorite part of the job was the guy who worked in the tattoo store a few buildings down on the other side of the street. A guy named Eddie, who would come in five days a week without fail. Always ordering a large caramel latte with two extra shots. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes before the tattoo shop was due to open. His name was Eddie, and he always made the time to flirt with Steve when he picked up his coffee.

One morning, Steve was just waiting for Eddie to come in for his coffee. It had passed the normal time he would come in, and Steve felt a little worried. Eddie had, as usual, said the day before that he would be back the next day. Steve was staring out the window, on a lookout for Eddie. Unable to keep himself from getting anxious as the time ticked by. But then, about thirty minutes after Eddie would have usually walked in, Steve saw him run down the street, obviously late to open the tattoo store. He let out a sigh of relief, but couldn't help feeling disappointed that he wouldn't get to see Eddie.

"Look, if you're that upset that you don't get to see and flirt with him today, just make the coffee and take it over to him." Robin said from beside Steve. "We're not busy, and the lunchtime rush won't start for at least thirty minutes. Just don't leave me alone too long."

"Robin, you're the best." He hugged her quickly, before turning to start making the drink.

"Just write your number on it, or at least try to get a date. It's getting painful watching you both flirt everyday."

Steve ignored her, writing Eddie's name on the to go cup, and finishing the drink. He was about to walk out from behind the counter, but stopped and one of the cookies that Eddie sometimes ordered. He was nervous as he left the store and crossed the street. Unsure if this was crossing a line, or if Eddie would think Steve was stalking him.

Steve pushed open the door to the tattoo shop, and could see Eddie cleaning furiously.

"Hi, sorry. I'm running a touch late, so if-" Eddie started, trailing off as he turned around and saw Steve.

"Er, hi. You didn't come in this morning, and I saw you run past and it was obvious you were late. So I thought I would bring you coffee and a cookie?" Steve replied, holding them out to Eddie.

"Oh. Thanks, Stevie. You are a life saver. My van crapped out this morning so I had to take the bus, but it was running late, and part of the road was closed. And I had an appointment booked for opening, and I was already late. But the client hasn't shown up yet." Eddie rambled, taking the coffee and the cookie from Steve, instantly taking a drink of the coffee.

"Sounds like a real rough morning. I hope I managed to help make it a little better for you."

"You made it so much better. You are an angel among men right now."

Steve found himself getting lost in Eddie's eyes, and jumped as he heard the bell over the door signaling someone coming in.

"I've got an appointment this morning? I know I'm a bit late for it, I did try to call-" The customer said.

"Of course. I just need a few more minutes to finish setting up." Eddie replied. He placed the coffee down on a desk and grabbed a business card, scribbling something down on it, before handing it to Steve. "I'm really going to have to get on, but I'll see you around, Steve."

"Uh, yeah. I'm going to have to get back before Robin tries to kill me for taking too long." Steve waved, before leaving and heading back to the coffee shop.

"What's that?" Robin asked as soon as Steve rejoined her, her eyes focused on the card in Steve's hand.

"Eddie gave it to me." Steve replied, turning it over and looking at what Eddie had written on it for the first time. It was a phone number tagged with the words 'call me' and a smiley face. Yeah, the trip across the street had been successful.

[beachy--head]

A few people asked for a part two of this drabble, and picturing these two being absolutely clueless was too funny to pass up. So here is Jackson, courting April, Boston style.

(also, happy birthday @japril12!!)

___

It may surprise people, but Jackson Avery has never really courted a woman. In the past, he just smiled and offered someone a drink, and that was generally the only move needed. Sure, he’s gone on dates, and knows the basics (he was raised by Catherine Avery, after all). He’s not socially inept, and is usually good at working a room or feigning an interest in what another person is saying. 

All of it is useful for his new position at the foundation, but it doesn’t prevent the fact that here he is, 40 years old and clueless about what exactly he’s supposed to do or how to win over someone. And not anyone. Someone who deserves to be courted, someone who holds all the power over him, someone who takes his breath away when she so much as smiles at him, someone who would have every right to laugh at him and slam the door in his face. The pressure is crushing, because he knows that this is it and that he cannot mess this up. This time it has to work, because April Kepner is forgiving, but he’s pretty sure he’s running out of second chances.

He could ask around him for advice, but his circle of trusted friends is limited, and he’s positive he doesn’t want to have to face Ben’s knowing smile or Richard’s vague life lessons that would be immediately reported to his mother. No, he has to handle things himself, and flowers seem like a good place to start. April likes flowers, right? Flowers can say a lot of things, and April likes taking care of them and having them in her house and her office, and he’s pretty sure she would get the hint, because you don’t get flowers from anyone. Yep, flowers it is. 

___

Jackson is acting weird.

First with the flower deliveries. Every week or so, a bouquet greets April when she enters her office at the Foundation. The card reads “J. Avery”, but the combination of wild flowers would be enough to know who the culprit was. She’s sure there’s a rational explanation, though. He probably wants to show he’s grateful she uprooted her life to move to Boston. Or he maybe wants to congratulate her for her work at the foundation (she’s not one to boast, but she’s pretty happy with the outreach program she’s just finished setting up and that has been her main goal since she’s started working here). Yeah, he’s just being a thoughtful co-parent and a good boss, and she doesn’t have to read anything in these fancy floral arrangements.

It gets weirder when he hands her one day a gift certificate for a fancy spa in the city.

“Is it something you give every employee who has finished a big project?”

“No?”

“Is it a gift from your mother you’re trying to get rid of because you hate getting a massage?”

“No!”

“Then why are you giving me this?”

“Because you’ve worked hard on the program, and you deserve to unwind and stay for way too long in one of these sauna rooms.”

“Way too long? Coming from someone who cannot stay even two minutes inside one, that’s–”

“I just don’t get why you would voluntarily stay in a 150 degrees room and sweat with other people!”

“Sweat wi… Seriously?”

They keep bantering for the next thirty minutes, and she tried to hide it, but she’s still grinning hours after he leaves her office.

She has to ask questions, though, when he hands her two plane tickets from Columbus to Boston (she's very careful to avoid touching his hand when she takes the tickets, because she doesn't get butterflies when their skins come into contact. She doesn't. Absolutely not).

“What…?”

“It’s for your parents. You mentioned you couldn’t go to Moline next month because of all your big meetings and that you missed them, so I figured they would maybe like to visit you and Boston, and see Harriet, and...” He trails off when he sees her expression, and it takes her a few seconds to stop staring at him and shake her head.

“Jackson, you don’t have to do this. I don’t know if it’s because you feel guilty for asking me to leave Seattle, or–”

“That’s not what I’m doing!”

He almost looks insulted, and she's lost.

“Then what is all this?” She gestures towards the tickets, and then to a freshly delivered bouquet (yesterday’s order, sunflowers and irises), and she swears she can hear him take a deep breath, the way he does when he’s nervous about something.

“That’s– I– Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

“What?”

[starlightshadowsworld]

Bsd except Dazai was never part of the Port Mafia.

But he keeps somehow getting involved with them. To the point a lot of the Port Mafia think he is.

Like Dazai was just going for a walk through Suribachi city, because he was bored.

Next thing you know, he and Chuuya are facing down the dead Port Mafia Boss.

Chuuya joins the Port Mafia, Dazai isn't even part of it. And they still end up becoming Double Black.

Because their both chaos magnets and keep running into each other during various crisis's.

Mori keeps trying to recruit Dazai and he refuses every time.

There's an executive spot open for him, but no one realises that it hasn't been taken.

There's a whole ass legend about the Demon Prodigy of the Port Mafia. That he's so sinister and evil no one knows what he looks like.

Meanwhile Dazai's just some broke artist that works at some cafe.

He found the Akutugawa siblings starving on one of his walks and invited them into the cafe.

Where he teased em for putting way too much sugar in their tea and they've been close ever since.

They both still end up join the Port Mafia and visit often.

Dazai's given Akutugawa some pointers on his ability.

And because of that, Akutugawa works hard to make him proud. He considers Dazai his first mentor and respects the hell out of him.

This story is interpreted very differently by the Port Mafia. Who see Akutugawa's rage and violence. And assume his mentors to blame.

And not... Him being 16 and incredibly emo.

His actual mentor in the Port Mafia is Chuuya.

But people rarely see them together and assume it's the mysterious Demon Prodigy. A man so dead inside he probably beats up his subordinate and is endlessly cruel.

Cut to Dazai at the cafe, lighting up and bouncing over as soon as the Akutugawa siblings show up at the cafe.

Mori's not exactly helping to stop the rumours.

Dazai still befriends Oda and Ango, they're regulars and they frequent Bar Lupin together. And Mori still uses them against him.

Odasaku dies and Dazai joins the Agency. To make the most out of his life, and to personally spite Mori forevermore.

Dazai meets Atsushi, gets him some food and is just like welp another stray.

Reasons that with Atsushi's lack on control with his ability, and desperate need of a job. Helps him land one at the Agency.

There's like 3 minutes of Akutugawa and Atsushi having a stare off before they just sit, drink tea together and have a nice conversation.

Though they have to put up appearances in battle of course. Since their technically enemies but only at work.

Dazai's "secret" comes out and he spends a good long hour screaming profanities into a pillow before explaining himself.

The layout of the Port Mafia being one Dazai knows, it's because he's been kidnapped that many times and has made fun of the structure.

Mori took that as constructive criticism and made the changes.

Dazai just really hates Mori.

He makes it very clear to everyone at the Agency that everything he knows about Mori and the Port Mafia inner workings is entirely against his will.

But man it took a lot of convincing.

Like yes I might have Port Mafia connections, some personal ones. I might also resemble the vague description of the "Demon Prodigy."

And sure there's an executive spot quite literally with my name on it. And yeah I know Mori, unfortunately better than most people.

But I am not a member of the Port Mafia and I never have been.

... See this is why I kept my past a secret.

Yosano is just like, no yeah that checks out he would do that.

And Ranpo is just laughing his ass off and says Dazai's telling the truth and there is peace... For now.

[archivxx]

I love my 🩻 anon so much for this.

Should of faxed it. {Kyle Broflovski x Reader}

✯ Genre: smut (reader is fem)(Kyle is aged up.)

✯ Relationship: unestablished, enemies.

✯ Style: One shot

✯ Context: you’ve been working in this law firm under Kyle as his assistant for longer than you can remember and it’s the most frustrating and draining job you’ve ever had.

Your legs were moving under you faster than you were aware of. At this point you may have even been running with the speed which things were going past you. You didn’t really care, if you were running then, despite the fool you were absolutely making of yourself, that’s fine. Good even. It’s probably what you needed really. You were running late. Extremely late. You needed to make it into the office as soon as possible, you could practically see your bosses face when you closed your eyes. He would not be impressed, that deep crease that occupied the space between his eyebrows sunk even deeper than usual.

There was no doubt that your boss was handsome, you even had some lingering feelings for him from when you started, however after three years of essentially being his “bitch” you had grown almost completely unattracted to him, almost, and you absolutely and wholly hated him, and he most definitely hated you too. Honestly, you were willing to argue about it for days on end, no person who respected you as a colleague would ever treat said colleague as though they’re a slave.

You burst through the glass doors of his office with his coffee mumbling an apology for the dramatic entrance and lowering your head in attempts to be less noticeable. You walked, or more so strode over to his desk in attempt to make the time you were in the room shorter, the faster you were out of there the faster you could forget about the mess that was this morning.

You placed the coffee down on the desk and turned to leave. You’d actually gotten out of the whole thing completely unscathed. You began to head for the door.

“Wait.” Shit fucker.

You slowly turned on your heel, “Can I help you, Kyle?”

“What time do you call this.” He got up from his seat and advanced towards you.

You stared at him for a long moment. What the fuck does he mean? You stared at him for a moment more, finding the right words, trying your best to not spit venom at him. “What the do you mean, “what time do you call this?” Do you realise,”—You wanted to stop, you really did but it was far too late now, he needed to hear this anyway—“the only reason I’m late is because I stood in line for almost an hour,” You began to raise your voice. “Because your picky ass can’t just have regular coffee like everyone else, noooo, you can’t because you’re Kyle Broflovski, you’re too good to drink regular coffee like other people, you have to have it done perfectly by a fucking barista that doesn’t get payed anywhere near enough to deal with shitty ass customers like you.” You took a deep breath in attempt to calm down, “So, if you must know, I’m late because of you.”

He stared at you. No, he more so bore into you. His eyes had gone dark, almost sinister. His mouth bobbed a few times. You almost cried, you couldn’t quite believe your eyes. For the first time ever, you’d rendered Kyle Broflovski completely speechless.

He was still glaring at you. You began to back up slightly, you felt like prey. With the way he was looking at you, you thought you might have actually turned into a piece of meat and Kyle was your predator.

You took in a sharp, painful breath about to apologise when Kyle took one long step towards you, almost a leap. Before you could move away from him and run for your life he had grabbed your hips and was kissing you.

You pushed him off with all your strength, with was enough you make him stumble. It was now your turn to glare, you waited for an answer.

“I’m sorry for my improperness, however, that speech right now…truly…something.” The tone of his voice was almost evil, you truly enjoyed it. Deep down you knew you wanted this. On a surface level, you knew you wanted this and it killed you to admit that you’d been thinking about thing since day one.

Not matter how much you hated Kyle that did not change the inevitable fact that he was absolutely sexy, a sexy that you had to train yourself to resist. A sexy that almost sent your silly when he would talk to you. He was sexy in a smouldering way, arguably the perfect kind of sexy.

The fact you knew you both wanted this for some odd and unexplainable reason made him all the more desirable.

It was your turn to “leap” at him. This time you actually did leap though, you jumped up, wrapping your legs around his waist and kissing him. He didn’t hesitate to kiss back, making his way over to his desk.

When you got to his desk, he placed you down, not exactly gently. He trapped you between his hands on the desk continuing to kiss you, not once breaking for air.

When he finally did break for air, he stared at you, you could tell by the look on his face he wanted to ask for your consent without but completely unsure of the words to use. “I give you my consent, boss.” The nickname must have really helped him as his started to make quick work of removing your clothes, slipping your pencil skirt off and letting it pool on the floor and unbuttoning your shirt at a speed you’d never seen before from anyone unbuttoning a shirt, not even ripping a button off.

He began kissing your chest, not making any move to unclasp your bra. No, instead he made work of your pants, starting off by hooking his fingers in the hem of them. He peeled them off your at a painful slow speed compared to when he had been taking off your skirt.

He stared at you, his cold eyes lingering over you for longer than you had anticipated. He was raking you in, soaking up the sight, to like you were absolutely gorgeous but at the same time an absolute beast, you had a sharp tongue and a complimentary eye for mistakes. You had called him out many times and no matter how much it pissed him off he had wanted to fuck the hatred he had for you right out of him.

He waisted no time taking off his own clothes either, disposing of his own suit on the floor.

He somewhat forcefully grabbed your thighs and pushed them open. He lined up and before you had a chance to prepare your he pushed into you, knocking every thought out of your head. You let your head roll back.

He didn’t give you much time before he was moving, driving his hips forward with a power that, for such a small framed man, shocked you. You let a whimper fall past your lips, spreading your legs as far as you could, he was hitting all the perfect spots.

It did take very long for you both be become disheveled. Your orgasm was so near that you could practically feel it. Your knees were tingling and your core was tightening. Right when you were about to grab onto that hot white heat of release that you longed for, Kyle pulled out.

He pulled out. What the fuck was he pulling this time? What an asshole.

Then, before you could protest, he pried you off the desk making you stand, turned you around and bent your over the desk, not a single word leaving his lips. You couldn’t help but feel more attracted to him in that moment, your cheeks were burning and your core tightened more.

Before you could get any answers from him, he stuffed himself back inside you, returning to his previous speed. The new angle left your feeling starstruck. He was abusing all of the parts that he needed to.

A whimper landed on your back, the small sound tickled you. He placed a kiss against your shoulder blade continuing to pound you with passion, passion that you knew was duped by hatred. As much as you both wanted the, the idea of knocking each other down to their most vulnerable state drove you more towards it. The was no denying your hatred for one another however there was also no denying your attraction to one another.

You could practically hold your orgasm in your hand. It was so close. Mere inches away. You could feel the heat bubbling up inside you, and you could feel it in him too. He was close, you could tell by the way his drive had gotten higher, he’d become rougher with you. Sharp and harsh snaps of his hips, your skin clapping together.

A longer moan left your lips as your orgasm crashed over you. That sweet release you’d been waiting for. Kyle’s hips began to stutter. Then, long white ropes painted your inside, his hips coming to a holt. He teased his head on your back tickling you with his breath.

“Fuck, Y/N.”

You couldn’t say much, in fact you couldn’t think much. When Kyle had finally regained his bearings, he pulled out, allowing his semen to ooze out of you, trying not to pay much attention too it. He redressed himself quickly while you came back to reality.

When you’d finally come back from your high, you pushed yourself off the table. You dressed yourself as quickly as your could and made your way towards the door.

“Hold on.” You turned on your heel feeling a slight sense of deja vu. “Don’t be late again.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, boss.” Asshole. And with that you stormed out of his room, trying to best to not slam the door behind you. You head straight for your office.

Bye this is sooo bad💀

[lynxtheserval]

Hi! Can I request a Yandere Boombox X Fem Reader?

(tw: Lots of Yandere shit like holy hell I think I went crazy with this one tbh (like murder (probably), stalking, stabbing with a glass thingy, probably more) please don't read this if anything related to this scares or triggers you, brother I was wondering if I went a little crazy with this one)

Yandere!Boombox x Fem!Reader:

I loved writing this one ngl, his personality might be a little ooc cuz I've never written for Boombox before.

It may be a little better written in certain spots then others, this was made in multiple days.

I like to call him blocky Lucio (totally not a overwatch fan LMAO)

You were having a rough day. The casual old "wake up on the wrong side of the bed" thing.

First, you get in the shower when it's still cold. Freezing, even.

Second, you ran out of coffee to make at home, went to the local coffee shop just to have them get your order wrong twice. You didn't even get the right drink at the end, just taking what you got, you were in a rush after all.

Third, the past couple weeks you've been feeling watched, you assumed it was just anxiety but were never sure. The feeling was especially strong today.

Fourth, you ended up getting to work late, accidentally making your boss mad. Your boss wasn't a great person.

"Why the HELL are you late?!" Your boss yelled at you when he saw you walk through the employee only door, "I told you to be here over an hour ago!"

"I'm sorry sir," you started, "some stuff happened-"

"Some stuff, eh?" He interrupted, "like, what? Your parents died?"

"No but-"

"Then you have no right to be late!" He stomped off, leaving you to get to work. Apparently they were short-staffed today, as you work at one of those fancy restaurants a bunch of higher-ups go to. It was empty, so you didn't understand why he was so mad.

As you started cleaning up some of the tables, you heard the door open and a particular looking demon walked through. He was wearing a light green shirt with a slightly darker green tie, a baseball cap placed backwards on his head, 2 long green horns protruding from the sides of his head, but what stood out the most was his visor. A visor was placed over his eyes, bright green lights resembling eyes glowed from it, he seemed to be staring right at you. He saw you look at him, tilted his head slightly to the side and grinned at you.

You looked at him for a moment, then realized you should probably sit him down at a table. You walked over to him in a tired manner and asked,

"Hey welcome, just one or are more coming?"

He stared at you some more, and seemed to be observing your features, then realized you spoke to him. The eyes on his visor changed to a shocked realization expression.

"O-oh- you talking to me?" He pointed to himself.

You nodded slowly, getting partially creeped out by the long seconds of staring he seemed to be giving you.

"Yes..?"

He seemed to blush a tiny bit, then responded.

"Well- uhm- yeah! Just me! Haha! I'm Boombox, by the way." He laughed nervously, putting his hand up to his neck.

You raised an eyebrow, spoke,

"I'm Y/N."

And you got a menu and you motioned to Boombox to follow you to a table. You lead him to a table, a table for two. You placed the menu down on the table, then you went to go get water for him.

As you walked off, the man watched you. Your beautiful features, hair, eyes, everything about you was wonderful! As he saw you walk through the employee only door, he frowned. He hates when he can't see you. Boombox decided to get up and look into the window of the door.

As you walked into the break room, you took a deep breath and sat down to take a break. You laid your head down on the table and thought about the day you've had so far, and Boombox who was waiting for his drink.

The look he gave you, it was scary. Even through his visor, you could tell, he wanted something from you.

As you started to doze off farther, you felt someone slam their hand on the table. You shot your head up and saw your boss with an angry look.

As your boss yelled at you, Boombox watched you, and your dumb, sick, awful boss. He hummed and his eyes underneath the visor turned into a pissed, sadistic look. Your boss isn't going to like what's about to happen.

After your boss was finished yelling at you, you decided to leave. You were debating on quitting. As as you walked home, you still had that paranoid feeling, like something was wrong, really really wrong.

Back at the restaurant, your boss walked out of the break room, and Boombox was back at his table. He was staring directly at your boss, he waved his hand and smiled at him.

"Hey, could I get a water?" He asked, as calmly as he could manage.

Your boss muttered something along the lines of "she didn't even get the water.." and went to go get a glass cup.

Once the boss came back with the water and placed in on the table in front of Boombox, then Boombox grabbed it quickly, then stood up and approached the boss.

"You know, it's uh, kinda rude to yell at a person like that," he grinned and took a sip of the water, "especially Y/N, she's trying her best, yeah?"

The boss looked confused for a moment, "I have no idea what you're talking abo-" as Boombox splashed the cold water from the cup all over him.

"Oh yeah?" He hummed and grinned even more, "I saw the whole thing." Boombox shoved the boss down on the ground and threw the cup directly at the boss's face. It shattered.

Boombox laughed, crouched down and grabbed one of the larger shards from the broken glass, and started to stab the boss directly in the neck.

Back at your house, you sat down at your couch and cried, so much was happening today. After about five minutes of crying, you heard a knock on the door. You sniffed and walked over to the door, wiping your eyes and opening the door.

It was Boombox? Something felt off about him though, why was he holding a glass shard, covered in blood..? It took you a second to realize what was going on, you tried to slam the door shut but he blocked the door with his foot, smiled and pushed the door open with a lot of force.

"Hey sweetheart! Sorry about your dumb boss, I wanted to make sure you were okay after that!" He walked inside your apartment and closed the door behind him. You backed up in fear and tried to run away from him, but he grabbed your arm and pulled you closer to him. "Oh no no no! You're not leaving quite yet."

You looked at him in fear and tried to say something but all that came out was a yelp as he pulled you closer and into a hug.

"He didn't hurt ya too badly, did he? Seriously, you don't have to worry about him anymore! He's been dealt with." He grinned even more and sighed, "you know, I've been watching you for a while now," he laughed, "and I thought it was finally time to introduce myself! Also I never got to tell you back there, Y/N is a beautiful name!"

[zjpg]

no body, no crime

summary inspired by no body, no crime by taylor swift

pairing lando norris x este , ??? (reader) x revenge

warnings cheating, death and murder

a/n i hope this is good omg i'm kinda scared hahaahah. anyway live laugh love taylor swift.

Este's a friend of mine, We meet up every Tuesday night for dinner and a glass of wine

"Sorry I'm late, traffic." celeste huff and sits across from her friend. The wine has been waiting in it's corked bottle, but her exact salad order was already placed at her side of the table. "No worries, baby-love" her best friend smiles at her as the young waiter walks over and pops the wine's cork

This was their weekly thing, always has been since they were in high school. Hard to believe that the two girls that were sat at this table talking about things like marriage, taxes and alcohol were once two younger girls gossiping about boys, weekend sports games, and hair color. That's just how things change sometime. But the older of the two hated changed. Always has. Always will.

That's why they kept this Tuesday tradition even through college. They always had dinner together, same restaurant, same table, same wine, same orders. No changes. Just the way they liked it, loved it.

"How's Lando?" The older woman asked her friend before sipping her wine. An unpleasant taste makes its way through her mouth, replacing the usually enjoyable red wine once she saw celeste's face change into a saddened and depressed expression.

"Well, he's great. I just, I've noticed some things recently..."

She says, "That ain't my Merlot on his mouth That ain't my jewelry on our joint account"

"It's just... I drink the same wine he does,"

"Merlot," her friend nods, earning a nod back. Lando had money, coming from a rich background and growing up in an even richer future as a Formula 1 driver. He drives on circuits everywhere around the world, from america to italy to tokyo. so it's safe to say he knew their wines. Celeste was the same, growing up in a just as wealthy family, she's enjoyed her moms expensive wines since she was in high school, which was odd amongst the crowd of teenagers that were drinking spirits and beers.

"Yeah, and the merlot we drink, it doesn't leave that red stain on his lips." She lets out a small sigh before pushing further into her point, "And I only wear silver jewelry, always have, but I went through our bank accounts for bills and I saw gold jewelry being bought on his account."

Maybe she's exaggerating, but the more she's looked back on the past few months, things start making sense. Less time together, less sex, quieter 'I love you's. She wondered if he was bored, she tried her best to keep their relationship exciting in many different ways. But nothing has changed.

The older friend wanted so badly to go online and expose him, call him out on his bullshit that Este has been crying about for the past few months. She wanted to end his little fanbase, maybe even his career. But there wasn't enough proof, she needed proof.

No body, no crime.

"I think he did it, but... I just can't prove it"

The next Tuesday cam by and she hadn't heard from Celeste at all that day, nonetheless, she still showed up to their usual restaurant. But after about an hour she made a call to their other friend, Inez, she works with Celeste, they've all been fairly close since school. Though Inez isn't the most trustworthy source, she knows she would get an honest answer as to where Celeste was. "I haven't seen her, I thought she was sick but our boss said she hasn't even called in sick. We figured she just got too sick to call this morning."

But that's not like Celeste. Her best friend had seen her call into their high school to let them know she wasn't making it even when she had food poisoning. She knows that's not the case. She left the restaurant, making her way to the Norris household. "I haven't seen her either, I tried filing a report but they said I have to wait 24 hours." He seemed panicked, like he had been crying and screaming all day long. His voice was practically gone and his hands were shaking more than a small dog stuck in the winter snow.

Hе reports his missing wife. And I noticed when I passed his house his truck has got some brand new tires.

The tires was one thing, maybe he genuinely needed tires. His face is all over the news along with Celeste's talking about his missing wife, but they don't bother to mention his new side pieces that just moved in...

"his mistress moved in, sleeps in Este's bed and everything!" Inez's nosy ass came in hand from time to time. She saw the move in truck when she was making her way to work one day. At first she thought it was Lando that was moving out, turns out the mistress that their dear friend had been worrying about weeks before had moved in.

"I think he did it, I just can't prove it."

"No body, no crime." Inez shrugged, not thinking much of her friends statement, surely Norris wasn't up to anything? He loved Este. Right?

As time went on, it was obvious. He did it. Even the police think so, but rich people always get their way don't they? She starts coming up with a plan. Vengeance. It ran through her bloodstream, it felt like a burning sensation.

"Good thing my daddy made me get a boating license when I was fifteen." Everything was going according to plan, it was perfect.

"Hey, Lando." She gave him a smile. It had been four months since Celeste was presumed dead, the investigation went silent a while ago and the whole town gave up hope of finding her. Her name is no longer a trending topic, but her voice and face are still gone.

The racing driver looked at his dead wife's friend with shock but nervousness. He tries to cover it with a mask of sadness, but she knew better than to fall for a man's lies. She was invited in, seeing no trace on her friend anywhere in the mansion that Celeste had called home.

"What are you doing here?" He asked once the door closed and locked behind him. He knew something was up, he was smart but not much of a genius, clearly. "Just catching up Norris," She smiled at the taller individual, "I see you and the new girl are getting along just fine. That didn't take long?"

"It's been a year."

"Took you barely 10 months to move her in." She states back. "I wanna show you something."

The drive to the docks was a good 10 minutes, Monaco is a great place to live when you want to buy a fancy new yacht. Her dad's yacht was nothing compared to Lando's driving competitor, but it was still very impressive. "Your dad's yacht?"

The amount of parties that were thrown around and on the yacht were crazy, it's how him and Este met in the first place. He thought it was a sweet gesture from the girl, though she saw the look on his face the entire time they were on the water. He looked sea sick, but she knows the driver had been on plenty of yacht's in his life, he's not sea sick.

He was quick to realize what was happening when they stopped in the middle of the nowhere on the deep waters. He knew, he came to terms with it, but he was so sure they would catch her, unlike they did him. His name is bigger, his house, his cars, his bank account, they're all bigger. But her? She's simply just... better.

"I've cleaned enough houses to know how to cover up a scene." Was the last thing he would hear that night. They next morning she would let her father know that the boat is cleaned, smells of fresh lemons and other citrus like aroma's. "Thank you sweetheart, glad to know you still have time to clean that ole' thing between your classes," He handed her some wadded up cash. The monthly occurrence of cleaning for her parents, everything from their yard to the yacht, they are just far too old to do it themselves.

News stations, media outlets, and other headlining articles went crazy after the mistress filed a missing persons report. Lando Norris missing nearly a full year after his wife's disappearance.

"Formula 1 McLaren driver, Lando Norris, was reported missing last night after not coming home from a boating trip with some friends. Officials have yet to give anymore details."

Good things Este's sisters gonna swear she was with me.

"She was with me, dude, I told you this. We all went out on the yacht, he got too drunk so we sent him home." Alana swore up and down her truth, another cover up that will never slip her teeth. Her parents always said she would be a good actor, she got away with everything as a kid. Este used to hate it.

"To his wife?"

"They're married? I don't know, man, I guess. She seemed pretty pissed if you ask me."

Good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy

She was cleared, no proof, no evidence. they checked the camera's, Alana and her sisters friend helping each other drag Lando's drunken body back in the truck. The yacht was clean, "I clean it at this time every month for my parents, they're getting too old to scrub it down like they used to, ya know?" The maid and her parents vouched for her, it's true, the end every month when it wasn't too cold or hot, she was at the docs. The other boat owners even agreed.

"They think she did it, but they just can't prove it." The news reporter stated as a picture of the now widowed mistress was shown on the screen. The television shuts off as a smirk is splattered on their faces.

"She thinks I did it." She smiles at the younger, chuckling in disbelief as if she was crazy for thinking just a thing. "She just can't prove it. But, like we've always said, No body." She raises up her wine glass.

Celeste copies the gesture with a venomous smile, "No crime."

taglist: @enhacolor @bibissparkles @blueanfield

[red-airhead]

𝓘𝓻𝓲𝓼 | 𝓑𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓷 |

For the sake of my readers and dear mutuals, just know that you are loved, and that if you ever need anything, even if it's your first time coming across my page, take the advantage to send me a message if you need to talk. Please enjoy.

------------

Masterlist

word count - 3,000

genre - hurt, comfort, fluff, romance

warnings - gn terms, afab reader, mentions of depression, mentions of insomnia, bsf! Chan, mentions of self doubt, talking it through, both reader and chan have issues, mutual pining, chan gives more caregiver vibes than anything, romantic tension(?), cuddling for comfort, chan gets a tad emotional through the story, mentions of self-harm (past and present tense), mentions of hyunjin's hiatus, mentions of a perverted boss, reader and chan have very faded scars, reader is also a tad emotional, lmk if I missed anything.

Chan isn’t sure how long it’s been. How long it’s been since he’s felt so drained and numb from everything all at once. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’s had the same song on repeat in his room for hours on end, the song playing with low volume on a speaker by his desk. The song clearly expressed how he felt, and it would make sense for him to change it soon, but he doesn’t.

He’s been laying in bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the lyrics for hours now. His cheeks were slightly stained from crying a couple of moments ago, but he ended up stopping since he began zoning out and looking at the ceiling. The song never got old, even though he played it everywhere he went. In the car, on the way to get you from your house, long car rides from places outside of town, at home. It was his favorite, all because you showed him the song on a late evening after going out for a couple of drinks.

His best friend since he was thirteen, someone he knew so well all because of the struggle of living in korea all alone. You met in school, and it wasn’t much of a shocker that you two became fast friends.

He spent a lot of nights talking to you, talking about you, and just making sure it was known you were his best friend. He still did it, in Channie’s room he would talk and talk about all the things you two used to when you were younger, those small habits he noticed over the years and just everything about you. While some fans weren’t too happy he was talking about you, the others found it amazing that someone was able to meet him so early in his life and still be there till this day. 

He tried to see you every day, even if it was for a short amount he just wanted to see you. You’d come to concerts, you’d beg their manager to let you come on tours because you wanted to be there for Chan, but that meant you’d have to pretend you were a staff member. And while it was worth it, you still hated having to hide.

Chan had actually had you in a couple of lives, meeting the fans, waving off camera for the first few before showing your face and finally sitting next to Chan during these lives, or just in the background. 

You’d listen to all the cheesy pick up lines fan’s would send upon request from Chan, listening to the songs fans would request and sometimes singing along because you knew some. Slowly but surely you were seen more often, and sometimes if Chan was live in his room and you decided to stay the night, He’d find you falling asleep halfway through in his best as if you didn’t have any sleeping problems. 

…And Chan being Chan he’d flip the camera around to record you and let the fans take clips of him playing around with your sleeping figure just before deciding to end the live show and let you sleep in peace.

He was waiting on you now though, waiting for you to come over after a long day of work as you had agreed sleepovers would happen if he ever needed company. You had multiple changes of clothes at Chan’s because of this, but you’d end up sleeping in his hoodie or a t-shirt. 

Tonight was weird though, when you had arrived you didn’t look tired, or even seemed bothered, like you were hiding something and it made him nervous.

“So uh,, how was work..?”

And that was the question that broke you. Smile faltering, body language changing from bouncy and excited to completely distraught and stressed out.

“They fired me today.. They had a rush of some of your ‘fans’ come in and basically target me for being friends with you. It was the last straw for them so they fired me. I’m jobless now.” You muttered, burying your face in your hands as you sighed heavily.

Chan couldn’t help but frown and immediately try to get you comfortable, of course that was after you had changed in the bathroom and took off all the makeup you had put on prior, and he decided to lighten the mood at least a bit, “Eh, on the bright side, you don’t have to deal with that pervy manager that kept eyeballing you whenever you were working.”

You snorted at the response and nodded before going silent again, sitting next to Chan on the bed awkwardly, “What about you? I was looking at your most used streaming service today and it says you’ve been listening to Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls for like 4 hours now.”

“I just missed you, that’s all.” Chan replied almost immediately, trying to cover up the fact that he was in fact, dealing with something, but he couldn’t fool you. You saw right through him.

“Chan, we both know that you are lying to me, and it’s doing absolutely nothing. What’s on your mind?” You pushed, like you usually did. God how did that voice of yours always break him like a glass cup?

“It’s just the same ol’, same ol’.. Overthinking and stressing out over things that can be cared about later.. Thinking about the past and stuff like that..” Chan lazily skimmed over the details of what had been dealing with, and while it did bring you some ease, it didn’t put it to rest.

“I get that… Ugh, what am I gonna do now? I don’t have a job anymore..” You muttered, flopping backwards on Chan’s full sized bed.

“Just come live with me.. Life’s easier when you’re here anyway.” Chan admitted with a few moments of hesitation.

You giggled at his remark, finding it sweet that he cared that much, “Nah, I couldn’t do that to you Channie. You work too hard anyway, that’d basically mean you’d have to start paying for two, buying for two, and it could possibly mean double the rent.”

“No really, please I don’t mind. I’d rather have you here then be in deafening silence, plus, don’t I basically already do that?”

“No you do not! You’ve paid for dinner on occasion, and you’ve only ever paid for things I needed when I didn’t have the money.”

“Exactly, which has been most of the time.”

“Lair.”

“Not a liar I just want to make sure you remember me when I– Nevermind..”

And then a few moments of silence. He thought you had fallen asleep so he turned his head to admire your sleeping facial features, only to be startled by wide eyes and brows furrowed.

“When you what Chan?” And when you had asked, he didn’t respond for a few minutes.

“Nothing, lets just go to be–”

“No, tell me. Right now or so help me, I will tickle you to death.”

You knew he hated that threat.

“I just.. I want to make sure you remember me when I die..”

You quickly shook your head and sat up, Chan nearly following you moments after, “Chan you can’t just say that.. You can’t just assume that I would be okay with you plotting–”

“I’m not plotting, I’m just thinking about the future is all.. You remember my song 42 right? It’s like that right now only, just, me being older.”

“Chan you can’t mask your problems with thinking about the future.” 

“I understand that but-”

“Then why do it? Why question your whole existence right next to your best friend that you KNOW will prove you wrong every damn time you think like that.” 

Silence fell between the two again. Chan knew you were right, you always were. You proved him wrong every time that he had doubted himself or thought about taking his life in the future. He knew how much he meant to you, and you knew how much you meant to him, yet sometimes he forgets that and just runs his mouth like it didn’t matter.

“Channie.. You need to stop thinking like that.. It’s not healthy.” You muttered, turning to him with worry in your eyes.

“Hypocrite.”

“What?”

“You can’t say anything, because you do the same shit.”

“Chan, I really don’t want to argue, I’m just worried about you.. It’s the 5th time this month, that’s more than what it’s been in the last two years. You haven’t thought like this so much since you had to let Hyunjin go on hiatus.”

Chan couldn’t help but get teary eyed. You were right again, just like always. He felt like fool, and he felt like he didn’t deserve you.

His head hung low for a little while, before your hand came up under his chin to lift his head, revealing his quivering lips and teary eyes.

“I’m sorry.. ‘M acting like such a fool around you, aren’t I?”

“No.. No sweetie you aren’t, you never do..”

Chan whimpered a little before sniffling, your hand now shifting to wipe a couple of stray tears. You couldn’t help but get teary eyed too, trying to blink it all away but it just made tears fall.

“Why are you crying?” He finally spoke up after what felt like eternity, his own hand now going to wipe away your tears, then resting gently on your cheek where you leaned into it.

“Chan I’m terrified of losing you.. Everytime that you’ve texted me that you loved me or that you felt like you were slipping away from reality made me so scared.. I know that without you my life would be actual hell, and I just can’t handle that.” You began to ramble, swallowing thickly as a sniffle passed through in the process.

“Y/N..”

“I’ve had dreams, of what the world would be like without you and it’s not pretty.. Those dreams I see fans falling apart, wishing that they could join you, and some of them would.. I saw Felix falling apart, hiding away in his room desperately clinging onto a hoodie from your closet he stole months ago.. I see Jisung falling into despair and writing songs about you. Hyunjin who would constantly paint pictures that reminded him of you, or just a portrait of you in general. I see Bin, who would lose his motivation to work out because he didn’t have his work out buddy, lose the passion to write and produce because there wasn’t going to be someone who could make him laugh like you made him. I see Innie visiting your grave for hours on end because he misses his hyung and can’t stand being away from you, Seungmin who would constantly talk about you and cry on live or during interviews because he didn’t know what to do.. And Minho… I see him in complete shambles, balling his eyes out every night and just clinging onto your bedsheets for dear life because your cologne or shampoo would linger in your room..” You just barely made it to the end of it, tears streaming down your face and onto the hands which now held both of your cheeks. 

Chan could feel his heart shattering, listening to the dream you had about everyone, but one thing was missing. You. Where were you?

“And you?”

“Chan I wouldn’t have been able to handle it, I would’ve taken mine the moment I would find out you were dead.” You had nearly sobbed from it, and it broke his heart. 

Without hesitation he pulled you close and began kissing at your tears, trying to force them away just before letting you cling onto him and hide away.

“Chan, I remember what it was like during your first attempt.. The night I came to your house and saw those red stains on washcloths. The slightly tinted red left over water in the bathtub because I came over so suddenly, the stray droplets leading from your room to the bathroom just before stopping at the doorway because of your carpeted floors..” You just couldn’t help but ramble about it all, you remembered everything and Chan could feel it eating at him.

“I remember showing you the song Iris in the car ride home the next day because I knew you’d understand the lyrics, feel connected better than what most people would when I showed them the song. I remember getting home and crying because I knew that I didn’t come soon enough to prevent you from even trying, and even.. and even causing pain to myself because I couldn’t handle it. I felt so numb, just like how you explained it to me the first time we talked about it.. It didn’t feel right, like I–” 

“Can I see them..?” Chan felt himself hesitating from that question, causing him to swallow thickly. You stared at him for and sense of joke before moving and rolling up your spandex and revealing the very faded yet slightly dark scars from years ago. You watched as one of Chan’s hands falling from your face to the scars, gently touching them with his brows furrowed. He then stopped, and pulled them down, before squeezing you tighter than before.

“Chan I’m worried that if you try again, I’ll go down with you this time, and I really don’t want that to happen.”

“It won’t, I made a promise, remember?” 

“It doesn’t mean you can’t break it.”

“I won't.”

“I know…”

You two basked in a 15 minute cuddle session of just silence, knowing that if either of you talked about it again, you’d both fall apart in a matter of minutes.

“I know I said I wasn’t going to talk about it, but can I see yours?”

Chan was confused by what you meant, which made him release a “Hm?”

“Your.. Your scars.. Can I see them?”

Chan smiled at you a little before silently nodding and showing his own thighs. Fans often couldn’t see them because of cover ups and makeup, but when there's nothing covering them, they were very vivid and deep. 

You shifted so you were now face to face with those scars, causing him to jump and flush red, almost reaching to stop you.

“I want to kiss them better.. I know they won’t go away but maybe if I kissed them it would be better..” You muttered, fingers tracing them before your soft, slightly cracked lips touched the scar tissue. 

It caused him to swallow thickly, ears now red while watching you hastily and gently place kisses on every single scar you could.

“Y/N.. You don’t have to do this..”

“I want to.. Just talk to me about your feelings..”

“Okay.. Well.. the night you came over and almost caught me, I was thinking so selfishly, like, I didn’t even think of you.. And when you came over it made me realize how stupid I was to do such a thing. It wasn’t even an attempt at that point, it was like I was finding a reason to be miserable.. To make you miserable until realizing that’s not what I wanted…”

While Chan continued to ramble, you kept placing kisses on the scars gently, just before grabbing a marker and beginning to draw hearts and stars on them. Not in permanent marker of course, but maybe it could be a cool tattoo idea.

Chan flinched at the cold from the ink, looking at you becoming focused in your work, “What are you doing now?”

“Drawing hearts and stars because then they’ll be pretty and all healed.”

His heart fluttered at your words, and it made him get a little nervous. It was probably the worst time to do a confession, so he decided to wait it out a little longer. 

By the time you finished, the two of you ended up all snuggled up, covered in drawings of heart, stars, and smiley faces. You two were giggling at a few of them but of course, it didn’t stop you from talking.

You talked about many things all night, and it made sense for the two of you since insomnia loved kicking him and you in the ass and telling you to suffer, but besides the point, you felt comfortable. 

There was a point during these conversations you got drowsy, and you could only remember bits and pieces before snapping awake and looking at Chan with surprised eyes.

“Quit looking at me like that, you look like a scary monster.” He joked, a giggle following through with it after.

“Oh please, if anything I’m far from a monster.. I’m just getting a little drowsy..”

“Could I tell you something that would wake you up even more?”

“I guess so What’s this little secret you got?”

He paused for a moment, pretending to think like he had to remember it, just before locking eyes with you, which scared you.

“I love you.”

“Awhh Channie I love you too!”

“No,,, Y/N I don’t think you’re listening to me.. I love you. Like, really love you.”

Your expression shifted from half asleep to wide awake with red all over, “Chan? Christopher? Chris? Like, Crispy? Channie? You love me?”

“Yes, I love you so damn much..”

You fell silent before bursting into a fit of excited giggles and hiding away in his arms, “I love you too, Channie..”

He couldn’t help but smile, making sure that the both of you were snuggled up under the blankets, and after hours of letting the song repeat, he changed it. 

5am, is what the time reads. 5am on March 25th, 2023, was the day that you two had spent all night talking, snuggled up, drawing on each other, and falling in love over and over again.

5am on March 25th, 2023, the day that the world decided two lonely people needed each other. The day that you fell asleep happy in his arms with no other thoughts in your mind.

[valentine-cafe]

Hii

I'm in a very struggling situation so is it okay if you give me fun facts about Zhao Yizé 9948e? Doesn't matter what it is. Just no angst and nsfw fun facts.

He is my comfort character and I need to read something about him to ease my stress. You can take your time on it tho!

— 🎨

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ oh darling we really are sorry and we hope things ease up for you :(( sending you lots of love! we composed this real quick for you

𖹭. he plays the guqin! he's very good at it too

𖹭. can recreate animal sounds very very accurately

𖹭. he treats mister squiggles like a genuine pet snake when in fact squiggles is his familiar —

𖹭. he can speak fluent japanese!

𖹭. his english given name is mathew ( he hates it XHVKBK )

𖹭. on the topic of languages, he speaks more english than he does chinese as he's not around the zhào estate too often and rather lives in the society of shades

𖹭. he is associated with dull shades of blue

𖹭. one of our voice references for him is from this audio

𖹭. as a child, he loved hiding around the ponds of the estate garden, swimming among the lotus flowers and sometimes laying on the big lotus leaves. he also had a small water fan he’d use to splash his older brothers with. they never knew it was him that did it.

𖹭. when yizé first got mr. squiggles, the first thing the both of them did was have a race in the training grounds. he won, and made squiggles get him ice cream as a reward.

𖹭. in yizé’s late teens, he had developed an odd habit of sleeping in the tree branches because he’d sit in the garden at ungodly hours to do homework for school. it became a comfort to him, and he liked when the birds nestled up to him.

𖹭. yizé helps a lot of the community around the estate and makes sure everyone goes around and are safe. safely getting elderly and the young across the road, making sure cats and dogs don’t run out and get lost and is also one of the people who makes a bunch of food for his neighbours and hands it out to them when he can.

𖹭. at work, yizé really likes the missions where he gets to go to the last sector of the society. because it’s a place surrounded by nature and it just comforts him. he loves the areas of the inner society too! the last one just reminds him of home. and also there’s deer!

𖹭. though he doesn’t read books, he has a special thing for comics. he doesn’t read — but he loves looking at all the art. he’s never been too good at art, but he admires it so heavily. he’s always trying to draw something! even if it comes out a little messy, he still feels proud of what he makes

𖹭. yizé is the only one in his family that manages to get brain freezes whenever he drinks cold drinks or eats something cold too fast, nobody knows why.

𖹭. he really likes dancing on roller-skates and is quite good at it too! he often goes to some of the clubs around the society to dance around with them on. one of the reasons for this is because it reminds him of his best friend lorenzo.

𖹭. he has a special soft spot for reptilians, and adores salamanders specifically. he can’t explain why, he’s just always loved how silly they look.

𖹭. has a bit of a tendency to get lost whenever he’s out, but he always find his way back home ! ( he calls his fire dad or his ceo dad or his mama )

𖹭. his younger sibling and him get along really well, and often enjoy running around the parks close to their home, catching bugs and critters for them. yǔ xī has always been able to relate to his love for all wildlife, and it’s refreshing. they like to sit and study them while eating ramen

𖹭. he likes to visit his older brother xīyang whenever he has time. he knows he is sick often and because of this, he really likes bringing him soup and food. and although they’ve had a rocky past together they also share lots of laughs when they get the time. last time they laughed over squiggles accidentally dipping his tail in yizé’s soul when he went to hug xīyang

𖹭. really likes to bully his boss/dad rasui, calling him an old man and sometimes not listening to his orders at work because he likes to prove there are different ways to do things. and he can see even when rasui scolds him, there is pride for his adaptability. ꒱

[farfromstrange]

Butterfly Effect | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Masterlist

Chapter Three: Irish Coffee

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Barista!Reader

Summary: Your day has not been going well. When Michael comes in after closing time, in need for some coffee and a comforting presence, you help each other out. Or, you take yet another step toward Michael, hoping he will open up to you when you open up to him – and then you find yourself making an unexpected move.

Warnings: Angst, rude customers, mentions of injury, self-consciousness, Reader is sad, Michael is sad, alcohol consumption, hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive language, kissing (18+ MINORS DNI)

Word Count: 5.6k

A/n: I’m starting to get obsessed with my own series, which is why I keep posting chapters in a span of 24 hours. The past two days it’s been 12:23 am and now it’s 1:47, but I can’t myself. This went well, I think. Reader does not give up, but Michael needs someone who refuses to give up, so… and he gives back what he gets.

Find Part 1 & Part 2 here…

There is something about today that doesn’t sit right with you.

It all started when you slept through your alarm. By the time you woke up, you knew you wouldn’t make it to work on time, which had never happened before. Then, you remembered that your car ran out of gas and the gas station near you was closed today due to a robbery that had taken place a few days ago, and you didn’t have the time to drive to the gas station out of town and neither did you have enough gas left for that. So you had to walk for thirty minutes. You arrived at the café sweaty and forty-five minutes late, and the worst part was that your boss had appeared out of nowhere and when you came in late, she yelled at you until you were basically on your knees and close to tears. 

You thought that would be as worse as it gets, but you were wrong. A customer mixed up his order with an elderly woman and they ended up fighting, which inevitably led to you being blamed for something that wasn’t even in your hands at the time, and the man made sure to push his words as deep as he could like a hot cigarette on your already itchy skin. And the people that came in after that only seemed to get worse. A group of tourists found their way inside and since you are chronically under-staffed, you and Sarah could barely keep up with the load. You ended up with a dirty coffee maker, no more mugs to spare, and questioning your sanity. 

The worst part of the day is what ultimately led you where you are now; you’ve locked yourself in the bathroom for your break after you tried to clean one of the tables and a customer accidentally bumped into you with their unfinished latte and the entire drink poured over your apron and has soaked the clothes you’re wearing underneath. You haven’t brought a spare shirt and the hair dryer you keep in the back isn’t working anymore. You’re stuck with a shirt that now smells like hazelnuts and warm milk, and you’re pretty sure your skin is red from the heat.

But it was an accident, you tell yourself, and even though the customer blamed you, you feel like they had every right to and you apologized to them, offered a coffee on the house, and wished them a nice day. You did the right thing. You should feel good about yourself for how you’ve handled yourself so far, but honestly, there is nothing good about the way you’re feeling now. 

Tears well up in your eyes. The insides of your palms are covered in crescent moon indentations from your nails. Your back hurts, your stomach hurts, everything hurts, and you feel disgusting. You smell disgusting. No perfume in the world can fix the smell of your clothes and no towel can dry the coffee that has dampened your perfectly good blouse. You always keep a spare apron around, every employee has several in their locker, but that won’t do much because the fabric will continue sticking even long after it’s dry and you hate the way it feels so cold against your skin. 

You sniffle. The first tear threatens to fall. You look up, your lashes fluttering as you try hard not to cry because of something so stupid, but everything you do feels wrong and you hate that. You always try to be the best, to make people feel good, and to serve them to the highest standard – you have been lacking today. You don’t want to be here and neither should you, not in your state, but there has got to be something you can do to fix this bad strain of karma. 

You don’t want to cry. They’ll see that you’ve cried and that would only lead to unnecessary questions. Sarah will be worried. You don’t want to talk, you just want to go home. But you really can’t leave them hanging, not when the end is so near and you’re set to close the place on your own. You have to do better. 

Even though none of this is anywhere near your fault, you put the weight on your shoulder anyway because you don’t know what else to do. It’s heavy and you can barely carry it, and you find yourself swallowing a broken sob as your fingers dig into the porcelain of the sink. 

“No,” you growl to yourself. You ruffle your messy hair, brush the tears from your cheeks and try to shake it all off. 

You have to get through the next couple of hours without breaking down. 

 So you change your apron, put on a fake smile, and make your way back out. The busyness has died down a little. You try to act as if nothing happened, tending to the other customers while Sarah starts cleaning up behind you. You try to focus on the smile of the woman you’re serving, but it somehow makes you want to cry again. 

The stress of the day made you forget about Michael for a moment and the fact he hasn’t shown up yet, and you’re about to close. But you’re not sure if seeing him now would be such a good idea, considering you’re not in the mood to make someone feel better. Every time you smile, it feels fake, and it’s probably as obvious as it feels. 

Sarah waves goodbye when her shift is over since she came in before you and your boss banned you to closing for coming in late. The clock strikes seven. The door falls shut behind your colleague. Still no Michael. 

With a heavy sigh, you start putting away the lunch offer sign. You clean the counter and the machines. One of the mugs slips out of your hands and falls into the sink, breaking upon impact. 

That’s the last straw. Your fist hits the kitchenette and you get on your knees, hiding yourself from an empty café, and then, with your forehead pressed against the back of your hands as you’re leaning forward against the sink, the tears start to fall. You silence your sobs, but the tears do a pretty good job of shaking you up as it is. 

Today has been a little too much. 

When the bell above the door rings, you realize you haven’t locked the front door yet and the sign is still turned on “open”, which is a stupid amateur mistake and you’re such an idiot. 

You quickly wipe your tears. “We’re closed,” you try to sound normal, but your nose is stuffed. 

“Is it seven already?”

You stutter, whipping your head around to look at him. “Michael,” you say. 

“Hey,” he says, and this time it doesn’t take him long to give you a small smile. He looks almost apologetic, but then his eyes fall on your wet cheeks and his face falls a little. “Bad time?”

“We’re closed.” When have you become so harsh?

“Sorry.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m sorry, I– I just forgot to turn the sign. My bad. You couldn’t have known, so technically, I can still serve you. You just have to give me a minute to reheat the coffee maker.”

“Ya don’t have to do that, and ya shouldn’t,” Michael says. 

You frown at him. 

“Yer closed, so I won’t order a coffee.”

“It’s fine, really.”

“No,” he’s insistent, and he steps a bit forward. “Ya alright?”

It’s obvious that you’re not, but you are the last person to admit when you’re not feeling well. And it’s just been a bad day, you don’t even know why it’s been dragging you down ever since you got up this morning. The day is over now and you can move on. 

Though this is the part where the optimist in you isn’t quite strong enough yet. 

You meet his eyes with your reddened ones. “Are you?” you retort. 

He’s surprised at your bold question. You expect him to push you away, to turn around and leave, or to lie to you, but he’s rather quick to lower his head guiltily and he says, “Ya want the short or the long answer?”

You shrug. “Both.”

“Yer busy–”

“I need a drink,” you cut him off. 

“Oh,” he hums. 

“Do you still want a coffee?”

“What’s that have to do with it?”

“Just answer the question.”

Michael nods. “Yeah.”

You reach into the drawer next to you and pull out the keys for the front door. You toss them to him. “Lock the door,” you say. “I’ll make us some coffee.”

Not just him, both of you. He eases when he realizes you’re doing something for yourself too, and he follows your command to lock the door. 

Last night, Michael cried himself to sleep. He stared at your note on the napkin until the Sharpie was completely wet with his tears, and then he held it in his hands as he retreated to his bedroom floor. The bed is too soft most nights, he can’t sleep on it. The beds in prison were a lot more uncomfortable and he’s not used to the softer kind anymore. He needs something hard to lie on, and the floor often enough suffices. 

The hard floorboards dig into his skin when he sleeps, and he’s no longer trapped by blankets when he wakes up from a nightmare. Sometimes, he even sleeps on the bathroom floor. It’s cold and it’s sturdy; it reminds him of a time when that was the norm, and it somehow still is, deep inside of him, and he can’t get rid of the feeling.

He woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of his labored breathing. Detached from his physical form, he stared at the wall with tears in his eyes. He thought about the bullet holes, he heard the shots clearly in his ears, and he turned deaf for a second. He couldn’t move. 

He found himself next to the indentations in the stone, running his fingers over the holes. He imagined the blood splatter, the screaming, the pain, and the tears. It tore him to shreds, and he watched her die again. He lost his wife all over again and then he lost his daughter. It’s always the same, but this time, she died in his dreams, and it had never felt more real. 

Washing cars for Amanda in the morning led to moments when he disappeared completely. The water was on for far too long; he probably multiplied the bills with how much he wasted, but once his mind is stuck, moving seems impossible. He challenged his anger into whatever equipment he had at hand, scrubbing the cars cleaner than they were ever before, but it didn’t help. 

At lunch, he sat in the same restaurant down the street from Anna’s school again. He watched her walk with her friends, he watched her smile and laugh, and he felt relieved to see her alive. At least that part of his dream wasn’t true, but she was still too far away the same way she is now, and he can’t touch her. He isn’t allowed to hold her in his arms, to make sure she’s safe and protected. And that truly feels like he is losing her forever all over again. 

He was washing cars until the last evening when Amanda physically had to pull him out and force him to go home, but Michael never made it home. Instead, he found the napkin in the pocket of his jacket. He tossed away the cup, but he has kept the napkin. The note is so much longer and he can hear you say the same words to him over and over again, and he wants to smile, he really does; he wants to find a reason to smile and he wants to believe he is a good man. So after Amanda told him to go home, Michael once again found his way to the same place that has offered him relief two times before, and he can’t be trusted with his thoughts on his own – this is the only way. You are the only escape, and he hates himself for being weak enough to seek something that he’s not even quite sure he deserves. 

He should have figured you were closed. But then he heard the sound of your voice and saw the tears in your eyes and now he’s worried. He is intrigued but worried, and you seem like you don’t want him to leave either. You tell him to close the door, to close the bubble around you, and give you time and space just the two of you, and it warms his heart. You warm his frozen heart, and the concern drives him closer to you. He even takes his jacket off, his knuckles no longer bandaged but bruised, and he doesn’t pull away this time when you look at them.

But you don’t ask. 

You pull the bottle of whisky from the fridge. He watches you carefully. The coffee maker roars as you brew a fresh batch and you foam some milk. You could do this with your eyes closed. Even tired, you know exactly what to do and how to do it, and now that the stress is gone, you don’t have to rush. 

Michael keeps quiet until he hears you pour whatever drink you’ve made into two porcelain cups. 

“It’s not a double espresso,” you murmur, “but I think you know and like this one.”

“What,” he chuckles, “no blue poison today? Or toffee nuts?”

You shake your head, the laugh dying on your tongue. 

“I liked the blue one.”

“Then you’re gonna like this one, too.”

You remove your apron and lean back, watching him carefully as he takes a sip. His eyes widen as he recognizes the distinctive taste, but then he looks even more surprised when tastes the undertones in his coffee. “Wow,” he says. “That is one hell of an Irish Coffee.”

“You like it?” Your eyes grow hopeful. 

“Like it? I fuckin’ love it.” He takes another sip. “What did ya– ya must be a wizard. No one can make Irish Coffee that good.”

“I’ve had some practice.”

“This is– wow.”

“You’re welcome.”

You stand there for a while, silently sipping your drinks. Michael is done first, but you follow shortly after. You take his cup and put it into the dishwasher, deciding to let it run one last time. 

“Did ya do that just for me?” he dares to ask. 

You shrug. “It’s better than a double espresso,” you say. 

“Are ya always this nice to strangers?”

“You’re not a stranger.”

“I am.”

You turn away with a sigh. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yer so nice to people.”

“It’s my job.”

“But they’re not always nice to ya.” It’s not a question as much as it is an observation. 

You shake your head slightly, reaching for the small shot glasses you keep hidden away in the cupboard. 

“No offense, but ya sound like a real people pleaser.”

He hits the nail right on the head. You hate how obvious it is. Silence settles in between you. You don’t answer him, you simply place one of the glasses before him and pour some of the whisky you used for the coffee for both of you. 

He nods in acknowledgment. “Don’t ya ever get… I don’t know, angry? At the world, I mean. Like ya just want to burn it down and leave nothin’ behind because it sucks and it hates ya. Or ya hate the world? Or both. Does that happen to ya?”

You take the shot, your fave barely contorting before you find the guts to answer. “I get angry,” you whisper, but it sounds more like you’re trying to convince yourself.

“I mean really angry,” he says, “like you could punch a lad twice your size and win.”

“Everybody gets angry.”

“Ya do?”

“Mhm, but I don’t hate the world. Most of the time, at least. Sometimes, I just have a bad day, but I’m trying… I don’t know, it’s stupid.”

He takes his shot and you pour another glass. 

“Tell me,” he says. “I can tell ya’ve been crying.”

Of course, he can.

“I just want people to feel better around me, that’s why I’m nice because kindness goes a long way. Hatred… hatred doesn’t get you far. I’ve learned that the hard way and I… I just want to be good, so I try to be good, but sometimes it’s not enough, and that… that sucks because it always ends up being my fault anyway and that’s what makes trying so impossibly hard.”

“So yer a people pleaser,” he circles back to his previous statement, “but there’s nothin’ wrong with that. And that doesn't make shit yer fault all the time."

You didn’t expect to hear that.

“And yer good. Too good,” he says your name with such softness. “Ya managed to make me smile more than I’ve in a very long time. I wanted to say thanks fer that. I thought part of me… died. I've realized it's not dead, just buried."

“People usually call me a people pleaser and mean it in a bad way,” you say.

He smiles. “I don’t.”

“Yeah, I get that now.”

“So the world isn’t fair to ya, hm?”

You chuckle sadly. “It never was, but I’ve been worse and I’m somewhat happy now. I just–“

“Ya get walked over,” he finishes.

“Yeah.”

“And ya feel like yer not enough?”

You blink wildly to keep the tears at bay. “Yes.” 

“Were ya being nice to me out of kindness or ‘cause ya care?”

“Both,” you answer in a heartbeat. 

Your eyes meet again. He’s still the same magnet he was the first day you two met. He pulls you closer and closer, and you can feel yourself opening up to him. 

Michael smiles, taking another shot and then taking it upon himself to fill your glasses. 

“You’re different, Michael. I don’t know why, but you are.”

“I got yer notes,” the words slip him before he can stop himself. 

You nod. “That’s what they were meant for.”

“No one’s ever said that to me before.”

“That you have a nice smile?”

“All of it,” he says.

“That’s… sad,” you say. 

He shrugs. The whisky starts burning his esophagus. “My life’s sad.” 

“But does it have to be?”

“If only ya knew.”

You decide to take another step toward him. “I quit my job to become a writer, and now I work here.” 

He raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

You nod and start walking around the counter toward him. You’re so close again, he can feel your breath on his skin. 

“I’ve been writing ever since I was a child,” you say. “But it’s never been more than a hobby to my family, and so they didn’t understand when I wanted to study English literature. I landed behind a desk and I was unhappy, and I wanted to write. I’ve been told I’d fail ever since I started writing, and my parents still tell me the same thing. They’ve never supported it, so when I quit and then took this job, you can imagine how thrilled they were. Not.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. "I'm sure yer great. Maybe they just don't get ya."

He can’t imagine what you’ve been through because your lives are so inherently different, but he can feel your pain. He knows what it's like not to be understood, and he knows how much that can hurt coming from your own family.

He reaches out, your fingers mere inches away from each other now. 

“This was the first time I wasn’t trying to please anyone but myself,” you say, and your voice is barely above a whisper.

Michael nods, a silent sign of understanding, and then he takes your hand in his. “I wash cars fer a living,” he says.

You gave a big part of yourself and this is something he can tell you, even though it embarrasses him. 

You look up into his eyes. “Cars?” 

“Yeah. Fer my brother’s wife. You know the deli down by the gas station a little outside of downtown?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, there. She sells ‘em. She got me that job ‘cause I needed it. Now I wash cars.”

And getting a job with as many priors as he has is a hard task to achieve. But he knows he can be good at so many other things if he only tries. He just doesn’t have the same opportunities as everyone else, and that’s defeating. 

“Is that what you want to do?” you ask.

Has anyone ever asked him that before? He doubts it. You surprise him anew every time, and he’s not sure how to process or handle it. Michael doesn’t know how to read you. 

He doesn't answer your question in the way you want him to, either. “It’s what I have to do,” he says instead. 

“Is that what happened to your hand?” there it is – the question. “An accident washing cars?” 

“No, heh,” he takes another sip of his whisky. “Punched a hole in my mirror,” he says. 

“Why?”

“I hate the world and the world hates me.” 

You can see the unshed tears in his eyes, the pain he’s holding deep inside. He’s guarding himself for whatever reason, but his touch is warm and it screams for an escape. That’s the reason he came, you realize. He wants to escape whatever shit show his life is because, with you at the Butterfly Effect, he hates the world a little less. He doesn’t feel alone with you because while you don’t know him, you listen. You’re nice and you care about him. Judging from what he’s said, he’s not used to kindness or devotion, and it makes you sad. 

You squeeze his hand. “Everyone deserves someone to care about them,” you murmur, “even you, Michael.”

“I get angry,” he admits, and the tears become clearer. “I get really, really angry.”

“As I said, everyone does.”

“It’s a different kind of anger. The kind of anger that runs deeper. It’s darkness.”

He expects you to pull away, but you only hold on tighter, and you catch the tear in the corner of his eye before it can fall. “And that’s okay,” you say.

He wants to fall into your arms and sob, but his pride is stronger. His pride wants him to suffer.

“There must be a reason you come here and not just wallow in your anger. I mean, you’re driven by something other than darkness because I don’t see darkness when I look at you. I see light.”

You’re not pushing him, you’re simply nudging him as gently as only you can, and if he decides not to act on it, you’re okay with that too. He doesn’t feel forced, he feels almost accepted. 

“Why do you come here, Mikey?”

Mikey. This is the first time you use his nickname, and it sounds different coming from you. He likes it. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. 

It’s not just coffee and not just you, but he doesn’t know, not really – Michael doesn’t understand, and he hates that he doesn’t because he usually understands. Though this, he doesn’t. 

“Okay.” You leave it at that, but you refuse to let go of his hand. “That’s okay.” 

He intertwines your fingers, forming a safety net for his broken heart. They’re no longer on the counter now but dangling between the two of you. He’s holding you close, and his grip tells you that maybe he is afraid of letting go because he’s scared you might leave, which is absurd, but you quite like the way he’s holding onto you. You wouldn’t say no even if it killed you. 

You move a little closer, your shoulders brushing. He looks down. His thumb brushes over your knuckles. “So soft,” he says. 

You blush. 

“Do ya have a car?”

“I walked here,” you say.

“Want me to walk ya home? It’s dangerous out there.” 

“Who’s to say you’re not gonna murder me?”

He can sense the joking undertone in your voice and he chuckles. “Ya just need to trust me,” he says.

Weirdly enough, you do. Reluctantly, you let go of his hand. The rest of the cleaning is done easily. He helps you adjust the chairs in the seating area while you clean the coffee machine again, and after wiping the tables and adjusting the sign for the early shift the next day, there’s not much else you have to do. 

You let out a sigh of relief when you finally breathe fresh air and all of the day’s pain is left behind inside. 

Even though it’s a thirty-minute walk, Michael insists on walking with you. He doesn’t leave your side. Your hand finds his again after some time, and he reciprocates your touch instantly. You see nothing wrong with it. He makes you feel less alone, and you seem to be doing the same for him. 

You walk in silence, the wind brushing through your hair and getting caught in the stain on your blouse. You didn’t bring a jacket this morning, too much in a hurry to get to work to even care about the cold weather.

It seems like a chliché when Michael suddenly untangles himself from you and takes off his jacket. “Here,” he says. He looks at you, leaving no space for you to argue, so you take his offer gladly.

You suspected he would smell like ground coffee beans, but his cologne smells like tobacco and vanilla, and the faintest scent of rain hits your nose. You slide it on, instantly feeling a little warmer, but you’re not quite sure if it’s the jacket or the flush of blood in your cheeks that makes your heart beat faster. 

This time, your hands only brush as you walk. 

“What happened to yer shirt?” He breaks the silence.

You pull his jacket tighter around yourself. “I–“ you bite your lip. “Work accident,” you say. 

“Was it hot coffee?”

“A little.”

“Did you check if ya got burned?”

“It’s not the first time someone bumped into me, and they didn’t mean it,” you say, rushing to the defense of a total stranger, and that’s when you realize that perhaps he was right with the whole ‘people pleaser’ speech. 

You shake your head. Michael has gotten under your skin. He seems to notice it because he smiles softly, and reaches out to take your hand again. 

“Ya know what helps?” he asks.

“What?”

“An apron.”

“Fuck off!” You try to sound mean and furrow your brows at him, but you end up chuckling because damn him for looking so cute even while he also looks absolutely exhausted. 

He joins in your laughter.

“Seriously though, I hope whoever did this to ya didn’t do it on purpose.” He avoids eye contact, but his words hit home. 

“Or what, you’ll find them and break their hands?”

“Wasn’t thinkin’ about somethin’ so drastic, but they hurt ya and I don’t like the thought of ya gettin’ hurt.”

“What?”

“Nothin’,” he blushes. 

That was a lot of vulnerability for such a short amount of time. 

You look away just the same, trying to hide the effect he has on you, but he can feel your sweaty palms and how your pulse jumps under his fingers whenever he touches you. It’s no secret that you don’t see him as just a customer anymore, you never have. 

But this is Michael, and as soon as things start looking up for him, he is bound to ruin them because how can he possibly accept what you are willing to give him? He cares about you, and he hates that he has found himself in this situation again. But he can’t deny that he needs you. Feelings are treacherous, as is love and everything else that connects to it. To him it is, at least. And he’s really not sure what to do or what to think. He just knows that he wants you to be okay.

You stop in front of your apartment building. “This is me,” you say. 

The air shifts and the tension grows heavy. Your hand is still holding onto his, and you are still wearing his jacket. You attempt to take it off, but he stops you. 

“Keep it,” he says. 

“Aren’t you gonna be cold?”

“No.”

“But–“ 

“Ya still have a way to go, so keep it.”

You slip back into the jacket. “Okay. Thank you…”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you wants this to end, but it has to. 

You clear your throat. “I guess this means goodbye then.”

“Yeah,” he says. 

“Do you promise me to get home safe?”

“I’ll manage.”

“Okay.”

You turn around to leave. You take a few steps before stopping. He’s still there, waiting for you to get inside. You turn back to him.

Maybe it’s too much of a rash decision that is brewing up in your mind, but tonight has changed a lot. Your paths have crossed now. You’ve already crossed borders you told yourself not to. This isn’t you, this is a primal desire that drives you to take what you want and not give a flying fuck about pleasing someone else tonight, and it feels like you have finally learned how to breathe again.

He frowns when you walk back toward him. Your hands find their way on either one of his shoulders. Michael stares down at you. Your intentions aren’t entirely clear to him. 

Fuck it.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to capture his lips with yours. 

And when your lips finally meet, time stands still. 

At first, he’s surprised. Your lips feel softer than he imagined, and they fit perfectly on his. It feels like you’ve done this a million times. His head spins. Then, he kisses back. 

Michael’s arms wrap around your waist and pull you closer. It's a carnal desire, not his own free will. You feel so good pressed against him, and your lips are magic as they dance with his. 

He’s convinced now that you are good at everything. 

His tongue pokes your bottom lip, asking for permission. You let him in. He explores your mouth with precision, tasting you, memorizing you, and making sure you stay imprinted in his bloodstream. He breathes your air and you breathe his. The world around you no longer exists. 

You are more than willing to suffocate at his hands with his lips on yours and his body so close, you can smell his shampoo and feel the softness of his hair under your fingers as you run them through the brown curls. He’s ethereal, absolutely beautiful, and he feels like heaven and tastes like the sweetest temptation that will land you in hell, but it is all so good, too good, absolutely perfect – he has put an irreversible spell on you, and his lips sealed the deal. 

Though your body is quick to scream for you to pull away and breathe. It’s been a while since you’ve consciously used your lungs. You could get lost in him any day, your life be damned. If you’re right with your suspicions, you’re fucked anyway, but you don’t mind. Not with him. Not when it’s Michael.

You both pull away at the same time. His hand rests on your cheek, barely touching, but he’s sure to hold you there.

Without another word, you press another chaste kiss to his lips. He reciprocates. 

“I should go,” your breathing is heavy as you speak. “I, uh, have an early day tomorrow.”

Michael nods, his nose brushing against yours. He’s going to regret tonight, but you’re by far his favorite sin. He felt free when you kissed him. It doesn’t seem real, but you’re still so close and he can taste your chapstick. You’re real, this is real, and you’ve caught him before he could fall. 

But he’s going to regret it, he always does.

“Yeah, me too,” he whispers. “Early day.”

He has work in the morning, so it isn’t a lie.

You pull away completely, your cheeks flushed and your lips swollen. Now you don’t look cute anymore, you look absolutely edible, and Michael has to physically force his hands to stay where they are. 

Scratching the back of your head, you desperately search for your keys. Once you’ve found them, you wave an awkward goodbye. “See ya,” you say. 

He watches as you disappear behind the door to your apartment building, and a few seconds later, you’re gone.

You only allow yourself to register what happened once you’re in the comfort of your home, your back pressed against the door, and you slide down. 

Damn.

You just kissed a man you don’t even know half of, and you enjoyed it. 

Whoever Michael truly is moves into the back of your mind – his lips still linger and it’s what you will take to bed with you. Not the fact that you don’t even know his last name but his touch and his smile. 

The day might have started badly, but you can’t deny that it ended with an unexpected surprise that made all the bad from before dissipating into nothing at all.

You wonder how many more times you have to take the first step before he will finally open himself up to you. But no matter what, you’re determined to find out. 

Tagging: @bellaxgiornata @loveroftoomanyfandoms @acharliecoxedfan @lina-mar @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella

[stories-and-chaos]

Tarnished pt 28

[Helluva Boss AU where Blitzø’s childhood theft from Stolas’ palace is discovered and major consequences ensue for everyone involved.]

[Part 28/?? Word count: 974]

—————

Trust is exceptionally easy to lose and incredibly difficult to regain. Even when you’re not at fault for it being lost. Blitzø normally chafed at anyone telling him what to do. But if he wanted to reconnect with his twin, he sensed he’d have to follow Barb’s rules exactly.

So two days later, he was waiting at the same bench with an iced mocha in an insulated cup. Barb hadn’t specified what she wanted besides an iced coffee. He liked his iced coffee super sweet; he’d just ordered what he liked and made sure it was chilled for her.

Barb was one of the first patients out that day. She spotted him and immediately stalked over. There was no mistaking the scowl on her face as she flopped onto the bench next to her brother.

Wordlessly, she held a hand out in Blitzø’s direction, not looking directly at him. Maybe she couldn’t quite bear to yet. Blitzø handed the cup over and waited. She’d said before that he’d have another three minutes. He just had to wait until she was ready.

She took a long sip. Cold, smooth, and sweet, it hit the spot after all the group discussion that day. “I like caramel more than chocolate,” Barb told him. Blitzo didn’t reply verbally, but she could see his thumbs up. She drank about half of it as they sat in silence.

After a short time, Barb pulled out her phone. A three minute timer was displayed on the screen. “Ready?” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Blitzo nod and give her another thumbs up. “Go.” She pressed start and he launched into his speech.

No stumbling over his words or confused cursing this time. He’d been preparing what he wanted to say for the past 48 hours. Blitzø gave her a quick version of Loona’s adoption and finding Dina. That was what she’d been curious about after all. Loona’s adoption let him briefly mention starting up I.M.P. but once again the timer cut him off.

Barb sipped her drink in silence. Blitzø did his best to relax as he waited next to her; it didn’t quite work and his leg started jiggling. It didn’t help that he had no clue what was going on in her head. I’m bringing coffee for me too next time, he thought. Maybe having something to hold would help. If there is a next time. The longer the silence stretched on, the less likely it seemed.

But eventually she finished her drink and hopped up to stretch. He noticed she stretched the same way he did; left arm up and braced with the right, up onto her hooftips, popping sounds down her spine and tail. Her tail swished with a crack as she turned to look at him.

Barb settled her fist on her side as she looked down at her brother. Blitzo’s leg was still jiggling with nerves. His eyes were huge with desperate hope as he looked up at her. Once again, she couldn’t help but focus on the white patch covering half his face. It was hard not to. His face was so much like hers that the broad scar stood out to her. What the fuck did that?

The scar, his expression, his desperate need to talk to her, they all made his side of the story more believable. Barb could almost hear their parents in her head, arguing about Blitzo. He wouldn’t leave us like that! Tilly’s voice protested. Cash’s answered in a growl, He did, he’s gone, don’t question me.

Over the past two days, Barb had realized that was always her dad’s answer when it came to Blitzo. During a session with her counselor, they’d discussed reasons why Cash had shut down any talk about her twin or why they never went back to the Pride Ring. The one that made the most sense was that Cash had lied. About everything. That Blitzo’s version of events was closer to the truth.

But she’d spent two decades actively trying to forget him and passively hating him. Barb wasn’t ready for Blitzo to be back in her life yet and she knew it. So after a pause, she held out the coffee mug for him to take back. “Caramel next time. See ya Blitzo.” As she headed off to her dorm, she heard a faint, “Later, Barb.”

That became the routine. Blitzø would be waiting with iced coffees after every group therapy session. Dina and Loona would kill time nearby while he and Barb “talked.” There wasn’t much talking at first. Blitzø stuck to the three minutes and Barb wasn’t saying much at all. She was just absorbing everything he said and processing it later.

After a couple weeks, she started giving him more time. Another minute, then another, until eventually she put the timer away. Five weeks after their first meeting, she let Blitzo ask questions. Two sessions after that, she started calling him Blitzø.

It took time. As impatient as Blitzø was, he could see that the slow approach was working. The first time she smiled a little at seeing him waiting, he had to force himself to not cry in the middle of the city. Stolas’ feathers got rather soaked that night though. Mostly with tears. They grew comfortable enough that they’d walk a block or two together.

Two and a half months into the twins reconnecting, Blitzø let his sister know he had to miss a day the next week. Dina would be missing group that day too since Loona was going to be occupied. Barb gave him a grouchy look. “What’s so important that you’re all going to be gone?”

Blitzø rolled his eyes and slumped his shoulders as they walked. “Happens every year, Stolas has this Harvest Moon festival bullshit in Wrath.”

—————

A/N: I’m back and I didn’t melt from the heat! Getting back into the grove, this part’s a bit shorter since the next few will be fairly packed. Also I’ve started a Ko-fi account, if anyone wants to support me. I’m still going to be posting everything as I have been, no worries there. I’m a SAHP so if you want to help fuel the word train that would be amazing. 🖤🩶🤍💜

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