#im sorry people looking at these tags normally i like doing this thing where i tag the most vaguely related shit to jumpscare people

[plulp]

whitney (design kinda mid but its alright ill deal with it)

[shartfinz]

Happy holidays Tumblr here's a post of all the funny stuff I've made this month

[savage-rhi]

MAGENTA.

[simpjaes]

renaissance man (p. js)

Taking note of the strangers you see day to day isn’t something you’d normally do. The only reason today is different is because the guy who made small talk as he rang you up for your intimate items was the same guy who showed up catering for your family reunion.  or the one where jay is a dildo salesman, a caterer, a self-titled mechanic, and also your ride home. he is not an expert in any of his jobs, but he sure is an expert in wit and well, other things.

minors dni!! | pls reblog to show your support!

WORDCOUNT― 14.6k

PAIRING― park jongseong x afab reader 

CONTENT― fluffy comfort smut, strangers to lovers like immediately, you buy a monster sized dildo, blatant talking of masturbation and toys, smut, cliche blooming an attachment to someone after (1) fuckening. 

!!ATTENTION!!― read this before? that’s because I run two blogs and like to re-vamp fics i’ve previously written for other groups! [@/ncteez is likely where you’ve read it from. THAT IS ME!!!] 

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― it’s kind of fluffy im so sorry i just have feelings for him, average cock size jay!!!![i am not of this belief, i think his cock is fat and huge], he is very much a service top, making out, hand holding, caressing, grinding, finger fucking, titty worship,  unprotected sex, sweet talking as a form of dirty talk, missionary bc i refuse to pretend he wouldn’t want that, back scratches (sexual)

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Never have you been put in the position to make small talk about the sex toys you place on a counter to purchase. Then again, you guess it’s part of the job description that most people ignore or aren’t privy to actually doing. 

Never have you been informed of the wide variety of lubricants, additional toy-cleaners, or the bigger and smaller alternatives to your chosen toy. You don’t show discomfort though, because it’s not uncomfortable. Sex is normal, masturbation is more normal, and the man in front of you appears to be normal too.

“There’s twelve different color variants if you prefer something less fleshy.” The man says, standing at the counter with some sort of a permanent pout on his lips. 

“I’m fine, if you could just ring me up now I can get out of your hair.” You respond, glancing at the time on your phone and wondering how you got stuck with the only employee who actually does his job here.

“Are you sure you don’t want any lubricant?” The man adds, gazing at the size of your toy and then looking you up and down as if you clearly wouldn’t be able to handle your chosen toy without help.

The man with no name tag appears to be blissfully unaware of his invasiveness with that question as you tilt your head with a raised brow. Shocked at the very question, it’s actually quite laughable that he’s so monotone with the offensive comment. You imagine he’s done this for so long that he must be a manager trying to get the day over with, going through the steps in a bored mood with little to no regard as to how he must sound to strangers buying their first or twentieth dildo. 

With your assumption that he doesn’t exactly care about the level of wet your vagina is when you use this toy, you respond. “I think I know my body well enough and I already have lube, but thanks.”

He nods, not even sparing you much of a glance before giving you a total and bagging your item.

Now, despite Jay’s lack of interest toward the purchase of toys, he finds it comical that he’s grown numb to the very fact that he knows what everyone in this town’s kinks are after they step out of the shop’s door. Someone’s gotta do this job and keep those secrets…he likes to think he fits the bill perfectly. 

Lively as he may be outside of this shop, each job comes with a personality and this one calls for one of disinterest in your product but interest in the sale. He’s not one to lie to himself though, many times a pretty girl has marched in and bought toys far bigger than any man and he does tend to let his mind wander about it from time to time. When he first started this job, bright eyed and bushy-tailed, he found it hard to navigate a single sale without a flush of tints crossing his cheeks and ears. Now, he’s become a veteran at keeping his dick locked in place if he were to feel some type of way about a purchase and the one purchasing. 

Shy as he was when he started, it’s all lost now as he handles dicks and dongs, pocket pussies and anal plugs, even whips and chains. 

Shy. That’s definitely a word and surprisingly one that can describe him when he’s not on schedule within these walls of alien dicks and lime flavored lube to match the grotesque green color. At his other job, because he works two, he takes the praise of being the charming yet timid man who shows up with pans of food for events. 

The guests seem to love him and many times during weddings and company parties he has been offered phone numbers or asked for one simply because he appears to be that of a friendly face with a kind sense of being. Someone you’d wanna bring home to mom, some might say. 

It’s a stark contrast of jobs, and somehow he’s managed to dodge knowing many of the people coming into his night job to shop for ways to fuck themselves. The rare time it had happened, he was thankful to have another person in the shop to ring them up. Keeping up with two jobs is hard, and keeping up with two personalities is even harder.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You hadn't thought of that guy from the sex shop even once until he showed his face at your family reunion. 

He noticed you before you managed to realize it was him though. Stealing looks in your direction as you chat with little cousins and elder aunts and uncles, mostly to double check in his brain if you’re really the girl who showed up and nonchalantly bought the newest dildo in stock. The fleshy colored one with rotating beads and a g-spot stimulator button. You know, the really fucking huge one. 

 Upon meeting his eye again for the first time, he could tell it really is you, simply because of the way you furrow your brow as you recognize him. 

Jay couldn’t help but smirk. He knew that eventually someone at an event would recognize him as their local sex-shop manager, he’s actually shocked it doesn’t happen more often. At least it’s you though, a woman who looks near his age and clearly has a very healthy relationship with her sexuality. So much so that you weren’t shy or nervous in buying the toy from him. Because it’s honestly pretty common to see someone nervous or uncomfortable while buying items far less telling than the one you bought.

His smirk doesn’t go unnoticed by you before you look away from him and focus your attention back to your family and by the time he’s prepared the food and is standing aside to explain what ingredients the dishes have, you’re walking up with your empty plate and an awkward glance. 

He follows you down the line of dishes, seemingly more interested in you than anyone else. You could argue it’s just an attempt to make you feel embarrassed, or perhaps even an attempt to ask you not to snitch on where else he works to make his money. 

“Do I know you from somewhere?” You ask, a knowing look telling him that you’re already very aware of that ‘somewhere’ you know him from. 

His pursed lips and snide hidden laugh at you is one thing, but the way he whispers to you over a pan of potato casserole is another. 

“I think you know who I am.” He says, crossing his arms as he leans back again with a flicker of a crooked grin. 

You leave it at that, looking him in the eye curiously and for some reason, smiling back at the strange second encounter with a man who appears to have a name tag now.

“Thanks, Jay. See you around.” 

Heading away from the tables of food and toward the table that contains all of your favorite cousins, you are immediately bombarded with a raised brow from one of them. Ah, nosy. 

“What was that about?” One of them leans over to ask, glancing at the man who is still overseeing the table of food and maintaining perfect temperatures. She doesn’t quite catch the way Jay’s eyes flicker back to you, over and over again, repeatedly. 

“Huh? He was just telling me what was in the potatoes.” 

She takes your answer as truth without issue, and the conversation falls away and into something else. College life, job life, family life. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Okay so, you’re trying to hear yourself out here. Are you somehow curious and interested in speaking with Jay? Yeah. Do you know why? Also yes. For one, he just sold you a fucking interesting sex toy last weekend in the most uncomfortable way possible, and now he’s here at your family reunion to remind you of what you do in your apartment when you’re alone. 

His personality seems different this time too. He wasn’t monotone, he was snide with you about knowing who you are. He probably thinks its funny that he ended up at your family reunion over any other event.

So yeah, maybe you find yourself going up to the table for seconds even though you’re no longer hungry. Maybe you definitely wait until no one else is at the table and he appears to be tidying up the space and wiping up spills before speaking to him again. 

“Just how many jobs do you have?” You ask in a sarcastic tone when you reach him, the table between the two of you creating a comfortable distance to poke and prod.

He jumps only slightly at your presence because he didn’t notice you walking up. The brief break he’s taken from stealing glances so he could actually do his jobs appears to be the time you feel the need to finally approach. Still, he’s smiling again, looking at you up and down. 

“Plenty. How much lube do you have left?” He answers before shooting back his own question and getting right to the point. 

You freeze in shock at his question, reminding yourself that his monotone voice from the late dildo purchase is no more and he now comes across as vibrant and charming to you. You check him out for a moment, taking mental notes of what may not or may not be to like about him. You can’t tell if it’s good news or bad news that you’re not finding anything to raise any red flags. 

He’s bold, confidence, charming, clearly has a decent work ethic– 

“I can’t imagine you have much left, that thing was a fucking monster. We have tons in stock if you wanna–” He pauses to cover his mouth, forgetting that he’s supposed to be timid and gentle during his day job. He’s not supposed to be himself.

You find yourself laughing though, leaning over the table and holding out your empty plate. Mostly just to get in closer to him without alerting your family of a new future husband or something. 

“Why are you so interested in my ‘fucking monster”’ dildos anyway?” You narrow your eyes. 

He pauses, easing up at the way you’re just as cheeky and playful as he is, despite being surrounded by your family. It’s mildly inappropriate, but it’s making his shift go by quickly. You’re making his shift enjoyable today, so he continues. 

“I think anyone would be interested, with all things considered.” He checks you out again with a brief pause, knowing the size of that dildo you bought by heart, and fully aware that it probably ripped you in half if you really managed to put that thing anywhere inside of you. “Correction, they should be worried.” 

“You’re different from before,” you comment, both of you now blatantly staring down each other. “I like this version of you more.” 

Something inside of him feels giddy at that. Not to be cliche but he wonders if this is what it’s like to instantly have a crush on someone. Again, he’s not one to lie to himself. You’re pretty and you appear to be confident. Confident enough to take time from your family reunion to have a discussion about your plastic cock intake anyway.

“Maybe I’ll see you again sometime then.” He puts a hand forward, inviting you to shake it but you simply stare it down instead.  

“Yeah, maybe you will.” You smile, slapping his hand as if you’re low fiving him before swirling around and walking away thinking hard about the fact that…yeah, he might actually see you sooner than he thinks. 

Honestly, maybe within the next day or two because he was kind of right to ask about how much lube you have left, but it’s not like you’d answer that truthfully if at all. You might be running out after just two uses. He was right again about it being a fucking monster, because well, yeah. Maybe you’ll pop in and shop for bulk lube instead of rejecting his up-sale this time. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Unfortunately for you upon the reunion coming to an end, you get into your car and of course it doesn’t start. You drop your head to the steering wheel in a sigh and annoyed grunt.

The last thing you need is your father driving you home because he will lecture you about your car and how it’s got to be some fault of your own for it to not start. And you know, yeah maybe it was your fault. Why were your lights turned on during a sunny Sunday afternoon? Fuck if you know. Why were they left on for the entire nine hours you’ve been here at your parent’s house? You refuse to answer your own question.

And just as you go to accept your defeat, preparing to head back inside and take the walk of shame ten minutes after saying your goodbyes, a savior appears. 

That savior is none other than Jay,  walking up with his stiff button down shirt partially unbuttoned, hair now disheveled as he must have ruffled it up after the day of work. He watched you from his catering van for just a few minutes before finally getting out to offer his expertise. 

“The battery is dead.” He smiles, slapping both palms on your hood and leaning to look at you through the windshield. 

“Smart man, can you un-dead my battery before my dad comes out?”

Jay shakes his head apologetically. 

“I already checked the van for the cables, could be a write up on my part for not checking before leaving. We are supposed to have all sorts of shit to prevent breakdowns on a job. Not today though, apparently.” He scratches the back of his neck as he walks to your opened car door. 

“If you can hang tight for like ten minutes I can swing by after dropping the van off.”

Your eyes plead with him. You’d prefer this, yes. If he’s willing to help, you’re willing to accept.

“You sure I’m not too out of the way for you to do that?”

He shakes his head nonchalantly, waving you off as he leans into your car to pull your keys out of the ignition. He smells like food, obviously he does, but there’s a scent of something else on him that’s far more attractive. The dull scent of cologne that matches him all too well. 

“Don’t try to turn it on anymore if you don’t want your dad coming out.” He laughs. “I’m sure he would help you but if you’d rather I help you, I am more than happy to do it.”

He’s teasing. His little crush pushes him to want to help you, but he’s gonna play it off as casually as possible. 

“I’ll hang out here. My dad would lecture the fuck out of me.”

Jay nods, backing away and heading back to his van to fulfill his offer.

On another note, you’re shocked that your father didn’t hear the commotion, and even more shocked that he didn’t step outside once since the reunion ended. He must have been tired, and you know him, he sleeps like a rock and probably already hit the sack without even cleaning up the yard.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Oh, it’s dead dead.” Jay looks at you apologetically, peeking his head out from the side of your hood and through your window. 

“Define dead dead.” You comment, taking your keys out of the ignition with a huff. 

“Like, you need a new battery. This one is done for.”

You sigh loudly, knowing that now you’ll have to go ask your parents for a ride home. Knowing that your dad is going to add more to his lectures with each day your car is sitting in this driveway. This is so fucking annoying. At least you work from home though, so it’s not like you’re gonna lose your job over this or anything. 

Jay unhooks the cables and turns off his car, then stands there and watches you for a moment. You look frustrated and annoyed, and it’s very much like him to offer more help. 

Of course it is. 

“Would it be too forward to ask if you need a ride home?” 

You look at him confused, tilting your head and studying his body language much like before. You’re not one to decline someone making your life a little bit easier, and he is interesting to talk to. You nod slowly, then pause.

“You’ve worked all day, don’t waste your off-time helping me out.”

“I’m already wasting my off time on you though, might as well let me drive you home too?”

You stare at him. 

“Okay.”

The awkward silence sets in shortly after you seat yourself in his car. You fill that silence with small sarcastic comments about said car though, and soon it becomes easy to be in the space with him.

“Where did this sticker come from?” You ask, poking your finger into a sticker with its edges rolled from the summer heat, probably.

“Ex girlfriend, I couldn’t get it off without it leaving a residue so I’m just letting the sun do its job and melt it off.”

“Oh, harsh.” You laugh, wanting to prod further. “Why’d you break up?”

Jay pauses, you can tell by the way his foot lets up from the gas momentarily that he wasn’t expecting you to ask that. Then again, he’s said some weird shit to you too, so you figure it’s not an end-all question. 

“Was that too forward to ask?” 

“Not at all, just wasn’t expecting it,” He shakes his head with a small smile, nearly reaching his hand from the wheel to pat your leg in reassurance. He holds back, wondering why the fuck that urge felt so normal for him to do. “It’s been like a year, so I’m over it and stuff. She just thought I worked too much and didn’t spend enough time with her.”

“Ouch, even harsher.” You smile in reassurance to him, also feeling it normal to want to do that for some reason. “Her loss, I mean, discounted dildos and food? Huge loss.”

He laughs at your comments, briefly looking over at you once he stops at a red light. Your eyes are shining with life, with interest even. At that moment, he feels something between the two of you. Which is quite strange considering this is your first time officially meeting him outside of his working hours. He can’t help the way his face softens though, it happens against his will, honestly, it does. 

“You’re kind of cute,” You blurt, breaking eye contact with him and shifting in your seat. “and fun to hang out with.” 

“Hang out?” He laughs at you, eyes now adjusting back to the road and lowering his speed just to have a bit more time with you. “This is hardly a hang-out, but if you’re interested, I’m more than willing to check my schedule to see when I’m free next.”

You feel confidence raise up in your chest, bubbling to be free in the form of a question likely too bold to actually consider.

“You’re free right now…right?” You comment quietly, glancing at him. 

“Hm?” He asks, tightening his grip on the steering wheel and feeling your eyes on him. He heard you, but he wouldn’t mind hearing you repeat it.

“I said, you’re free right now.” You repeat, this time with more confidence. “Would it be too forward to ask if –”

“Nothing is too forward to ask, I literally sold you a dildo.” 

You pause in shock, all thoughts leaving your head.

“Damn, alright,” You laugh, feeling kind of warm inside at how his forwardness matches your own. “If you’re free right now, we could hang out right now.” 

How lucky for both of you. He’s actually not catering tomorrow and only has to be at work at the good ol’ sex shop in the evening. 

“Alright,” He nods, glancing over to you. “Kind of fucked up we are hanging out after I met your entire family and still haven’t gotten a name from you yet though, wouldn’t you think?” 

Oh fuck, he’s right. 

“I’m sure you heard the kids yelling it all day. Don’t be dramatic.”

He laughs, already in love with the idea of spending more time with you. 

And you hear him echo your name, asking where it is that you’d like to go. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

If your parents were to ask why you’re walking through your apartment building with the caterer following behind you, you’d have no excuse. Then again, as an adult, you don’t think you need one. It’s strange despite how open and casual you are with making friends though, because you never just invite strangers to your place for friendship. At least, not without hanging out a few times first. 

You guess it’s not super awkward because it’s true that he already knows things about you that your family doesn’t. Such as, the things you penetrate yourself with when you’re alone. It’s a major ice breaker, and something that makes the friendship with him come easy even after barely talking to the guy.

The few words you have shared have been easy and fun, so it’s only natural that if your instinct is to want to be around him a little longer, you’d invite him in right? You weren’t really expecting him to accept your answer to his question. 

“Where to then?” 

You thought for a moment when he asked that. You don’t go to clubs or bars anymore, most places would have been closing within the hour, and it’s not like you didn’t eat to peak fullness during the family reunion so having a late dinner with him was out of the question too. You answered him so easily, and he accepted in a way that seemed just as natural to him. 

“We could just hang out at my place, I’ve got plenty of streaming services, a gaming system, and wine.”

“Sounds good.” 

It was so easy to become friends with him, and now with him following you up to your apartment, the typical awkwardness that should come with this type of thing isn’t swarming your mind at all. He’s even making small talk about the building itself after parking in your parking spot. 

“This building is way nicer than mine, you got a door code and everything just to get in.”

“Wasn’t always like this. Being a single woman in a city like this calls for safety measures though.”

A little box in his head checks out. He didn’t even have to ask if you’re single, because he already assumed you were with the way you so easily invited him over. And in all fairness, you’ve been trying to find a reason to slip in your relationship status to him. 

By the time you get to your door with him, he’s polite when he walks in and takes off his shoes. Polite in the way he looks around and studies your space, even polite in the way he walks into the living room and invites himself onto your couch and grabs your remote. 

“I was going to say make yourself comfortable but–”

“Well, would you prefer I sit on your floor?” He shoots back with a sarcastic tone in his voice. “Would you prefer I start digging through your cabinets for snacks? Would you prefer–”

“You’re so much more talkative when I’m not trying to buy something from you.” You comment with a laugh, dipping into the kitchen for two glasses and that cheap bottle of wine. 

“Speaking of, do you actually use that thing and like it? I mean, I see some weird purchases but that specific one is super popular with the fetish groups.”

For the first time, you feel heat rise to your cheeks. You should have known that the sex toy would be a point of conversation, considering the first time you ever met was buying it. 

“Yes, I use it. I’m surprised you find it shocking considering it’s literally your job to know what people like in terms of getting off.”

He smiles at that, because you’re damn right he knows. Most of the time he would prefer not to know, but he always did wonder if, on the off chance, he ended up hooking up with a customer he’d have some prior knowledge of how they like it based on toys alone. 

“You know, normally people don’t buy toys on a Monday at nine in the morning.” 

“I buy toys at nine in the morning on a Monday,” You chuckle, carrying the two glasses and wine into the living room and plopping down next to him. “Why does that matter? I’m sure you make your quotas even on the slow days considering how hard you were trying to up-sell me.”

He shrugs as he watches you pour him a glass. 

“It’s easy to up-sell when you know people’s kinks after a few purchases. I do that to everyone just to gauge what they need so if they come back I can make more offers.”

“A true salesman.” You laugh with a pitied voice. “What would you say my kink is?”

He studies you, looking you up and down without shame and thinking hard about your single purchase. 

“Well, considering that specific item is, again, usually looked at by a specific type of person or couple, I’d say–”

“Wrong.” You interrupt before he even tries to make a guess. “I don’t have a kink, I just have a really high sex drive.”

You take a sip at his silence of being beaten to the punch, and then he takes his own thoughtful sip. 

“Okay then, What do you think my kink is?” He asks slyly, cup still against his lips as he sips again. 

“Wha–” You narrow your eyes at him, trying not to stare at him for too long because goddamn is he handsome. “Hell if I know, you probably don’t even have sex after being in a hyper-sexualized space like that for hours on end.”

“Wrong.” He pokes his tongue into his cheek and looks away from you with another casual chuckle.

“Are you telling me you have a pocket pussy or like, a buttplug or something?”

“Three pocket pussies, actually.”

You don’t know why you’re shocked. For some reason his sex toys becoming the focus makes you feel more shy than your own being the focus. 

“I bet you named them.”

“Pocket 1, Pocket 2, and Jessica.”

“Jessica?” You raise a brow despite the sarcastic banter, wondering if maybe that’s based on his ex girlfriend or something. 

He nods in a matter-of-fact tone with a proud smile. 

You feel comfortable around him, never having a friend who openly talks to you about these things without any type of awkwardness. It’s the fact that he’s a man too. Usually they think with their dicks and he seems to have no qualms in admitting that it’s something he may do from time to time too. 

You imagine he needs this type of personality to work such a job though, being casual about sex can be so difficult for your average joe because for some reason, it is embarrassing. It’s hard to talk about even to sex-shop employees. You like to think he’s probably someone who makes others feel comfortable about their sexual habits though, because you feel comfortable. 

“I’m lying by the way.” He cuts through your thoughts, “I only have two.” 

You nod energetically with a laugh. 

“Variety is good.” You continue, not mentioning the array of toys you have stashed away. 

“Yeah, I think experimenting with different things is good. I only really liked the two I kept though, I guess.”

“And yet, you’re shocked about my single dildo purchase without knowing of my other items of interest? I could have just been trying something new too, y’know.”

Another sip of wine, and another glance away from him because you were looking a little too fondly at that little scar on his nose, the birth mark on his neck, the way his lips crease when he swallows his drink and– yeah, you definitely glance away.

“No one buys that as a first time experience.” He comments, tapping the cup against his lips and looking at you.

You’re a little stunned by him, never having met a man so open to speaking like this, with a woman he barely knows no less. 

“Okay, enough about my dildo. I actually have a question about something you might have in stock but I’ve kind of been too embarrassed to ask until now.”

He nods, his personality shifting only slightly into that as the manager of the sex-shop.

“Oh? Embarrassed? Since when?” He jokes at first. “What is it then?”

“Do you guys have like,” you pause, unsure of why you’re even trying to ask. Again, it’s not like masturbation is embarrassing, nor is the purchasing of toys. Asking for a specific item is a bit too intimate to you though, seeing as how you usually just buy those things online. “Okay hear me out.”

“Tentacles? Furry buttplugs with tails attached? Bondage rope? Paddles?”

“No…” You pause at his spewing of different types of toys. “I know you have all of that.”

He pauses, studying the way you make yourself a bit smaller compared to just minutes before.

“Do you guys have sex dolls for women? You know, like, just a doll with a very normal dick?”

Jay fucking snorts. How mundane. 

Unfortunately for you though, Nope. 

“Nah, the owner tries to cater more towards men and fetish stuff. We’ve got fem tantaly dolls and all sorts of blow up dolls but he’s never brought in just like, a torso with a cock, if that’s what you’re asking.”

You shrug. 

“Guess sticking it to the wall is all I can do for now then. But like,” You pause, realizing that you’re actually going into detail at this point, which might be a little uncomfortable for him? Maybe? “It’s really annoying to have it sticking to the floor, and you’re like, riding it and it just pops off and stabs your thigh slipping out mid-orgasm.”

He snorts again, that pretty smile you’ve seen time and time again echoing the most attractive laugh you think you’ve heard in a long time. This time, his smile doesn’t fade as the seconds pass, no. He’s unable to stop laughing at the image of whatever orgasm instilled the frustration in you to even mention that happening. He tries to stifle his laughter with the last sip of his wine before choking it down and pushing his glass at you for more. 

“Noted,” He snorts, nodding his head and almost hiding his face from you. “I’ll tell the boss we need male sex dolls so the women don’t get dick-stabbed where they don’t need it mid orgasm.”

You glare. 

“Wait, no, because it actually hurts.” You frown at him. “I just wish your shop catered a little more to women who just wanna ride a dick without the dangers of riding said dick.” 

“Maybe you should slow down next time so the full force of your–” He pauses, realizing how sexual the image in his head is of you right now. “Um…” He trails off uncomfortably, unintentionally adjusting himself in his jeans by spreading his legs slightly against your couch. 

“Okay, wait. I’m sorry, is this conversation too much right now?” You ask, looking him up and down and giving him a new glass of wine. “You’re blushing.”

He tries to play it off. 

“As if you could make me blush.” He laughs at you, downing half of his glass in one go. “To make up for our lack of product though, and if you don’t tell anyone, I’ll give you a discount on your next purchase just for embarrassing yourself telling me that.”

“Oh, I was supposed to be embarrassed?” You counter, knowing that all you need to do is point out that he got flustered to shut him up. You opt not to because still, the two of you barely know each other. Instead, you opt to laugh along with him, letting your gaze fall back to studying all of those features he has that you didn’t quite notice before.

While you did notice he was handsome before, it’s not like you paid that thought any mind. There are a lot of handsome men out and about after all. It only starts to matter when they allow you to get close enough to appreciate it more. Not to mention, in your experience at various sex shops, most employees of them are mundane and nonchalant. Some are strange old men, or cool old women. Jay though? Jay.

Hmm…how to explain him?

With his messy hair that covers his eyes every time he whips his head toward you in a laugh, with his sharp jawed smile and pretty eyes. The little marks and celestial kisses against his skin that shows you of a life he’s been living. He feels…warm. Like everything about him looks comforting, smells comforting, sounds comforting. And now, even compared to when you met him at the shop, even at the reunion just this afternoon…he’s so much more handsome in this moment. 

Learning his personality, hearing his voice say your name, having him take the time to not only help you but befriend you? 

His shoulders are broad, and he’s just… you don’t even know how to explain to yourself the attraction you have toward him at this moment. Handsome is one thing, and you would have continued calling him that if it weren’t for the fact that he’s laughing with you on your couch about a ruined orgasm. 

“You know, Jay,” You start, looking into your glass and swirling the liquid inside, then you look up again and make eye contact. “I’m really not usually this forward but like,”

His brain stops for a moment at the serious tone in your voice, his expression softens and you can tell he’s listening. 

“I know masturbation and stuff is normal, and like, you see and talk about these things all the time but I never really talk about it to other people, they always get weird about it.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. I can’t say this is the most normal hang out I've ever had. Usually we talk about our favorite movies or books or something.”

You wave him off. 

“Yeah, that’s a good point. We could talk about our favorite movies but I find myself, um–” You stop for a second. 

“Is talking about it making you realize that it’s uncomfortable?” 

“No, the opposite actually.” You laugh, now actually feeling embarrassed. “I keep thinking about you mentioning the other things you’ve bought and experimented with.”

“Oh? You’re curious?” He laughs, now feeling a bit shy himself because he’s pretty sure that’s you asking him to put images in your head. “I mean I could go into detail but it actually might be too-telling right now.”

You nod, unsure of why you even suggested.

“Maybe next time?” You change the subject with a smile, one that does seem slightly disappointed. 

“There’s a next time?” He smiles, setting his glass down on your table and shifting toward you.

“I don’t see why not? I’m having fun, plus you offered me a discount.”

He nods, looking around the room and checking the time. 

“I should probably head out then? We’ve both had a long day.” 

You nod back to him, feeling a bit sad. 

“When are you free next?” You ask, grabbing your phone in a way that seems a bit too excited. “Can you give me your number?”

He obliges, exchanging phone numbers and promising to contact you with his next free day or night to hang out. Just as he goes to leave though, for some reason both of you feel as though the satisfaction of this hang out wasn’t reaching full potential. 

“Hey, um,” He stops before he puts his shoes back on. “Would it be too forward to say I’m not tired and wouldn’t mind–”

“Staying for a bit longer?” You finish his sentence for him, patting the couch as if that was also on your mind.

He doesn’t even respond, and instead makes his way back onto the couch where the cushion is still warm, unable to help the fluttering feeling in his chest.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It's almost two in the morning by the time he offers to leave again, and yet, he stays at your clear disappointment of the offer. Another hour later, the two of you are sitting contently and pretending to watch some shitty tv show in comfortable silence. 

“We should say something.” He blurts, mid episode.

“What do you mean?”

He turns toward you. 

“We should talk about this.” He motions at the space between the two of you. 

You’re silent while you try to build up the confidence to meet him half-way again. 

“You can correct me if you’re not interested but I actually really would like it if you kissed me or something.” He adds as you continue to process what he seems to be getting at.

You’re taken aback by his forwardness for some reason, and instantly you knew he didn’t communicate this earlier for your own sake. Thankfully, you’ve tried to make it easy for him to read you and he ate it up like his favorite meal. The content feeling between the two of you was buzzing up to this point. Very loudly in your brain where you were thinking of how to kiss him before the night is up. Even as just a “thank you” if he were to turn away from it. 

“Oh yeah?” You ask, tilting your head and seeing him scoot closer. “Kiss you, or something?”

He nods his head, looking at you without much issue and searching for a reaction. 

“Are you interested in me like that, in any way?” He asks, looking for confirmation.

“Oh, most definitely.”

The smile that spreads across his face is one that you can argue will be unforgettable. It’s an expression you hope to bring to every person in your life, one that seems to express nothing but relief, excitement, and maybe even a hint of bashfulness.

“You thought I'd invite you inside without being interested?” You smile at him, feeling a little bit fuzzy in the head at the admittance. 

“I thought you were just being nice, or like, just interested in friendship,” He rambles on, stopping himself short to give more context to that statement. “I mean, it would be fine if this was all for friendship and I'm happy with that too but I can admit to coming into your apartment with maybe, uh, a small crush.” 

“I can admit to inviting you in with a small crush, maybe.” 

“Maybe.”

“Are we being too forward?” You ask, emphasizing the repetitive way that word seems to appear. “Even though you’re in my apartment at an ungodly hour and both of us are giving any and every excuse to keep you here?”

He smiles this time in a way that appears to be self-soothing, and you can imagine you are too. It’s always nerve-wracking to walk on eggshells with another person, the threat of wondering if you'll fall alone or fall with them into a new version of partnership. 

You don’t think about the lack of knowing him past a purchase, a quick conversation at a family reunion, or the past several hours he’s huddled up with you on this couch. You simply don’t think it’s strange at this point. After all, you’ve met people online and invited them over without much more than a name, age, and quick conversation about what they want sexually. How is this worse? How is this strange? 

“You’re right. Maybe we should stop being so polite when the reality of it is that I’ve been imagining what you’ve done with that toy since the day you bought it.” 

Okay, maybe that was too forward but all is lost now as your image of him changes drastically within the mere seconds it took him to say that, not in a bad way either. Again, of course he’s comfortable admitting it, the dude stares at dicks and holes all day. But now he’s staring at you, and talking directly to you.

Your silence makes him shift a bit, shaking his head apologetically. 

“Found the boundary, got it.” He shames himself with a timid voice, looking away from you and back to the tv with a hint of embarrassment. “I’m not lying though.” He adds after a few more minutes of your silence.

“Not much of a boundary if I admit that I was blatantly asking you earlier what you’ve done to experiment with your toys.”

“Aha! So I was right in thinking you were straight up asking for mind-porn of me?!” He feels instantly comfortable again, turning his entire body toward you as he folds up one of his legs to sit on with a little bounce. 

“Maybe, but what do you mean you’ve been imagining since I bought it? You barely made eye contact with me that day.”

“Oh, I was checking you out the whole time you shopped. Imagine my face when I knew exactly what toy you were reaching for.”

You shove him by the shoulder with a laugh, realizing that this is the first bodily contact you’ve ever had with him, but he actually leans into your shove rather than out of it. Meaning, he barely budges. 

“If I looked you in the eye at the register, you would have thought I was some pervert.” 

“You are a pervert. You said it had, what? Twelve other colors?” 

He shrugs with a pained smile at how cringe he must have sounded to you. 

“You seemed more like a sparkly pink girl rather than a normal flesh tone girl. Then again, this was before I knew you were looking for a literal male sex doll for super normal pretend-sex.”

You shove him again, your laugh coming out more forced now at the way he jokes with you. Once again, he doesn’t budge. In fact, he’s leaning in closer. 

“Now hold on, you didn’t mention anything about one having glitter in it.” You joke, wiggling your brows. 

“You trying to fuck a man or a magic unicorn?” He laughs yet again, all of it coming out more forced as the two of you drag out information just to hear the dirty words in a voice you’re only just realizing you like far too much. 

“A man.” You dead-pan, this time not laughing, looking him dead in the eye and trying to pretend you don’t notice how close the two of you have gotten. “Why else would I go for more human skin tones?”

“Fuck if I know, I haven’t met a single man who has vibration settings or rolling beads though.” 

You snort. 

“Shame…but also, why do you think I’m on the hunt for the most mundane sex toy a woman can buy now? The rolling beads almost had me passing out.” 

“Was it too much?” He asks seriously, hoping to god it was. 

“A little bit, yeah.”

“I can imagine you want something to feel real after that.”

For some reason, his words hit you straight in the gut. Your stomach drops as your attraction heightens, and suddenly you’re just staring at him as you respond. 

“I can imagine so, yeah.” 

He stares back, almost no space between the two of you as the banter only brought you both mentally and physically as close as possible without becoming twisted together. 

“When was the last time you felt something real?” He asks against his better judgment, wondering if you’re on the same page with him. Wondering if all this banter was leading to somewhere or nowhere. Because he could have sworn admitting to wanting you to kiss him, and you’ve yet to do so. 

“A month and a half.” You respond dryly, suddenly needing something to drink. 

He glances down at your neck when you swallow around your words, then stares at your lips before breathing in a sigh. One that was supposed to relieve the tension in this moment, but only building it more because he knows you see him do it. He knows you see him wet his bottom lip too.

“Are you going to kiss me, or are you planning to wait another month and a half to get what you want?” He continues on his streak of boldness as if to distract you from noticing the sexual tension, feeling his heart skip beats at the intensity of the moment. 

“It’s not like we have anything better to do.” You start, leaning in and still looking straight into his eyes.

“Are you suggesting that I’m boring?” He narrows his eyes as he feels your breath against his lips, still sweet from the wine that did close to nothing in terms of altering the brain. The two of you are totally planted into reality, if anything, a little drunk on the other. 

“Not at all.” You adjust your words from earlier, there, hovering just over his lips. “I’m just saying that nothing is more interesting than kissing you right now.”

Oh, the fluttering in his belly is so fucking intense right now. No eighteen inch alien tentacle dildo on a shelf could scare him as much as you do at this moment. Intimidatingly outspoken and aware of your wants and needs. His eyelashes flutter just like his stomach does, closing them slowly until he can feel your lips on his. 

Your stomach, on the other hand, has been doing flips since the first instance he admitted to wanting to stay. All of the tension, all of the comfortable silence, all of the glances, the smiles, the laughing, all of it was leading up to this. The moment your lips hit his, they feel much like you imagined they would. 

Soft, plush, warm. The thin lipped grins he’s given you all day now laying flat against your own lips, no longer grinning, now just wanting. And he’s gentle, so fucking gentle with it. Never has a man asked you to kiss him. Usually they close the gap to try and swoon you. It appears you’re both being swooned by each other at the moment though, and his soft kiss only pulls back momentarily before he leans forward, closer.

The third touch, save for you shoving him, his lips on yours, and now…his hand on your cheek. Caressing so gently as he deepens the kiss with ease. The heat rises up and through your skin at the simple touch. You think he must feel it with the way he chuckles into the kiss and starts peppering them against your lips over and over again. A split second between each lay of his lips, and then another solid kiss. One where you finally start moving yours too.

It’s slow and languid in the way he kisses you like this, barely even darting his tongue out but focusing more on your cheek against his palm. He can feel your jaw move as you kiss and can’t help but love what’s happening, and when you’re the one to lick against his lower lip, he falls in so easily. 

That little movement from you, that little feeling of your tongue experimentally prodding his lips open releases the last bit of tension holding him back. He pulls back to look at you and you’re not backing down even slightly. 

“Does this feel more real for you?” He asks in a snide way, swiping your bottom lip with his thumb of the glistening saliva before tilting his head with a smile. 

You very nearly roll your eyes at him for that. And by very nearly, you do roll your eyes at him and can’t help but smile yet again. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” He says, palm still against your cheek, tips of his fingers toying with the baby hairs on your hair-line. “because I can imagine that the toy couldn’t ki-”

You shoot forward to kiss him again, only just realizing how awkward the positioning is considering neither of you were probably expecting more than a first kiss. 

He laughs into it, knowing you were silencing him of something that could arguably be the most cringe-worthy thing he can say after kissing you. His laughs start to stifle though, as you press forward and somehow manage to have his back against the seat of the couch and you planting yourself on top of him. 

“Can you shut up about the toy now? I thought we got past that,” You argue as you pull back, your cheek already missing the feeling of his palm against it. “You can’t just act like this and then say some dumb shit like that.”

You’re joking, he knows it. If anything, you’re complimenting him right now and he eats it the fuck up as he stares up at you. 

“Was I wrong though?” 

You take a moment to look at him, realizing that this is the man who you just kissed. With his hair a mess and fanned out on the cushions, strands falling in front of his eyes, but mostly swept back and exposing the entirety of his forehead to you. 

You reach forward and brush a strand from his eyes. 

“Actually, say whatever you want.” You correct yourself and manage to ignore his question.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” He half-chuckles as he brings his hands up to sit against your waist, hoping you don’t pull out of the intimate position the two of you are in. 

“I don’t know, I was just looking at you and thought it would be stupid for me to try to argue with you right now.”

“Why’s that?” He prods for more compliments, feeling himself twitch at the way you look hovering over him. 

“Are you trying to argue right now?” You tilt your head, adjusting yourself now to sit directly on his thighs and lay forward, both hands cushioning your chin on his chest as you straddle him. 

“Would it be so wrong to admit that you’re fun when you argue with me?” 

You can feel him breathe under you, nearly rocking you further and further into whatever headspace Jay seems to put you in. It’s too comfortable, and it almost feels as though you’ve been with him for years now. You barely know him, yet you’re lying on him as if you got married two years ago. Insane how this works. How the heart works, or the brain, or whatever drives the arousal you’re feeling right now. 

“Will you argue if I ask to show you my room?” You start, lifting back up and away from his chest, now scooting forward a bit. You don’t dare sit on it yet, but you very much would like to if he were to suggest not moving at all from this couch. “My bed.”

He stutters and quickly quiets his excited words, replacing his voice with a nod and a sharp inhale.

“Hah! Telling me to argue and instantly buckling the second I mention my bed.” You laugh, pulling yourself up and sauntering out of his view.

He stares at the ceiling for a moment, in a daze over just how much he likes you. He wonders, would you be shocked to know he hasn’t had sex in much longer compared to you? One and a half months for you? That’s nothing to him. He’s been besties with his right hand for at least six months by now. Trust him when he says that it truly was difficult to not turn into a hormonal idiot when he saw you in the shop that day. 

Finally, he shakes himself out of the spaced out horny brain staring at your ceiling and stands to his feet. He’s quick to adjust the bulge in his jeans, uncomfortably shaking his leg before looking toward where you walked off to.

“Um.” He stops, realizing you were watching him, looking directly at the spot he just adjusted. “I mean,” He tries to start again, adjusting again as he feels it slowly move out from its tucked place. “Listen,”

“No, I get it.” You say, snickering at his embarrassment as if he somehow doesn’t know you were suggesting at least some foreplay by moving to your room.

“Of course you do,” He drops his head, now blatantly shoving his hands down his pants to adjust before looking back up and taking a step forward. “You’re the one who sat on me like that.”

“Please, I didn’t even sit on it.” 

“Didn’t need to.” He shrugs, now coming up to you and waiting for you to guide him through your space and into your room. 

Once the two of you get there, him not even attempting to hide that he is very aroused at this moment, you’re very quick to turn and face him once he comes inside. 

“We are on the same page, right?” You ask, looking at his lips and the way they still look so kissable. 

“As far as I know, with all things considered.” He responds, looking down at himself and how pathetic he must seem in getting so aroused by nothing more than a kiss and a position change. 

You smile, reaching for his hand and watching him tumble forward to you. Now standing mere inches in front of you. 

“Do you want to see it?” You ask, a cheeky smirk on your face as you turn away from him and run to your bedside table. 

He has no idea what the fuck you’re referring to until he sees it. There, in all of its non-human glory. Jay ticks his tongue, curiously straining his neck out to peek at what else is in your drawer as he walks closer. 

You make no attempt to close the drawer and instead pull out another one, and another one, another one.

“If you keep pulling out toys I’ll start to think you were lying in saying you wanted to feel something more, um–”

“Real?” You say, turning from your presented line-up of toys to look at him. 

He nods, gazing over the toys, four dildos all far bigger than he is. 

“I can admit that men can’t vibrate, nor do they have those little rotating beats but,” You chuckle at the conversation, scooping the toys up quicker than you laid them out and tossing them back into the drawer. “They’re not warm, or attached to someone that can kiss me. They’re also not witty.”

You study his expression.

“They don’t make me laugh before getting me off.” You continue, wondering if you may actually be too forward about this now. 

He’s rendered a bit speechless, which is rare for him in any given situation. He always has a quick response, not at this moment though as he looks at you. He wonders if you pity that obvious act of self-doubt upon seeing your toys. 

“They’re not attached to you.” You add, this time stifling your chuckle, because it’s a pretty funny conversation if you look at it from the outside but you can imagine he must be feeling some type of way to be so quiet.

He thinks hard about it, knowing damn well where this was leading and pushing for it himself. Hearing you now though, so confidently say these things, all doubt erases from his mind. 

“Before we do anything,” he starts, his shaky voice coming out more confident as he continues. “Is this just a hook-up to you or are you feeling the way I’m feeling right now?”

You look at him with a question in your eyes. He was kind of shocked that you didn’t finish for him this time, actually. 

“Like, you know if we do this, I’m going to be calling to take you out to dinner at some point unless you say you don’t want me to, right?”

You hadn’t thought of anything past him since you’ve gotten here. You didn’t think about anything more than hanging out with him, and now, kissing him, and maybe you know, feeling him. For some reason though, despite the lack of sex you’ve had lately, him saying that only arouses you more. It’s been so long since you’ve intended to sleep with someone and have them want to stick around after. Some of the people you’ve been with didn’t even ask for your number. Is this what adult relationships are actually like? 

“As in, you’d want to see where this goes in the–”

“Future, yes. I’m not just going to fuck you and pretend I didn’t when I see you again.”

Shockingly, that’s a first for you and you like the feeling it gives you. Plus, him implying that he’s about to, or very willing to, fuck you sends a wave of fondness through you.

“Alright. Let’s not call it a hook up then.” You say, the playful arousal from before stifling out at the idea of being intimate with someone who is making you aware that you’ll see him again, now being replaced with…feelings? Arousal with feelings?

“What should we call it?” 

“A date?” You say back immediately, sitting on your bed and finally closing your bedside drawer. 

“Oh, you fuck on the first date?” 

You laugh at how quickly his wit comes back, especially with the way he crowds up and stands in front of you. 

“With you? Looks like it.” You smile wide for him, feeling the tension bleed away and replace itself again with the arousal of him standing and looking down at you. 

“How did we not meet earlier?” He asks, leaning down a bit as if to kiss you.

“Fuck if I know, I bought all of those toys at your shop.”

“Ah, right. Nine in the morning on a Monday. I don’t usually work mornings.”

“Guess I got lucky last time then.”

“I guess you did.” He adds like a period to a sentence, finally kissing you again and making no effort to hide the fact that he’s attempting to lay you down much like you did to him before. 

You let him, falling back on your bed and feeling him nudge your legs to spread. Again, you let him, feeling your heart begin to race with excitement in the way he kisses you now versus how he did it earlier. 

There is clear intent behind it this time, as he positions himself between your legs. Your heart only races faster when one of his hands slides down your arm and he tangles his fingers with yours. It’s all very intimate to be coming from a man you officially met today, but you really do feel lucky. 

Lucky that he works two jobs, lucky that your family throws lame ass reunions every five years, lucky that you left your headlights on during a sunny sunday afternoon, lucky that your battery died. 

It’s so normal already to smile into the kiss and feel giddy inside. Never have you smiled into a kiss save for laughing when a leg cramp happens mid-fuck. You can’t believe how much you’ve smiled and laughed today, and you can’t believe he’s making you react this way just by holding your fucking hand and kissing you this way. 

He laughs when you react though, probably feeling at ease on your bed with you under him, squeezing your fingers tightly each time he licks against your tongue. And when he pulls back to breathe, you just look at him and the way his hair hangs in front of his eyes. He looks so pretty at this angle, even when he’s moving slowly, even when his other hand remains planted beside your head to hold his weight from falling onto you. 

It’s not been since highschool that you’ve laid with someone simply making out, fully clothed, giggling. You’re unsure of how he’s pulled this out of you, because usually when a man is on top of you, you’re already trying to get his clothes off. But this? This is something that you want to last. You want it to be slower than a usual fuck, because you like when he’s here with you. Whether on top of you or not, there was a reason he’s stayed this late already and you already know it wasn’t solely to fuck you.

“Did you expect to be on top of me someday?” You ask between kisses, and he takes that as an invitation to laugh against your neck and tickle your cheek with his messy hair. 

“Expect it? No,” He starts, leaving a kiss just under your ear before lowering his lips to the collar of your shirt and kissing there too. “Hoped I could, though.” 

Your heart swells up at that. You realized he must have meant it when he admitted to having a small crush on you. Only now do you realize that the curiosity that brought you back up to the food-table during the reunion may have been the start of a crush on your end too. 

You don’t say anything more after that and instead fall into the feeling of his lips kissing along your collar. For some reason the sensation of his lips pushing the fabric out of the way so he can kiss new exposed skin makes you feel incredibly wanted. Maybe it’s the pace, or maybe it’s just because you really really like him, and want him to want you. 

“Do you want to take it off?” You ask after a few more of his kisses, wanting to control yourself but also very much wanting to feel his lips everywhere else too. 

You can feel him nod in the form of his hair tickling your cheek more. But he doesn’t move from that spot at first, continuing to kiss you the same way and in the same places. You let him, up until he finally sighs and pulls back. 

Looking at him now, even compared to a few moments ago, he looks even more pretty. His eyes are now soft, you can almost see the lines from where he’s smiled for you all day. His lips, looking more kissable than they did the past two times you thought they looked as kissable as they ever could. His eyebrows, showing no signs of tension but permanently arched in a way that makes him appear constantly moody. 

You’re staring and you’re not intending to hide it. Even as he lifts your shirt from your waist and starts to pull it up. You barely budge as you stare, and stare, until you can’t because he’s trying to pull your shirt over your head.

“If you’d stop staring for two seconds maybe I could get this off of you–” He smiles knowingly, finally pulling it off when you arch your back and then prop yourself up slightly with your hands. “There.”

He sighs when he says it, going silent and almost frozen at the image of your nearly-naked torso. You watch him stare now, a smirk forming all too quickly.

“Now look who’s staring.” You chuckle, noting that his eyes still don’t leave the newly exposed skin or the fabric of your bra.

“Yeah, I am.” He admits, wetting his lower lip again and then flicking his eyes to you. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Suddenly, that eye contact makes you feel shy. You’re more naked than he is, despite mostly being dressed still.

“You know,” you start, avoiding his intense eye contact just to get the words out. “If we just take all of our clothes off now, it would probably be easier.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle at you but nods, already lifting his shirt off and going for his zipper and button.

“There’s no rush, but if you’d prefer we do,” He scoots back and away from you, standing to his feet to shove his jeans down his legs. “I don’t mind.”

You watch him undress and lose all ability to act on your own for a solid thirty seconds before you finally start panic-shimming the rest of your clothing off. Save for bra and panties, and he, now standing there clad in only a pair of form-fitting briefs. 

You’re glad he isn’t as shy as you at this moment though, or rather, he appears to be entirely infatuated with your body and doesn’t look away from it for even a moment to feel embarrassed himself at standing on the side of your bed nearly nude. 

“No rush?” You ask, when he finally trails his eyes up to you and takes his position between your legs from earlier. Except now, you can see his biceps and the way they flex, now, you can feel the immense amount of warmth radiating from him. Now, his hair is even more of a mess.

“I can try,” He says quietly, balancing on one hand and lowering his lips to yours once more, trying to ignore how dangerously close his length is to bumping against your core. “No promises now, though.”

You smirk, wondering where he lost his self control within that short span of time where you got undressed. He cuts your chuckle off mid-way though, now kissing you again and moving his hand up and down your waist. It tickles and causes goosebumps to form all over you, to the point that you can’t help but sigh into his kiss. 

He continues, still holding his hips back from grinding against you, kissing you as good as he can until trailing back to your neck again. 

It’s not until you run your fingers through his hair that he sighs himself. That relief and heavenly feeling of your fingers scraping the back of his neck— such a simple touch can literally send him straight to hell at this point and he wouldn’t care a single bit as long as it’s from you and your hands. 

He lowers himself more, just to prevent his hips from intruding into this moment only to lock his lips onto the mound of your breast, other hand lowering so he can lay down and push your bra to the side a bit. 

The cold air that hits your nipple is short-lived when you feel him immediately suck it into his mouth with a deep breath. You continue to scratch through his hair, now using your other hand to nearly hug his head in place as you feel the sensations shoot straight between your legs. Each flick of his tongue sends signals to your brain to go! go! go! But much like him, you hold back, even though your legs still manage to squeeze his body between yours in an attempt to find the friction he isn’t yet offering. 

He continues this for a few minutes, and then works his fingers under the bra on the other side of your chest before switching his lips to that one. Perking them up so perfectly that he can graze his teeth against either nipple and feel your legs react to it. All of it is turning him on beyond belief, it’s dangerously attractive to him now too, to know that you have several toys that could have already gotten you off by now, but you choose this. You choose his lips playing with your tits, and your legs doing an amazing job of showing him your lack of control. After all, toys can’t give you the foreplay that he can.

His lips continue their work, up until he’s trailing further and further down, making your sighs hitch higher and higher in pitch. He kisses your waist, just above your belly button, then just below your belly button before leaning back.

There, he looks directly at the seat of your panties and smiles at the wet spot there. He plants a kiss right in the center of your mess  before climbing back up and caressing your cheek again. 

“You’re wet.” He comments in a huskier voice than he normally uses, balancing yet again on his other arm.

Goddamn, if this is how he sounds when he’s with a girl then you feel more lucky than before. You can’t imagine the amount of women who have fallen completely in love with this guy. And, before you can actually respond to him with another cheeky comment, his hand on your cheek disappears and is instantly between your legs, cupping you there and even scooting you up the bed with the force of how he grabs you.

You hitch out a sigh and look at him with a smile.

“Obviously.” You say back, rolling your eyes playfully before unintentionally bucking your hips into the pressure his palm offers against your clit. 

“Cute too.” He adds, lifting his palm to run his fingers up the wet spot on your panties before pressing in slightly. 

You can feel the fabric stick to you uncomfortably, but it still feels so fucking good. Any amount of touching from him feels good, if you’re being honest. 

“And you’re teasing me.” You argue, looking away from his smirk as he plays with the wet fabric against his fingers. 

“Just ask. I’m not teasing you if you're not telling me what you want.” 

You shoot your eyes back to him, a mixture of curiosity and shock in your eyes. It’s true though, you are a little shocked. Most men really just do what they want, and so do you. Never have you been asked what you want. 

Your eyes trail down as far as they can, what his hand is doing is mostly hidden between your legs but you focus entirely on the way his arms flex as his fingers travel up and down your panties. 

“You want me to ask?” You question, hips bucking up again unintentionally. 

“Not so much ask, but like, tell me what you want.”

He nods to himself as he says it, licking his bottom lip and pressing the fabric of your panties in yet again. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to do what he wants right now though, definitely not. He just figures you know your body far better than he does, and he’d rather not make assumptions and embarrass himself when you could just ask him or better, guide him. Who is he to assume you want his fingers right now anyway?

“I’ve never…” You start, swallowing your words as your brain goes back to focusing on his fingers momentarily. “I haven’t–”

He knows what you’re trying to say, so he attempts to make it a bit easier for you. 

“Do you want me to pull your panties to the side?” 

You sigh with a nod, looking at him and allowing him to guide you through telling him what you want.

“Do you want me to touch you?” 

You nod again, pushing your head back against the mattress out of frustration that you, for some reason, can’t find the words to just tell him yourself. 

He listens to your body though, more than your weak nods and frustrated sighs. The way your legs shake when he asks, the way you react to the air hitting your folds when he does push your panties to the side. He can’t bear to look down yet though, because he knows for a fact that if he were to pull back and look at you in full, he’d no longer be asking you what you want. He’d be embarrassing for sure. 

You can feel his fingers now sliding through your folds though, bare pussy out and on display but not yet being looked at, only being felt. And arguably, all you can do right now is feel too, as he leans forward to kiss you in this silent moment. 

His fingers continue to explore as he kisses you, collecting all of your arousal and swirling it around your clit before sliding back down and prodding at your entrance. You make a sound at that, kissing him a little harder than before when he lets out a hum.

“Hm?” He hums against your lips, and you nod to him. 

There, he dips a finger in only slightly. Your arms reach around his neck at the feeling and pull him closer to you. To the point that you can feel him struggle to angle his hands right to slide in deeper, but you pay no mind to it. At least not until you kiss the fucking daylights out of him.

That, you do. Kissing him with full-force and making a show of how turned on you are for him. He feels it, with or without your kiss bruising him. The wetness on the tip of his finger only becomes wetter, and when you release your grip around his neck, he still doesn’t leave the kiss.

He goes back to gently kissing you, focusing more on his fingers than what his tongue is doing. He slides that same finger in all the way now, feeling your walls clench almost instantly and beg for more. Chuckling at the feeling, he fucks his finger into you experimentally before pulling them out and adjusting two fingers at your entrance. 

“Hm?” He hums again, and you nod again.

So, two fingers slide in and you’re releasing a soft moan against his lips. Already out of breath from focusing so hard on how he feels when he touches you. Your lips fall slack just to catch that lost breath, and he doesn’t argue, going right back to that spot on your neck to kiss as he picks up rhythm with his fingers. Effectively fucking you open with them as you cling to him.

You hate to say you didn’t pay much attention to his hands until now. Having not noticed how deep just those two digits reach inside of you, and good fucking lord does he know how to use them too. Curling them up at just the right moment to have your legs shaking. 

Never have your legs fucking shook for a man. This only happens with the g-spot stimulating toys. God, you open your eyes to look at the ceiling in thought, and it has you wondering if he even knows he’s doing it. 

“Keep doing that–” you urge him, and he hums at you finally at least trying to tell him what you want. 

He finally lifts from your neck to look at you, now placing his weight back on that one free arm that had been toying with the ends of your hair this entire time, and he’s fucking floored. Even if he pictured you before with those toys, none of those images came close to this. And it’s just his fingers? No where near the size of your toys, no where near as expensive, or warm…or alive.

Oh. You want to feel someone who wants you. 

“I’ll do anything you want.” He says, doing exactly as you asked except a little faster, still hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly that you’re moaning out now. 

He tunes in entirely to the sounds you’re making, the faces you’re making, and the way your pussy clenches around just those two fingers. He is aching at this point, pulling back from hovering over you to sit now between your legs, fingers still keeping pace, and sliding his other hand down his briefs. 

You don’t notice at first, too enthralled by the feeling of his curling fingers inside of you, but when you do–

“God,” You moan, rolling your eyes at the image of him out of breath, both hands working to pleasure both of you. “Come here.”

He listens, already pulling his hand away from himself but keeping his fingers in you, in a daze as he takes his original position of hovering over you.

“No, I mean, come here.” You say, looking at him as you reach between your bodies and pull his fingers out of you, then reach to grab between his legs. 

He immediately moans at the feeling, his hips pressing harshly into your grip with a whine as he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes just to feel it. 

“Pull it out.” You continue, slowly becoming more and more comfortable telling him what you want. 

Just watching him do what you ask is insanely hot. The way he pulls his cock out seems so natural to him, you suddenly imagine what he must look like all alone while getting himself off. Thankfully though, he’s not all alone right now, he’s with you, and you intend to be getting him off. 

You look at him, between his legs, and then back at him once more before grabbing it again and practically pulling his hips to you by the cock. He groans all the same at it though, and only holds his breath when he feels your legs spread further and essentially press his cock between your folds and hold it there from the head. 

“Grind.” You say, still holding your hand in place to keep the pressure against him, which also puts pressure against your clit when he does grind up.

You both shiver at it, and he still looks down at you, fucking smiling through his sighs of relief regarding the new sensations you’re offering. 

“You’re actually fucking perfect.” He compliments, fucking his hips up and coating his cock with the dripping of your needy cunt. 

Out of everything he’s ever said to you up to this point, out of everything he’s fucking done to you, that’s the one thing that has you spiralling into a world of fire. It makes you feel so warm, especially with the head of his cock bumping your clit. He has barely gotten any friction and he is still calling you perfect? Sign you the fuck up, forever, actually. 

“Don’t be stupid,” You start, waving him off between moans and gripping his shoulders.

He grinds up harder at your words though, now propping himself up on his elbows and grabbing your face on both sides. 

“You, don’t be stupid.” He says clearly, pointing his thrusts directly at your clit and moaning only slightly as he looks at you.

You swear, at that moment he could see your entire life. Everything about you. Everything you love and hate. The way he doesn’t look through you but at you? 

“You’re actually insane.” You laugh, crumbling to his pointed gaze and thrusts, your legs automatically shooting up to wrap around his waist. 

He seems proud of being called insane right now. Mostly because he can come up with at least fifty reasons as to why this is anything but insanity, but he remains quiet at the feeling of your legs squeezing around him. 

Such a girl was looking for mundane sex toys to have normal sex with? Lucky you, this is his fucking favorite. Plain ‘ol missionary? Check. Legs squeezing around him, almost pulling him in? Check. Looking directly at the face of the person he wants to make feel good? Check. 

You barely notice his lack of control by this point, the closeness alone feels like you’re already having sex but you realize you’re entirely empty still. This is fine though, until it’s not.

When does it not become fine? When his confident moans turn to soft sighs, and you notice his arms shaking a bit to hold his weight above you, and when his eyes go dead staring at you. You can tell he’s focused entirely on the feeling between the two of you, doing nothing more than aggressive yet…weak grinds? 

“Jay,” You say, slightly out of breath. 

“Hm?” He responds half-heartedly, releasing his weight from one elbow and dropping his head between your neck and shoulder.

“Fuck me.”

It’s like you can feel the switch in his head go from losing sanity to gaining it back in an instant at those words. He felt like he was pleasuring himself against you for so long, with so much friction between your hand and his abdomen constantly pressing into it. He could have gotten off from this, if you wanted him to anyway. It would have been an intense orgasm after working up for so long too, but now? 

He doesn’t even say anything, he doesn’t even move his head from between your neck and shoulder. Instead, you feel him expertly adjust his hips and press in without much trouble. He finds exactly where he belongs so fucking fast that is has you spinning and clenching immediately. 

“Shit,” He drones out with a long sigh, slowly sinking his cock into you. “You’re throbbing.” 

You chuckle, because yeah. You definitely are, but so is he. You can feel his thick length spreading you open inch by inch, until he’s fully planted into you and twitching. Then he doesn’t move again.

“This alone could do me in,” He chuckles against your neck, breathing in a deep sigh and attaching his teeth to your lower ear lobe. “Honestly, I can't believe I didn’t already cum  just from having my fingers in you.”

You’re both flattered and shocked by this comment, before you can even think to respond he’s talking again.

“You’re so tight, so wet.” He soothes himself through the feeling of your walls clenching around him by explaining how good your pussy feels, not yet wanting to move and just wanting to feel what your body does to him on its own. “It’s so hard not to move right now.”

“Please,” You manage to get out, struggling to focus on just one thing with the way he’s talking and the way he sits so perfectly inside of you. “Please, move.”

And he does, instantly. Pulling out and sliding back in so easily that the slapping sound is muted entirely by the matching moan you both release. You can feel his voice vibrating against your neck, and you can imagine he might be able to feel yours through your pulsing walls, because it feels like every sound, touch, and sensation is sent straight there for him to enjoy. 

It doesn’t stop either. Both of you shamelessly moaning at the feeling of him snapping his hips into you at perfect speed, with a perfect voice, and a perfect hand moving up to grip your chest. 

He’s practically blanketing you with his body, your legs holding him in this spot, his hair still finding a way to tickle your cheek with each thrust in. It’s so fucking much. It’s so good, and so…comfortable.

You’re comfortable. So comfortable you don’t even feel the need to rub your clit, you don’t want to chase the orgasm, you just want to feel him. And apparently, he’s still on the same page with you. 

When he lifts his head, kissing the bottom of your chin and then your lower lip, still the two of you are groaning at each deep thrust in, but he manages to talk through it, somehow.

“Don’t stop,” he says, despite you barely doing anything. “Keep doing that.” He continues as his thrusts pick up pace. 

Only now do you realize that you were doing something. Without noticing, your hands were nearly tearing his back apart. Not literally, but your nails may have dug in a few times. Normally, once you notice doing that, you would stop because normally men don’t want the trace of another woman on him. Jay though, he’s in love with the idea that you’ll leave a mark. 

Obsessed with the sting of it, really, loving the idea of going to his night-job tomorrow and staring at all of the toys that don’t offer you a back to hold onto like this. 

You do as he asks much like he does for you, gripping him so tightly that your nails have no choice but to leave half-moon shapes on his skin. Each thrust drags your fingers up, down, up down, and with each thrust it somehow feels deeper, harder, hotter.

When he releases your chest from his other hand and puts it back to your cheek, caressing much like he has each time he’s focused on kissing you, you think you’re a fucking goner. 

As expected, he kisses you at that moment and thrusts once, hard, before holding himself there.

“I’m really close,” He whispers apologetically between kisses, “tell me how to get you there with me.”

You smile when he kisses you again instead of letting you answer, but you fall into it much like he does and you opt to grab that hand on your cheek and guide it to your clit. 

Instantly, he’s rubbing harsh and sloppy circles around it, and you reward him for the perfect work of his fingers yet again with your fingernails digging into his back. He softly moans at that, and you swallow it up all too easily. 

Tensing your muscles, his fingers on your clit work you up so quickly that you barely warn him of your oncoming orgasm, even as his cock sits leaking and heavy inside of you. You don’t even know how to tell him, all you can do is frantically moan out shortly.

“I’m–” 

Instantly his hips are back at work, barely even thrusting but instead remaining buried into you for the most part. He pulls out an inch and slams back in, wanting your orgasm to get him off more than his own movements. And fuck, it does.

The way you clench when you reach your high, slack lips against his own, he releases at what he could argue is the best possible time. Your tenses muscles work him up perfectly, gently massaging his cock as he releases in full without too much overstimulation. 

And you. You have never gotten off with a man staying mostly still inside of you. Actually, you’ve only gotten off that way with toys because nothing beats getting off while completely full. Jay really is something, or, someone. 

The two of you release together, and his lips fall slack just like yours do. The kissing turned to that of desperate, orgasm-fogged moans into the other’s mouth. For some reason, it was incredibly hot to you that you both reacted that way. So insanely drunk on the other that nothing felt embarrassing.

Even the way his fingers moved on your clit through your orgasm, he somehow knew when to go and when to stop. 

Even now, as your orgasm tapers off, you are so blissfully aware that you want to immediately fall asleep even with him inside of you. Jay is polite though, and gently pulls out with a small apology of the mess. 

When he looks at you, looking so sleepy under him, maybe it translates to him too and he instantly yawns but tries to be strong for both of you.

“We should clean up.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

There wasn’t even a question in your head when he slept over that night. He didn’t even hint at leaving. Nor did he hint the morning after as you groggily opened your computer for your daily work. 

He did hint that he would miss you when he eventually had to go to his own house and get ready for an evening at the sex-shop. He also hinted a few times at feeling like, when he looked at you, you weren’t a brand new person in his life. Part of you wonders if that’s because maybe you want to be permanent in his life from now on.

Later that night, he came back. Bright eyes and a stinging back.

For some reason, you feel it’s safe to say that neither of you can stand being apart for too long. So yeah, maybe this is what a normal relationship is like. If, you know, you were in a relationship with him.

Ironically enough, only a few days later that relationship is established in the form of a new car battery and a bottle of lube that he bought for you. 

Not that you need it. (The lube.)

[mono-dot-jpeg]

boy failures for u - i. yoichi, s. nagi, s. ryusei, b. meguru

summary; in which some boys just love you so much, they simply can't function

genre/extra tags; scenarios, fluff, comedy, projecting my love for dog energy boys, they're so pathetic /pos, bachira is clumsy, ryusei is an embarrassingly horny dude (can confirm, he gets no bitches, absolutely ZERO play!!), nagi... is perfect as he is, yoichi,,,, is just socially awkward around people he has a crush on

[gender neutral reader]

a/n; look at me being fancy this one panel banner, slay. tbh i couldn't think of a good three photos to use for it so i tried this which is kind of nice. anyways i had a sudden thought hit me and it must be done. and what better anime to write for than the one where everyone has unexplainable gay tension between each other. i swear im as caught up as possible i think and i swear the gay tension is like,, crazy.

isagi yoichi is endearing. he's so bad at being normal around you. his face flushed a cute red, and his words barely managing to leave his mouth as you talk to him so sweetly. he doesn't know how to handle a crush. and it's so cute to tease him because he just doesn't know how to respond properly.

the times where he does manage to gain enough confidence to talk a conversation with you, he's never taking the lead in any of them. he's talking [somewhat] normally to you, answering your questions and [attempting] to reply to your thoughts and responses. of course, just don't flirt with him too hard. there's like a 50 percent chance he will understand it or not.

he can't even admire you correctly. when he attempts to give you a compliment, he's saying all the wrong words and apologizing profusely like he offended your entire bloodline. he's so utterly enchanted by you, he wonders if you're an angel sent just for him.

"you're so nice, y/n." "huh?" "i-i mean you're really cute! wait- i didn't mean that! fuck- not that i don't think you look cute! you're really a great person, you know?! sorry! i'm just gonna go back to practice...!"

nagi seishiro is so lazy that you can't help but watch over him. you understand why reo adores him (a little too much). he's a boy with pretty privilege and talent. he talks to you with such honesty that he unintentionally flirts with you. he doesn't know a lot of things well, but even he's had his fair share with understanding liking people (but that's only with the random dating sims he's tried).

when he manages to get on his feet, whether it's for a soccer match or you, he's stuck by you like a cute koala. he whines about everything being "too much of a hassle." but he finds himself walking around looking for you, no matter how far you are. he whines to you about how he had to get up to find you, and he's cuddling close to you. his mouth turned into his signature X shape as he pouts at you, annoyed that you just had to be away from him for more than a minute.

he tries so hard to be around you but at the cost of his laziness, he mutters to you about how much easier it would be if you just stay with him all the time like his purple-haired companion or his cactus pet. he fell for you first, but he makes it so easy for you to fall harder.

"why do you always have to do stuff?" "it's my job, sei." "you should just stay with me all the time. you take care of me so well."

shidou ryuusei is annoyingly desperate for you. if isagi was endearing, shidou was insolent. he speaks before he thinks. he has no shame in chasing after you. it's quite a feat that you haven't even shooed him away as much as sae has. you sort of find a friend in sae because of that. he always rolls his eyes when you mention him. he wonders why you keep being around the blonde jock, and you tell him, "who doesn't love a pathetic man?"

when he talks to you, he just can't read a room with you in it. he's the type of guy to say "this shot is for you." and it hits the goal post and then to his face. of course he'd never actually miss in a real match but i can guarantee that it would happen during a practice match. he unintentionally humiliates himself every time he tries to be cool. if sae is there, it's even worse. he's trying to bump up the flirting up to a 200 and failing miserably to woo either of you.

he's like those tweets where it's like, "how did i pull them? easy. i just went, PLEASEPLEAPLSEPWPLEAPLELA-". without fail, he basically tries to re-enact that but he doesn't even pull you because you'd much rather wait for him to actually be a decent man and grow the rest of his brain. though it doesn't seem he'll learn his lesson anytime soon.

"did i ever tell you how hot you look right now?" "yes. you have. multiple times. today." "please go out with me." "no."

bachira meguru is confusing. he's clingy, blunt, teasing, a little stupid but has the spirit, and an absolute cutie. he's passionate about what he likes. and surprise, surprise, he likes you. he's an infodumper but you don't mind at all. but sometimes those talks take a hard left into just telling you how much he likes you. you better hope you're strong because he will be jumping on you for a hug.

when he's just buzzing with excitement, he can't help but scramble by your side to cling onto you in any way that you will allow him to. he's not as boy failure as the others on this list because even when he fails to capture your heart, he's still succeeding in his book. he loves when you give him any sliver of attention. that's probably his thing as a boy failure. he is a hyper and needy dog who's too big to cuddle with but doesn't care. and you can't say no because then they just stare at you with those big eyes until you cave.

he's the type of guy to be confused when people ask if you're dating him and you say no. "what do you mean we're not dating? i thought this was the dating." he's never actually confessed, but he considers his "s-tier affection" to be confession enough. but he's kind of coward whether he realizes it or not. he's scared to actually say that he wants to be yours, but that's like an angsty story for another time, SO SHUT.

"what if we kissed? like right now?" "but we're not dating, meguru." "we're not? we should." "i'll think about it." "no think! just do!"

[nereidprinc3ss]

okay i know this is kind of a specific request but can you do something with professor Spence and uni reader where they get into a spat and argue bc she did something stupid and he gets mad and she’s like “noooo pls don’t be mad i hate when you’re mad at me I’m sorry🥺” bc she literally cannot function knowing she let him down (me with everybody) but he’s like super stubborn and goes all closed up and quiet so that he doesn’t like blow up on her until she finally says like “pls talk to me” and he’s all pissed and like “hell na bitch u crazy!🗣️‼️” but then later he’s like “it’s ok i love u but neva do that shit again ho” then they make up and it’s good again 🎀 ok i explained that so poorly (and comedically if i may) but i hope u get it and pls make it SO DRAMATIC bc I live for drama! like she steals test answers or something or does something that could like get her kicked out of school OR him lose his job 🤔 sigh … idk I’m leaving now. Also i LOOPOOOCE ORRKGOOVI love your fics. Luv em

hey girl (gender neutral) this made me laugh bc genuinely sometimes i write spencer so ooc that is what he sounds like. and i'm not sorry! anyway this is potentially a vyvanse fueled nightmare but i wrote it and i'm posting it MY BLOG MY RULES BITCHESSSS!!!! but genuinely read the content warning LMAO this one got a lil kick to it

warnings/tags: ANGST, HURT/COMFORT, fem!reader, spencer and r get into a for real argument like they're mean to each other, spencer is a lil toxic but its resolved, emotionally neglects reader just for a teeensy second but then he's really nice and sweet again, discussion of his past addic+ion, gets fluffy because i'm not EVIL, gets suggestive at the end bc i am secretly evil.......

a/n: i don't know whats happening. this confuses me just as much as it confuses you. its 3 am in the morning. im gonna post nice happy things soon. Gootbye

“I cannot believe you right now. I don’t even—I don’t even know what to say.” 

“Spencer, you don’t have to say anything. It has nothing to do with you, and I’m not looking for your approval.” 

He looks up from where he’d been rubbing his temples, like you’re a headache, eyebrows raised and lips parted in indignant disbelief. 

“Oh! You’re not looking for my approval? Well thank god for that, because if you were one of my students I would recommend expulsion to the board.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me? I just said I don’t care about your opinion on this, much less your hypothetical opinion from some alternate universe where you have any authority over my education whatsoever.” 

“You distributed an answer key to half of your class! Objectively this is the kind of thing that gets people expelled. I don’t understand how someone so smart could do something so fucking stupid.” 

The words bite more than you were prepared for—but what hurts even more is how much he seems to mean them. In arguments past you’d both said things you didn’t mean, and then would immediately melt into I’m so sorry’s and the fight would resolve itself. Spencer’s clenched jaw and inability to make eye contact with you do not lend themselves to tender apologies. They cannot be attributed to miscommunication. 

You take a step closer to where he’s bracing himself against the countertop, arms crossed defensively in front of your chest. 

“Spencer, I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was such a big deal. People cheat in college all the time.” 

Still no reply. His head shakes so minutely you wonder if you’re imagining it. Panic wells in your chest. 

“Please talk to me. I really hate when you ice me out. I’m sorry, okay? Just... please say something.” 

Finally, his eyes slide to you. They lack the fiery anger of moments ago but there’s not much softness there either. His normally warm gaze now feels too abrasive, too cold and sharp on your bare skin. You're exposed, much too soft for that grating look, and it feels like he can see everything that’s wrong with you. 

“Believe me when I tell you this. I am doing us both a favor by not speaking to you right now.” 

And then he’s leaving the kitchen—nothing but a breeze against your cheek and the sound of a door slamming to prove he was ever there. 

The apartment is silent. You stand in the middle of the kitchen, unsure of what to do next. Spencer very, very rarely gets angry at you to the point of neglect, and you know he’s doing his best with what was modelled for him as a child and his tendency to feel things so deeply it’s nearly disabling; but that doesn’t make it hurt much less. It doesn’t make you feel less abandoned or alone.  

You’re sad, and you’re still pissed, and maybe you’re in just a bit of shock as you robotically move back to your nest of blankets on the couch and resume your schoolwork. What else is there to do? Unless Spencer is right—unless you really are about to get expelled after getting the answer key for an upcoming test from a friend, who then gave it to another friend, and so on. But is that really your fault?  

It’s a struggle to stay focused as your mind keeps drifting back to Spencer in the other room, those cruel words and that cold steely look in his eye that isn’t supposed to ever be aimed at you. It’s not a secret that side of him exists, but it doesn’t belong in this apartment. It’s not something he needs to use against you. He’s supposed to be on your side. But instead, he’d said you should be expelled and essentially called you stupid. And now you’re doing homework for a class at a school you may not even be a student of come Monday. 

---------------------------------------------------

The sound of the office door opening forty-five minutes later spikes your blood pressure and simultaneously makes your heart flutter, because no matter how mad at him you might be, Spencer is still Spencer.  

He comes to stand behind the couch quietly, but you don’t acknowledge him. Maybe your typing gets a bit more aggressive, but aside from that you flat out reject his presence. 

“Can we talk?” 

You let him sweat for a minute as you finish your paragraph. 

“I don’t know, Spencer. Can we? Or are you not done with your temper tantrum?” 

“That is... well deserved,” he sighs, rounding the couch and tapping the bottom of your foot, signaling that he wants you to move your legs. You despise how automatically you comply, pulling your knees to your chest to avoid touching him as he sits next to you. There’s a long moment of silence, in which you resume typing. Spencer scoffs, leaning in slightly to peer at your screen. “Are you doing homework right now? I’m a complete asshole to you and you just... do your homework?"

“What the fuck else was I supposed to do?” you almost-yell, slamming your laptop shut and blinking away potential tears. “The only person I wanted to talk to called me stupid and fucking left!” 

The tears realize their potential once you admit the blunt truth. 

Spencer carefully moves your laptop and pulls you into his arms—and you just let him. There’s not much fight left in you. There wasn’t a lot to begin with. 

“I am so sorry, angel. You’re right, I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have yelled, I shouldn’t have said what I said, I shouldn’t have walked away. I overreacted.” 

“Yeah, you really did,” you cry, allowing him to run his hand over your hair. “Why did you do that? Why were you so fucking mean?” 

His voice shakes slightly as he responds, betraying his own anxieties, and a new, unwelcome sense of trepidation slithers through your veins. 

“I was wondering that, too. Even as I was saying it, I knew—I knew it wasn’t what I wanted to be saying. And then I was in the other room and I wanted to be out here, and I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t. But I think I was just scared. Which—I know, doesn’t really make sense, but... I think about when Ethan dropped out of the academy, and ended up doing heroin in New Orleans for three years, and I think about when I almost left the BAU because I was so convinced I’d never get clean that I didn’t even want to anymore, and—and the idea of you losing your education and your direction like that terrified me, probably unreasonably, and I took it out on you. And I’m sorry.” 

“But I’m not like you or Ethan. You don’t have to worry about that. Even if I... even I do get in some sort of disciplinary trouble. That’s a road you don’t have to worry about me going down, ever.” 

He fixes some unseen wrinkle on your shirt.  

“Yeah, but, remember... I used to not be like me or Ethan either. Do you think twelve-year-old Spencer would have ever even considered that of the infinite realities and universes which exist, he was living in one where someday he’d be shooting up in the bathroom at work?” 

“Mm-mm,” you hum, shaking your head and burying your face in Spencer’s shoulder. The sound is more of a plea for him to be less descriptive than an answer to his rhetorical question. It’s still much easier for him to talk about that part of his life than it is for you to have to actually imagine it. You didn’t know him then, but you’ve seen pictures, and you know Spencer now, and it’s... it’s just too much. Too sad. 

“Okay,” he agrees soothingly, still playing with your hair. “I digress. My point is that literally anything is possible, and while it’s not necessarily likely, I more than anyone know that anxiety even over the most improbable of things is never completely unfounded.”  

You sniffle in response, too emotionally and physically exhausted to contribute much to the conversation by this point. Thankfully, Spencer can talk for two. An idiosyncrasy which you love and comes in handy every once in a while. He can play his own devil’s advocate; in this case, you. 

“But that doesn’t mean I get to take it out on you. Ever. I truly, truly, sincerely apologize for that. I never want to hurt you.” 

You let the apology sink into your skin like a salve, soothing every abrasion those earlier words had left in their violent wake. 

After a few minutes, you find the energy to ask a question that might best remain unanswered. 

“Are you still mad at me?” 

He’s quiet for a beat, seemingly contemplative as his fingers trace abstract patterns in a language all his own on your arm. 

“I’m not thrilled. But you were right earlier. It’s not my place to be mad at you for something like that.” 

“Mm... it’s a little bit your place. You’re an actual professor.” 

He chuckles. 

“At an entirely different university.” 

“Thank god,” you laugh. “You and me at the same school would be such an HR clusterfuck.”

While it’s almost a serious matter, the smile in his voice is evident. 

“Yeah... I, uh... try not to think about it.” 

“Okay, but seriously. In your professional opinion. Am I fucked? Like, do I need to prepare an appeal and character witnesses or whatever?” 

Spencer sighs. 

“It was incredibly reckless and irresponsible. You should be ready for disciplinary pushback from the schoolboard if you get caught. That being said... because over sixty of you got a hold of the answer key, I doubt anyone is getting expelled, and even if they did, it would likely only be the TA and the student he gave the key to. It’s my tentative, professional opinion that you’ll probably be fine.” 

You relax slightly, allowing a tension you didn’t realize was there to shed like an old skin. 

“I’m not gonna cheat again,” you promise on an exhale. It’s simply too much risk for too little reward.

Spencer’s response is quiet, and comes much faster than you’d expected. 

“Oh, I know you aren’t. Because if you do, you’re going to have to worry about disciplinary action from me. And I’m not nearly as nice as the dean of your school, darling girl.” 

But something about the way he says it—a thinly veiled threat/promise contrasted by a sweet kiss to your forehead—doesn’t exactly make academic honesty look all that exciting.

[water-to-drink]

Hi :)

Im not sure if you write angst so if you don't please ignore this.

Please can I request a fic where the Reader and Kaveh are in the desert and they get ambushed by something e.g. eremites and the reader gets injured. (also if you don't do Kaveh, Alhaitham would be ok too)

It’s Just A Scratch

(Pairing): Kaveh x gn!reader

(Synopsis): What was supposed to be an uneventful trip through the desert turns into the worst nightmare for Kaveh

(Tags/Warnings): Angst, blood, violence, Kaveh is reader’s boyfriend, petnames (dear and baby), (if I missed anything lmk)

(Word Count): 690 (nice)

(A/n): I hope this is fulfills your request

Traversing such an arid region is not for the faint hearted, the blistering sun and harsh winds are surely meant to keep any inexperienced travelers away. Travelers like you

“Ugh, it’s so hot.” You whined. “I can’t believe you travel through the desert as often as you do!” You fanned yourself with your hands while struggling to keep up with your boyfriend

“It’s not bad once you get used to it, now come on let’s get going we’re almost there.” Kaveh said as he offers you his water canteen

You take it and drink some, careful not to drink all of your boyfriend’s water. You’re coming back from a meeting with a client, you accompanied him as support for the blond, knowing how some clients can be. Now the two of you are on your way back to the city

You handed the canteen back to the architect and kept walking right besides him. You can tell that your boyfriend is very familiar with the terrain, which is something you’re thankful for

“When we get back into the city, let’s grab a drink. On me!” You said

“Wanting to drink after being in blistering heat, I don’t know what to do with you, dear.”

“Hey! You know you were thinking of the same thing-” You came to a halt when Kaveh’s outstretched arm stopped you from going any further

In the middle of the road, there’s a barricade blocking your path

“Kaveh, what’s wrong-”

“We need to turn back.” The blond stated. “It’s dangerous here.”

You rarely saw your boyfriend this serious, so whatever is making him this way should be avoided

Turning around you see a group of people in quickly approaching you and your boyfriend

Eremites!

Quickly you draw your weapons and start fighting your assailants

Kaveh’s heavy claymore effortlessly swings at the Eremites without making the architect break a sweat. Things looked to be going pretty smoothly until he halted his movements

A blood curdling scream rips from behind him, he turns his head to see you being stabbed in the stomach

The next few moments were a blur. Ditching his briefcase in favor of swinging his greatsword by hand, soon enough he sees the Eremites retreating

Quickly turning his attention towards your bleeding limp form, he kneels down and presses on the wound

Panic fills him as he saw blood gush from your wound and cover his hands. He sallowed down his anxiety and made quick work of your injury

Thank the archons he entertained Al haitham’s ramblings mainly the ones that involved medical advice, he hastily patches you up and made sure you were in a stable enough state to move you

Picking you up he ran to Aaru Village and begged the village doctors to help you

The next hours felt like pure agony for the blond, he paced back and forth through the room waiting for the doctors to come out and say that you’re okay. The logical side of him knew that you lost a lot of blood. Wanting to be hopeful but his crimson stained shirt that stickily clung onto his chest broke that illusion for him

The same hopeful side just wanted you to pull through, to keep your promise to stay with him forever and not leave him

After a few agonizing hours the doctors come back and say you’re okay, after some words that went over Kaveh’s head he was allowed to see you

Entering the room he his heart dropped. Your skin normally full of life and color now a sickly pale with large bags under your eyes

“Hey… sorry for scaring you back there.” You weakly said

“Baby, don’t be sorry. I should be the one apologizing, you got hurt because of me.”

“Kaveh…” You reached out to caress his face but your hand so shaky that the architect feared that it would drop

Taking your hand he pressed his face into your palm, noting how cold your hands feel against his cheek

He can beat himself up over failing to protect you later, what matters is for him to be strong for you

[fairysluna]

INVISIBLE STRING | Chapter 6: girl at home.

New Girl!AU — A disastrous break up led you to them; three guys living in a huge apartment and in need of a new roommate who helped with the way too expensive rent.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader.

SUMMARY — Baela takes the group to a costume party where you finally meet a guy that seems decent enough to date. Oh, how wrong you were.

TAGS — cheating, mentions of blood, aegon being... protective(?, cursing, a tiny bit of angst but it's barely there, hints to family issues, mentions of sex, mentions of violence/fighting, sexual tension(?, alcohol consumption, hospitals, mentions of medicines. If something is missing, let me know!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE — this turned out to be longer than i expected, so im sorry for that💀 but at least is a gift to you for taking so much time to update, so please enjoy it!! REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!

WORD COUNT — 7.8k

PREV CHAPTERㅤ|ㅤNEXT CHAPTER

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.

A comfortable silence ruled during breakfast, only being interrupted by the faded voice of the news reporter on the TV across the living room. Aegon was by your side, staring at his phone and enjoying his first morning after a night of sleep; he had changed his work shift after the ‘Ceryse accident’, being too embarrassed to share the same space with her after what happened. 

He still hasn't been able to adapt his body to the new sleeping schedule, and probably that was the reason behind the dark circles around his eyes. You were about to ask him about how he was doing and if he had managed to sleep at least a few hours, but a cell phone started to ring causing all the attention to go towards Baela, who quickly stood up and excused herself before picking up. Four pairs of curious eyes followed her down the hallway until she was out of sight.

“It's been a week,” Aegon suddenly murmured in your direction, picking some of his cereal with the spoon and filling his mouth with it. “If she's gonna live here with us you gotta tell me. I need to be prepared.” 

“She's not gonna live with us.” As you spoke, you involuntarily rolled your eyes at his comment. “She'll kick Garett out of her apartment, she told me she will leave on Monday.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Jace suddenly interrupted. 

“She's telling me when her friend will finally leave,” Aegon replied before you could do it. 

“She will leave?” the brunette asked with a saddened tone in his voice, almost sounding disappointed.

“Well, do you expect her to live with us? Fuck no,” The man on your side answered again, and you sighed, tiredly. 

“She's gonna break up with her boyfriend — thank god, and then she'll return to her apartment,” you explained in simple words, not wanting to give extra information. 

“What do you mean by ‘thank god’?” Jace’s deep brown eyes were curiously staring at you. 

“Let's just say I'm happy it's over,” you shrugged. “After everything he'd done…” 

“What had he done?” He questioned again.

“I don't think I should be the one talking about that, Jace,” you cut him off before he made any more questions. “You can talk to her, you know? Ask her what she’s been up to lately… maybe indulge in a conversation like normal people do. Ever since she arrived you've barely spoken to her, what's up with that?” 

“Believe me, I tried,” he sighed, defeated. “But she looks at me and I forget every single word,” he shyly confessed. 

“What’s your thing with her anyway?” Aemond interrupted, finally being part of the conversation after minutes of pure silence.

“He lost his virginity with her,” Aegon suddenly replied before Jace, who gave him a shocked look. 

Your mouth dropped, “You knew?”

“Of course, I knew,” he shrugged. “He asked me for advice.”

“Aegon!” Jace scolded him. “That was between us, it was a secret!”

“Well, not anymore.”

“Gods, how did you manage to do that?” Aemond’s shock was reflected on his face as he turned to see his nephew, whose cheeks were covered with a pink tone. 

“I don’t know…” Jace’s forehead soon was pressed against the table as he groaned, pitying himself. 

“If you did it once then you can do it again!” you said in a failed attempt to give him support. 

“I’m an idiot,” he mumbled.

“On that much, we agree, dear nephew,” Aemond added. 

Aegon scoffed. “Who are you to talk? Ever since Alys dumped you, you haven't even gone partying anymore. You used to be a slut, now you're like a grumpy, old man who suffers from erectile dysfunction or something like that.” 

“Shut up,” his brother muttered, annoyed. “I've been busy. I have a job, you know? A grown man’s job.” 

“Being Rhaenyra’s secretary,” he reminded him, mockingly. “Does she make you wear a tube skirt and glasses while you prepare her coffee?” he teased him. 

“At least she thought I was good enough to give me a job,” he snapped back. One single glance at your side made you realize that it was a hard punch for him; Aegon's jaw tensed. 

“Alright,” you stepped in, giving an awkward look at Jace, who just cleared his throat. “This got out of hand very quickly…” 

The silence that now fell in the room was not quite as comfortable as it was before. Aemond had returned his attention to his breakfast oatmeal, while Aegon started to tap his fingers around the half-empty bowl of cereal. Jace was already used to these little fights between them, and he had warned you about them - telling you that Aemond would usually be the one who says the last word. You felt a tightness in your chest when you noticed how Aegon was bouncing his leg, anxiously. 

A few seconds later, Baela returned to the dining room with a mischievous smile drawn on her face. You were grateful because now the awkwardness that had arrived in the room quickly faded away once her presence was acknowledged by everyone. 

“We've been invited to a costume party!” Baela announced, excitedly. You tried to match her emotion but failed. “We have to go. It'll be fun! You'll finally get a break from all those papers you're forced to read…” 

“When is it?” you asked. 

“Today, at 10 pm.” 

“Today?! Are you kidding? Where are we supposed to find costumes?” 

“Babe, it's 11 am on a Saturday, we can go around downtown and find something to rent,” she proposed, sitting back in the chair at the head of the table. “Come on! The guys can come too if they want!”

“Yes-”

“-No” 

Jace and Aegon shared a bad look after they spoke at the same time. Almost involuntarily, you turned to glance at the eldest while his nephew seemed to be sending daggers in his direction; he didn't care. 

“Why don't you want to go?” you asked. 

“Because I don't want to,” he simply responded. “Besides, my shift now ends at 9 pm, which means I'd have like an hour to change and do all that crap. Also, I don't have a costume, so fuck it.” 

“It's free booze, Aegon,” Jace added, in a desperate attempt to make him say yes. “You love free alcohol!” 

“No way,” he said as he shook his head. “I won't go.” 

“I will go,” Aemond entered the conversation once again. 

“Wow. You're finally taking off that stick on your ass, huh?” Aegon jested. 

“Don’t be a bummer, Aegon,” his brother quickly replied, rolling his eye. 

Aegon scoffed, “I can’t believe you’re the one saying that to me…”

“You’re the only one who doesn’t want to go,” you pointed out, interrupting the discussion before it got worse. 

“Yeah, and for a good reason.”

“Which is…?”

“I hate costumes.”

“Well, if Aegon doesn’t want to go, then he can stay here,” Baela interrupted while rolling her eyes, a bit annoyed. “Don’t force him.”

“Finally something coherent came out of your mouth. Thank you, Bella!” Aegon said. 

“Oh, gods, shut up,” she mumbled. 

You sighed defeated as everyone returned their attention to their food, because –for some reason– you wanted him there with you. You wanted to spend a moment with him again, like the one you had in your room just a few days ago. It was probably nothing, or maybe the desperate need to know more of him. However, after the three months you've been living with him, you came to realize that he was extremely stubborn, and it was nearly impossible to convince him to do something he didn't want to do. You just let it go. 

Another time will come, you said to yourself. 

As they started to finish their breakfast, everyone stood up from the table and went to their rooms to start planning their last-minute costumes for the party. You, instead, decided to stay there a bit longer, being Aegon's company as he was finishing his second portion of cereal. 

“You can go if you want, it's my turn to wash the dishes anyway,” he spoke with his mouth full. You softly chuckled to see how strangely cute he looked like that. 

“Nah, it’s fine,” you shrugged. “I have nothing to do and I guess there's gonna be a long waiting list for the shower, so…” There was a small pause before you spoke again. “Are you okay?” 

He frowned at you, “what?” 

“It's just- I saw how you reacted when Aemond said that thing about your sister,” you shrugged. “I just want to make sure you're okay after that. It was a bit mean.” 

“Fuck him, I don't care what he says. I learned to not listen to that stupid shit,” he mumbles. 

“But why-” 

“What are you going to wear?” he suddenly asked, interrupting you. You pressed your lips in a thin line, knowing that he asked the question so he would have a way out from the prior conversation - you didn't push it any further. 

“I don't know. Guess I'll have to see the options. Any recommendations?”

He stopped for a second, pretending to be thinking. “Maybe Barney, it fits with your sex appeal.”

Before you allowed yourself to laugh at his teasing, your hand fell on his arm, playfully smacking his pale skin. He chuckled, jokingly complaining about it. You rolled your eyes. 

“I was joking,” he said while trying to hide his smile. “I was actually thinking about Baby Bop because-”

“Alright, bye.” You stood up, picking your dirty dishes and taking them to the sink. “Remember to wash the dishes.” You reminded him, hiding the smile on your face from him. 

“I will, Baby Bop,” he joked again.

“Shut up!”

Part of you felt slightly ridiculous with the costume you were wearing. Dorothy's dress was the only one that was available in your size, and in such a hurry you didn't have time to keep lurking in other places for a better option. It was done, and while Baela looked absolutely gorgeous in her Catwoman bodysuit, you were there, looking at yourself in the mirror and feeling embarrassed. 

While everyone was waiting for you - ready to go, you took one last glance at your sparkling, red shoes before taking a deep breath and walking out of your bedroom. Your steps were slow and doubtful - too self-conscious to feel confident in your outfit. 

Once you arrived in the next room, you saw Jace dressed like a prince with a golden, plastic crown lying on top of his curls. What you didn't expect was to see Aegon there. Wearing a costume too.

It was a big surprise to see him sitting on the couch dressed as the scarecrow from Wizard of Oz - you couldn't help but smile at the coincidence; both of you involuntarily wearing matching outfits. His eyes, however, lacked any happiness - looking as if someone had forced him to wear such ridiculous clothing; bored and pissed. Seeing him like that made you feel less self-conscious about your own clothes. You were relieved. 

Aegon's eyes fell upon your frame, and you felt something inside your gut that brought a subtle heat to your cheeks. You were playing nervously with the hem of your dress as he unconsciously smiled at you. For whatever reason, that gesture made your knees weak. 

“Oh my! How cute you look!” Baela interrupted the moment, approaching you with quick steps. When she reached your side, she grabbed your hand and forced you to twirl around, showing off your costume and making you giggle nervously. “And look at that- what a coincidence! you're matching with Aegon..” Her tone was easily recognizable; playful and humorous. 

“It's the only one they had in the store for less than fifty golden dragons,” Aegon muttered. He stood up from the couch, walking closer to you. 

He stared at you, up and down. There was nothing on his face that could show you what he was thinking at the moment - it was almost a blank stare. You thought he was about to make a quick remark mocking your choice of clothes, but instead, he just nodded and in a soft, but shy, tone he said: “You look really pretty.” 

A smile was drawn on your lips. “Thank you,” you mumbled. 

“A Baby Bop costume would've fit better, but I guess Dorothy is also a good option.” You laughed at his words, and he laughed too.

“So you're going, huh? Who convinced you?”

“Let’s just say that Jacaerys really wants me there,” he breathed out, using that same unbothered tone as always. “He's desperate to have your friend back.” 

“He definitely is,” you nodded in agreement. “Well, it'll be nice to have your company tonight.”

The moment was interrupted once Aemond joined the group. He was wearing his eyepatch, a loose, white shirt and some tight, leather pants. The strong smell of his cologne invaded the place, his hair was as shiny as usual and he was smearing some kind of cream all over his hands. “Are we ready to go?” He asked. 

“What are you supposed to be?” Jace stepped in.

Aemond looked down at his outfit. “I’m a pirate” he said, as if it was blatantly obvious.

“It’s not a costume if you use it every day, Aemond,” Aegon mocked him. “It’s just clothes.”

“Shut up,” his younger brother grunted. “At least I don't look like a pile of straw.” 

“Oh Gods!” You interrupted, exasperated with the two of them.  “You two are literally kids. Just shut up and let’s get going.”

The room fell into silence while you went to pick up your car keys and your bag. A single gesture from you and they started to walk in a line out of the loft. Once everyone was out, you made sure everything was locked.

“I ask for the passenger seat,” Aegon said behind your back.

“Fuck off, that’s my seat,” Baela argued. 

It was going to be one hell of a night. 

Aegon complained the whole way there - he had lost in a match of rock, paper scissors against Baela which led him to be seated in the backseat between Aemond and Jace. Baela's mockery did not help to calm him down. 

Once you arrived, you parked in the street and immediately saw the enormous house; it was overly packed. Whoever invited Baela to the party must have a pocket filled with cash - it was a modern house, surrounded by huge windows that had you wondering where was the privacy of that house, and how could anyone be able to afford such a mansion in today's economy? 

The group walked up the stairs towards the big entrance, already smelling the weed and cigarette smoke that invaded the whole place. The front yard was a mess - the green grass was covered with red plastic cups and empty beer bottles. Aegon groaned by your side as he noticed this thing, and when he realized that the situation inside the house didn't get better he cursed under his breath. 

“I'm gonna go and find something to drink,” Baela announced. 

“Let me go with you,” Jace said, loudly enough so she would hear. 

Baela smiled, grabbed his hand and took him with her until they were out of your sight. 

“I think I'm gonna go to the backyard,” Aemond said, looking slightly disgusted. “There's too many sweaty people here.” 

Before either of you could stop him, he left you both right in the middle of the party. You turned around, looking at Aegon with a smile, but he only frowned - you could tell by the look of his eyes that he was judging everything and everyone, already regretting the past decisions that led him to that awful place. 

“I can't believe Jace convinced me to come to this shit hole,” he grunted. “I could've stayed at home.” 

“We're already here. Try to enjoy it!” 

“It’s hard to enjoy this when they’re playing music as shitty as this! And what is that smell? What kind of weed do these people smoke?”

“Just try to have a good time!” You cheered him up, but his face remained serious. “Come on! This is fun!”

You tried to change his mind by dancing around, occasionally grabbing his hands to force him to dance with you, yet he remained stiff as wood - his frown grew even more pronounced. He scanned the room around him, ignoring your desperate attempts to change his mind. Suddenly you noticed how he leaned closer to you, raising his voice so you would hear him through the loud music.

“Do you even know these people?” 

His question made you stop and sigh in defeat. Gods, he was impossible. 

“Look, Aegon,” you said loudly. “If you want to leave, then that’s fine. But you’ll have to call and pay for an Uber because I drove us here and I won’t drive you back to the apartment now.” 

“I didn’t even want to be-”

“Just do as you please, Aeg. I’ll go and find the guys.” Those last words reflected your disappointment, and Aegon noticed it.

He saw how you turned around and walked away; he called your name before you disappeared, but you were too far to hear him calling for you. Aegon cursed himself for upsetting you, brushing his hands against his face and accidentally poking his soft cheeks with the fake straw on his sleeves. That goddamned costume made him feel ridiculous, and even when there were other ones available —contrary to what he'd said earlier— he stupidly chose the one that was the least comfortable. Having you by his side would actually make him feel less of a clown due to the matching costumes, but now that you had left him alone he felt slightly embarrassed of himself. 

Knowing that he was on his own in a sea of unknown people, Aegon decided to approach the bar, asking for a shot of tequila and drinking it before the barman arrived with the lemons and the salt - his throat burned with the liquor and he hissed. He would start looking around, unconsciously searching for your face in the crowd, trying to keep himself busy so he wouldn't feel the anxiety growing in his chest. 

Unable to stay in the same place for too much time, he began to wander around the house, still looking for you. Maybe if he hadn't been such a pain in the ass you would've stayed by his side - but he was well known for always fucking things up. 

Walking around the party, occasionally being pushed by the people who were too busy dancing to even care, he found the food tables; he ate a few things there, a few chips and some unsalted peanuts that he swallowed with disgust. As he went to search for something more tasteful to eat, he suddenly saw you talking to a tall, bulky guy who was making you giggle as if you were a teenager. Aegon stood there for a while, observing your behaviour and reading your expressions; you were flirting - looking up at him through your lashes, licking your lips and playing with the glass between your hands. Since when you were that good at talking to guys? 

Aegon was proud. Last time he saw your poor attempt to flirt, Aemond's wheels got stolen and you said that these things weren't your style - yet there you are, more confident than ever and ready to put yourself out there again. He was happy for you, but after a while of giving glances in your direction, he started to feel some odd feeling installed in his gut; it was as if he didn't want to see any more of that, yet he felt the need to do it regardless - and it only became worse once the guy grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him. 

He took a deep breath, and soon his legs started to guide him away from you. 

When he came across Jacaerys and Baela, they were standing in a corner talking about something he didn't really care about. Some part of him, however, found some relief when he finally saw two known faces amidst the enormous crowd of people that was already starting to overwhelm him. He tried to walk closer to them, but as soon as Jace saw him he gave him a sign so he would walk away. Aegon looked - and was - offended by this gesture; then why the fuck he wanted him there? He asked himself, getting pissed and angry at everything at this point, longing to be in the comforts of his bed. 

Eventually, his legs led him towards an empty spot on a coach, and he sat there - bored and desperately wanting to escape. If he'd had ten golden dragons, he would've called an Uber the minute you left him alone in this jungle, but his pockets were empty, and he was too lazy to even think about walking back home. So, he stayed there, with his head leaning back against the couch and staring at a white spot in the tall ceilings. 

He didn't know how much time passed before you returned by his side.

“Aeg, have you seen Baela?” Hearing your voice was enough to interrupt his blank thoughts. He lifted his face and saw you standing there; your lipstick was ruined and smeared all over your mouth - he clenched his jaw. It was obvious that you had a quite steamy make-out session with that random guy from before. “I only found Aemond talking to a girl, but he didn't know where she was.”

“She was with Jace the last time I saw her,” he replied before awkwardly pointing at your face. “Uh….your lipstick is…”

Your eyes widened with embarrassment while a heat ran to your cheeks. A shy smile appeared on your face as you looked away from him - your fingertips went to the corner of your lips, trying to fix the mess even though it was a bit hard to know if it was working when you didn't have a mirror with you. 

“I met a guy,” you told him, slightly excited. 

“I could tell,” he nodded. There was a small silence before he continued. “I thought you weren't into that.” 

“Into what?” 

“One night stands.” 

You chuckled, nervously. “Aegon, I'm just having some fun-”

“That's fine,” he cut you off, getting up from the couch and standing right in front of you. “Just remember to use a condom.” 

“Oh, no, Aeg. I won't-” 

“I don't care,” he stopped you again - not wanting to hear more about the topic. But then, he stopped for a second, looking down at your lips a bit longer than he should have, and you suddenly felt exposed to him. He licked his lips before he pressed them in a thin line, and he mumbled, “You made a bigger mess there, you dumbass.” 

Unexpectedly, he raised his hands and placed them at each side of your face, holding you still. You felt how your heart skipped a beat when his calloused hands touched your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Your lips parted as he leaned forward and started to boldly touch the corners of your mouth with his fingertips, wiping any trace of lipstick that was out of place. You found yourself unable to look away from his furrowed eyebrows as he was too concentrated on what he was doing. You blinked a few times, taken aback by his gesture - so odd and weird coming from him.

The darkness of the room was briefly interrupted by colourful circles that danced around the room - for that same reason he leaned even closer to have a better look, and for a second - a brief moment - you thought he would kiss you. Inevitably, you thought about what Baela had said to you and, perhaps, you believed it. 

What. the. fuck.

That small interaction lasted just a few seconds. Just that. Yet, his touch lingered in your skin even when he'd taken a step away from you. Aegon looked unaffected by everything - as if he hadn't just provoked an earthquake inside your mind; the look on his face was the usual one: uninterested and bored. Then, with his raspy voice, he muttered: “Shit, I gotta take a piss.” And he just left you there. 

You watched him leave as you remained standing still, bewildered by what had just happened and questioning what was all about. Did he feel the same weird thing you felt? Did he even know the effect he had on you? Why would you even react that way in the first place? Aegon was just your friend, and you were certain that he saw you —barely— as a friend too; especially after he just walked away as if nothing happened at all. But of course, you didn't see the panic on his face as he cursed himself over and over again - asking why the hell would he do such a foolish thing. He suddenly felt overwhelmed, still feeling the softness of your skin itching in his fingertips and desperately wanting to get rid of it - he would scratch them against the fake straw of his costume, but it would not disappear. Aegon was overthinking - punishing himself for doing a stupid thing like that. 

What was he even thinking? He would do that kind of thing with the girls he wanted to fuck, not with you. 

The bathroom, of course, was a very obvious excuse to run away from that mortifying moment that would probably haunt him forever, but he now felt the urge to wash his face and slap his cheek to properly function again. What a fucking idiot, he thought of himself.

People were queuing for the bathroom. Three guys were standing before him as he leaned against the wall, softly hitting his forehead with it. He felt the need to drink another shot of tequila to cope, and suddenly the idea of walking back home did not sound too far-fetched. It was rather tempting, actually. 

When the line moved forward, Aegon finally looked in front of him. A familiar guy was standing before him, tall and bulky, speaking on the phone with someone. He was smiling - laughing even, and Aegon couldn't figure out where he'd seen him before. Noisy as always, he paid attention to the conversation - maybe that would make him forget all about the awkward situation from before. 

“... It's been a bit boring, honestly,” Aegon heard, sneakily looking at him. “I would've rather stayed at home with you, but you know how insistent Marcus is.” 

Aegon narrowed his lilac eyes, paying more attention to his features… and that's when it snapped. His mouth dropped open, and he immediately looked away; this was the bastard that ruined your lipstick, and he got a fucking girlfriend. 

“Yeah, I miss you too, baby. I'll be home soon, okay?... Love you too. Bye.”

The guy hung up the phone and as he removed it from his ear, Aegon was able to see his lock screen; two people kissing - confirming that he, in fact, was not available at all. The worst thing about it all is that you didn't know anything about it. 

Usually, Aegon would ignore something like this, playing dumb and just letting it go. But this time it was different, for he felt the urge to run to your side and tell you - he knew he had to. It was as if some protective side of him had come out to the light, and all because of you. Aegon cared about you, but instead of admitting such an embarrassing thing, he excused it by saying to himself that he was doing it just so you would go back home and take him with you; so he left the line and went back to find you once again. 

The people seemed to have multiplied themselves in those five minutes that he spent queuing for the bathroom, and it was even more impossible now to find you there. He pushed people around trying to get to you, but you were nowhere to be found. Luckily for him, he found Baela and Jace again, now they were next to the bar and looking a bit tipsy; Baela was getting handsy, but Aegon had no shame in interrupting their moment.

“Have you guys seen y/n?” He asked once he reached their side. He could hear Jace grunting on the low - he didn't care. 

“I thought she was with you,” Baela replied. 

“No, she was with some random guy making out, and-” 

“Then why are you looking for her?” She asked, arching one of her eyebrows, suspiciously staring at him. 

“Because the guy has a fucking girlfriend,” Aegon explained. “I heard him talking on the phone when I was in the line for the bathroom. She needs to know.”

“Wait,” Jace said, suddenly interrupting the conversation. “You walked through the crowd only to look for her?” 

“Yes.” 

“Only to tell her that the guy she's making out with is dating someone?” 

Aegon scoffed. “That's exactly what I just said,” he replied, annoyed. “Aren't you even listening?”

“Are you feeling well?” Jace asked as he attempted to touch his forehead. Aegon slapped his hand. 

“Don't fucking touch me,” he grunted. 

“We haven't seen her since we arrived,” Baela said, “Aemond is also missing, we have no idea where he is.” 

“Fuck,” Aegon sighed. “Thank you for nothing.” 

He turned around to keep on his search, but Baela stopped him. 

“Aegon!” She yelled his name, and he looked at her over his shoulder. “We're gonna look for her as well, let us know if you find her first.” 

He nodded, drifting away from them and following a group of people that was going towards the backyard. Standing right next to the exit, he quickly scanned the scenery, looking at the floor and trying to find your sparkling, red shoes without success. He was starting to lose his patience. 

That's when Aemond suddenly appeared by his side, placing his arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer to him. Aegon tried to push him away, but only then did he notice that his little brother was drunk. Well, well, what a surprise, he thought - he would have enjoyed this if it wasn't for his eagerness to find you. 

“My big brother,” Aemond said, dragging his words. “There you are…” 

“Have you seen y/n?” He asked him, even when he knew he wasn't going to give him a proper answer. He had to try. 

“Oh, I won't tell,” the youngest said while giggling. “We have a deal, we made a pact- you can't fuck her.”

Aegon pushed him away, this time successfully. He tried so hard to ignore the heat on his cheeks. What was wrong with him? 

“I won't- I won't fuck her, you stupid ass,” he mumbled. “I'm trying to find her and I don't know where she-”

“Aegon, I'm sorry,” he suddenly interrupted, his tone quickly changing to melancholic. “Sometimes I'm a bit bitter with you, but that doesn't mean I don't love you, you know?” 

“What the-” 

“At the end of the day it's just us,” he sighed, shrugging. “Helaena and Daeron have always been a group apart from us, but we? We are always gonna have each other, am I right?”

“What fuck were you drinking?” 

“Sometimes I wish you were my boss instead of Nyra…” Aegon's demeanour immediately changed with those words, tensing his body and clenching his jaw. “But you know… that grandpa shit happened and-” 

“Aegon!” 

Baela's voice stopped Aemond from continuing with his ranting, and Aegon's attention immediately went towards her. She was inside the house, waving her hand at him - asking him to come closer. He grabbed his brother's arm and took him with him towards the inside, and once he reached Baela's side, he saw you there; kissing that guy in a corner, his hands grabbing your waist as your arms were around his shoulders. Aegon felt an inexplicable rage running through his veins - which gave him the courage to do the next thing. 

“Hey!” he yelled, a bit too loud - calling the attention of everyone around. “Hey, stay away from her!” 

You heard his voice on top of the music and immediately pulled away from the kiss. He was getting closer to you and you widened your eyes in surprise. He didn't think twice before he pulled your wrist towards him until you were standing by his side. 

“Aegon? What- what are you doing?” you asked, visibly confused. 

“He's lying to you,” he told you without overthinking it. “He's lying!” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Hey, man,” the guy stepped in, angry. “Why don't you mind your fucking business and get the hell out?” he snapped at Aegon. 

He barely listened to him, not paying attention to his tone or his words. He was looking at you - his puppy eyes begging you to hear what he had to say. 

“Aeg, what's going on?” you asked again, your voice loud so he could hear you over the music. 

“He has a girlfriend,” he quickly said, looking right into your eyes. “I heard him talking to her.” 

The realization hit you like a truck, and suddenly you felt ashamed of yourself - even when it wasn't even your fault. The guilt started to eat you alive as you looked down at your shoes, avoiding any eye contact from Aegon. “Oh, gods…” you mumbled, covering your face with your hands. 

Something came over Aegon when he saw you like that, feeling the urge to hug you - yet, he stayed there, without moving at all. 

“Oh, come on, babe!” The guy said, getting closer to you and giving a bad look to Aegon. “Don't listen to him.” 

Your shame quickly became rage when he uttered that pet name; who the fuck did he think he was? You turned to look at him, anger clearly displayed on your face. 

“Don't call me that,” you spat at him and pushed him away when he tried to reach for your waist. “And stay away from me, you asshole!” 

The music suddenly stopped, and every single person had their eyes on the argument - noisy people trying to hear and see inside the small circle that had formed around you. The tall man looked offended as if you had punched his ego when you rejected him. He scoffed and took a step closer to you. 

“Oh, so now you're talking like that, huh?” he mockingly said. “Funny how a second ago you were almost acting like a-” 

“Like what?” Aegon grunted, clenching his fist as he stepped between you and him. He was taller than Aegon, yet he didn't show himself intimidated by it. “Go on… say it,” he dared him. 

The guy tsked his tongue, smirking maliciously - as if he knew he would cause trouble if he dared to utter those words. Still, with all the people staring at him expectantly, he decided to open his mouth. 

“Like a slut.”

You heard how your friend scoffed at your side. Then, you heard the people around you gasping and squealing when they saw how Aegon threw a perfect punch right in the middle of his face. He lost his balance, covering his nose with his hand as he looked absolutely shocked - he certainly didn't expect that. The blood didn't take much time to start to come out, and his Michael Myers costume was soon stained with crimson drops. 

“Fucking shit!” Aegon exclaimed, feeling the pain burning in his knuckles. 

The guy - whose name you didn't remember at this point, stood straight in his spot, still stumbling around as he threw himself in Aegon's direction; he managed to get out of the way before his fist could hit him, yet a scream and soft stump was heard on your back. Once you turned around, you saw Jace lying on the floor with his nose bleeding and Baela covering her mouth. 

“Ah, fuck…” Aegon groaned. “Nyra’s gonna kill me.” 

Aemond groaned as he laid his head on your shoulder, the alcohol had slowly been fading away from his body, and he was already feeling the symptoms of a painful hungover as you all were waiting in the ER for Jace. 

“Stop whining,” Aegon complained, pressing a cold can of Pepsi on his hand to relieve the swelling. “You drank two bottles of beer, how could you get that drunk?” 

“Every single word that comes from your mouth feels like a needle being buried in my brain,” he groaned.

“Alright,” Baela interrupted the conversation. “Let's go, Aemond.” 

“Where?” 

“I'm gonna buy you a Gatorade or something like that, you need to be hydrated,” she explained. “Come on.” 

Aemond groaned when he was forced to stand up, slowly moving until he was on his feet again. Baela patted his back a few times before they started to walk away - and when they turned around the corner, it was only you and Aegon there. He was absentmindedly staring at the soda can pressing against his hand while you glanced at him and involuntarily smiled. 

What he did that night was one of the sweetest things someone has ever done for you - something that not even Jason did during all the time you were dating. Aegon didn't even doubt for a second before punching that guy after he insulted you, and for some reason, that would draw a silly smile on your face. 

“Thank you for tonight,” you interrupted the silence, shyly speaking to him. 

He lifted his head, looking at you. “Why?” 

“You had my back, Aegon. What you did was- If it wasn't for you I would've probably ended up in bed with that guy,” you confessed. 

Aegon felt something being twisted in his stomach. 

“Well, it was the right thing to do, right?” 

You nod, “it is, yes…” 

“Are you okay?” he asked after a few seconds of silence. 

“Yeah, I am,” you assured him. “He was some random guy, I don't even remember his name at this point.”

“I know, but- you know… he's a cheater and I thought this situation would remind you to- uh…” 

“Jason?” you finished the sentence for him, and he nodded. “Well, it kinda did - but I'm fine, Jason happened like ages ago. Though I can't help but think about his girlfriend, she doesn't deserve something like that.” 

“Yeah…” 

“Have you ever… been cheated on?” you dared to ask. 

“Nah,” he shook his head. “I don't think I've ever been in a serious relationship before.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes.” 

“I don't believe you.” 

“Why?” 

“Because you're not ugly, and you have a personality that girls in college would fawn over.”

“Oh, shut up,” he mumbled, slightly flustered. 

“I mean it!” 

“Well, besides a few flings, weird situationships and a few friends with benefits, I've never been in a relationship. It's just not my style.”

The door that separated the waiting room from the ER opened, and a young doctor appeared. He was tall, brown-haired and had visible dark circles around his grey, tired eyes, yet he still looked handsome. You looked at him at the same time he laid his eyes on you, and you felt butterflies in your belly, already knowing you developed a small crush on him. Not again, you thought.

“Family of Jacaerys Strong?” He said, getting closer to you and Aegon, being the only ones there. 

“Come on,” you urged Aegon to get up. 

“Why do I have to go?” 

“Because you're his uncle, now stand up!” 

He reluctantly got on his feet, standing behind you until the doctor reached your side. 

“Are you Jacaerys' family?” He asked, sneakily glancing at you. 

“Uh, yes… he's his uncle,” you replied, pointing at Aegon. 

“And you?” 

“Me? Oh, I'm- I'm his sister,” you said, trying to sound convincing but failing miserably. 

The intern - whose name tag read Cregan Stark - looked up and down at you, not believing your words at all. However, he just smiled and played along with your little white lie. 

“Alright, so…” he opened the file that was between his hands and sighed. “Jacaerys had a small concussion, we took a CT scan and everything else seems to be in order. His nose is not broken, but it's bruised and swollen, so we gave him some soft painkillers to relieve the pain.” 

“When can we take him home?” you asked. 

“In a few hours, just until the medication makes its effect and we are sure there are no further complications,” he explained. Then, he glanced at Aegon's hand, frowning. “Do you want me to take a look at that?” 

“Nah, it's fine,” he answered. “I don't want to be charged like five thousand golden dragons just to know that my hand is swollen.”

“Alright,” Doctor Stark replied, unfazed by Aegon's rudeness. 

“I'm sorry,” you apologized on his behalf - he rolled his eyes. “We had a long night.” 

“It's okay,” he assured you, smiling at you. Damn, he was cute. “If there are not any more questions then I shall leave you for now.” 

“Of course, thank you,” you said. 

He replied with a small gesture before returning to where he came from, crossing the doors and disappearing from your eyesight. You sighed, thinking he was so dreamy. 

“What an idiot,” you heard Aegon murmur before he sat back on the chair, interrupting your thoughts.

“He was nice.” 

“Of course you thought that. He was flirting with you!” His tone almost sounded offended. 

“No, he wasn't!” 

“What happened?” Baela suddenly appears back at your side. Aemond was right next to her, drinking from his bottle of cool blue Gatorade and looking better than when he left. 

“Jace's doctor was flirting with her,” Aegon quickly replied.  

“He wasn't flirting with me!” 

“Of course he was!” 

“And why do you look so mad about it?” Baela teased him. “Are you jealous or something?” 

Aegon frowned, stopping for a second before snapping at her. “Shut up, Bella, this is not your business.”

“Stop screaming, we're in a hospital,” Aemond muttered, scolding all of you as he sat back down. “Why can you all behave like adults?” 

Everyone sat down in silence after that, minding their own business as the minutes passed boringly slowly. Your head was lying on Baela's shoulder as she watched the news report from the TV hanging on one of the walls. Aemond was half asleep in his seat while Aegon would walk from one side to another, unable to remain in the same place for more than five minutes. The waiting was strenuous, especially when it was almost 3 am and everyone was too tired to keep their eyes open. 

But then, after waiting for almost two hours, Jacaerys opened the door - being followed by the handsome intern that made you sigh. Baela's mouth dropped.

“Oh, gods, is that the flirty doctor?” Baela asked, impressed. 

“He's not that handsome,” Aegon grunted in a low voice. 

“Yes, he is,” she replied with a smirk. 

Jacaerys waved his hands in the air as a greeting, slightly sleeping for the medication. His nose was covered with a big, white patch, and there were two dark, violet stains under his eyes. He hissed when he smiled at Baela. 

“Gods, you look awful,” Aegon chuckled. 

“This is your fault, Aegon!” he replied a bit loudly. 

“Alright, you need to remain calm and not strain yourself, a punch on the nose is a serious thing, so you'll have to rest once you get home,” The doctor indicated. “Here is the medical care to follow, and in case you bleed or have chronic pain you need to come back to the hospital immediately.” 

“Will do, my man,” Jace replied, patting the doctor's back before he went towards Baela. 

“Come here, Prince Jacaerys, we'll take you home now,” Your best friend told him, holding him firmly while walking towards the exit. Aegon and Aemond followed them too.

“Thank you for saving my friend's life…” you playfully said. “Doctor Stark,” you uttered his name as you read the tag hanging from his scrubs.

“I thought he was your brother,” he answered back with a charming smile. 

“Oh… busted,” you admitted before chuckling. “Well, I guess I got to go now, so thank you once again, and-” 

“Is the scarecrow your boyfriend?” he asked out of the blue, taking you by surprise. 

“Uh- no. No, he's a friend,” you nervously replied. 

“Good.”

“Good?” 

“So he won't be mad if I give you my number?” 

Oh gods. 

“No,” you shook your head. “Not at all.”

“Great,” he murmured as he took a pencil from his pocket and some Post-it notes he had with him. “So I'm going to secretly write my number on this little piece of paper, and you'll have to pretend is the name of a medicine so I don't get fired by my super strict supervisor for doing this.” 

He finished writing on it and folded it in half before giving it to you. 

“Breaking the rules, huh?” you teased him. 

“Only for a pretty girl like you.” 

“That's cheesy.” 

“But did it work?” 

You tried to suppress your smile. “It might have.” 

“I have to go back now,” he announced. “But I'll be waiting for your call.” 

He smiled at you - saying goodbye, and you waved your hand at him before you turned around and walked towards your friends, who were waiting for you right outside of the waiting room. Baela was smiling - she watched all from behind the door glass, proud of you. A different gesture than the one Aegon had on his face, almost looking annoyed by it. 

“Are you gonna call him?” Baela asked you once you joined them in the walk towards the parking lot. 

“I don't know…” 

“I honestly didn't like him very much,” Aegon commented. Baela lifted one of his eyebrows at him. 

“You didn't even speak to him,” you said between chuckles, not taking him seriously. 

He shrugged, “still.” 

You rolled your eyes with a smile on your face as you continued to walk with Baela - Aegon staying a few meters behind, standing in the middle of the hallway with his heart beating faster. That smile you gave him before you left remained printed on his mind, and once he got to hear you laugh in the distance, his eyes widened with the realization.

His sudden rage, the feeling in his gut when he saw you kissing that guy at the party, the urge to look for you all the time, how offended he felt when that intern was flirting with you -  it all had one reason behind. 

“Oh, shit,” he mumbled as chills ran down his body. 

He had a crush on you.

BOLD MEANS I COULDN'T TAG YOU.

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[xmalereader]

Moonknight x Shifter! Male Reader

☆— MASTERLIST — ☆

Requested: can i request a fic that's more of a headcannons post than a fic? i really love the way you write the moon knight boys and was wondering how'd they react to a protective shifter!reader who's usually quite calm and reserved(maybe a wolf just for the irony of wolves being sorta synonymous with the moon)? maybe in a world where shifters are starting to be accepted but some people are still jerks. kind of a "three times reader protected the boys and the time they returned the favor" sorta thing. if all three is too much though i totally understand, im okay with just one, your pick. whatever your schedule allows for ❤️ sorry if this is hard to understand it's a fever at 4am kinda night but i couldn't pass up the chance to make a request lul love your writing! hope you're doing well! i wish you good writing thoughts and dexterous typing times 🫡

CONTENT/WARNINGS: Fluff, slight angst, request, Steven is a sweetheart and Jake is scary while Marc is trying, short, headcannons, reader is a shifter, werewolves, society differences.

WC: 1.5k

TAGS: @luci-the-brat-boy

NOTES: I apologize for the long wait on making this request I’ve been busy on my end but I’ve finally got the time to get these completed! Thank you for enjoying my moonknight shots, writing these characters can be a bit tricky since they all have different personalities but I was able to make it work! I did make a few changes so hopefully it’s still good!

Shifters were still new to society and not many have grown used to them due to the fear of getting hurt one day if they were to shift in front of them and perhaps hurt them or kill them. Each shifter was different and due to their existence, laws were established in order to keep a balance between shifters and none shifters, but the laws didn’t really stop the hate that some people carried for them.

Steven Grant:

Steven didn’t think he’d end up dating a shifter, let alone one who shifts into a wolf the size of a car. He was shy at first since he was new to the whole shifting when it came towards his partner.

After a few dates Y/n grew comfortable in showing Steven his new form, taking things slow with the man since he was always so nervous around him until months of dating he’s grown used to him. Steven had also told Y/n about his DID and about Marc and Jake, giving him very little information about them expecting his partner to pry for more information only to reassure him that he doesn’t have to force himself.

After their confession they continued on with their dating life like normal. Until Y/n started to notice the way that Steven is treated at the museum, each time he paid him a visit he noticed how rude his manager was being to him, making him growl in anger by how to orders Steven around and makes him do the extra work while she sits back and does nothing.

Y/n knew how much Steven loved his job, but there were times that he couldn’t help but interfere with the situation.

It didn’t take long for him to track down Steven's mangers and corner them in an empty hallway, whispering them threats on treating their employees with respect and to not treat them as slaves, frightening the poor women.

“Treat them like slaves again and I’ll hunt you down on the next full moon.”

Lets just say that Steven stopped receiving bad treatment after that which only left him a bit confused and oblivious to the matter.

Y/n was always protective of Steven due to his innocence and oblivious state at times. Every time someone looked at him wrong or stopped his ancient Egypt mid rant he’d slowly turn to the person to give them the stink eyes as if saying, “how dare you stop him from talking about what he loves?!”

He had scary dog privileges…literally.

The first time that Steven actually lost it was when one of their neighbors caught Y/n coming back home from a full moon with Steven next to him. His wolf form looking a little smaller as he padded next to him quietly and tried to regain his thoughts after last nights events only for their snotty neighbor to step out into the hall and scold Steven for keeping a “mutt” around.

Y/n was close to turning around and snapping his jaws at the neighbor in order to scare them only for Steven to step in between them while glaring at the man angrily. Steven was already tired from chasing after his partner through the streets and making sure he wasn’t causing any trouble all night and his neighbors comment was his last straw.

The shifter had never seen Steven so upset, using every cuss word he knows to call the neighbor out, pointing a finger at him and jabbing them in the chest. It caught both shifter and neighbor by surprise until Steven finally cooled down and opens their door to allow them inside.

Once inside Steven slams the door behind him and leans his back against it with his face buried in his hands. Y/n had approached Steven slowly, still a small wolf and whining softly to get the man’s attention only for Steven to drop his hands and look at his partner in horror.

“Did I just do that? Oh god I’m gonna have a heart attack.”

Steven had never blown up like that before that even he was surprised by his outburst that night.

Marc Spector:

Marc wanted to scold Leon for picking a shifter as a boyfriend. Marc didn’t hate shifters he just didn’t know much about them to actually trust them yet, so when he finds out that Steven got himself a shifter of a boyfriend he couldn’t help but be a bit cautious around him.

Y/n didn’t spend much time around Marc since the man refused to be around him when it was his turn to take over the body. The shifter wanted to ignore him and let him do as he wanted, only to end up following Marc secretly whenever he went out.

The two didn’t get along quiet yet, but Y/n is still overprotective of the two of them. Yes, they share the same body but he can’t help but feel like he needs to be there to protect them both.

Only Marc doesn’t need protection he knows how to take care of himself and stick up for others, so the first few times he caught Marc being defensive or fighting back he couldn’t help but find the man quiet attractive.

Marc was perhaps the one who could actually make him blush whenever they spent time together back in Steven’s flat. Even when Marc returned back home stressed and upset, Y/n already knew how to help the man distress by shifting into his wolf form and lying on his back across Marc’s lap and letting the man scratch his belly or bury his face into his warm fur while groaning in frustration as if someone would do to a pillow. Y/n enjoyed cuddling with Marc during his full moons when he’s stuck in his wolf form for long hours of the night.

Y/n was in the cities office when he was first called out for being a shifter while renewing his passport due to Marc wanting to take them on a trip. A few strangers were waiting around for their turn and due to Y/n being a shifter he was first priority since he went through a longer process in getting a renewal which pissed off a lot of people.

Only for Marc to shout at them to shut up and reminding them the laws between humans and shifters and how not everything is fair between them, giving them a deadly glare that made them back off.

Y/n can’t help but crack a small smile when hearing Marc’s words as he focused on his passport renewal.

Jake Lockely:

It was harder for Y/n to get along with Jake since he acted like the silent but deadly brother between the three. He found Jake intimidating that he was perhaps the first person to actually make him tuck his tail between his legs.

Jake didn’t need protection and Y/n knew that since he’s seen the man beat another human to near death until he stopped him from going to far. Y/n didn’t know about Jake until one night when he noticed a change of smell in Steven and Marc’s scent, realizing that they weren’t the only ones.

Jake was suppose to be a secret, hiding in the shadows as he watched over Marc and Steven. Only the cab driver didn’t really need to protect them since they had a shifter by their side, but that didn’t mean Jake couldn’t keep an eye on him too.

Their first night together was awkward for them since Jake rarely spoke and Y/n was too afraid to ask him questions without getting the man angry. It didn’t take long for Jake to notice this that he finally decides to speak up, asking questions that’ll get him closer to the shifter.

They only spent time together during late nights when Steven and Marc are sleeping and Jake is able to take full control. Giving Y/n a chance to join him on his nightly trips and sitting next to him on the passenger seat while talking.

It didn’t take long for Jake to warm up to the shifter, not realizing that Jake had added him to his list of people to protect. Even though Y/n can shift into a large wolf, big enough to kill anyone on sight, Jake still decided to take the roll of taking care of the shifter too.

Y/n first witnessed Jake defending him when he was helping a man into the cab from a club, drunk off his ass while the shifter gets him inside the back seat. What he didn’t realize was the group of men lurking around the club, clearly drunk as they whistled at him, trying to get his attention which he ignored.

That was until one of them had the balls to slap his ass filling him with shock and ready to strike the man down, but when turning around Jake was already doing that for him.

Jake was filled with rage as he slams his fist into the man’s face over and over again. The others tried to pry Jake off, but he was faster than them, kicking their asses and forcing them on their knees and apologizing to the shifter.

Y/n could only stare at Jake with wide eyes as the men whimpered out their apologizes to him.

[factual-fantasy]

27 Asks! Thank you!! :DD🦎

@driftwoodmfb

Its simple, Arceus made them! :0 He made Litwicks, Lampents and Chandelures at the same time. The Litwicks ate the Lampent plorts, the Lampents ate the Chandelure plorts, and the Chandelures made more Litwicks! :00 Same goes for every other slime species on the planet.

I actually love your cat so much

I am not familiar with "Six the Musical".. <:0 Sorry!

@quietmakesglark

WAHAHAHGGGG THANKYOU SO MUCH!!!!!😭😭💞💞💞THUIS WAS ALL SOSWEEETT THANTKOYIYUUU!!!💞💞💞🥺🥺💞💞

@glitchhayden (Last ask was in this post)

OHH I see XDDD I kind'a want one-

@abaroo

<XD Yeah, poor Sally.. I was thinking that she doesn't really need to sleep or rest and is always on the go! So early birds like Frank and Howdy are her go to friends. And Julie usually has a fair amount of time and energy to spare for her sister! :))

AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDD IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE MY EDDIE AND WALLY!!!! :}}}}}

🥺💞💞💞 AAAAAAA I'm so glad you like him!!! :}}}}}}

(Referencing this post)

There was a time where Wally had a particularly big meltdown/panic attack over Home watching him. In response Barnaby invited Wally to stay at his house for a few days to see if the different environment helped at all.. which it did.

So nowadays whenever Wally gets really stressed, he crashes at Barnaby's house.. Home doesn't like Barnaby because he keeps taking Wally away from it.. 👁️👁️

But thankfully I don't think Home could really hurt Barnaby.. other than maybe opening a door causing him to stub his toe- <XD

@littlelightfish

👀👀

(Referencing this post)

Man, I always miss one spelling error. 😔

Also thank you! I'm glad you like them! :)))

I put "#do not tag as ship" on all my Welcome Home posts. If people start coming at me for it I'll deal with them.. <XD thank you for the concern though! <:)

@milk-powrit (Referencing this post)

:DD Thank you! And hey- its not necessarily to be mean! Home is not not particularly interested in them because they're just normal neighbors <XD Plus they don't come around often sooo...

@tallchest13-blog

That is the most creature I have ever seen!! :000

@burnt-pie-eater

This Christmas comic and this dream comic are good examples! :0 Seeing himself as his human body with puppet colors. Seeing things or people from his human life..

I'm thinking of making it so any bugs Eddie sees look like real bugs. Weird dark roaches and spiders. Which is why he's scared of them.. 👀👀

@caprico54

Yes yes! :DD When Eddie was human, he was a mailman! So his job as a mailman now is the only thing that feels natural and familiar to him... Which is why he's so unnaturally good at it! :00

@i-only-created-this-to-read

Hmm.. I imagine that the pipes and plumbing are apart of Home. But only in the walls. The pipes the come up from the ground and attach to Home are not apart if it.

I'm thinking if you completely tore Home down and rebuilt it somewhere else, it would flicker to life again. If you split the materials of home between 2 houses, I think only one would actually be alive and "home". It would make sense if one part of Home was where its life came from. But I'm not sure what that would be.. Maybe the fireplace is the heart? Monster house style? <XD

I imagine whatever is apart/meant to be apart of Home is its body. A meteor crashing through wouldn't be part of it <XD And any hanging pictures or furniture is not apart if it. The walls are its bones and the paint becomes its skin. If you tore down a wall that wood stops being apart of Homes body the moment it is detached. If you build a new wall, it might take a moment.. but it will eventually become apart of Homes body.

As for the old rotted wood, I imagine that Wally chopped it up and used it for fire wood :0 The new wood that Wally installed in the walls became Homes new body.

<:( You will find someone new someday friend! There's a lot of bees in the hive!

(Referencing this post)

XDD Naahhh its ok, Grim's just nomin. He wont hurt Sylvester! :)

@taco-hyeh (Sent after this post)

Man, if only my mega Grimace comic didn't turn out to be so giant <XD I would have PLENTY of angst for you!

@kitschie

Home right now can be best described as.. curious.. but also somewhat malicious. It watches Wally and Eddie because its curious about them. But it can clearly tell that watching them causes panic attacks and makes them very upset. Yet it doesn't stop. If anything it watches them more intensely when they cry..

When it comes to if they could figure out what it wants.. its hard to say if Home even really wants anything. It just likes to watch and see the Wally react to its stares... that, an the fact that Home probably cant communicate outside of slamming windows and doors-

@calsoutghosthunting

Oh? I've only seen it from 1 artist, is it becoming a trend? :00

I don't know how I feel about it.. I mean its cool! But I might not draw it with my Sona personally <XD Reminds me of this old Journal drawing trend that I did a long while back.. 🤔

@spirited-splashes

AAAA THANK YOU!!! :DDDD I wish you luck in your journey! :)) AND REMEMBER!! The comfort has to be just as healing as the angst is hurting!! :}}}

(Referencing this post)

If you look closely, the hat is actually just Sylvester's ribbons! XDDD

[youre-gonna-see-a-lot-of-me]

That's so fucked up that people are romantizing Franco, because even Red Barrels are showing him as a total creep and disgusting person. In Outlast Tag I have a feeling that some artists are making him completly different character, making him charming/safe/lovely. I even have seen some people who were drawing him with normal face (without big forehead) and you couldn't tell them that it's the right character design! I feel like Franco enjoyers are more agressive than fans of other Outlast character. Even with Coyle/Eddie simps they seem to understand that they are evil and they murder others, but with Franco I feel like they can take it when someone tell them that he's grown up, murder people in very brutal way and his voice lines are just disgusting... it really seems that people are getting agressive only because someone tell some shit about 🎀✨️Franco🎀✨️. I know his fans isn't the only one that have stick in their ass (cause I seen a lot of shit bout Coyle/Big Grunts/Easterman etc.) but yall need to understand that FRANCO IS A GROWN ASS MAN and you would run for your life if you'd meet someone in irl as 1% fucked up as he is. Saying that he's just a Baby and he made nothing wrong is just 🤮 and problem is in yall if you justificate him and things he made.

idk how to tell you this ,,,, but this game is fictional. The characters are fictional. You're free to feel however you want about them, just like I and anyone else is.

I partially agree with the part about changing his appearance to make him look more "normal" or whatever, but at the same time people are allowed to interpret their favs however they want to. They can draw / write for him however they want to. I don't like "fixing" his face, just because it (personally) feels like saying "he's too ugly", but again, that's just me. As an artist, I know that people are going to have different interpretations of a character I like. It's just part of other people existing in the world. Not everyone thinks like you do, and that's okay.

Do you know how many posts I saw (and STILL see) about Eddie Gluskin, doing essentially the same thing as what you said people do with Franco?? That man would cut you open to "make a baby in you" no hesitation and people still ""romanticize"" him (me fuckin included I LOVE YOU EDDIE). Its just part of liking fucked up characters, some people are going to want to make them more "normal".

Personally, I see the normalization as more like wanting to give him some normalcy in his life, because of his past / lore. I love the idea of letting Franco have a normal life, be a normal person. A life where he never had to deal with the stupid Mafia stuff, had a decent father and never ran into Murkoff, having a normal, happy life. But, I also seriously adore his original, fucked up character.

Honestly, who actually cares if people are "justifying" his actions??? None of them are real. He is not real. I have never understood the sentiment that you have to make sure people know you don't justify a fictional characters actions... they are not real. It's not a real person. None of the things he did happened.

Maybe it's just me, but I would not run from someone like him. That's not some edge lord "im so evil and dark" bs but because of my real life experiences. Been with and around people in my life / family who are quite like him and I didn't run.

I imagine some of us are using it as a sort of coping mechanism, because (at least for me) some of us dealt with people who treated us like he would. Though, that's getting into personal territory, and I won't try and speak for others.

All I can really say is either learn that not everybody's going to have the same ideas as you or block the tag. Sorry if that's too harsh a response, but life is too short to really give that much of a fuck about someone /something other people like.

And I've said this before but this is literally Outlast, all of the characters are this fucked up, it's not just him.

Like does no one remember Outlast 2??? Does no one remember the pile of dead burnt babies, or the hundreds of other fucked up things in that game?? I really feel like Franco does not compare.

So, can we please just be over with this now? I mean, drama is totally fun and I love it, but I can imagine others don't.

[crunchchute]

Hey! Welcome to my (mostly) art blog. You can refer to me as Crunch here. Enjoy your stay!

🎨 Art info - using my art as your pfp, banner, edits, etc. is OK with credit! Reposting my art is OK only in places where i DON'T have an account, with credit, with the exception of pinterest (i have an acc there but it's OK to repost there with proper credit/link to og post) and i don't mind RP accounts etc. if credited properly. Don't crop out my tag from images or edit them out (exception is a cropped pfp). I don't do requests all the time, only if i make a post about it :] art comms normally closed but i occassionaly make an exception or offer a couple slots.

💚 My main favs change every couple of months, but FNAF and Dynasty Warriors are fandoms i've been in the longest, since 2014, so i always tend to come back to them :] I also enjoy Sonic (specifically non-game media) and have a lovehate relationship with Gorillaz (i just like the art, Murdoc and the music rn). Also got into Sam & Max and Venture Bros.

💜 General likes are anything halloween-y, animals, birds and insects; emo, scene, visual kei and dark style of clothing and hair, cute and goofy plushies, and if i ever start talking about cooking or food, Run. I love drawing, sewing, crafting, p much anything creative. I collect furbies, they're my favs :]

❌️ I do not want any terfs and hate towards trans people here, hate towards furries, therians, otherkins, hate towards things people consider "cringe" and i dont answer any weirdos. I don't like bringing heavy topics here unless it's very serious. I have a "live and let live" approach to things, so unless you're doing something actually harmful and/or illegal, i tend to not judge or care. Be nice.

🖤 This is a lgbt safe space. I'm transmasc. He/they prns are interchangeable, it pronoun is okay (think of me as a little bug or a small creature like my monkey fursona is). I also consider myself unlabeled, but looking into the demi and ficto labels...

‼️ Being overly familiar with me is mostly okay UNLESS it comes off as rude (like calling me "little bro", "bitch", etc. or talking to me as if we were year long friends when you're a total stranger, messaging me for the first time, non-follower etc.) Again, be nice. I sometimes use some tone tags.

👽 English is my learned language so sorry if my vocab is lacking. Sorry if i come off as too serious or deadpan, i have a hard time expressing excitement most of the time. Also everything i post is not super serious, im just a pro hater and gotta meet my quota from time to time 😈 /j and when i theorize it's all just for fun! That's what it should be about!

🔗Links:

☕️ You can support me here :] (kofi)

🧷 My Spacehey that i rarely go to

🖍 My Telegram if you wish to talk about art commissions (contact admin)

🐰 TSE Dave telegram sticker pack

🎨 Aggie link

[mitskijamie]

Idk if you're still taking royjamie prompt but here i am.

You know the swap clothes trend? where basically ppl have to guess whose clothes belong to who by showing 2 people wear first one outfit and then the other? Well, for a pr thing keeley makes the whole team doing that in pairs, and oc jamie and roy are paired up, cause they have pretty opposite style.

When Roy sees jamie in his clothes cant deny that jamie is indeed pretty fit, but brushes it off by saying that's because he is finally wearing normal adult clothes and not dressing like a big kid.

Again for a pr thing the team members are asked to wear the kit of their first football idol and of course Jamie wears roys Chelsea kit, and again roy finds it super hot, but again brushes is off as football related or something.

But then again jamies is at his place and gets his clothes dirty by cooking or eating and roy borrows him his clothes and surprise, jamie looks super fit again. So yeah, Roy realizes that he just loves seeing jamie wear his clothes and sbam, feeling realization.

And sbam again, Im out

Byeeee

I LOVEEEE THISSS

and yesss I'm always accepting asks/hcs/prompts!!! I'm sorry I haven't been super active lately, school and work and my mental health have been tag-teaming me :(

[jessebutchman]

Do I have to be a certain age to follow? I love ur art but some of them r kinda suggestive n I just wanna make sure.

Ill be very frank here; i get really sad whenever people assume my art is suggestive or nsfw, i dont really blame you i guess i can blur the lines whenever i draw characters in leather or latex, but im 16! I like to explore things thriugh my art without being sexual i love studying latex and leather theyre very unique textures! And i understand the overlap in fetish communities and im mindful about that but i really wish that people didnt tag my art as nsfw, even if they dont feature those subjects,

and of course i am interested in certain things that may seep into my art work but im very mindful about what i draw, i wouldnt post a drawing if it was just softcore porn, i dont want to be one of those "suggestive sfw" gooner people, but i dont think it really matters what my art exhibits whenever people look at it because despite the most normal and non-suggestive art will get horrendous tags where people just dont know boundaries, its very gross; it makes me feel like im an undercover pervert ! When i try to avoid those kind of spaces but frankly it feels like people are trying to pull me in that, i dont want my art to be shared in nsfw spaces guised as nsfw because thats not what it is! people are deriving a meaning i never intended just because i like drawing artistic nudity and i like drawing latex and leather! I have no interest publically sharing any nsfw art if i were to draw it and my art has no intention of being nsfw

I think the way people see my art really effects how they respect me, they view my art as perverted so they see me as a pervert which i bever want to come across as, i guess its msotly a thing of people never respecting others boundaries they think they can just say they want and its very uncomfortable, but recently ive noticed an influx of it on my page and 18+ blogs following me. i have no problem if an 18+ blog follows me as long as they dont assume boundaries and are respectful, but its very demotivating to know that people see me and my drawings as a certain way

Im sorry for the rant, i know you didnt really have a part of this its just something ive been thinking about for a couple months

[vampire-exgirlfriend]

So many people say they're being plagarised and offer no proof except all this hearsay. The one time I saw two people actually offer proof @selfproclaimedunicorn dismissed it as their writing and the accused were basically writing the same generic boring mid smut and weren't being plagarised at all or plagiarising. She says they were causing drama over generic expressions. The funny thing was the complainants fic was being recycled in a new fandom by the accused and nobody really took it seriously except a handful of their mutuals. It's you lot who create cliques and fear mongering and this idolatry worshipping writers with huge followings, in time creating your own worst enemies. People with clout somehow in the fandoms always act like corrupt cops. But it's people in the fandom who create it. I've never seen you reblog anyone's work except your friends. I've seen Natasha reblog different people and offer nice comments. But you and your friends don't. And Ange is .... I don't know. Will she be a bullet you dodged? She has a big following end she was part of a group who were unbelievably toxic until she changed (?) People are just awful in this fandom and you know it getting a taste of it yourself here and elsewhere. I've no doubt people whose OCs are overlooked and ignored or whose x readers are not read, their voices are silent and people steal from them voraciously and nobody cares. People friends with the bigger writers close ranks and shut everyone out and everyone else is scrabbling to fit in and be noticed. I can name on one hand writers who write for the fun and not attention or notes. I don't know you and I'm sorry you have suffered this but welcome to our world

honestly, i wasn't going to answer this because so much of it is just fucking stupid.

I know exactly what you're talking about re misa, and you tagged the wrong blog. it wasn't her that said that, it was @julyzaa - and you know what...she wasn't wrong. she was talking about two fics that shared a similar premise. and we both agreed that it wasn't plagiarism. it was just two authors who wrote an aemond smutty one shot with similar vibes. of which there are a million and one fics like that right now. there is an importance in being able to discern the difference.

and i'll just say it, this obsession of constantly bringing up Ange is weird. it's creepy at this point. you're welcome to dislike someone, but it's becoming glaringly obvious that there's individuals in fandom that want to blame an outside person instead of looking at themselves and the company they keep. in my time being Ange's friend, not once have I been bullied/harrassed/intimidated - not even in a joking way. the chatting never turns toxic and the only time we're talking about other people is when shit gets weird on the dash (like it is right now). that's just normal social interaction, babes. we spend most of our time discussing fic and the show and our real lives.

and frankly, i don't know where this idea of 'clique' came from or why it seems this is an accusation that's being thrown around - not just at myself but others. there's no clique. there's no secret club or burn book or whatever you think there is lurking out there where we're concerned. im so confused as to why it's an issue that friend groups crop up and people get close. that's the nature of being mutuals! it's weird to be angry at people for making friendships and taking those friendships offline.

this is my blog and i'm allowed to reblog what I want - as is everyone else. you don't have a solution for whole 'clique' conundrum you seem so concerned with, so I can only assume your answer would be for me to just reblog everything I see, in hopes that your work reaches an audience. and i'm not going to do that. i will reblog the stories and edits that speak to me, that inspire me, that i actually enjoyed. and i've become friends with a lot of those authors, sure. because i put in the effort to get to know them. i stopped posting on tumblr because I got no response when posting my fic. My audience is clearly elsewhere. But it's always 'will you reblog my stuff' but it's never reciprocated, so what's the point in supporting mutuals if the mutual relationship is gone? have you ever reached out to me? have you ever struck up a conversation or attempted to chat about something other than fic? no? then why do you have any expectations of me at all where your fic is concerned? maybe look that the relationships you have formed and you'll have your answer.

[whoretan]

ARK 45 | 02

Summary: After what turned out to be an unsuccessful night, Jimin invites you over to his apartment where things certainly go in another direction.

WC: 3.5k

Play me while you read.

Pairing: Club Owner/Mafia!Jungkook, Hitman!Reader (ft. Jimin)

tags: um, so reader n jimin, yeah, fuckin against a window, slapping, dirty talk, murder and torture, possessive jimin???, jimin is a sadist, im sorry for what ive done, theres like 10% plot, 90% porn, reader will smash jk soon i swear

Chapters: 1 | 2 (ur here)

The screams of ache bouncing across the wooden walls are only driving your frustration further. 

You enjoy hurting people, but tonight, you have no patience for the whiny asshole Jimin left you to deal with. 

And typically, you have the patience of a fucking saint. 

About fifteen minutes after you left ARK, Jimin texted you the geo-coordinates to a random location that won’t show up on any Google searches. 

Jimin doesn’t trust anyone but you to do his dirty work. So while he gets to pounce around the city like an angel in a suit, you’re stuck dealing with the tedious and messy portion of the job. Then again, it pays well, so, there’s no room for complaining.

“I’m about three seconds away from slicing your tongue off,” you warn. “And I don’t plan on being nice about it either, John.” 

“Jesus fuckin’ christ lady,” he cries like a little bitch. “Jungkook don’t tell us which warehouse he keeps the shipments in, that’s for the upper guys.” 

 John has about five seconds left before he goes knocking on God’s door. 

“So what you’re telling me is that you’re useless?” You deduce, grabbing his chin roughly to part his saliva-covered lips. 

“No, no, no,” he pleads. “There’s someone at ARK that can get you the information you want.” 

Sweat drips down his nose, mixing with the blood riddling his face. John’s bald, somewhere in his late thirties, and a whiner. He has a wedding band on his left hand, probably some kids too, not that any of it’s your concern. 

You’d already cut off two of his fingers, stabbed his Achilles heel, and are coming close to slicing his tongue off. Normally, you like to play this thing slowly. The slower the better, the more likely the chance of getting whatever unfortunate fucker landed in your hands to spill the information you need.

John cringes away from the knife, tears bubbling out from beneath his lashes. 

“Dude name is Tony. H-he’s one of the security guards. B-big n’ tall, huge snake tattoo on his face.”

You roll your neck, groaning as the muscles pop. It’s been a long fucking day, and you’re still wearing the damned hooker dress that Jimin had dropped off for you.

“Great, thanks,” you say casually as if you haven’t spent the past hour torturing him. 

His breathing calms, and he looks up at you through his dull, ugly eyes and hope radiates from them. You almost laugh.

“So, y-you’ll let me go, right?” he asks, staring up at you like a little kid begging for a toy. 

“Sure,” you say. 

“Are you serious?” he pleads. 

“No, John,” you grin. “I’m not.”

You swing your arm back and plunge the entirety of your knife through his temple. 

He dies instantly, slumping forward against the rope that bonded him to the chair. 

You slide your knife from his skull, the noise threatening to ruin your dinner plans. This is unfortunate because you’re really fucking hungry. 

The knife squelches against the skin, taunting and unwilling to leave the flesh. And sure, while you enjoy a good torture session, you don’t get off on the sounds that accompany it.

Typically on a night like this, you’d dismember poor little John and then dump his remains into the cremator you and Jimin keep at a warehouse off the grid. 

But, not tonight. 

You weren’t even supposed to be on the clock, besides the obvious shit show that happened at ARK. 

You sigh, pulling out your phone from your bra, and cringe at the sight of blood smudging onto the screen. It’ll be a bitch to clean later, so you wipe it down on your matching red dress. 

going home. going to light a cig first.

Light a cig being code for burning down whatever building you’re in. 

Shoving the phone back into your bra, you bend down to John’s level, searching through his pockets. Dude’s like him almost always have a smoking problem, and besides, the fucker smells like it too. Mixed with his own piss that is of course. 

Your hand lands on the familiar plastic and you sigh thankfully, one less headache for you.

There’s a vibration against the shell of your tit and you straighten your back, pulling out the device again. Jimin’s name is written in bold letters atop your notification center.

good. come by my apartment.  

Something inexplicably dark arises in your chest.

 Jimin never asks you to come over. 

You suck in your bottom lip, biting back a groan. Goodbye dinner it is.

Sure, why the hell not?

A ping sounds, and the doors to Jimin’s penthouse apartment open. 

He lives fifteen or so minutes away from your own apartment, but on top of the already fifty-minute drive home from the barn— you’re not exactly thrilled by any account to be here.

He stands by the door, gaze entirely locked on yours and you can’t help but scowl. So what? It’s four in the damn morning and no human being should look this well put together at this hour. 

Jimin wears black lounge trousers, a low-cut robe with embroidered flowering, and that damned rosary he can’t seem to ever take off. 

“Come in,” he motions his head toward the inside of his apartment. 

You nod, locking in your bottom lip as you slip past your boss. A sliver of something that shouldn’t be so pleasant curls in your stomach— the smell of the deep and citrus oceanic cologne he always has on invades your senses. 

Jesus. 

The feeling is so strong and sudden that you exhale a breath to try and push it away. 

He steps into the apartment after you, and with a click, locks the door. This feels all too intimate. 

“So?” 

You blink.

“So?”

He sighs. “Jungkook.” 

Fuck. 

The chance of you admitting you performed a lap dance for Jeon Jungkook is zero. You’d cut your own tongue off before you ever admit that you might’ve slightly enjoyed it. 

You sigh. “He wasn’t in. I’m going to call the front desk tomorrow.” 

Jimin quirks a brow, and the playful tug to the corner of his lips tells you all you need to know. He doesn’t believe a single word you just said. 

You groan and turn around, making a beeline to the cloud couch he had you order last year. You sink into the white cushion and moan at the softness that envelopes your frame, it feels like heaven on Earth. Soft as hell and a hundred times better than the one in your own home.

“Where’s the dress?” Jimin appears from behind you, the hint of that smirk still remaining on his face— just the slightest curl in his lips. His eyes travel over your body, and you feel the intrusion. 

You roll your eyes. You’ve changed into a skirt and long sleeve shirt. Not your best look, but it’s better than what Jimin deemed to be a dress. “I gave it to the hooker outside.” 

He chuckles and the sofa beside you dips.

A beat passes and then Jimin says, “I’m going to have to fuck the information out of Miranda.” 

You release a heavy breath at the sudden change of atmosphere. What the fuck is going on with him tonight? 

Turning your head to face your boss, you watch his tongue travel over his bottom lip. His gaze drops to your exposed legs, and you subconsciously clench your thighs in response. 

It’s too hot in here. Way too fucking hot. You have to divert the conversation somewhere else, somewhere where he isn’t devouring your skin like it’ll be his last meal.

“Jimin, is everything okay?” 

He doesn’t break eye contact but the darkness envelops his eyes. 

“No ___, it’s not.” He looks away momentarily to sigh, then meets your gaze again. “Jungkook wants me dead, and once he finds out about you he’ll kill you too. I just found out that he’s already on Hobi’s trail and now I’m gonna have to spend almost all my time playing prince charming for his annoying fucking sister when I just really want to spend my time fucking you.” 

Your breath hitches and you have to look away from the fiery gaze. Diverge. Don’t think.

Not once in your career has Jimin made any moves on you. Hell, before tonight you hadn’t even stepped foot into his apartment. The thought of having sex with your boss had been only a mere daydream on your first night on the job, never again.

“Jimin, I don’t think that’s a good idea.“

Without hesitation, he shifts closer to you, hand touching the bare skin of your lower thigh. “Why not? I’ve had people breathing down my fucking neck every day all week. I can’t even fuck anymore because I’m too paranoid they’re a spy Jungkook’s sent on me.” 

The confession has you blinking, shell-shocked. Since when has Jimin become this paranoid about Jungkook?

His body presses against yours, sandwiching you between him and the cushion. You stifle a gasp when he leans in and the warmness of his breath courses your lobe. “He knew who you were tonight.”

Everything stills, one second Jimin’s hovering over you, warm breath tickling your skin as your stomach does laps. The next, you’re pushing him off of you, sending him hurling off of the couch and backward. He regains his composure and inches forward again, like a predator about to devour its prey. He grabs both of your wrists to prevent you from clawing his eyes out of their sockets.

Your heart pounds in your chest. Jimin sent you into ARK when Jungkook knew what you looked like?

Holy shit.

Jungkook knows what you look like. 

He knew tonight and still had you grinding on his hard cock. 

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the hurricane brewing in your chest. 

Fuck, fuck. You’re going to lose your shit and possibly strangle your boss.

“I need you to calm down,” he grits against your hold, pushing his body completely onto yours, leaving you limp in his hold. “I didn’t tell you because I wanted to see what his reaction would be.” 

You lock your gaze with his, anger dancing in all the curvatures of your face. You feel tiny and helpless encased in his hold. Even more, you’re surprised he has the strength to hold you like this, unmoving, unfaltering like it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

What if Jungkook decided to kill you?  

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

He leans in, warm breath caressing your lobe. “Doesn’t it excite you? That he played along with your little game, Joanna?” 

“Jimin, I’m fucking serious, I—“ 

He’s so heavy on top of you, his chest moves rapidly as he presses further into you. You feel the apples of his cheeks rise against your neck, “Did you fuck him?” 

This is too much. Too much all at once. You’re suffocating in Jimin’s scent, his breath, his voice. 

You shake your head and close your eyes. 

“You wanted to though, right?” He whispers amusingly. 

He’s enjoying this. He’s bathing in your discomfort, the way your twitching against him, withering away from his hold, pushing your neck away, he basks in it. This should be wrong, it should terrify you. 

Yet, it doesn’t. His weight feels good, it feels exhilarating to lose control for once. To be the given instead of the giver, to have your freedom stripped bare. 

So, instead of screaming you confess, “Y-yes.” 

Jimin hums, sending a wave of vibration through your neck. He licks a strip from the bottom to the shell of your lobe, “And do you want me to fuck you, too?” 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Your mind draws a blank and the only thing that pounds through it is, yes, yes, yes. 

“Yes.” 

“What’d he tell you?” Jimin asks as he releases your wrists from his grip. You let them drop to the cushion without a fight. 

He doesn’t stand from the couch, instead, he digs his knee further into the space between your opened legs and straightens his back. When your eyes meet, his eyes are dark, low, and filled with an intimacy you’ve never seen before from him. 

“He said he doesn’t hire whores,” you sigh at the recollecting memory. The sounds of Jungkook’s laughter as he walked out of his office to call the guards fills your mind. 

It’s Jimin’s very own laughter that drags you back to the present. 

“How ironic,” He muses.

He’s terrifying like this, dominating you in every way possible as he looms above you. He undoes the piece of fabric keeping his robe pieced together and lets the sides fall. You flinch subconsciously when he raises his hand to grab your chin.

“Do you want me to fuck you like a whore, ___?” 

You catch your breath at the monster before you. It’s not the words that leave you breathless, it’s the sweet smile accompanying them. The same one he gives you when he walks into the building in the afternoon, or when he hands you a check after a mission saying you’ve done a great. It’s welcoming, friendly, and utterly fucking terrifying. 

This is a horrible idea. Slowly, you nod. 

“Good.” 

The sound comes first, then the realization. You blink repeatedly as your vision blurs, the impact so brutal it’s left you looking in the other direction. Then, the pain. Sizzling, stinging, and painfully hot. Your cheek will bruise, without a doubt. You moan. 

When you turn your head around to face Jimin his smile only grows, wider and wider. He pushes his knee further into your cunt, the friction bringing it alive.  “Again.”

This time, he hits the other cheek. 

Adrenaline courses through your veins, it pulses in every one of your nerves, and it sends your body ablaze along with it. The pain feels so fucking good. 

You want him to cut you open and eat you alive. 

Without another word, Jimin pushes his knee off of the couch, cracks his neck, and points toward the exposed windows, “Strip.” 

You oblige, following the command like a lost puppy. He backs away, giving you space as you push off of the couch and toss your clothes. Avoiding the intruding stare, you turn around and walk to where you know he wants you.  The air in his apartment is freezing, leaving you with hard nipples and goosebumps.

The windows are completely open to the world. 

Anyone in the other high rises will be able to see you. They can see you.  

The city’s beautiful, shimmering lights keep it alive in the darkness. In the reflection of the glass, you see Jimin stalking toward you as if he has all the time in the world. 

He stares at your legs, ass, and back, then he meets your gaze in the reflection. When he reaches your heel, his hands graze your stomach, and his lips meet the back of your neck in soft slow kisses. It’s when his hand pushes past your stomach and below your underwear that the ecstasy hits you.

He’s slow, painfully so, his middle finger slides through your folds and you feel teeth etch themselves into your shoulder. The cold metal of the ring grazing your clit finger sends a shiver down your spine, you release a groan and he bites harder on the flesh. 

He rubs your clit with two fingers, allowing you to savor in the warming pulses rippling through your cunt. Through the pleasure, you feel him pushing his hard cock into your ass, grinding onto the exposed flesh. 

You’re moaning like hell, unable to contain how good it feels to have someone dominating you, relishing in your body. He releases your clit and moves his fingers downward, instantly sticking two digits in your hole. The pain from how hard he’s biting into your shoulder, undoubtedly drawing blood, with how fast his fingers pulse in and out of you sends you into another dimension.

In the back of your mind, you hear the slow rhythm of The Weeknd’s song filling the air, transcending you back in time. Jungkook’s low growl and how hard his dick felt on your ass as you danced for him. 

The fact that you made him hard even though he knew who you are.

The fact that he wanted to fuck you regardless of the idea that you possibly murdered his father.  

He let you grind on him, feel all of him. 

He wanted you. 

You want him right now. Want to feel the swell of his cock again, hear him say those nasty arrogant words, and steal them from his lips. 

“Just like that,” Jungkook growls against your ear.

You open your eyes, panting hard, it’s Jimin who stares back into the reflection, smirking at your battered form. You’re spasming all over his fingers, pussy pulsing in a rhythmic beat as you orgasm. You’re moaning, hands pressed flat against the glass. 

Jimin doesn’t wait for you to finish riding the waves of your orgasm. He takes his fingers out of you, leaving your cunt clenching against nothing. You’re too occupied with calming your breaths to hear the fabric of his trousers tossing, to hear him his as he hisses when he uses the same fingers he used in you to wet his cock. 

You do, however, feel him push your thong to the side and the swell of his cock at your entrance. You’re so ready, you’ve never been more ready for anything else. It’s been two fucking years. God, you can’t fucking think straight.

“Fuck me al—“

The words are stolen from you when Jimin pushes himself into you completely, he doesn’t let you catch your breath, doesn’t give you time to formulate any words, he just goes. 

With one hand, he grabs the back of your neck and slams your face into the glass. The coldness of it feels good on your cheek, the mixture of the hard surface and the pounding has you grinding through your teeth, it’s too much. It encompasses you, filling you like nothing else in the world can.

Jimin fucks you relentlessly, pounding in you at light speed. He’s breathing hard, but he doesn’t stutter. The sound of flesh colliding with flesh fills the quietness of his apartment, you can’t help but moan. 

“The world’s watching you.” He releases your neck, quickly switching over to grab a bundle of your hair and yank your head toward the flashing city.  

It’s blurry, all over the place, and you moan like a whore for it. 

“Watch them,” Jimin growls. 

He’s fucking you faster than before, your stomach bubbles with the formation of a second orgasm. You can’t think, can’t breathe, you’re just taking. Taking Jimin’s cock as he gives it to you, as he takes everythingfrom you.

You close your eyes, and your head falls limp. Everything feels so slick, so wet. Jimin’s cock is easing in and out of you, his free hand grips your exposed boob, massaging it. 

“Open your fucking eyes,” He releases your tit, slapping it before grabbing your chin to face the world before you. “Watch them as I fuck you.” 

A muffled sound escapes you, he’s let go of your hair, exposed chest flat against your back as he continues thrusting. 

“You’ll kill anyone for me,” He says, voice wavering in pleasure, “I just need to say the name.” 

Your heart and head pound because he’s right. The second he says a name, the life has already been taken from them. They’ve been handed over to the Grim Reaper, and fuck, does Park Jimin own you. 

Every command is his, and every action of yours is done by his accord.  

Jimin’s hips are stuttering now, he’s mumbling something but you can’t get the thought out of your head, can’t hear the words.

You’ll do anything to fulfill his command. Anything. 

Your stomach coils, and your pussy pulses faster than before. You feel Jimin’s falls hitting your cunt with each thrust and it feels too good. It’s too good, too overwhelming. 

“Mine,” he moans, and then he’s stuttering, sloppily thrusting until he stops. He allows the milky liquid to spill into your cunt.

He continues to slowly thrust in you, pushing his cum further and further back into you. He’s claiming you. He’s fucking claiming you. 

Your head falls limp, forehead against the glass and you breathe hard. 

Jimin pulls out of you, hissing as the cold air envelops his dick. He slaps your ass and tugs his cock back into his trousers. 

You can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t think.

Mine, mine, mine. 

Jimin’s words replay in your mind on an endless loop. His.

If you’re supposed to be his, then why can’t you seem to get a certain arrogant son-of-a-bitch’s face out of your head?

Reply 2 be added. Ty for reading.

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