#make a strong password really...

[kyowrightdeepspace]

I wait since friday of the Email from Nintendo xD

[hoonsluvr]

CHERRY

박성훈 ꒰ park sunghoon ꒱ — genre; summer au, best friend’s older brother, forbidden romance, smut, a bit of fluff, angst ୨ৎ cw; p in v, unprotected sex, spit, choking, gagging, oral f.rec, mating press, edging MDNI. ⟡ synopsis; you never thought that an unexpected obsession formed during your trip to southern italy would teach you one life’s cruelest lessons — never fuck your bestfriend’s brother ୨ৎ wc; 4.8k — library ⭑.ᐟ

inspired by; cherry - lana del rey

isla yaps; hii, this is my first work so i’m a bit nervous!! lmk what you think of the layout and feedback in general is appreciated! :)

Was it wrong that you felt happy when your parents announced they wanted to take a vacation alone this year?

You sit opposite them at the dining table, your mom explaining herself for the hundredth time over. Clearly she felt guilty about it but you didn't mind. “You know its our anniversary during that time darling and I hope you understand that we love having you with us, of course we do, but 50th anniversaries are rather special and we’re booking a honeymoon resort.”

You feign a look of sadness to act like you’re listening but your mind is already elsewhere. It wasn’t that you didn’t like spending time with your parents, that wasn’t the problem at all, but now that a family vacation was out of the picture, joining Stella’s family in Italy was back in the conversation.

Soojin, or Stella as she liked to be called was your best friend, your ride or die. Years ago, when you moved to a new town, the Park family were your next door neighbours and you and Stella quickly became close, bonding over your hatred for the town and its people. You two had always felt suffocated in its environment, the way everyone knew everyone’s drama, everyone’s problems, everyone’s secrets. You promised each other that one day you would escape and explore the world together for that very reason.

You were over at her house so much that you were basically a part of the family. You had your thumbprint on their security system, the password to the garage door, and even your own designated chair at the dining table. Her mom used to jokingly call you two sisters, but honestly, that didn’t feel far off. You and Stella had grown up together, seen all of each other’s phases too. The cringe phase, the boy-obsessed phase, oh god- the emo phase, and yet your friendship was still going strong. From weekend sleepovers where you giggled and gossiped all night long to crying on each other’s shoulders after not feeling accepted in school, to smoking your first blunt together, you two had been through every whirlwind experience together. After all these years, you still struggled to express just how much admiration you held for her.

And now, it had come. This was the last summer you had left with her. In 3 months you were going to head North to New York City, to pursue a degree in arts while Stella would remain in your hometown. When you broke the news, you expected her to be angry at you because of the promise you made to travel together forever, but she simply smiled and told you she was proud of you and that she always knew you would make it far.

You felt a pit in your stomach thinking about being apart, you had never really imagined life without her, so imagine your relief and excitement when she proposed that you join her family on their vacation to Italy this summer. One last chance to have the time of your life with your best friend while you were both still young? No one could catch you dead saying no.

-

“Mom, please.” You beg, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from frustration. You sit across from her on the kitchen island, sipping on a mango smoothie as she prepped dinner for tonight. At this point, the conversation had been going on for far too long and both of you were running thin on patience. “I just don’t understand why you won’t let me go.” You huffed, used to getting your way.

Your mother sighs. “Sweetie, I’ve explained this to you. The Parks have done so much for you, your entire life! I just don’t want you to be a burden on them when they’re trying to have a family vacation. They're extremely sweet for offering but it’s a tough situation.”

“Ugh!” You exclaim and your mother shoots you a don’t-be-so-dramatic look. “They offered to have me! And besides, with you and daddy going to Mexico and Stella going to Italy, I’m going to be alone this summer. My last summer before college is going to be spent wasting away. It’ll be years before I see Stella again!” You pout, your eyes sparkling with hope as you see her expression soften, triumphant that you clearly struck a soft spot.

“We’ll see about it darling.” She sighs.

Even with her weary expression, all the tell-tale signs were there. She had been convinced. You stand up, satisfied as you go to text Stella the news.

And that’s how you find yourself going to the South of Italy for three weeks with the Parks: Stella, her mother and father, and her older brother Sunghoon.

Sunghoon had always been a little shy and introverted making him hard to talk to, your four year age gap not doing much to help create a relationship either. Despite that, Sunghoon had always tried being sweet to you. After many attempts of trying to talk to him over the years, you finally managed to break his shell the one time he rescued your prized possession, a teddy bear plush named Ben, from a tree branch. You still remember the warm hug he gave you when you cried over Ben’s stitching being torn and ever since that day, although you wouldn’t call yourself friends, the relationship shifted. It changed from nods of acknowledgement to smiles, from waves of greeting to hugs.

During your last years of middle school, you even developed a small crush on him but you never once told Stella, knowing she would have killed you. Once you turned fourteen, Sunghoon left to go for college and you hadn’t seen him since then. You had no idea what he was like now, his personality, his likes and dislikes, his interests. Honestly, the thought worried you a little. You just decided you would try sticking to Stella on the trip, hoping that things wouldn’t be awkward.

Only if you knew. Only if you knew what was about to happen, you never would’ve chosen to go on that godforsaken trip.

-

The last minute nature of your decision to join the vacation meant that tickets weren’t available on the same flight as the Parks, so you booked one for a flight that arrived in Italy just two days later. You didn’t mind however, you were just excited to spend time with Stella.

And so you arrive in the quaint beach town of Taormina, located on the shorelines of the island of Sicily. The drive from the airport to your location spans over rugged hills overlooking the Loian sea. You maintain small talk with the barely english speaking driver, chatting about what to do in town and what beaches to visit. A gasp leaves your mouth as the taxi comes to a halt outside a stunning Italian villa style Airbnb. You know the Parks aren’t exactly middle class, neither were you, but you weren’t expecting this much grandeur.

Cobblestone bricks line the pathway to the house, leaning up against the ivy covered walls. Heaps of colorful potted flowers are placed at the entrance and a wooden gazebo in the corner catches your eye. Stella is sitting in the gazebo, sipping tea. When she sees you, she jumps up in excitement and rushes over.

“You’re here!” She squeals and twirls you around as you both laugh excitedly. You hear claps of joy from the back as Shin-ah, Stella’s mom steps out of the front door, her husband, Ji-hun in close pursuit. You quickly wish the driver goodbye and thank him before hugging them both fondly.

“Gosh, we only just saw you a month ago and you’ve already become prettier!” Shin-ah exclaims, making you blush and immediately resort to your usual ‘humble’ deflections that you recited out like a poem whenever she complimented you.

You lean to the side, getting up onto your tip-toes to get a glimpse of the dark haired boy who just stepped out of the door. Sunghoon. His short black hair was now grown out into a mullet and he no longer held the smiley expression that his face once always used to carry. You glance at his arms, his thin tank top showing off his muscles, a striking difference to his previously scrawny build. He looks so different. He’s grown now and more confident, no longer the sweet, shy boy you used to crush on. Theres no doubt, Sunghoon Park has matured. He’s a man now. A fucking gorgeous man, that too.

Sunghoon murmurs a half-hearted greeting towards you, reminiscent of the way he used to speak to you before you two became comfortable. You’re not surprised-it had been years since you’d seen him. Traces of your previous dynamics were long gone by now. You return the soft greeting as Shin-ah ushers you into the house, Stella following behind, wheeling your luggage in.

“You must be hungry, come, we’ve already set the table.” And sure enough, the intricately carved wooden dining table was all set up with dishes, cutlery and a large pizza in the centre. Dinner with the Parks is comfortable as you go back and forth with them, discussing the trip’s itinerary, recent stories and more.

Shin-ah glances at Sunghoon before turning back to you. “So, you and Sunghoon haven’t seen each other in a while. He’s been asking what you’ve been up to.” It was horribly obvious that Sunghoon couldn’t care less about what you’d been up to. His mouth opens in annoyance at his mother’s words. “What? No I—" But he’s cut off by a sharp nudge from his father who scowls at him. Embarrassment pools inside of you and you laugh awkwardly before Shin-ah nods encouragingly for you to continue.

“Well uh— I’m going to NYU after this summer. I’m going to be studying art history and I’m hoping to get an internship with a local gallery this summer, after the trip of course. But yeah…” You trail off awkwardly as Sunghoon pretends to be interested. An awkward atmosphere settles over the table and you finish in silence.

After dinner, you head up to your room that you’ll be sharing with Stella. You’re sitting on the floor, unpacking your suitcase while she removes her makeup.

“Hey,” she turns to you, “I’m sorry about what happened with Hoon earlier. I don’t know why he’s acting like that.”

You wave it off. “No, don’t worry about it at all, it’s all good. I’m sure it’ll settle down in a while.”

She nods comfortingly but deep down you feel a little hurt. You knew that it wasn’t going to be the same but you didn’t expect him to be so cold.

-

After a few chaotic days of what felt like never-ending sightseeing and cold shoulders from Sunghoon, you finally collapse onto a picnic blanket out in the back-garden, your white sundress pooling around your knees. You roll over onto your stomach, kicking your legs into the air as you grab your book, the pages soft between your hands as you slowly flip through, trying to find where you left off. Pop. The sound of plastic popping as you open the box of glowing red cherries next to you. Your favorite.

You're a few pages in when a soft voice calls from behind you. “Hey.” You glance behind to see him standing there in a loose white shirt and khaki shorts, holding a book. He laughs softly as you scramble to straighten yourself. “No need for that, you can sit however you want.”

“No, no it's okay,” you shake your head, sitting up straight now, confused at his cheerful demeanour “what do you need?”

“I was wondering if I could join you,” he tilted his head, “you seem to be having fun.”

You squeeze internally. Something about Sunghoon was making you nervous right now but you plaster on a sweet smile nonetheless, “of course.”

You’re hyperaware of his every movement as he approaches and sits down next to you on the blanket. He holds up the book he had and it takes you a second to realise that both of you had gotten the same book to read, ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’. You smile at him, “that’s funny.”

“It is, isn’t it?” He hums. “How’s Ben doing?”

You laugh, the anxious feeling in your stomach fading a little. There’s no need to be nervous in the first place, it’s just Sunghoon. “He’s doing okay. No more accidents since the last.”

The two of you fall into silence. He coughs. "Listen... I uh— I didn't mean to act that way when you first came."

You nod almost immediately. "You don't have to explain yourself, I get it, it's fine."

"No, I was acting like a jerk for no reason. I mean- you know how I am with people at first and I hadn't seen you in a while, it just took me a while to get used to. That's not an excuse for how I acted though, I'm sorry."

You peer at him. "I get it, I figured that's the reason you were acting distant. It's okay. I'm glad we can be pause normal again." You both look at each other and for a second you feel him glance at your lips but his eyes move away so fast, it's impossible to tell. He smiles softly at you.

-

Your legs are crossed as you lounge lazily on a chair on the balcony, taking in the view of the salty sea, waves lapping against the rocks. Once again, a box of perfectly round Italian cherries lay on the table behind you. You couldn't seem to get enough of them.

“You must really like these.” Sunghoon murmurs from behind you, pointing at the box of the sweet fruit. You smile lazily at him, not surprised by his interruption. Somehow, he had been finding you in all sorts of odd places recently, almost as if he was looking for you from the second you disappeared from view. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Sunghoon thought you were pretty. You realised fairly quickly from the way his eyes flicked up and down whenever he saw you, resting on your tits for just a second more.

“They’re my favorite.” You nod, grabbing one and popping it into your mouth as he watches. Maybe it's the way he’s staring at you hungrily but a newfound confidence takes over you. You reach for another cherry but this time, you make sure to hold eye contact with him, looking up with big bambi eyes as your tongue swirls around the sweet fruit. You bite into it and the red juice dribbles down your chin, your eyes glinting. His finger instinctively reaches down, a millimetre away from your chin before you nod to give him permission.

He swipes at the juice on your chin, before pulling his finger back, licking it slowly. Your throat suddenly feels like it’s constricting. You should not be doing this— holy shit you should not be doing this. You stand abruptly, coughing slightly. He doesn’t react much but a slight smirk plays on his face. Pause. “I should go,” you stutter as you rush into the house, heart hammering in your chest.

You try your best to ignore him for the next few days because you had no idea what possessed you to do that. Your mind constantly replayed the moment. The way he stared at you. The way he touched you. The way he licked his finger. God you were so fucked. Every time you saw Stella, you couldn’t help but feel guilty but then you tried comforting yourself. It wasn’t like you had done anything wrong, nothing actually happened.

You didn’t even notice what you were doing at first, your actions seemingly innocent in your mind. You just wanted to make the most of the summer clothes you owned and the heat in Taormina was intense, right? But your skirts were growing shorter and shorter by the day, your bikinis became skimpier and skimpier. That, accompanied by the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when he came around, batted your eyelashes at him, knowing it made him crazy-you hadn’t even realised but that little incident between the two of you had made you develop a little obsession with Sunghoon Park, just like the one you had all those years ago. And you were desperate for his attention now.

Right from your shiny olive skin that glistened in the Italian sun to your long hair that swayed as you walked, Sunghoon Park knew you were gorgeous, even more so now that you were making it painfully obvious. He knew. He knew you were doing all of this entirely on purpose but that didn’t mask his staring as you lather on sunscreen, resting beside him in the sand in a floral pink bikini.

You know you have him.

"Hey can you help me with this?" You ask softly, holding out the bottle of sunscreen towards him. His jaw ticks but he takes the bottle from your hand.

"Actually," you smile sweetly, "on second thought, I think I'm done, what do you think?"

If looks could kill, you would strike dead at this very moment from the way he was looking at you. “What’s your game?”

You stare at him, not expecting him to say those words so soon. “What do you mean?” You pout, pretending to be oblivious, a little upset that you didn't get to have that much fun with him before he called you out.

He scoffs. “You know exactly what I mean. Don’t play dumb. You like teasing me and then pulling away at the last moment, don’t you?” When you don’t respond, his expression hardens. “You’re trying to win a game you don’t even know how to play.”

Before you get the chance to respond, the two of you are interrupted as Stella runs to you, laughing.

“Hey are you having fun?” Stella smiles down at you.

“I’m having a great time, thanks.”

She nods as she moves to sit down on the sand, between you and Sunghoon.

Theres a moment of silence before you speak. “Hey Stells, thank you for letting me come. I appreciate it a lot. I would’ve had a terrible summer without you and I’m just really glad we get to spend time together before … you know …”

She smiles at you again. A genuine smile. “I’m gonna miss you. A lot. And I know you’re worried but i’m not, because I know we’ll always be friends. We’ve been through everything together and stupid New York isn’t going to change that.” As she pulls you in for a hug, you feel a pang in your heart. You love your friend and the last thing you want is for her older brother to come between you. But you just can’t help yourself.

You glance up at Sunghoon who's watching you two hug with an emotion in his eyes that you can't quite place. He meets your eyes and you shut yours, unable to look at him any longer. You hold onto Stella tighter, suddenly feeling disgusted with yourself. You're sickening. Sickening and selfish.

-

Your phone screen shows 4:36AM and sleep wasn’t coming. You sit up, rubbing your eyes as you glance at Stella snoring beside you. You get out of bed slowly, the wood creaking beneath you. You desperately needed a walk to clear your mind. Stepping into your fuzzy slippers, you leave the room, entering the narrow corridor outside. Sunghoon’s door stands tall in front of your face, which you would have normally ignored, except today, streaks of light peek out of the crack at the bottom. Why is he awake?

You know you shouldn’t. You know you really shouldn’t but you do it anyways. You knock softly. A few moments pass and you think he might not come. Right as you’re about to leave, the door clicks open and he stands there in grey sweats, shirtless. You choke a little but he doesn’t notice, neither does he seem surprised to see you.

He looks you up and down and you realise what you’re wearing—a tiny pink lace-trim nightgown, barely covering anything. He’s smirking now. “Come in.”

“Uh I—“ You start to say as you begin to regret your decision but you’re cut off by his harsh tone, his smirk now faded, replaced with a hardened expression.

“That wasn't a question. Come. In.”

You swallow nervously as you follow him into the room and shut the door behind you. Sunghoon sits on the edge of the bed, motioning for you to stand in front of him. You do as he asks and now you're staring down at his face, your silky hair hanging loosely, brushing against his cheeks. He starts to grab harshly at your waist and you gasp slightly.

"You think this is funny huh? Playing all these games? Do you have any idea what you're doing at all?" When you don't respond he starts again. “What? Cat got your tongue? Are you all nervous now? Don't be, you started this after all."

You breathe out shakily, hands finding his neck. "Please—"

"Please what?" His smirk is back, he likes that he's finally the one in control. "Say you want me."

"God I want you, I do." You whine pathetically. And whatever little power you may have had over him was gone, he had claimed it back. His dark eyes glint sinisterly as he stands, picking you up by the waist and placing you down onto the bed. Your legs are raised, being held up by his hands as he presses kisses on your left ankle. He slowly makes his way down, nuzzling his nose into your inner thighs. His teeth lock onto your panties and you gasp as he drags them off, discarding them on the floor, leaving you exposed.

"Fuck you're beautiful."

He dives in again, his nose pressing against your clit as he laps harshly at your folds. You throw your head back, a jerk reaction to the sudden sensitivity. You cry out and feel him immediately stop what he was doing. You whine softly in annoyance. "Wow baby, it seems like you really want my sister to know I'm fucking you right now." You swallow harshly as his eyes shoot daggers at you. "Keep. Quiet."

He's looking at your pussy now. You wait, burning to see what he would do. And he spits on it. You gasp, biting your lip to stop the moan. He spits right on your pussy, using his fingers to spread his saliva around your messy area. He begins to lick up your folds again, pressing his tongue down on your clit.

You can't handle it. It's pathetic but you already feel a knot building up in your stomach. "Hoon— I'm going to—"

"Not yet," he spits out, coming up.

You moan weakly in protest but he doesn't seem to care. "You don't deserve to cum yet. You've not been a very good girl have you?" You shake your head.

His hands reach for his pants now, pulling them down in one quick move and you could see how painfully hard he is. Your eyes widen as he pulls out his cock. It was big. Too big. Bigger than you'd ever had before and you didn't know if you would be able to handle it. He laughs, looking at your expression. "Don't worry baby, we'll make it fit."

He pushes your legs up all the way and you were practically bent in half in front of him, your knees blurrily shifting in and out of your peripheral vision. He lines his cock up with your entrance and rubs the tip across your wet folds, groaning softly as his eyes shut. Without warning, he pushes it in and you shriek in surprise, causing him to shove his fingers into your throat. You're choking around his fingers now as he thrusts into you, quickening the pace. Tears stream down your face as you gag, you're close again, you can feel it, but so can he. Just as you're about to reach your high, he stops his motion again and you lean back into the bed, panting hard. You're desperate for release now but as you stare up at his fucked out face through your lashes, smirking down at you, you know he's not going to give you that release anytime soon.

So you go four more rounds. Four more rounds of chasing that desperate high that he pulls away from you at the last moment. You're fucked up now, sweating and panting, your hair splayed across your face as you cried and cried, begging him. The sun had risen now and it pooled in through the window, enveloping you in a warm glow, making your tan skin look golden.

"God baby, you look so fucking sexy right now." Sunghoon reaches an arm towards the desk nearby, where a small pile of digital cameras lay. Stella's digital cameras. The one's she had excitedly bought for the trip, wanting to capture every memory. He points the lens of one of them at you and you don't even have enough energy to protest. Click. And just like that, a picture of you in one of your most fucked up moments was captured forever. He tosses the camera aside, turning his attention back to you.

"You up for one more?"

Strings of gibberish come out from your mouth and he chuckles as he pushes into you once again. He thrusts in and out and you're moaning loudly this time but neither of you cared anymore. You're so sensitive at this point that it doesn't take long for that familiar feeling to arise again. This time, Sunghoon lets you have it. You let out a strangled moan as you feel your orgasm wash over you. Pure fucking euphoria. He collapses on top of you after cumming as well. You reach out, your hands tangling in his hair, stroking his face gently.

You realise you haven't kissed yet. You lean down, placing a gentle kiss on his pink lips. He kisses you back immediately but there is no lust behind it. "You're a goddess, you know that?" He speaks, muffled against your arm. You laugh this time, reaching for the camera next to you. Click. Another picture. But this one is much cuter, the two of you staring into the camera, laughing as your arms are wrapped around him. Click. And another. He's kissing you and you just want to stay in this moment forever.

-

The remainder of the vacation is spent stealing glances and kisses with Sunghoon as you two sneak away at random times together. You visited his room every night, sometimes it was sex and sometimes you just wanted to cuddle.

If there was one thing you were sure of by the end of the vacation, it's that you were madly, madly in love with him. And he was in love with you too.

-

1 month later

You step into your room, flopping onto the bed, exhausted from your shift at the gallery. You pull out your phone to texts from both Stella and Sunghoon. Sunghoon's reads 'see you tomorrow :)' while Stella had texted to cancel your bar plans for the night, wanting to hang out at home instead. You almost feel relieved, too tired to even think of going to the bar. Instead, you quickly change your clothes and head over to the house next door. Shin-ah opens the door and she's delighted to see you as ever.

After exchanging some small talk, you head upstairs to Stella's room, briefly glancing at Sunghoon's door.

"Hey Ste—“ You stop. She isn't there.

You look around, confused for a moment before realising she's sitting outside on the balcony.

"Hey, what's up?" You smile at her as you take the seat beside her.

She doesn't respond, staring straight ahead into the pink sky. She's holding an envelope, nothing too special, just a plain white envelope.

"Do you know what this is?" She speaks for the first time, holding the envelope up, still refusing to look at you.

Your eyebrows furrow. "No?"

She breathes out, finally turning to meet your eyes. You recoil slightly when you see the wild anger looking straight at you. She opens the envelope slowly, almost teasingly. "You know..." She trails, "I recently sent in the film from the trip to be developed."

Your stomach drops.

She knows.

The envelope is finally open and she pulls out three photos. The first one of you laid down on the bed, fucked out with his cock still inside you, then you and Sunghoon are hugging naked, then you're kissing.

You're going to throw up.

"Look at me." She speaks softly, gently, but her voice is full of venom.

You look up to meet her eyes but you just can't do it. Your world is spinning.

"I want you to go to New York," her voice drops to a whisper, "and never come back. I never want to see you again. I never want you to see my brother ever again. Do you understand?"

You're nodding now, pleading silently, tears streaming down your face but you know it's not going to do anything.

She takes your nod as a yes. "Good, then we're clear."

[midwesttranssurvivalcollective]

diy hrt: how to safely search & order online

BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING ONLINE RELATING TO DIY read this <3

as many institutions seem to be already complying in advance and without resistance to gender affirming care bans (eye roll) i wanted to back into posting on here about accessing diy t.

first of all, stop using Google as your search engine. google search histories HAVE ALREADY been used in court, meaning law enforcement could request your search history and use it against you. incognito browsers do not actually give you any meaninful privacy either.

here's your mini digital security checklist:

-download TOR (aka the onion router) a free, privacy-focused browser. it's legit, it's used by many, many people for many different reasons. it has important features that help keep you more private online - their webpage has a great description of how it works.

-download a good VPN. (no VPN you've seen advertised in a youtube video will actually be good.) often they require payment, for a free one the ProtonVPN is fine. as long as you're in a country where usage of TOR is common it's less of a big deal, but still good. launch your VPN before launching TOR.

-while on TOR and your VPN, create a private email. ProtonMail is fine, there are other options if you want to look more deeply. only access this email through TOR, and create a very strong password. when you're shopping for your diy, you'll need to create an account with an email, so use this email for that and not for other things.

-get some bitcoin. it's annoying especially when that pay with paypal/bank transfer/credit card option is so easy, but it's really worth it. we go way into depth about this in the guide but the more familiar you get with using crypto for privacy, the more protected you can be when making purchases online.

the guide in our pinned post has more info including lots of places to look for different btc, mail, vpn, and other privacy services. and add on if you have other digisec checklist items!!

[clandestineloki]

strawberry bliss (nsfw)

the part 2 to strawberry sweet ❤️

summary: miguel loves using his strength on you ;)) and this little snippet of you guys watching a replay of his recent game shows just that, with some sweet lil fluff and playful banter :)) and then miguel fucks u so good he hits your factory reset and you go back to being a lil shy babie around him oh no :3

tw: he also finds out you have a daddy kink, mention of shane dawson (derogatory), mention of physical violence (bros a wrestler what did you expect), overstimulation, a bit of breeding kink, heavy praise kink, a bit of humiliation but on the sweet side

A/N: this takes place about a year or so after strawberry sweet, where miguel and reader are in an established relationship and make quippy cute banter with each other

A/N # 2: pls reblog so we can turn more ppl into whores 💖

💕 hope you enjoy! 

===

"BABYY THE COMMERCIALS ARE OVER!"

Miguel runs from the bathroom and meets you in the kitchen, you with the tray of strawberry drinks squealing as he tickles your waist.

"AHH IT'S GONNA SPILL!!!" you scream, and he backs off, smiling as you regain your balance.

You balance the smoothie cups on the tray and move forward, but Miguel blocks your way. 

"M'scuse me, I have a game to watch," you pout up at him, but he doesn't budge.

"Mister, my boyfriend will be very angry if he finds out I'm late to the game >:( "

"Aww, such a shame, pretty girl... can't I just get a little kiss?"

"Let me through!"

"Can't, hermosa, you gotta say the password right up against my lips~ the password is mwah mwah mwah i love you miguel you're so handsome miguel~"

"You're cheesy," you roll your eyes, and he laughs as you set the tray down in front of the bed facing the TV. "I want the old Miguel back, he was cute and he had actual rizz."

He slumps against the couch. "The Miguel that was a total pervert over your old smoothie girl uniform?"

"Oh my gosh, I totally forgot about the uniform!" You giggle. "I hated it. Did you know on my first day they gave me a size too small and they had the audacity to try and gaslight me by saying I got fat?"

"Fucking weirdos," he pulled you into his arms, your back against his chest." Glad I got you out of that mess, mm?"

"It was just one mess into another, Mig, you made me your sugar baby," you tease, and his face scrunches up.

"Bebita, I may be rich but I'm not your sugar daddy. I'm just two years older than you."

"But think about it, I was sixteen when you were eighteen! Like- that's two years but the maturity difference is huge! That's creepy, Miguel. You wanna go to jail?"

"Ay, por dios. We're in our twenties, we met in our twenties. End of discussion. And I've already been to jail. Twice."

"What?!"

"Ay! ay! end of discussion. The match is starting," he pinches your nose then turns to watch the TV just as the host's opening spiel ends. Miguel feels you sit up in his grip when the crowds on the TV cheer as he comes up on screen, flashing a grin to the audience.

"Ew, who's that?" you mumble, cheeks stuffed with popcorn and Miguel snorts, rolling his eyes.

"That's me, your boyfriend, the guy who's gonna absolutely obliterate downgraded Shane Dawson in about..." he snaps his fingers just as his opponent comes out on screen. "Fifty-eight seconds."

"I really don't see the resemblance, Miggy, you're just being a bully."

"Y'know," he pulls you closer, absentmindedly kissing your neck as he feels you squirm in his hold. "I don't get how you let the physical violence slide but I compare some white guy to Shane Dawson and you call me a bully."

Your face heats up a little, and you turn away, mumbling shyly. "C-cause you look really badass when you throw them around like that... "

"Mmm?" he teases, nuzzling his nose in your neck. "I do?"

He feels you freeze up and chuckles, his hands trailing down to your thighs.

"Y-yeah," you whisper... "a bit..."

"Oh, and you like how strong I am, hmm? Is that what it is?"

It's cute how you shake your head and brush his hands away to turn up the volume on the TV, when he just goes right back to kneading your breasts and riling you up.

"Querida, you gotta answer me, y'know I can't understand you when you mumble like that~"

"What was the question?" you mumble, looking up at him with what he knows for sure are the most adorable bunny eyes he's ever fucking seen.

"I said," he nibbles down on your ear with a little growl, "do you get off like a cute little bunny when I show off? Is my baby that kinky~?"

" I-I... maybe..." you twitch as his fingers toy with your nipples. "Miggy, please..."

"Please what baby? Please stop or please give me more?" 

Miguel knows the answer, obviously. It's just that he can't get over the fact that he landed the prettiest girl with the cutest stutter when she's nervous.

"Please..." you whisper.

He chuckles against your ear, leaning in and lowering his voice just the way he knows you like it, especially when he's buried all the way inside you.

"Please what."

The tiniest gasp comes out of your lips. "Please... please f-fuck me... please?" 

Before you can even finish, you're over his shoulder and on the bed as he kisses everywhere on your face, growling at the inconvenience of the fact that he cant hold you still and fondle your chest at the same time.

"M-Miguel..." you whimper, twitching in sensitivity. "You're always teasing me..."

"Oh?" he mocks you, flipping you over on your stomach and gripping your hips, leaning in real slow to drawl darkly in your ear. "I'm the tease here? When you're shaking your little ass all over me? You rile me up like this and expect me not to fuck you the way you deserve? hmm?"

"S-Sorry..." you mumble, and Miguel laughs breathily, having the time of his life making you all shy and embarrassed.

"S'okay, baby, you just gotta make up for it, yeah?"

With a playful swat to your ass, he rips off your shorts and his fingers tease your folds through your panties.

"Miguel..."

"Yes...?" he kisses the arch in your back, smirking when your thighs tremble.

"Please hurry..." you gasp.

"Don't worry baby, you'll be asking me to slow down real soon~" 

===

His favorite sight of all time is you underneath him, with that blissed out look on your face and your chest heaving as he fucks every choked breath out of those pretty lips.

"Fuck, bebita," he whispers. "Creaming all over my fingers like the cute little plaything you are?"

You whimper, closing your thighs shakily, but his free hand just forces your legs apart and he curls his two fingers in you, tickling your pussy and making his hand even wetter.

"Hmm? What did you say?" Miguel mumbles close to your ear, and makes sure that at the precise moment you try to speak he speeds up his fingers, making your words melt away in warm red pleasure as more juices coat his fingers.

"S'too much..."

"Bebita, you asked for this," he whispers darkly. "We're not even halfway done."

You mewl out his name and turn your head to the side. He takes it as an opportunity to bite down on your neck and relish in the high-pitched pleasure drunk squeal that forces out of you as your little pussy sucks in his fingers.

"Shit. I can't take it anymore," he grumbles, his fingers moving even faster as he leans closer, forcing you flat against the bedsheets as you moan and cream all over his fingers like a cute little bunny, just too pleasure-drunk to utter even a word.

"Come for me baby," Miguel almost begs. "Come for me so I can fuck you the way I know you want me too, okay?"

You gasp at his dirty talk, and he laughs at the fact that you never stop getting shy when he says these things.

Or when your little pussy makes those wet noises when you're really really close.

"Fuck you're so cute," Miguel grins, licking the tears falling from your hazy eyes. "So sweet, letting me do whatever I want with you~ Come for me, gatita, you know you want to~"

Your moans make him grin and he thumbs at your sensitive little bud. His teasing sends you over the edge and you gasp and whimper, clinging onto him as he helps you through your third orgasm.

When you come down from it, Miguel is smirking down at you, and licking his fingers clean of your juices, humming lowly as his tongue traces his long fingers sensually.

"Wanna taste it right off your pretty pussy baby," he whispers, making you blush. "But I'll save that for later~"

He really means he'll save it for when you're too fucked out to close your pretty legs around his head.

Miguel kisses your hips as he flips you over again, tracing his rough hands over your ass and thighs, making you shiver and mumble something he almost can't hear.

"Daddy..."

His wandering hands freeze.

He grins.

"What was that?" he teases.

Your breath stutters.

"What- I-"

He leans in dangerously close, pinning you down on the bed with your ass right against his throbbing hard cock.

"What did you just call me?" he drawls, and you whimper.

"I-I called you Daddy," you bury your head in the pillows. "S-Sorry... if it makes you uncomfortable-"

Miguel thrusts his hips forward, sinking halfway into your wet, warm little cunt. The squelching of your little hole is nothing compared to the pure, unadulterated, sinful noise of pleasure that leaves your lips.

"Oh," Miguel groans. "That made me reallyfuckin' uncomfortable alright."

Your thighs shake as he sinks in really really slowly, making sure you feel every inch of him stretch you out.

"Say it again."

You gasp, tears forming in your eyes. "It's embarrassing..."

"Fuck, you really have to do all these things that make you so lovable, huh?" He groans, pulling your wrists and holding your arms behind your back. "Got the cutest little face, the cutest little pussy, and you always got these little kinks that make you so cute~"

He starts moving his hips, making you slur out his name and clench around him.

"My cute little milkshake girl, doing all these cute things for me and no one else," he whispers, and you nod helplessly,

Miguel runs his hands up and down your waist, making you sigh and whimper into the pillows.

"Wanna repeat what you said? No one's around, baby, just you and me. No need to be shy~"

"Daddy..."

"Fuck, you really are such the perfect little cutie, aren't you?" Miguel teases, pounding you harder.

It's music to his ears when you finally get to that stage of it, just uncontrollably whimpering and moaning and making all these noises of pleasure as you let him do whatever he wants to you.

"C'mon, say it again, another time won't hurt~"

"Such a t-tease..." you whine, and he chuckles fondly, pressing a kiss to your sensitive neck.

"Sorry, baby, not my fault you're so fucking adorable," he groans, shuddering when you clench down on him. "Daddy's close, baby, wanna come with me? Feel good together, hmm? Can you even understand me you dumb little baby?"

Miguel coos as you take in high-pitched breaths and gasps. Your tiny fists clench the sheets shakily, and your thighs thump helplessly with every thrust of his hips.

"Come back to me, baby," he whispers as his thrusts get sloppier. "Help me out one list time, kay? Wanna be my good girl?"

"Mhm..."

"Ah," he laughs. "Daddy broke his pretty baby so bad? Sorry, gatita, you just feel too good. Let's come together, okay? I'll get us there, baby~"

You whimper loudly one last time, creaming helplessly around his cock. Miguel pins your back down onto the bed, leaning in and growling right against your ear as his orgasm takes over as well, making sure you take every bit of his cum inside you.

The twitching of your thighs finally slows as Miguel pulls out, turning you onto your back and lightly running his hands up your thighs, waist, and breasts, kneading them softly and eliciting a whine from your lips.

"So sensitive," he pinches your nipple, making you gasp. "But I'll keep my hands to myself... for now."

You blush at those words, nuzzling into his neck as he chuckles at your bashfulness.

"Didn't know my good little girl had a Daddy kink. So cute," he whispers. "Got the sweetest little baby all to myself~."

Miguel brushes his lips against yours, smiling when he tastes a hint of strawberry,

His second favorite sweet thing in the goddamn world.

"Oh, baby~" he coos. "You felt so fucking good. Can we go again, gatita?"

You whimper, twitching helplessly, and blushing at the feeling of his fingers toying with the cum trickling down your thighs.

But you don't say no.

[nanamiskentos]

going to a cafe with the jujutsu kaisen men a/n: (based on irl experience with a wide variety of subpar men) 😭 gojo's order being my order...aurkay!

gojo — def the type to walk in and push his sunglasses down to check out the place. his order def goes something like a venti caramel macchiato with almond milk, two pumps of vanilla and two pumps of hazelnut, and a little caramel swirl at the top. smiles and is friendly to all the baristas, he's never rude to workers. tells the barista is gojo, with an o. whoever's unfortunate enough to be stuck next to him is doomed to hear him wax poetic about how coffee beans are the soul of the earth, and its 'really deep, you wouldn't get it lol'. if you order a black coffee, he'll ask if everything is okay at home. can't leave the cafe without ordering a $8.00 sweet treat and then wondering why all his purchases are adding up

geto — walks in as if he's a regular and tells the barista that he'll have his 'regular'. the barista has never seen him before. probably orders a flat white, double shot of espresso, no foam. he always says he doesn't have to pretend to like foam because he's chill like that. he'll ask for the wifi password, but only so he can show off how good he is at working in a cafe, but his ass is on coolmathsgames. will nod and pretend to care about whatever you're saying but he's still thinking about coolmathsgames. will also drop random metaphors like 'life is just like coffee. you either take it strong or with sugar.' you tell him to save the bad metaphors for his cult.

nanami — doesn't wander or hesitate when he enters the cafe. checks his watch every five minute. orders a black coffe, medium, and adds one packet of sugar. he's pretty good at ordering what he wants efficiently, and it leaves even the barista worried. he's here to relax so don't ask him any unnecessary question because this man needs a break. actually enjoys eavesdropping on people's conversations, and ends up tilting his angle to snoop on gossip better. avoids small talk like its another curse. you can't really make him react too much in a cafe, unless you spill coffee on his freshly pressed suit. will be passive aggressive and suggest that the cafe chooses better music. likes a good, dependable pastry. apple danishes are a favourite.

sukuna — prefers tea, without debate. but still orders relatively normal things. likes a good latte with chocolate syrup. but the king of curses kinda has to look cool, so he powers his way through a black coffee, with no sugar or milk. you swear his eyes are tearing up as he pretends to like it. after every sip of coffee, he sighs really loudly and it gets a bit annoying. even after you ask what's wrong, he says its nothing and continues to sigh loudly. nanami may be the one who eavesdrops, but sukuna is the one who interferes. will turn around in his chair to give unsolicited advice, but he genuinely thinks he's being helpful by telling schoolgirls to buy cleavers to chop their friends' hands off. is mildly offended when they move tables and give him weird looks. passes loud comments on other people and tells couples when he thinks they will breakup. attempts to connect to the wifi three times before threatening to burn the router.

toji — the barista asks if he wants a pastry with his drink and he asks 'do i look like the type of man to eat a muffin?' but if they're free, he'll take two. sits with his back to the wall like he's in a mob movie. god help anyone who sits too close to him, he really just doesn't trust anyone in his personal space. doesn't even acknowledge the existence of others until he's had at least three sips of his coffee. you could tell him his house is on fire, and he’d just mutter that he can't do anything about it now. types the wifi password on his phone with one finger like a caveman. tells parents to 'control their spawn' but entertains kids with coin tricks when no-one is looking. sometimes struggles to fit the lid on his go-to cup, and refuses to asks for help. wrestles with it for five minutes, getting increasingly annoyed before rushing out the door.

choso (this one is dedicated to pookie @creamflix) — frowns at the menu like it's written in an ancient language, like wtf is affogato. if someone behinds him coughs, he scolds them and says he's going as fast as he cans. spends 10 minutes deciding and then panics at the last second, tells the barista to give him whatever. if the barista asks any follow up questions (like milk preferences) he genuinely short circuits, "what kinds of milk are there?" he's genuinely baffled that there are options beyond 'cow.' he'll point at a pastry and ask what's in it. the barista explains and he replies with 'okay i trust you.' always ends up picking a wobbly table by accident and spends 15 minutes trying to fix it with folded napkins. if someone asks to share his table, he'll look like they just asked for his kidneys. if someone asks for his opinion on his pastry, its always a dumbass cryptic answer like 'its interesting.' uses his phone on full brightness and everyone can see him look up 'how to pronounce cafe au lait.' cleans up after himself because he's nice like that. if the staff get his order wrong, he never says anything even if it tastes like dirt.

[adelliet]

Joel Miller x f!reader

FORBIDDEN FRUIT

Summary: You and your boyfriend Tommy have been having problems lately. You don't understand each other, argue a lot, but somehow you're still together. Everything change one fateful evening, when his brother comes to comfort you.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, strong language, kinda toxic relationship, cheating, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (p i v), praise kink, rough, Joel talks you through it, creampie, nicknames

A/N: Hii! I hope you'll like this story/smut! It's kinda long again :( but, if you have any ideas, suggestions, or anything else, feel free to text me. Also, I apologize for any grammar mistakes or phrases that might not make sense—English isn’t my first language :3 But I hope you enjoy the story! <3

Masterlist

It all started with your first real fight with Tommy.

For months now, something had been off. He was distant — emotionally absent, almost like he was just going through the motions. He used to come home and wrap you in his arms, tease you with that lopsided grin, ask about your day with genuine interest. But lately… it was as if work had swallowed him whole. He’d return exhausted, irritated, sometimes barely even looking at you. And when he did, the warmth was gone.

At first, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. Jackson needed him, and you understood that. You really did. But weeks turned into months, and you started to feel more like a ghost in his life than a partner. Every attempt you made to spark something — a touch, a kiss, an evening set just right — was met with excuses. “Too tired.” “Long day.” “Maybe tomorrow.”

You even wondered, for a fleeting moment, if he was cheating. The thought clawed at your gut, but there was never any real sign. No secretive phone calls, no lipstick on the collar, no changed passwords. Just… nothing. He wasn’t cheating. He just didn’t want you. And that, somehow, felt worse.

Then came the day. Tommy walked through the front door, shoulders slumped, boots muddy, a scowl carved deep into his face like it had taken root there. He didn’t even greet you — just grunted and collapsed into the armchair like his bones were too heavy.

“Grab me a beer, will ya?” he muttered, not even looking at you. Something inside you snapped.

“You know what, Tommy?” you began, voice trembling — not from fear, but from months of pent-up anger. “No. I won’t.”

He blinked at you, confused. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

And then it started. Words flying like arrows. You yelling. Him raising his voice in return. Neither of you laying a hand on the other, but the fight was loud. Emotional. Raw.

So loud that people passing by outside the house either crossed the street or hurried along, pretending not to hear.

You couldn’t take it. Not anymore. You couldn’t even look at him when it was over. Couldn’t stand being in the same room, breathing the same air. So you walked out. No plan. No destination. You just had to go. Had to get out before something inside you shattered.

He didn’t stop you. Maybe he knew you needed space. Maybe he was just too damn tired to fight anymore.

And you wandered through the quiet town, dusk settling like a blanket over the rooftops, the air cooling against your skin, until you realized — you had nowhere to go.

Nowhere… except for one place. One man.

Joel Miller.

Joel had always seemed like a good man.

Rough around the edges, sure. There was something intimidating about him when you first met — that deep voice, the scowl he wore like a second skin, the heavy silence he could summon with just one glance.

But beneath that tough shell, you’d found something else entirely.

You were nervous at first. Afraid he wouldn’t like you, that he’d think you weren’t good enough for Tommy. That he might act like the overprotective big brother and treat you like an outsider. But all those fears dissolved quickly, scattered like dust in the wind.

Joel welcomed you. Genuinely.

He talked to you, helped you without hesitation, offered you rides, fixed things around your place when Tommy was too busy. He made you feel like part of the family — someone he respected. Someone he cared about.

And tonight… he proved that once again.

You found yourself standing at his front door, breath visible in the cool air, knuckles trembling as you knocked. You didn’t even know how your feet had carried you there. Only that they had. That you needed somewhere to go. It didn’t take long for the door to open with a soft creak.

Joel stood there, blinking into the porch light, clearly roused from sleep. His hair was tousled, a little messy — grayer than you remembered, curling at the ends. His t-shirt was wrinkled, clinging to broad shoulders and thick arms, and his sweatpants hung low on his hips. His eyes, still heavy with sleep, softened the moment they saw you.

And just like that… something snapped inside you. Something you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding back. Desire.

Your gaze lingered longer than it should’ve. On the messy hair. The beard you secretly liked way too much. The tired lines around his eyes. The way his biceps flexed just from leaning on the doorframe.

And then it hit you and your core pulsed.

It was involuntary. A biological response. A full-body reaction to a man who had no idea what he was doing to you.

Joel’s brows furrowed. “Everything okay?”

You swallowed hard and managed a small nod. “I just… had a fight with Tommy. Needed some air.”

He stepped aside without hesitation. “Come on in.”

Inside, his house smelled like cedar and something vaguely smoky. The lights were low. It felt warmer than you expected — like a quiet cabin tucked away from the world. He offered you coffee. Tea. Something to eat.

You shook your head. “No but thank you.”

He nodded and said you could take the spare room. He even went to get you some clothes to sleep in — a soft, oversized t-shirt and sweatpants that were far too big for you.

And when he handed them to you, your fingers touched. The spark was small. Barely there. But it spread like wildfire through your chest, then your spine. You looked up at him. And for a moment, your eyes locked.

He said something, probably a simple “here you go” or “they’re clean” — but you didn’t catch it. Your ears were ringing. You were too busy staring into the deep brown of his eyes, too caught up in the way they seemed to study you back, like maybe he felt it too.

You took the clothes, mumbled a thank you, and retreated to the bathroom to change. But even as you stood there alone, the shirt hanging loosely on your frame, you couldn’t get him out of your head.

And that night, lying in a bed that wasn’t yours, wrapped in the scent of his laundry detergent, you realized something that made your stomach twist. You knew you were absolutely, completely, and irreversibly… fucked.

And now, it had been a week. A week since that night at Joel’s. A week since everything shifted — even if no one else could see it.

Things with Tommy hadn’t improved. If anything, they’d gotten worse.

You fought constantly now. About stupid things, about nothing, about everything. You didn’t even know what started most of them anymore — the toothpaste cap, the way he sighed too loudly, the silence at dinner.

It wasn’t explosive, not always. But it was endless. A simmering discontent that never quite faded, only circled back again and again, like waves hitting the same crumbling shore.

And worst of all — neither of you ever talked about it. No apologies. No meaningful conversations. Just this sad, quiet erosion of something that used to be whole.

But Joel…

Joel was different. Joel was the problem, wasn’t he? Because you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Not just that night, not just how he looked, standing there sleep-rumpled and warm and so utterly male, but every damn day since.

He was in your mind when you woke up. When you brushed your teeth. When you made dinner. When you argued with Tommy and wished he was someone else. You didn’t mean to. But God, it was getting impossible to stop.

You kept picturing his hands — the thick fingers, the rough calluses, the way his veins curved over his knuckles like they were sculpted with intention. You imagined how those hands would feel on your hips, gripping your thighs, sliding under your shirt with practiced ease.

You thought of his arms — strong and solid and made to hold. Of how his shoulders looked like they could carry the whole damn town if they had to. You thought about being held in them, your head tucked under his chin, your breath catching when he exhaled slow and deep.

You thought of his chest — broad and warm and lined with that dark, silver-streaked hair. Thought of laying your cheek there, fingers splayed across his heart, listening to it beat steady beneath your touch.

His face haunted you.

That strong jaw, always clenched like he was holding back a thousand words. The curve of his mouth, half-hidden under the beard but always there — lips you kept imagining pressed to your neck, your shoulder, between your thighs.

And his eyes… His eyes were your undoing.

Dark, deep, unreadable. They saw through you — not just your clothes, but your walls, your lies, your guilt. When you closed your own eyes, you saw his instead, full of lust. Or maybe that was just your own twisted fantasy. You shouldn’t want him. You knew that. He was your boyfriend’s brother.

But your body didn’t care.

Your body betrayed you every time you thought of him — a flutter low in your stomach, a tightening in your chest, a heat between your thighs that left you squirming in bed at night, aching for something you couldn’t name out loud.

You tried to drown it out. Tried to pretend. But the truth whispered like a lover in the dark:

You wanted Joel Miller. Desperately. And the worst part? You didn’t know how much longer you could keep pretending you didn’t.

Becuase it’s not just a passing thought anymore, not something you can brush off like a stray cobweb in your mind. No, it's visceral, constant. It lives under your skin like a second heartbeat.

Every time Joel walks by, you feel it. That earthy, musky scent of his — a mix of sweat, cedarwood, and something deep and masculine that makes your thighs clench without warning.

You hate how much your body reacts. How just one whiff of him leaves your panties damp, how the air feels thicker when he’s near. And when he works… God, when he works, that's the worst.

You’ve seen him splitting firewood behind the house, sleeves rolled up, sweat glistening on his tanned skin as the muscles in his arms ripple with every swing of the axe.

The tight line of his jaw. The way his shirt clings to his broad back. The grunt he lets out when the blade hits the wood just right.

You watch him from the porch like a starved woman watching a feast she’ll never be allowed to touch. And it drives you fucking crazy.

Most nights, you don’t sleep.

Most nights, you lay in bed, biting your lip, heart racing, one hand gripping the sheets while the other slides under the waistband of your panties, because thinking about Joel isn’t enough anymore.

You need to feel it.

You imagine him looming over you. That heavy, calloused hand wrapping around your throat — not tight, just enough to make you submit. His other hand spreading your legs, fingers rough and sure as he slides them between your folds, dragging through your slick heat like he owns it.

You imagine his voice — low, rough, dangerous.

“Look how wet you are for me.”

“You want this, baby? You want me to ruin you?”

And you do. You want him to ruin you. You want him to take you right there, against the wall, the bed, the floor, anywhere, as long as it’s him.

Your fingers move faster now, desperate and messy, circling your clit in tight, practiced motions.

You press your thighs together, arching your back, your breath catching in your throat as your slick drips down your wrist.

You picture his mouth on your skin. His beard scraping your inner thigh. His tongue pushing inside you — thick and hot and hungry.

You choke back a moan. Your body is burning. You’re grinding into your own hand now, fucking yourself on your fingers like he would, imagining how deep he’d go, how big he’d feel, how he’d stretch you open and make you scream his name.

“Joel,” you whisper into the dark, breathless.

It’s always his name.

You come hard — thighs trembling, chest heaving, sweat beading along your hairline — but the ache doesn’t fade. Not really. Because as good as it feels, it’s not him.

No matter how many times you make yourself come, no matter how vivid the fantasies get, no matter how soaked your sheets are in the morning, you still want more.

Every time Tommy lay down beside you, his body heavy with exhaustion and the scent of sweat and woodsmoke still clinging to his skin, guilt clawed its way up your spine like a cold hand.

You would lie there stiff, eyes open to the dark, heart pounding, not from affection or comfort, but from the memory of your own trembling fingers just an hour before, hidden beneath the blankets, gasping his brother’s name against your bitten lip.

Joel.

Tommy’s brother.

The man you couldn’t stop thinking about — not now, not ever. You hated yourself for it. You weren’t just betraying your boyfriend. You were betraying a family. A trust.

But the worst part? You didn’t want to stop.

Tommy hadn’t apologized. Not once. But that didn’t stop him from organizing a barbecue. Some way to press “reset” on everything, as if grilled meat and forced laughter could patch over weeks of silence, resentment, and half-finished arguments echoing off the walls.

You knew him well enough by now to see through it. He wasn’t trying to fix things. He just wanted to pretend they were fixed. And that… hurt more than the fighting.

So, you dressed for the occasion. Not for him — not really.

You put on the white lace dress that didn’t quite reach your knees, the one that hugged your hips, cinched your waist just right, and fluttered in the summer breeze like something soft and dangerous. You wanted to feel beautiful. You wanted to feel powerful. Maybe even cruel.

When you stepped out of the bedroom, Tommy was standing at the kitchen counter with a beer half-raised. He froze. Completely.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, eyes locked on you like he was trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

You could feel his gaze moving, mapping, remembering.

And when you passed by him, deliberately brushing just close enough, he reached out — a firm grip on your wrist.

“You look… you look good.” He muttered.

You paused, turned to him with a small, unreadable smile. “Thanks.” Your voice was polite, detached. And the moment he released your hand, you slipped out the door like a whisper on wind.

Outside, the sun was still warm.

People were already gathering, familiar voices, laughter, clinking glass. The backyard glowed in golden hour light, casting long, soft shadows across the tables and swaying grass. You fixed your face into the practiced smile you’d worn so many times — the one that said everything’s fine even when your chest felt like it was made of glass.

Then you saw him. God.

He walked up the path like he owned every step of it, in that worn flannel shirt and rolled sleeves, arms streaked with dust and sweat. His hair was tousled, like he’d run his fingers through it instead of brushing it. His beard, just the right length to make your skin ache to know how it would feel. His eyes… they found yours.

And just like that, you forgot how to breathe.

He smiled, that subtle Joel kind of smile that only lifted one corner of his mouth, and stepped forward, arms opening as he greeted you.

“Hey there, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

He pulled you into a hug, and the moment your body met his, you knew you were in trouble. His arms were strong. Warm. The scent of him curled around your brain like fog. You imagined his mouth, his fingers.

And your body… reacted.

But you smiled. You played innocent. You even laughed at something he said. And he had no idea that your panties were already damp and that your heart was beating like a drum against your ribs.

The barbecue continued like some slow, lazy dream.

Music floated in the air from an old radio, someone poured too much whiskey, and laughter echoed off the fences. The sun dipped lower, turning the sky into a watercolor wash of pink and tangerine. Kids played tag near the trees. The smell of grilled meat mingled with fresh cut grass.

And all the while, you watched Joel.

He leaned on a post, beer in hand, talking to someone with that low, gravelly voice that made your stomach twist. You weren’t really part of any conversation. You were too busy stealing glances.

Then came the moment with the salad.

It was almost a relief to slip away — an excuse to clear your head. You made your way back into the house, opened the fridge and pulled out the cold bowl of greens.

That’s when you heard footsteps behind you.

“I’m glad you wore that dress,” Tommy said quietly. You turned around. He looked more serious than he had in days. Weeks.

“I know I’ve been… distant,” he said. “Hell, maybe even a real asshole. I just… I’ve been stressed, but that’s no excuse. You deserve better. And I’m sorry.”

His eyes met yours, and for once, you saw something honest there. You didn’t say anything. You just nodded. And then he kissed you.

It was hungry. Desperate.

Weeks of tension burst all at once. His hands were on your waist, pulling you close. You kissed back. Maybe you wanted to forgive him. Maybe it felt good to be wanted again — by someone who should want you.

But just as his hand began to slide beneath your dress —

“Hey—”

Joel’s voice at the doorway.

“—where’s that salad, huh?”

You froze and Tommy stepped back, startled. You turned slowly, cheeks flushed, heartbeat thundering. Joel was standing there with a lopsided smirk, but his eyes caught yours — and lingered.

And just like that, the heat pooled in your stomach again. Not because of Tommy, but because of the way Joel looked at you like he knew.

You stood there in the now-quiet room, trying to steady your breath. Your hands were resting on your sides, clenched just a little too tightly. It wasn’t just what had happened—it was how it made you feel. Like you were a pawn in some game… only the rules were seductive, dangerous, and written by men like Joel and Tommy.

And Tommy took charge. Said something about the salad being on its way and vanished with the bowl like it was the most natural thing in the world. You needed to process it. Breathe. Think. Only… thinking wasn’t helping much.

Later that evening, the fire crackled, casting a warm flickering glow across familiar faces. You were sitting on a log, surrounded by others from the community, the sound of laughter, bottle caps popping, and faint guitar strumming filling the night air.

Joel sat directly across from you. Beer in hand. Legs spread slightly. Relaxed, but not unaware.

His gaze would meet yours every so often, and every single time it did… it felt different. Like something had shifted. The look wasn’t teasing—it was loaded. Heavy. Hot.

And each time your eyes met, your stomach would flip in that delicious, terrible way. You’d forget someone was talking to you, only snapping out of it when someone waved a hand in front of your face or chuckled at your distraction.

Then Tommy appeared, standing beside you with a crooked smirk.

“Up. Come on,” he said, motioning with his hand.

You blinked. “What?”

“Trust me,” he chuckled. “Just stand.”

You did, hesitantly. Tommy immediately dropped down onto the log in your place and patted his thigh with a smug grin. “Sit.”

You raised an eyebrow but obeyed. As you settled on his lap, his arms loosely wrapped around your waist. The warmth of him, the calm strength in his hold—it brought a sense of peace you hadn’t even realized you needed. Things with him were okay again. That mattered. That grounded you.

But…Joel was still in your head.

You looked up, just as he shifted in his seat. A subtle movement, but enough to draw your eyes. He adjusted the way he sat, lifting his hips ever so slightly, and the motion was enough to ignite something deep inside you. You could feel your breath hitch.

You shifted on Tommy’s lap, just a little. Just enough.

Your underwear—already damp from earlier—felt traitorous against your skin. This was the fourth time tonight you’d caught yourself being wet… and always because of Joel.

Tommy felt it.

He tightened his grip on your waist, leaning close so only you could hear. “You tryin’ to tease me, darlin’?”

You didn’t even realize you were doing it. But your body had been responding to Joel all night. And now, it was affecting Tommy.

You shifted again without meaning to, and this time, you could feel Tommy’s erection pressed firmly against you. It made your breath catch. The air around you was thick. Electric.

Tommy leaned in, lips brushing your ear. “We’re goin’ inside. Now.”

You gave a small nod, barely able to speak, and stood up with him. You mumbled an apology to the group, but your eyes found Joel one last time. He was watching.

Not speaking, not smiling, just watching.

And that look, God, that look, it followed you even as Tommy took your hand and led you into the house.

The door slammed shut, and everything exploded.

Tommy didn’t wait. He had waited long enough. Weeks. Maybe months. His mouth crushed yours before you could even say a word, hands already under the hem of your dress, grabbing at your thighs like he had every right to claim them.

And in that moment—you wanted him to.

You moaned into the kiss as his grip tightened, pulling you flush against him. His teeth grazed your bottom lip before he bit, just hard enough to make you gasp. He swallowed the sound hungrily.

Your hands fisted in his shirt, dragging him closer. The kiss was messy. Hot. Tongues colliding, teeth clashing, breaths heavy and desperate. It wasn’t slow or sweet, it was starved. Like both of you had been dying for this.

“Fuckin’ missed this,” he growled against your lips.

You nodded blindly, breathless. “Me too.”

His hands slid up under your dress—rough, impatient—and found bare skin. Touching, exploring every inch of your body, like a reminder of what skin feel like. His knuckles grazed the inside of your thigh, then higher, until his fingers found how wet you already were.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, eyes dark. “This all for me?”

You didn’t answer.

You watched his expression change, something wild flickering in his gaze as he gripped your ass hard with both hands and lifted you. Your legs instinctively wrapped around him as he pressed you back against the wall, grinding against your core through the fabric of his jeans. You could feel how hard he was. How badly he wanted to be inside you.

He bit at your neck now, harder than before, leaving a mark. You cried out, fingers digging into his shoulders.

“God, Tommy—”

You were soaked. Panting. Desperate.

And then—he dropped to his knees.

There was no teasing. No build-up. He pushed the dress up around your waist and shoved your legs apart, spreading you open in front of him. You braced yourself against the wall, heart pounding as you looked down at him, eyes blown wide with lust.

His mouth was on you in seconds. Hot. Wet. Greedy.

He licked you like he was making up for every day he’d gone without it. His tongue worked you in tight, focused circles, alternating speed, pressure, rhythm until you were writhing. His nose was buried against you, breath hot, beard scratching your inner thighs in a way that made your knees threaten to give out completely.

You moaned his name, over and over, gasping for air. “Tommy… fuck, please… just like that…”

Your hand buried itself in his hair, yanking, tugging as your hips rolled into his face without shame. You could feel his groan vibrate through you, sending another jolt up your spine.

He sucked your clit into his mouth, hard, and your vision went white for a second.

“Tommy—oh God—I’m gonna—”

You were so fucking close, teetering right at the edge, every nerve screaming. You could feel the pressure building, tight and unbearable, ready to break—

“…Joel…”

So soft. So breathless. So honest. But the effect was immediate. His mouth froze. Then his hands. Then the heat. Silence slammed into the room like a fist. You opened your eyes and met his. And his face looked like someone had gutted him.

He stood slowly, like every second hurt. The warmth, the fire, the hunger from just moments ago—gone, replaced with silence.

He didn’t speak right away. Just looked at you and you looked at him, breathing heavily.

Then, finally:

“Are you fuckin’ serious right now?”

You opened your mouth to explain, to say anything, but your voice cracked before a word came out. Tears were already stinging your eyes.

Tommy backed away from you like he couldn’t stand to be near you. “That’s who you were thinkin’ about? While I had my fuckin’ mouth on you?”

Your hands trembled as you tried to pull your dress back down, cover yourself—shield from the weight of his voice, his stare. “Tommy, I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t,” he barked. “Don’t bullshit me.”

His voice broke on the last word. That hurt more than if he’d yelled.

“I’ve been waitin’, hopin’ we’d get back to how we used to be, and this is what I get?”

You reached for him, desperate. “Please—”

But he jerked away from your touch like it burned.

“I can’t fuckin’ look at you right now.”

And with that, he turned and stormed out. You didn’t even hear where the door slammed. Maybe it was the back one. Maybe the front. It didn’t matter.

He was gone.

You collapsed onto the couch like the strings holding you up had been cut. The sound that left your throat wasn’t even human. A sob, raw and wet and broken. You curled in on yourself, dress still hiked halfway up your thighs, chest heaving. Tears soaked your cheeks and the fabric of the pillow you gripped with white knuckles.

The fire pit was still glowing outside. You could hear distant voices, laughter, clinking bottles—life happening while yours felt like it had just imploded.

You didn’t know how long you sat there. Could’ve been minutes. Could’ve been hours. Everything was numb, except for the ache in your chest. Like someone had reached in and twisted your heart until it bled.

You wiped your face, tried to breathe, tried to calm down—but your body refused. Every time you thought the tears had stopped, another wave hit.

Then the door opened.

“Hey… I’ve been lookin’ for—”

Joel stopped.

You didn’t have to look to know it was him. You just pressed your face into your hands, body trembling, barely able to breathe through the mess of it all.

“Shit,” he said softly. You heard the door close again behind him, slow and careful.

“Hey. Hey—what happened?”

You felt the couch shift as he knelt in front of you, warm hands hovering just inches from your knees, not touching—waiting for permission.

“Are you okay? Did someone hurt you?”

That voice—rough, low, full of concern. You shook your head slowly but didn’t lift it.

Joel exhaled, his hand finally brushing lightly over your calf. “You’re shakin’. Jesus… What happened?”

Joel’s eyes searched yours the moment you looked up at him, and he froze.

Your face was soaked, lashes clumped with tears, lips trembling. Your eyes—glassy, red-rimmed—looked like they were still breaking in real time. And they were. The tears didn’t stop. They just kept coming, welling up and spilling over in fresh waves.

He could see you didn’t have the strength to speak. So he didn’t ask again. Instead, he moved.

He gently, slowly, pulled you into him. The moment his arms wrapped around you, you caved.

You collapsed into his chest, breath hitching, sobs stuttering out of you again as he held you tighter—arms strong and sure, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other splayed over your back, pulling you into his warmth like he could glue your pieces back together.

“Shhh…” he whispered into your hair. “I got you. I got you…”

And he meant it. You could feel it.

His chest rose and fell beneath your cheek, calm and steady, grounding you. His shirt smelled like sweat and firewood and something so purely him it made your throat tighten. His skin radiated heat, and his arms were solid around you, unmovable, like nothing in the world could get to you if he didn’t let it.

Being in his arms felt like safety. Like home. You sank into him fully, shaking, letting the quiet take over. The tears kept coming, soaking through the fabric of his shirt until it clung to his skin.

After a long silence, you mumbled, voice rough and small:

“…Your shirt’s wet…”

Joel huffed a soft breath, like he almost smiled. “I don’t mind.”

A few more tears slid down your cheeks, and you could tell he felt every one of them against his skin. He didn’t push. But the question was still there, unspoken, hanging heavy in the air.

Finally, his voice rumbled low beside your ear.

“You don’t gotta talk if you’re not ready… but if somethin’ happened, I need to know. Did Tommy…?”

You shook your head quickly, breath hitching again.

“No—no, not like that,” you whispered. “We just… we had a fight.”

Joel’s brow furrowed. “About what?”

You hesitated but he waited. The truth sat like glass in your throat—jagged and dangerous. So you shook your head again.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Joel shifted just enough to look at you, hand still holding your shoulder.

“I get that,” he said softly. “But if it’s somethin’ serious… maybe I can help. You two are close. Whatever it is, maybe it ain’t as bad as you think.”

You almost laughed—almost. But it came out choked, hollow.

“It’s bad,” you whispered. “It’s… really bad.”

Joel’s fingers gently traced up and down your arm now, soothing, grounding.

“What happened?” he asked again, voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to give me every detail, just… talk to me.”

You stared at the floor for a long moment, lips pressed together, heart pounding.

“…I said something,” you murmured, “during a moment and it hurt him. A lot.”

Joel was quiet, but you could feel the tension under his touch now. Like he was trying not to read into it.

“What did you say?” he asked carefully.

You looked up at Joel.

Straight into those beautiful, kind, heart-wrecking eyes. The light from the living room lamp hit them just right, made them shimmer, like they were made of something more than just brown. His brows were drawn, lips softly parted, that usual scruff shadowing his jaw in the most familiar way.

God, his face.

That face, all concern and comfort and that damned puppy-dog softness, it made everything worse. It made the truth burn inside you like acid.

You looked away again.

“…You can tell me anything, you know that?” he said gently. And you knew he meant it. That was the problem, he meant it. But if you told him, how could he ever look at you the same? How could anyone?

Your heart was hammering. You could barely breathe. Your fingers curled into the fabric of your dress. If you said it, everything between you and Tommy would definitely be over. And maybe it already was.

Because of you.

Because you couldn’t even keep your mouth shut during something that was supposed to be intimate, sacred. You said his name. Joel’s name. And now all of this—the tears, the fight, the possible end of your relationship, was because of that.

Because of you.

The weight of it hit you like a truck, and your throat clenched all over again. More tears flooded your eyes, spilling down your cheeks in fresh, helpless waves.

Joel was still rubbing your shoulders softly, whispering gentle reassurances. “Hey… hey, you’re alright. Just breathe, okay? Just talk to me.”

You were shaking now, fists clenched. He didn’t stop. He stayed with you. But you couldn’t hold it anymore. The guilt erupted from your lips—maybe louder than it should’ve. Maybe desperate.

“I said your name.”

The words dropped like glass onto hardwood and you couldn’t even look at him. Instead, you buried your face in your hands, trying to hide from the horror of your own confession. The shame curled in your gut like fire. Your breath was shaky, lips pressed to your palms, heart thundering like it wanted to escape your chest entirely.

Joel froze. Completely.

Even his hands, which had been so gently stroking your shoulders, stopped mid-motion. The silence that followed was thick and suffocating. Every second it lasted made your stomach twist harder.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe for a moment. Just… stared.

You didn’t dare look up to see what was on his face. You were scared to see the same thing Tommy had shown you—hurt. Shock. Disgust. Your head spun. You wanted to disappear.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered hoarsely, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. “This was stupid. I shouldn’t have—”

You stood up, desperate to escape, to do something other than sit there and drown in your own shame.

But before you could take a step, his hand closed around your wrist. You froze.

Joel stayed seated, his grip firm but not rough. You turned to look at him—and when your eyes met, everything in your chest just stopped.

The silence that passed between you in that second felt like a storm. His expression had shifted. Gone was the softness, the worry, the quiet patience.

Now there was something else.

His eyes burned into yours. His jaw was tight. His brow furrowed in a way that felt almost… territorial. His gaze dropped to your lips for half a second, then shot back up, and that heat in his stare made your breath catch.

And then—he stood. Slowly. Purposefully.

He was close now. Too close. The kind of close where your body tensed and your skin tingled, and every nerve screamed that something had shifted in the air.

His voice came low. Rough. Like gravel soaked in heat.

“Did Tommy ever make you come?”

The question hit you like a slap. Your lips parted. Eyes wide. Breath caught in your throat.

You were so stunned you couldn’t even answer right away. A nervous sound slipped out, barely a word—just air and panic tangled in your chest.

But Joel didn’t wait. He asked again, sharper this time, more intense, his voice scraping down your spine like thunder.

“Did he ever fuckin’ make you come?”

A shiver ran through your entire body. You swallowed hard, the air suddenly dry in your throat. Your gaze dropped to the floor, heat rushing up your neck.

You couldn’t lie.

You just shook your head once.

Joel exhaled a bitter, humorless sound—almost a laugh. His tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek as he looked away, shaking his head in disbelief. His hand let go of your wrist, but he didn’t step back. He turned slightly, pacing two short steps before running a hand through his hair.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath. Like he couldn’t believe it. Like he was trying to keep himself from saying something worse.

The room felt too quiet again. Your heart was hammering. You didn’t know what was happening, what this was turning into.

“Joel… why did you ask that?” your voice comes out quieter than you intended, almost a whisper. “Why would you—?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just turns away from you for a second like he needs to breathe, like looking at you makes it harder. His hands settle on his hips, fingers curling in frustration.

You watch him like he’s something dangerous. Not because you’re afraid — but because you don’t understand him. You don’t understand what he’s thinking. Why he cares. Why it felt like something cracked in him when you shook your head.

Finally, he speaks.

“‘Cause it ain’t right,” he mutters, but the words are too quiet. He says it more to himself than to you.

You blink. “What isn’t?”

He turns to you again, and his eyes lock with yours. There’s something burning there, low and slow and intense. You feel it before he even says a word.

“That you’re with someone who doesn’t even know how to take care of you.”

Your breath catches. The words hit you straight in the chest — like they weren’t just meant to be heard. Like they were meant to be felt.

You don’t know what to say. Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. You’re frozen, not by fear, but confusion. Confusion that somehow carries a pulse deep in your stomach.

He takes a step closer. Not much, just enough to make your heart pick up. You feel like you’re standing on the edge of something you weren’t prepared for — and the air between you and Joel is different now. Thicker. Charged.

You whisper, “Why do you care?”

He stares at you like he’s trying to decide if he should tell you the truth. Or maybe he already has.

He looks at your face, your mouth, then your eyes again. His voice is lower now, almost rough.

“…Don’t ask me that unless you wanna hear the answer.”

Your throat feels tight. You can feel the tension rolling off him like heat, and suddenly you’re not just confused. You’re scared — not of him, but of what’s happening. Of what you want. Of what might come next. But that fear is mixed with anticipation and excitment.

The guilt is still there, still whispering into your ears, trying to convince you to just leave and don't get yourself into any more trouble than you already are. But one side of you, the one that is leading you these past days is screaming at you not to leave, to cross the line and break the ice, to gamble with your fate.

He takes another step closer.

There’s something in the way he moves now — slower, deliberate. Like he’s stalking a moment that’s been building for far too long. His eyes never leave yours, and it’s not just a stare — it’s a pull, dragging you in with each second that passes.

The air in the room thickens. It wraps around your body like smoke, warm and heavy, and it settles deep in your chest. You can feel your own heartbeat between your thighs now, each beat like a silent cry. The thin fabric of your dress brushes your skin, soft and ghostly, no underwear to muffle the feeling. Just you. Bare. Vulnerable. And aching.

Joel’s voice cuts through the silence, low and rough, like gravel soaked in whiskey.

“You feel that, don’t you?” he murmurs. “This thing between us?”

You don’t trust yourself to speak. You just nod, barely.

He takes another slow step, his boots scraping softly against the floor. He’s close enough now that you can smell him — leather, sweat, something masculine and heady. It makes your head swim.

“I see the way you look at me,” he continues, softer now. “The way you breathe when I’m this close.”

Your breath hitches. He’s right. You’re breathing faster now, shallow and sharp, chest rising with every gasp.

His gaze drops to your mouth, to your throat, then lower. His eyes darken when he sees the outline of your breasts through the thin fabric, the curve of your thighs where the dress has shifted. And he knows.

He knows you’re not wearing anything underneath.

You watch his jaw clench, the muscle ticking — a flash of restraint. He shifts his weight, and for a moment, your eyes fall to the hard shape beginning to press against the front of his jeans.

You swallow. Heat pools low in your belly, hot and thick. Your pulse pounds louder between your legs, insistent and wet and wanting.

Joel moves closer. There’s barely a foot of space left between you now. One move, one breath, and you’d be touching.

He tilts his head slightly, voice barely audible.

“You wanna kiss me?”

His words slice straight through your self-control. You feel your whole body clench in response, as if your muscles themselves are answering for you.

You open your mouth, but no words come out. Just air. Your lips part and your breathing quickens — faster now, raw and shallow. His eyes flicker between your mouth and your eyes, over and over again, and you realize… you’re doing the same.

The moment stretches. Neither of you says anything. Just the sound of your breathing fills the space, fast and hot and frantic. His hand twitches — not quite reaching for you. He wants you to move first.

Everything burns.

Your thighs are pressed tight together. You can feel the slick heat between them growing with every second. The ache is sharp now, desperate. You clench around nothing, your whole body begging for contact, for relief.

His chest rises and falls quickly, and the tension in his shoulders is impossible to miss. His jeans are tight now, that hard bulge pressing against the zipper, throbbing. Waiting.

He licks his lips. You do the same. Your gaze locks again, the silence screaming between you. Someone has to break and you can’t take it anymore.

You move — fast, hungry, like something inside you finally snapped. You grab the front of his shirt, drag him down to you, and crash your mouth against his.

He groans, deep and low in his chest, and his hands are on you instantly — gripping your hips, pulling you flush against him. You straddle him, your dress riding up your thighs, the heat of your bare skin grinding against the bulge in his jeans.

Joel groans into your mouth like he’s been waiting years for this. His hands slide under your dress immediately, rough palms dragging up the bare skin of your thighs.

There’s nothing coy left in you. You’re past that. You’re on fire, desperate, your whole body pulsing with need. His fingers grip your ass tight, pulling you flush against the hard line in his jeans. You gasp when it presses right between your legs, through nothing but heat and skin.

Without blink, Joel suddenly picks you up and both of you crushed on the sofa, you on top of Joel. You squeak in surprise and he pulls back just enough to look at you. His eyes are blown, dark, pupils wide. He looks like he wants to ruin something.

“Bet my brother never made you feel like this,” he growls, voice low and thick. “Did he ever touch you like this, huh?”

He trails one hand up between your bodies, over your stomach, under your dress, stopping just below your breast.

“You gonna lie to me, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, breath trembling. “No. He didn’t. He never—”

Joel doesn’t let you finish. His mouth finds your neck, and suddenly he’s sucking, biting, dragging his teeth along your pulse. You moan loudly, fingers fisting in his hair. You feel the bruise forming instantly, heat and sting and possessiveness all in one.

“Good girl,” he whispers against your skin. “I’m gonna mark you up so good. Let him see what he lost.”

His hand finally cups your breast — firm, rough, claiming. He rolls your nipple between his fingers, slow at first, then harder. You arch against him with a whimper. You’re so sensitive, the touch sends lightning down your spine.

“You’re so fuckin’ soft,” he mutters. “So perfect for me.”

Every word he says goes straight to the ache between your legs. You’re soaked now, thighs slick, grinding slowly on his lap because you can’t stop yourself. You’re past shame, past hesitation — you’re riding the edge of something, and Joel knows it.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, leaning in close again, kissing down the hollow of your throat. “Just needed someone who knows what the fuck they’re doing.”

He thrusts his hips up, just a little, grinding into you. You let out a strangled sound, somewhere between a gasp and a plea. He’s so hard it’s unbearable. You can feel the outline of him perfectly through the denim. You want him. All of him.

“You wanna feel me, baby?” he asks, eyes burning into yours. “Wanna know how I fuck you? Not him, me.”

Your breath stutters, hips rocking without thinking. You nod again, frantic now.

“Use your words,” he growls.

“Y-Yes. Joel, I want you,” you whisper, voice cracked and breathless.

“That’s my girl.”

He pulls you even tighter against him, his mouth on yours again, teeth clashing, tongue deep. There’s nothing soft about this — it’s raw and rough and real. You can feel every inch of him between your legs, every heartbeat thudding through your core.

And when he whispers, “I’m gonna make you forget his fuckin’ name,” you believe him.

His hands tighten around your hips and he moves — fast, fluid, strong. In one motion, he lifts you off him and guides you back onto the couch, gently, but with a command behind every touch.

You’re sitting now, alone on the couch. Chest heaving. Legs still parted from how wide you were straddling him. The thin summer dress is bunched up around your hips, your bare skin exposed to the warm air of the room, and his dark eyes drinking in everything.

Joel doesn’t sit back down. He sinks to his knees in front of you.

The sight alone makes your stomach flip — Joel Miller, broad and burning, down on his knees between your legs, eyes locked to yours like you’re the only thing he’s ever needed.

“Spread ‘em for me,” he says, voice low, but not asking. Telling. You obey without hesitation.

The second your thighs part, his breath catches and he smiles. That slow, crooked, devilish smile that makes your whole body throb.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, gaze dropping between your legs. “Look at you. Already so wet for me, baby.”

You squirm, cheeks hot, heart pounding. You’ve never felt so seen — so shameless and completely desired. He leans forward, slow and reverent, placing a kiss on the inside of your knee. Then another. Then higher. And higher.

Each kiss burns into your skin. By the time his mouth is ghosting over your inner thigh, your hands are clutching the fabric of the couch, nails digging into the cushions. Your legs are trembling.

Joel pauses, looking up at you — his face so close you can feel his breath on your skin. His hands slide up to grip your hips, thumbs brushing just under the hem of your dress.

“You ever have someone devour you, sweetheart?” he asks, voice hoarse. “Not just touch you. Not just fuck you. I mean really take his time — make you fall apart over and over again ‘til you forget how to speak?”

Your breath catches in your throat. You shake your head, trembling.

“I didn’t think so,” he murmurs. His lips brush the inside of your thigh again. You let out a soft whimper.

He chuckles, a dark, dangerous sound.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he murmurs. “That ends tonight.”

And then, finally, he leans in. His mouth meets your folds like he’s starving. And not just for anyone. For you.

His tongue is slow at first — lazy, teasing — just enough to make you cry out in frustration. Your hips buck toward him instinctively, but his grip is firm. He holds you in place.

“Nuh-uh,” he says, pulling back just enough to breathe against you. “You take what I give you. Nothin’ else.”

Your legs tremble. You nod, lips parted, breath ragged. Then he really gets to work. Long, slow licks — deep and thorough. He moans against you, like you taste better than anything he’s ever had. He eats like a man possessed, tongue and lips working together to unravel you completely.

You cry out, head falling back, hands flying to his hair.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans. “Just like that. So fuckin’ sweet. You feel that? That’s me. That’s how it’s supposed to feel.”

You’re already close. Embarrassingly fast. Your body is burning, shaking, legs threatening to close, but Joel doesn’t let you. He grips your thighs tighter, spreads you wider, and keeps going.

“Bet my brother never had you beggin’ like this,” he mutters against your soaked skin. “Never even knew what to do with you, huh?”

You sob out his name. “Joel—!”

“That’s it. Say it again.”

“Joel—oh god, Joel, please—!”

“That’s my girl.”

You’re falling apart, unraveling under his mouth, praise and hunger and heat flooding through you like fire in your veins. And he doesn’t stop.

Joel has you trembling, gasping, clutching at his hair like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. Your legs are draped over his broad shoulders, your dress bunched up to your waist, and his mouth is working you like he wants to ruin you forever.

You moan his name again, voice breaking as your body convulses, heat flooding through you in sharp, hot waves. He doesn’t stop, not even as you twitch and cry out, completely undone. He groans into you like your pleasure is his, like he needs it, feeds on it.

Then, finally he pulls back.

He’s panting, lips glistening, eyes locked onto you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He looks completely feral. Wrecked. Controlled only by some last shred of restraint.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, still staring at you, and whispers:

“Told you. Didn’t I?”

You’re still catching your breath, trying to remember how to speak, how to think — and then he moves.

He stands in one fluid motion, towering above you, and then bends to scoop you into his arms like you weigh nothing. You let out a soft sound, somewhere between surprise and surrender, and he carries you back down to the couch — but this time, you are underneath him.

His body covers yours, solid and warm, and you can feel the sheer size of him — every hard muscle, every sharp breath. His jeans are still on, but the bulge pressing between your thighs is undeniable.

Your pulse pounds. You want him. You need him.

Joel braces himself on one arm, eyes flickering down to your swollen lips, your flushed chest, the mess between your legs. He growls softly, the sound vibrating through you.

“Christ, look at you,” he murmurs. “So fuckin’ gorgeous. Can’t believe he had you and didn’t worship every inch.”

He leans down, mouth grazing your jaw.

“But I will.”

He kisses your neck again, slower this time — no rush. His lips move down, finding the bruises he left earlier, tongue tracing the marks like he’s proud of them.

You arch into him with a soft moan. His free hand slides up your dress again, palm dragging along your thigh, your waist, your ribcage — until he cups your breast once more.

“You feel that?” he whispers, rolling your nipple between his fingers again. “This is mine now. All of you. Mine.”

His hips grind down, slow and hard, and you cry out — it’s too much and not enough all at once.

You reach for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up, needing skin — needing him closer. He helps you, yanking it off over his head, revealing every broad muscle, every scar and freckle. He’s so warm, so solid. You can barely breathe.

Joel lowers his forehead to yours, breathing hard.

“You tell me when to stop, and I stop. I mean that,” he says. “But if you don’t stop me now… I’m not gonna be gentle.”

You shake your head, breathless. “Don’t stop.”

His eyes flash.

“I want it all,” you whisper.

That’s all he needs.

He kisses you again, deeper than before, as his hand slips between your thighs — possessive, sure. You gasp into his mouth as his fingers slide through the slick heat he left behind, teasing, preparing, claiming.

He growls again, lips brushing your ear.

“Gonna make you scream my name. Again. And again. Until you forget his ever left your mouth.”

And then, with a sharp, dark smile, he finally undoes his belt. His eyes don’t leave yours as he tugs the belt free with one rough pull — the click of the buckle makes your stomach flip.

You bite your lip, chest heaving, heart hammering. Your dress is still hitched high around your waist, breasts rising and falling with every breath, nipples hard and aching from his touch.

You’re completely bare under him. And he knows it. He leans in again, mouth brushing yours, and whispers, “Still wet for me?”

You nod and he groans against your lips.

“Good,” he says. “Keep that pretty little pussy ready. I’m not gonna be nice.”

You shudder, hands sliding over his chest, nails dragging down his ribs. He growls low, then kisses you again — deeper this time, hungrier, like he needs to taste every breath you take.

You reach down, desperate, shaking, and he grabs your wrist, holding it still.

“Nuh-uh,” he murmurs darkly. “You just lie back and take what I give you. You hear me?”

Your thighs tremble as you whisper, “Yes.”

“Say it,” he growls. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you breathe.

His eyes ignite.

“That’s right.”

He pushes the fabric of your dress off your shoulders — slow, deliberate — until you’re completely naked beneath him. His eyes drink you in, pupils blown wide with hunger, reverence, and something else… something almost possessive.

He kisses down your collarbone, your chest, stopping to suck a dark bruise just above your breast. You gasp as his teeth graze your skin, and he pulls back with a wicked smile.

“Mine,” he mutters again, almost to himself. “You feel that? That ache in your belly? That need?”

You nod quickly, dizzy.

“I put that there.”

His hand moves between your thighs again, fingers sliding through your slickness with practiced ease. You cry out, back arching — and he grins.

“So fucking perfect,” he growls. “You hear me? I want you to remember this. Every time you think of me. Every time you lie in bed alone. No one else is ever gonna make you feel this way. Not even close.”

You’re gasping, trying to keep up, but he overwhelms every sense — the scent of him, the weight of his body, the deep rasp of his voice in your ear.

He lines his hips up with yours, breath ragged.

“You ready?”

“Yes—please—”

He pushes forward. Slow, steady, relentless, and you both groan at the same time.

The stretch makes your eyes flutter. You cling to him, digging your nails into his arms, and he holds still for a second, letting you feel everything.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes. “So tight. So good. Bet my brother never even got you halfway there.”

You whimper, overwhelmed, tears prickling behind your eyes from the intensity. Joel leans down, kisses your temple, and murmurs:

“You take me so well. Just like you were made for this. For me.”

And then he moves. Long, deep strokes. Slow and unforgiving, like he’s memorizing the way your body reacts to every single inch. He watches your face, hungry, like it’s the most addictive thing he’s ever seen. And maybe it is.

“Look at you,” he pants, brushing hair from your sweaty forehead. “You’re already falling apart, and I’ve barely even started.”

You whimper, legs tightening around his hips, fingers clawing down his back. He hisses, but doesn’t stop, if anything, he thrusts harder, deeper, dragging a loud cry out of your throat.

“That’s it,” he growls. “Let me hear you. Let the whole fuckin’ town know who’s making you feel this way.”

He kisses you — messy, open-mouthed, all tongue and teeth — then moves to your neck again, sucking another bruise just below your jaw. You moan his name, breathless, shaking.

“You ever scream like this for him?” he mutters, voice sharp against your skin. “Did he ever make you beg?”

You can’t even answer — just whimper, nod, then shake your head. Joel chuckles darkly.

“That’s what I thought.”

One hand grabs your thigh, throwing your leg higher around his waist, changing the angle — and you scream.

Your back arches off the couch, vision going white. He grunts as you clench around him, and leans in, forehead to yours.

“You close already?” he whispers. “Fuck, baby, you gonna come for me?”

You nod wildly, too far gone to speak.

“Then do it. Be a good girl and give it to me.”

He slams into you harder, faster, relentless now. The praise, the pressure, the heat — it all builds to a breaking point, and then you shatter.

It’s too much. Too deep. Too Joel. You cry out, body shaking under him, clutching at his shoulders like you’ll float away otherwise.

He groans, deep in his chest, and then follows — thrusts turning rough, erratic, as he loses control. His body stiffens, then you feel the heat of him inside, pulsing with every last roll of his hips.

He collapses against you, both of you drenched in sweat and still trembling. For a long moment, there’s nothing but your rapid breathing, your fingers in his hair, and the pounding of two hearts against each other.

Then, finally, he speaks. Low and gentle.

“…Damn.”

You let out a breathless laugh. He pulls back just enough to look you in the eye.

“You okay?” he murmurs, brushing your cheek with his knuckles.

You nod. More than okay. You’re wrecked. Raw. Full. But you manage a soft smile.

“Better than okay.”

Joel kisses your forehead, arms still wrapped tight around you. You’re still breathing hard, lips swollen, skin hot — but your body’s no longer trembling from pleasure. Now it’s trembling from something else entirely.

Joel is quiet above you. Both strong arms draped around your waist, his forehead resting against yours as he tried go catch bis breath. His chest rises and falls, rhythmically with yours. But your own breath… it’s hitched. Tight. Shaky.

And of course he notices.

“Hey,” he murmurs, brushing his fingers softly through your hair. “Talk to me.”

Your stomach twists. It hits you — full force. The weight of it. Not the sex or the lust, but the reality. You just had sex with Joel. Your boyfriend’s brother. Right there — on his couch, in his home. While he was gone.

You push yourself up slowly, Joel sits up with you, eyes narrowing, instantly alert.

“What is it?”

“I… I can’t—” Your voice cracks. “I just…”

And then you burst. The tears start falling before you can stop them. Big, hot, painful tears. The kind that come from your chest, not your eyes.

Joel moves fast, cupping your cheeks, holding you like you’re something fragile that could break if he squeezes too tight.

“Hey, hey… it’s okay. You’re okay,” he whispers, caressing your face. “I’ve got you.”

“No,” you sob, burying your face into his neck. “It’s not okay. I just slept with you. Joel, what did we do?”

He holds you tighter, jaw clenched as he tried to search something in your eyes.

“We did something that we both wanted,” he says. “And yeah… it was messy. But it was real.”

“I cheated on Tommy,” you whisper. “With his own brother.”

Joel flinches at that — just barely. But he doesn’t let go.

“I know,” he says softly. “But I can’t bring myself to regret it. I’ve wanted you for so long, darlin’. I don’t know if that makes me a bastard… but it’s the truth.”

You cry harder. He rubs your back, murmuring things you can’t quite make out — gentle, soothing things. He kisses your shoulder. Your temple.

“You’re not alone in this,” he says. “Don’t carry all the weight by yourself. I was there too.”

You sit in silence for a long time, curled against him, your tears finally slowing. The room is quiet except for the occasional sniffle, and Joel’s steady heartbeat

Eventually, you both dress in silence.

The air is heavier now. Like you’ve both stepped into a different world — one where consequences have finally caught up.

Joel leans on the edge of the couch, watching you. Guarded. Protective. You wipe your face again, still fighting the tremble in your chin. “What… what happens now?”

Before he can answer—

The front door creaks open. Click. Thud. Boots on wood. Your heart stops. Joel straightens instantly. You freeze. And there he is.

Tommy.

Walking through the doorway, wiping sweat from his brow, rifle slung over his shoulder. He stops when he sees you, then looked at Joel. You were shocked, nervous, your face still swollen from all the crying, while Joel played with his fingers, dropped by his sides.

“Could you leave us alone?” Tommy said, looking at Joel. He clearly had no idea.

Your chest falls and your body relaxed, closing your eyes in relief. Joel just nodded and before he fully left, he gave you one last look. Look, that clearly said:

it's gonna be okay.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!

I hope you guys enjoyed it! If you have any suggestions, don’t hesitate to let me know! I’d also be super happy for any feedback; whether it’s a reblog, comment, like, or even a follow.

Have a beautiful day!

BYEE🦋🌀

[docile-dove]

Illusion of control

Tw: Manipulation, gentle dom, psychological control, power play, brainwashing, stalking, smut idk

You think you're in charge.

He lets you speak first during arguments, lets you set the pace when you go out together. You even think it was your idea to move in. It makes you feel strong, clever and independent.

He watches you with soft eyes, nodding attentively, even when you're wrong. "Of course, baby. Whatever you say," he murmurs, kissing the crown of your head like you're his delicate little pet.

But behind that sweet, sleepy smile is a mind ten moves ahead. He suggested your favorite brand of shampoo before you even told him you liked it. He always texts just as you're thinking of him and when you bring up something private from weeks ago, he's already taken care of it.

You joke about him being psychic. He laughs along. You don’t know he’s reading your messages. Or that your friends don’t text you back because he made sure they wouldn’t.

You pace the apartment one night, annoyed about something— some minor thing he “forgot” and he just leans on the doorframe, amused. Watching you vent, eyes shining like you’re the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

"I don't know why you're smiling" you snap.

"I just love seeing you like this." he says warmly. "So full of passion. It’s... adorable." You think you've won when he apologizes. When he lets you sleep on the couch and tucks a blanket over you gently, as if you're punishing him.

But he never minds losing battles. Because you never notice he's already won the war. He has your passwords, your schedule, your routine memorized.

He made you dependent, gently. A new job near his place. Friends who slowly faded. A social circle that always included him— always revolved around him.

And when you cry in his arms, convinced that he's the only one who truly understands you, he strokes your back and whispers, "I’m just lucky to have you." He means it.

You really believe this is your idea.

That you’re free.

That you chose him.

And he’ll never take that illusion away. Because chains are lighter when you don’t even know you’re wearing them.

You're laughing over iced coffees with your friend at a café one afternoon. He sits a few tables away, pretending to scroll through his phone, letting you have your space. Like the "trusting" boyfriend he is.

Your friend raises a brow. “So… everything’s still good with you two?”

You grin, leaning in like you're about to share a juicy secret.

“Good? Please. I’ve trained him.” You laugh, tossing your hair back. “He’s so soft for me. I tell him to jump, and he’s already mid-air. He does whatever i ask him to do.” You grin feeling proud and holding your head up high.

Your friend chuckles. “Damn. What’s your secret?”

You sip your drink with a smug smile. “Simple. I don’t let him control the narrative. I set the rules. Like, even in bed? He thinks he’s taking the lead, but he’s only doing what I let him. I’m totally in charge.” (Yeah right, totally)

Across the café, his fingers still on his phone, but his eyes—those sharp, amused eyes—lift to you. He doesn't call this stalking, he's just keeping an eye on you.. without your permission or notice.

He's watching. He hears every word and he smiles. Just that quiet, indulgent smirk, like he’s listening to a child playing pretend. Like he's watching you flit around in a pretty little cage you decorated yourself, flexing about it to your friend.

Big enough to feel like freedom, padded in soft illusions. A cage with your name on the door, because you wrote it there and forgot it was his idea.

He loves when you say things like this. Loves how passionately you believe them. That you think you tamed him. That you think you made him this way. That you're in "control".

He watches you giggle with your friend and leans back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the backrest.

Later that night, when you’re straddling him, teasing, whispering filthy things with that same cocky grin, he lets you take what you think you want. Lets you ride out your fantasy. He grips your hips just enough to make you feel powerful, while guiding every movement without you realizing.

Even if you're on top of him, he's the one moving your hips up and down. You just take it like he's helping you ride him, nothing more. He grips your neck and pulls your face closer to his, kissing you while you're moaning and whimpering.

"Look at you..being so good for me" He says while squeezing your neck gently. "Are your legs getting tired darling?"

"N...no.." You lift your hips up and down on his cock, panting softly. "I..I can keep going.." You struggle as pleasure takes over your body.

"Mm..I can see that." He rocks his hips up towards you to meet your thrusts. You throw your head back as he moves faster, trying to keep yourself in control and biting your lip hard to not scream. He puts both his hands on your hips, ramming you on him and coaxing you smoothly.

"You wanted this, I'm just helping you.. still following what you told me, love, nothing more."

When you collapse against his chest, breathless, he strokes your hair and murmurs, “You’re incredible. You did so well for me baby..”

He’s proud of you for playing the role of top so well. You drift off to sleep, curling in his arms, limbs tangled and lips parted in exhaustion, he watches you like a predator watching a bunny, trusting him so easily.

He feels like he's giving you freedom, letting you do and act how you want. Not out of mercy. Just to see how long you’ll run before you realize you're still in his jaws.

He plans to capture you completely. Soon enough. No need to rush, this is the thing with bunnies, it's necessary to be patient them. They get frightened so easily. It's better to lure them out and make them vulnerable first, to fully enjoy breaking them once they trust you.

You start watching for it.

The patterns. You begin to notice how you rarely choose your own meals anymore— how he always “suggests” something he knows you’ll enjoy before the waiter even arrives, so by the time the question is asked, it doesn’t feel like a choice at all.

You see how he’ll never forbid you from going out, but always gently encourages you to stay — offering small reasons, subtle guilt, the ghost of sadness in his smile that makes you feel selfish when you pull away.

“You’re free, love,” he always says. “I’d never want to trap or.. suffocate you.”

And yet, every decision you make feels like one he would’ve made anyway. Every deviation from his preferences tastes like disobedience.

Every act of defiance feels like betrayal.

One night, you bring it up while curled beside him on the couch, half-wrapped in a blanket, his hand absently stroking your hair.

The words spill out like a joke, too soft to be a challenge, too careful to sound like doubt. “Do you ever… want to force me to do things?”

There’s a pause.

You feel the air shift. His hand stills for a moment on your hair before continuing its gentle rhythm, and when he speaks, it’s in the same soothing voice he uses when you're trembling from nightmares.

“Force you?” he repeats, as though the idea is foreign — absurd.

You nod slowly. “You’re stronger than me. You could, if you wanted. I mean… you could pick me up and carry me anywhere. Make me do anything you want..” (Dont give him ideas 😟)

He says nothing at first. Then, without a word, he pulls away slightly, just enough to look down at you. Assessing.

“Yes,” he says at last. “I could.”

The admission hangs in the air between you like smoke. He shifts, and in one smooth motion, he brings you into his lap—not roughly, not with force, but with the kind of strength that doesn’t ask for permission because it doesn’t need to.

His hands settle on your hips, grounding you, holding you still. You feel the strength in his fingers–the unspoken potential for violence resting just beneath the surface.

You squeeze your thighs together feeling flustered at the sudden shift, even if he looks like he could snap you in two. You didn't want to like this at all, uhm, you don't! Ofcourse you don't, you couldn't, you're supposed to be in control here.

“I could drag you wherever I want,” he murmurs, pressing his lips softly to your jaw. “I could make you scream for me, cry, beg. I could break you down and build you back up in my image, and you know what, baby?”

His voice drops to a whisper, so tender it almost sounds like affection.

“You’d still thank me for it.” You tremble — not from fear, not exactly. Something elsw. A bone-deep understanding that the only reason you’re safe is because he allows you to be.

“Maybe I wouldn't be too forceful” he continues, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Because I don’t need to force you. That’s the beauty of it. I guide. I coax. I offer… suggestions.”

He smiles, and it’s not cruel— not overtly. But it’s dangerous, the kind of smile you’d see on a predator who doesn’t need to chase because it already knows its prey has nowhere to run.

“I let you feel powerful,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Because I love watching you think you’re free.”

And it clicks.

It slams into you like cold water, like the final piece of a puzzle you didn’t realize you’d been building. All the little choices you thought were yours.

The friends who drifted away. The routines that shifted. The diet changes, the wardrobe tweaks, the hobbies you abandoned and the ones you picked up— all of them traceable, in hindsight, to him.

You look into his eyes and realize he never needed to cage you because he built the world around you so carefully, so sweetly, that you decorated your own cage— and thanked him for making it.

And now?

Now, he just smiles as he holds you gently in his arms, stroking your head and back like you’re his precious pet.

And you are.

Because the cruelest part of all is that he doesn’t need to be cruel.

He’s already won.

(May this love find me, ughh intelligent ppl goddamn)

[bunny-jpeg]

could i get a lewis hamilton fic - lemon slice and coffee please! i love your writing

bakery menu

if you want to request your own order! feel free, the bakery is still open! as for this request, i didn't get a lot of lewis suggestions so i'd love more in the future! thank you for submitting!

lemon slice ("i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making.") + coffee (rivals)

cw: smut/pwp, rivals au, driver!reader, snark & sass, hate sex, protected sex,

you bounced on the balls of your feet as you waited to get the go ahead to get into the car to start the free practice. it eventually turned into you swinging your arms back and forth. it was a concerted effort to keep yourself calm before the official start of race weekend.

"you definitely don't seem nervous." you heard behind you. you looked over and saw lewis, passing by. you huffed through your nose and we back to what he was doing.

in the two years since you joined the formula one roster, the one driver you seemed to have the most beef with was lewis hamilton. the equivalent to a driving god, but you wanted to step on the toes of god.

"nothing to say back to me?" he asked.

you looked over and clenched onto your helmet tighter, "oh, i didn't even hear what you said, hamilton. i'm more nervous for you than me." you shrugged and turned back to facing forward.

you heard his footsteps and he leaned in to your ear, "i didn't know you had such strong feelings for me. i'm honoured."

you turned around and ended up face to face with him. you wanted to grip onto the front of his driving suit, but there were too many cameras and even more pairs of eyes. you replied, "don't conflate my worry about you making it to qualifiers to me actually liking you hamilton." and gave him a smile.

he raised his eyebrows at you, "right, right. you're too busy chasing the coat tails of your teammate. you know, he's not going to sleep with you. no matter how many times you're the crash course dummy for red bull."

your jaw tensed, "you're going to have to start winning, lewis because those trophies from what, five years ago, are getting a dusty."

he nodded, "well at least my trophy case is full. you know you shouldn't really show off participation trophies." he made a face. he patted you on the shoulder, "but i guess you take pride in always being second best compared to verstappen. and that's an honorable thing."

you scowled at him. his pats on your shoulder felt patronizing, you felt an anger run through you. you muttered two words to him, "room eight-o-five." and looked at him, "knock three times, password is stallion." then you turned away as you heard you mechanic team call for you.

lewis smiled at your backside as you walked away.

-

the evening after free practice, lewis had you pinned against the back of the door to your hotel room. your hands were on the overpriced shirt he wore.

"i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making." he said about your moans while you kissed.

you made a face at him. you gripped onto his shirt tighter in retaliation.

"i could get you a deal if you like it so much." he said, noticing how tightly you were holding the fabric, "i'm sure you'd actually look pretty in something that cost more than 5 pounds."

you leaned up into him, your forehead against his, "funny guy, hamilton, eh?" you could feel the boil from earlier return.

he chuckled and almost went in to kiss you once more, "i like when you're mad. gets me riled up. the only fun part of this rivalry. did you know that they think we're dating."

you pressed a kiss on his lips once more before you pulled away, your arms draped around his shoulders, you replied, "i'd think they were stupid. but your idiot friends don't know what a private instagram is." you had seen the photos, the evidence that made it all appear that you and him were more than just bickering drivers.

the main "evidence" was when in a now vanished instagram story, you were getting settled in your hotel room after a night of drinking. you had the covers pulled up to your chin with a phone camera in your face and lewis beside you, trying to get the covers off of you. he was very drunk as well. "ah c'mon, i deserve one kiss! one kiss!" he laughed and your face was all scrunched up as you threatened to bury yourself further under the covers.

the fans went crazy for that. now there was a conspiracy! but little did the folks online know.

his hands went under your shirt, he got it off of you soon enough. you tossed it to the side. you knew he was going to make a comment about how you'd look better in mercedes colours, but you shut those comments down with a searing kiss.

you both ended up in the bedroom, lewis noticed that you had an unopened box of condoms on the night stand. he said, "having guests over later."

you sighed, "yeah, i finally got with max." lewis stilled, stopping dead in his tracks towards the bed. his forehead wrinkled for a moment before you started laughing. you added, "oh my god, hamilton. you jealous fuck."

he got out of your grasp on your hand and said, "hey, we're already compared too much. i don't need him butting in on my rival."

"aw, worried about me, lewis? how sweet. i just thought you'd be worried that he would make me cum faster." you gave him a sweet smile before you took the rest of your clothes off.

when your ass was bare and you were turned to him, he winded back his hand and laid a harsh smack across your ass. he then wrapped an arm around you middle and kissed the nape of your neck, "oh, i'm not worried. because if you can't make yourself cum as fast as i can make you cum. max doesn't stand a chance." his voice was laced with lust. he then pulled away and started to undress.

maybe it was whorish of you to sleep with your rival. the one who you often butted heads with on the track. maybe if the press found out, then it would make any future female drivers look back. but as you got on the bed with lewis, you tossing a condom at him, it didn't matter.

you wanted him and he wanted you, with the hotel room door closed and locked the rest of the world was locked out of the sexual fiasco of your evening.

lewis watched you get on your hands and knees. you wiggled your ass to him to entice him. he laughed and got the condom on before he threw the packet off the bed to be dealt with later.

he wanted to tell you that you looked good. and you wanted to say the same in return. but the words couldn't come out. not while you two were still in this tango.

it was a game of chicken and the two of you were painfully stubborn.

he held onto your hip and his cock, and inched his length into you. it was a euphoria, a firework that went off in the back of his head. he wouldn't admit, but you sort of ruined other women for him. since this started, neither of you had been seeing other people.

"i'm starting to think you like me." he said.

you clutched onto the covers, "i think you're seeing things, hamilton. this is just a mutual agreement, nothing more."

lewis knew you were lying. it was obvious. the almost routine of the snapping of teeth that eventually turned into a tussle in the sheets had far beyond moved from a simple fuck.

you were invested, as was he.

once again, the game of chicken between two rivals.

he thrusted against you. his hips against your ass as he fucked you. there was little romance in his movements. it was something deep inside of him, you were both chasing a sexual high. your noises mixed with his as the two of you panted.

"fuck, lewis." you moaned. you could feel his cock in the back of your throat with how hard he was thrusting. it rarely ever went slow between you two. it was like sparks, burned hot but didn't last long. you held onto the pillow under your head as your back arched.

"i know, i know." he panted, "you feel so good like this. on your knees, you look better like this than a in a car honestly. i hate to admit it, but you're quite pretty."

you felt a compliment dance on your tongue, but you didn't say munch. while it was tempting, the pleasure strangled the words out of your mouth. you whimpered when you felt his cock nudge against your most sensitive parts.

he chuckled, he knew he left you speechless. but that was alright, all he needed to hear was your sweet little moans. both of his wide hands on your hips using a grip that only was made by being a formula one driver. he hunched over you, admiring your backside.

you were painfully pretty, you could have anyone on the grid. but lewis knew that you'd always come back to him. not even the likes of verstappen could compete with him.

"lewis." you panted as you felt the pleasure course through your body. you felt hot all over and your head felt hazy.

"shit." he panted, "fuck. c'mon."

you moaned and clawed at the bed under you. your back arched and you came around his cock. this only further him thrusting you, making sure you were taking his cock to the root. the bed squeaked some more and heavy panting filled the air.

"that's a good little driver. keeping the real pros nice and happy."

you lifted your head, your mouth open as you panted. eventually you said, "fuck you, hamilton."

"no, no. but i'll fuck you." he said as he slammed his cock as deep as it would go and finished inside of you. the condom was your saving grace. he soon pulled out of your pussy and rested on his heels for a moment. he dragged his hand across his neck and forehead to wipe the sweat off of it. he honestly should consider having sex with you as part of his work-out schedule.

but he was certain if he 'booked time' to have sex with you, you'd probably chew him out. you weren't a schedule to meet, a requirement. you were his rival... with benefits. but those benefits weren't clocking in and clocking out.

"c'mere." your voice cut through. you then pulled him up to the pillows and laid there next to him. he draped an arm around you waist and closed his eyes for a moment. you trailed a finger across his brown and down his nose, then down his cheek and across his jaw.

"ugh." you said.

he opened his eyes, those beautiful brown eyes looked to you, "what now?" he seemed like he was pretty relaxed after your round together.

"i was about to give you a compliment."

he smiled and pulled himself closer to you. the both of you still naked. he hadn't even taken the condom off. he said, "do tell."

you made a face and shook your head, "nope. i feel like if your ego gets any bigger you'll fly away." some habits died hard.

he tightened his grip on your waist and pressed his forehead to his for a moment before his coaxed you, "tell me. i'll keep it a secret. promise."

you sighed, it was painful to admit. to give you bigger rival a compliment after he made you cum. you held his face and looked into his eyes, "i get why they love taking photos of you in those overpriced outfits."

he raised his eyebrows, "that was your compliment?"

you replied before you leaned in to him, "maybe if you make me cum twice next time, i'll even admit how you're a decent driver or that i understand why others would hold you in such high regard."

he laughed, "next time, huh? i'm guessing after qualifier."

you smiled back at him, "you know it." <3

[hwaslayer]

the space between us three (jyh) | seven.

⇢series masterlist | series playlist

⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.

⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader

⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, smut

⇢word count: 7.8k

⇢chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, just hella cute moments between these two 😭, lots of kisses, dancing, alcohol consumption and intoxication, making out lol, good vibes and good company, feelings are deep af so we get a glimpse as to how they're both feeling about the future of their relationship, yunho is hella sweet bro fAWK, we also get a glimpse of seonghwa’s ‘afraid of commitment’ headass

When you get into the office, there's a brand new desktop setup waiting for you, along with a cup of coffee, the shop's new sticker for the week and a tiny bouquet. You slowly set your stuff down and smile to yourself, picking up the post-it on top of the coffee cup.

i had to create a temporary password to set up your account on this comp - it's 'yunhoisthebest01' 😊 feel free to change it when you log in (or not)! have a good day today, pretty.  - yunho

You nibble on your bottom lip, afraid someone will catch you smiling too big at the note. Since your date with Yunho, all your time has been occupied by him in one way or another. It was lunch. Small walks. Breaks to grab snacks together. Quick dinner dates. It was either texting all day in between running errands and other obligations, responding to each other through Instagram stories or even late night calls.

⇢FLASHBACK

yunho: are you awake?

you: sure am!

yunho: oh snap, what? lol catching miss pretty during the late night hours?

you: haha stoppp i'm not tired yet!

yunho: can i call you then?

You quickly finish up your night time routine and throw yourself in bed, getting ready to look presentable even though Yunho isn't physically here.

you: yes ofc!

It doesn't take long before Yunho's ringing your phone, the heat creeping up to your cheeks when you settle in bed and hear his deep voice on the other line.

"Hello?"

"Hey cutie. Did you just get in bed?"

"Just about, yup. What about you?"

"Yeah. Seora and I just wrapped up our show for tonight."

"Cute. Is she asleep already?"

"Seora? God, no. She's actually on the phone with her friends right now, too. They're hehe-haha'ing away as we speak." Yunho listens to his daughter's voice raise on the phone before laughing loudly. He typically doesn't mind but when it gets too late for his liking, that's when he'll get into father mode and knock on her door.

"That's so cute. Love that for the girlies."

"Yeah well, if she keeps it up, I'm gonna have to tell her to get off and sleep."

"Yunho." You giggle. "It's the weekend. I'm sure they won't be on for long. Besides, at least I can keep you occupied in the meantime."

"Yeah?" Yunho chuckles. "How are you gonna keep me occupied, hm?" His voice is low. You can tell he's wearing that smirk he always wears, and you can't help but bite your lip at the image in your head.

"Yapping your head off." He laughs.

"I like that." He adjusts his position on the bed, sheets rustling in the background. "What'd you do today, pretty girl? We didn't get to talk much."

"I know, I'm sorry. I ran some errands and met up with Sian really quickly. Came home, deep cleaned my apartment and changed my sheets. Was apparently exhausted at one point and fell asleep while watching my show. Then, I realized it was dinner! So I whipped something up, rewatched the episodes I missed and now I'm here."

"Busy bee. Sounds productive, though."

"Yeah, been needing to get these done. What about you?"

"She had a game again, but we ended up hanging out with some of her friends and their parents afterward. It was a later game so we weren't up too early."

"Did she win?"

"Mhm. I think they might make the playoffs this year, they've been doing really well."

"That's amazing."

"You should watch her play one day."

"Of course." You chuckle a bit.

"Would you think I'm weird if I said I kinda miss you?"

"No, never. I kinda miss you, too. But, you'll see me at work next week." You smile to yourself as you softly respond.

"I don't wanna see you just at work, though."

"Then, what do you wanna do, Yunho? You know I'm always down to go out."

"Wish I could have you here, is all."

"Yeah, I know the feeling." You mean it. You really do. You know the feeling all too well, but you know the circumstances are different. It's not easy. And it's something you and Yunho will have to confront at some point— should this continue going the way it is.

Cause you like him. A lot. The feelings are mutual.

"I'll make it happen."

"Will you?"

"Mhm." 

"That determined, hm?" You tease.

"I am. You know I don't do this unless I'm serious about you."

"So, are you saying you're serious about me?"

"And if I am?" Yunho chuckles a bit.

"Yunho." You whine playfully.

"You smiling, baby?" His voice is low, husky, and it immediately does things to you.

"I'm hanging up on you."

"No, don't." He laughs. "I don't take it back, though."

"Good, I was hoping you wouldn't." He smiles and bites his lip, his need for you growing at a tremendously fast rate and it is scary. But, he enjoys it. He enjoys you.

"You're cute."

⇢END

"Y/N, shut up." Noeul says as she trails in, her eyes widening at the sight in front of her. "He did not."

"Yeah, he did."

"He's so fucking sweet. You better give him all that ass and more."

"Okay, Noeul. It's so early." You laugh.

"Is he coming tomorrow?"

"I dunno, he said he was gonna try to swing by if he could. Depending on whether or not Seora would sleepover at her bestfriend's house and if his friends wanted to go."

"I hope so. I'd love to see you two in action even though I already get glimpses of it." You let out a content breath.

"We'll see." You sit and look up at her. "Anyway, are we still on to get our nails done after work?"

"Mhm. Sian said she's gonna have to skip because she promised she'd take her niece out while she's sleeping over at her parents' house."

"Yeah, she should spend time with her. It's been a minute since they've had some quality time."

"We have all weekend with you, though."

"Woo!" You cheer, making her laugh.

"Are you seeing Yunho at some point today?"

"Mm, gonna see if he can grab lunch or something."

"So cute." She giggles. "Full day today?"

"Not too bad, but we'll see if anything pressing comes up during the day."

"Yeah, same. Well let me know if you wanna take a quick walk later. Just text me." You nod. "Have a good day. See you later, babe." You wave her off before returning your attention to your phone and pulling up Yunho's text thread.

you: thank you, yunho. 🥰

yunho: course, cutie. you can finally work productively now!

you: love that for me. hahaha

you: free for lunch later?

yunho: always. i'll come get you around 12:15pm or so.

you: okeeee ☺️ 

You start working away on your new desktop, following up on a lot of pending items before answering new emails coming in. You've hopped in a few 30-min meetings throughout the hours, exchanging updates on the wider progress of the new clinical department already on its way in the main hospital, along with the pediatric end. You've got a few new things to check on, along with new groups to work with to make sure things continue moving. But, for the first time in awhile these past weeks, you feel like you can take a breath of fresh air. Most of the complicated, loose ends have been closed off, and the rest is just figuring out little details— where certain furniture is going, how a typical set up would be, what color blinds they'd like in the department.

The more fun, creative tasks.

Yunho is included in one of the meetings and it's crazy how giddy you feel the moment you see him. This doesn't even have anything to do with you and him, but you love the way he carries himself. You love the way he talks, you love the way he presents and answers questions so confidently. His energy is so undefeated and you can't even begin to understand how someone like him has feelings for someone like you.

You just feel lucky, and you aren't even official. Was that too much?

It's something about him, real talk.

When it gets close to lunch, you're checking off things on your list— giving you to a nice moment to sit back and scroll through social media mindlessly. 

"Hey." Yunho's tall figure pops into your cubicle and sits onto the free chair nearby. "I see you're putting this to good use." He points at your split screen on the desktop— one for your calendar on the browser, one for emails.

"Very much so. Thank you for this. I thought I was gonna have to wait a bit longer. I know provisioning is crazy busy right now."

"Not if I'm around." You laugh. 

"Well, thank you. Life saver."

"You're welcome." He leans forward and gives you a quick kiss on the lips, hidden well in your cubicle. "Ready to eat?"

"Yes, I'm hungry." You stand and begin to follow him out. "By the way, you did great during the meeting, Yu."

"You think so? I winged the fuck out of it." You playfully push him while he laughs.

"So, was it bullshit?!"

"I mean, not necessarily! Whatever I said will work, I just haven't tried it in this case in particular."

"Jeong Yunho."

"That's my name." He swings his arm around you and kisses your temple. "Nah, don't sweat. I always find ways to make it work." He turns to you as you both walk out of the elevator. "So.. I was thinking. If you aren't too swamped today, maybe we can get lunch off campus." Which, isn't unusual coming from Yunho. You and him have gone off campus to grab lunch together. But, that also means you get Yunho alone for a bit and you can already feel the butterflies building in your stomach. Not that you didn't enjoy people's company whenever they joined you two for lunch— it just feels nice to have your time with him, too.

"Yeah, I'm down. It's pretty light for a Friday."

"Good." He slips his hand into yours, leading you to his car in the main staff garage. 

"Yunho, are you sure it's okay?"

"Mhm. Our new hires are starting to get more hands-on with Taehyun and Jihoon. They're actually really good about jumping in and taking initiative."

"Oh, nice! That's great to hear they're doing well."

"Yup! Works out perfectly." He swings your door open and lets you get settled in before sliding into the driver's seat. The conversation immediately picks back up to the meeting you both were in today, Yunho asking about your progress and what else you needed to get done now that the foundation was pretty much solidified. The entire time, Yunho has his free hand in yours— pressing sweet kisses to the top in between conversation at the red lights. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks every single time, shying away when he teases you about it in his usual Yunho manner.

The both of you decide on grabbing sushi from a popular, affordable mom & pop shop near the hospitals. Yunho finds a spot and asks for your specifics before walking in to place an order. It takes about 15 minutes before Yunho is walking back to the car with a full container and a smaller one on top in a plastic bag, setting it gently on your lap before he drives over to a nearby walking trail near a lake that you two can eat and relax for a bit at.

"You excited for your birthday?" Yunho asks as you both dig in and begin to eat, watching the geese flock at the lake in front of you. 

"Mm, I dunno. The age is a little too serious for my liking but we'll see."

"Are you trying to say I'm a fossil? Pre-historic?" You laugh loudly and shake your head.

"No, of course not!"

"You're only a year younger than me." Yunho chuckles. "Still young, still thriving, as Seora says."

"She's so cute. I like her thinking."

"Are you really not excited?"

"I am. I just.. I hope you can come. But, like, I know it's hard so no pressure—" You start to stumble over your words and Yunho smiles at you.

"Just know that I'll always try, okay? I'm sure it'll work out, and then we can celebrate you together."

"It'd be fun."

"When's the last time you've gone out like this?" You shrug.

"Awhile. We've definitely gone to bars with coworkers and do the whole happy hour thing, but it's been a long time since I've gone out to the club and celebrated this way."

"Your brother and his friends are coming along?" You nod.

"Yup! And a few more people from work that we're all close to."

"See, it'll be a fun time regardless."

"Yeah. I guess I am excited. I haven't gone out with my brother like this in awhile either."

"When you guys go on vacation, do you explore and do things together or stay put at the hotel?"

"We always explore. Always." You chuckle.

"A fun duo."

"We try to be." 

"What else are you doing for your birthday, pretty girl?"

"Mm. Sian and Noeul are coming over right at midnight." You laugh. "Then, I think they planned a few things. They didn't give me any specifics but they said brunch and a spa date thingy."

"Cute."

"Me and Noeul are getting our nails done after work."

"Sian isn't coming?"

"Her niece is staying at her parents' house for the weekend so she wants to go spend some time with her while she can."

"Ah, I see. Makes sense." Yunho takes a sip of his water. "Seora would've loved to tag along even if she wasn't able to do anything."

"Aw. Well, I can take her along with me one day." Yunho silently nods with a tiny smile etched on the corner of his lips. He'd love that, and he can already see how well you two would get along.

It's just the fact of how long it'll take to get there.

Kinda makes him sad, but Seora deserves everything and he is always gonna put her first. He knows it won't be easy, and he knows she won't put down her walls immediately. In fact, he knows she'll have a hard time with this and she'll have a hard time with you.

He's so conflicted on what to do. He obviously doesn't wanna lose you and let all of this go. It's been ages since he felt this way and for the first time in a long time, he can genuinely and truly say his feelings run deep for you. He feels comfortable and he feels safe, despite the fears still lingering in the back of his mind. He can't let this go.

He knows life is short and he'll probably never come across something like this again.

But, Seora.

Oh, he hopes she'll understand. He swallows the anxiety that's slowly building every time he thinks about it— afraid to ruin your lunch or even your birthday. He'll continue to go with the flow and keep you happy, and he'll face it when the time comes.

Which, is probably soon with how quick he's falling for you.

"Mm, yeah." Is all he manages to respond with, also feeling stuffed from lunch as you both sit back and enjoy the peace while basking in the sun. Yunho has his arm draped against the back of the bench while you scoot closer and remove the trash from in between. The stillness, the quiet, is nice. You like being able to do this with Yunho.

You are comfortable, and you are safe.

You don't have to do much with him and he still manages to make you feel lucky. To make you feel wanted.

"Thank you again for saving my butt with the desktop." He chuckles.

"Yeah, of course."

"When did you even set it up?"

"This morning."

"You made Seora get up early just to fix my computer?"

"She didn't mind. Her bestfriend is always at school early anyway because her parents have pretty strict early shifts."

"Mm." I hum. "Okay, fair enough."

"C'mere." He looks down at you with a smile. His hand comes down to lift your chin up, kissing you on the lips with nothing but a sweet gentleness behind his actions. Yunho has been nothing short of gentle with you— sharing sweet, tiny moments like this. Nothing more, nothing less.

He doesn't expect anything out of it. Doesn't rush or force you, even though the need for him is slowly growing day by day; the more you spend time with him.

But, it's all in the motions. All in time. This pace works for you two.

You smile against his lips, pressing another few repeated kisses on him before you're walking back to the car hand in hand— ready to tackle the rest of the day before you're off for pre-birthday festivities with one of your bestfriends.

Once the clock hit midnight, you heard a knock on your door before footsteps rushed down the front steps of your apartment complex. You peeked through the peephole, only able to catch an unfamiliar car driving off. Your focus quickly strayed when you noticed the huge flower bouquet and balloons on your doorstep. You gasped to yourself, slowly swinging your door open before taking in the sight of it all. You dragged the balloons in gently, making sure none of them popped as you relocated them safely inside of your apartment. You placed the huge bouquet into a vase before grabbing the small card wedged in between two baby pink roses:

happy birthday, beautiful. - yunho

You snapped a photo and sent it to Yunho with a crying emoji, barely able to send a follow up message before your loud ass bestfriends barged through your door with confetti and all sorts of celebratory items in hand.

Now, you were exhausted and waking up close to noon because of all the drinking and late night talks that happened last night. When Noeul and Sian saw the balloons and the flowers, they wouldn't let the conversation about Yunho go even if your eyes were closing more and more by the second. 

"Birthday girl is awake!" Sian says at your kitchen, already preparing coffee.

"Barely." You sit up and dig your head into your hands. "My head kinda hurts."

"Your birthday barely started, there's more where that came from."

"Please. You guys did so much planning for the club tonight, I need to at least make it inside." Noeul laughs next to you.

"You haven't heard from Yunho yet about tonight?"

"No." You sigh. "But either way, we'll enjoy whether or not they come. He's not obligated to show up and he shouldn't force it if he can't."

"You're right. I'm still praying and crossing my fingers, though." Noeul says before getting up. "Come on, get up. We're gonna enjoy this coffee prepared by yours truly—" She turns to Sian for a quick moment. "Before we take you out for a full day of birthday goodness and see your family for brunch!"

"Then, we get back in time to get ready for tonight's festivities!" Sian adds, making you shake your head as Noeul literally drags you out of bed to throw you in the shower.

Meanwhile, Yunho is at some café downtown after dropping off Seora at Chan-mi's house. He's poking at his food while Mingi and Seonghwa argue in front of him, completely unaware of what said argument is even about.

"Aye, tell him he's wrong." Mingi hits him on the chest, pulling Yunho out of his thoughts.

"About what?"

"He wasn't even listening." Seonghwa cuts eyes at Yunho before sliding in his seat even more.

"Sorry, I'm just—"

"Thinking about Y/N? We know."

"No— well, yeah, but no." Yunho sighs and looks at his friends. "What the fuck do I even wear? I haven't gone out like this in so long, I can't even remember."

"You mean, you haven't gone out for someone you really like in so long?"

"Yeah, that."

"Let's head to the mall really quickly after this." Seonghwa adds. "You can still look good for your girl without doing too much."

"You're right for once." Seonghwa kicks Mingi's foot under the table, causing him to groan.

"I'm always right, you fucking prick."

"That's why I'm the favorite uncle. Cause you're always so grumpy. Besides, who the fuck accidentally spills the beans about his date?"

"It just slipped! I wasn't paying attention."

"Yeah, the hell." Yunho laughs. "You're lucky she didn't bring it up again after that." Yunho takes the last bite of his food before he throws in a crumpled napkin and sits back. "Ready to head to the mall? Do you guys have something to wear or are you buying stuff, too?"

"I'm gonna grab some things."

"Same." The three stand and gather their trash before heading out to the mall. Yunho had picked up Seonghwa and Mingi in exchange for Seora's presence, the two planning to stay the night post-club festivities. Mingi decided he'd be the designated driver tonight with Yunho's car, only coming for the vibes and to support his bestfriend. On the other hand, Yoori wasn't too happy to know Seonghwa wouldn't be getting his time tonight, but he had been spending a lot of time with her lately that he felt the need to give himself some space.

Some me time.

And he's not gonna lie, he's pretty excited for it. So is Mingi, so is Yunho.

The three walk around their favorite stores, grabbing a few key pieces they can throw into their closet rotation. Tonight, Yunho's gonna wear something simple, but enough to [hopefully] keep your attention. He's planning on a black button up and slacks, while Mingi is deciding to throw on a white tee and some slacks. Seonghwa bought a new leather jacket to go with his black top and black jeans. They don't spend too much time at the mall— the three quickly satisfied and calling it a day early on so they can chill until tonight.

Yunho just realized he never told you if he was going or not.

But, he also realizes he can take this and run with it. Surprise you, be with you all night.

He's fucking excited.

For him, the day feels excruciatingly long and stretched out, but for you, the day moves too fast for your liking. The first stop is a popular Thai eatery that is booked for months on end for brunch. When you walk in, your parents, Wonwoo and a few other good friends from work are already sitting at a long table near the back, happily greeting you with their birthday wishes when you approach the table. You automatically feel complete seeing the people you love the most all in one place, eating away at all the delicious food your group ordered while sipping on mimosas. The restaurant has a 2-hr limit due to its popularity, so by the time 2-hrs is up, you're full, you're content, you're ready to walk it off. Your parents smother you in kisses before handing you an envelope with some birthday money, waving goodbye as your brother whisks them away and takes them back home. Wonwoo gives you a quick hug before he's reminding you him and his friends will be over at your place to pre-game for tonight, causing you to nod and shoo him away in return.

You were starting to get excited.

But, Noeul and Sian take you to the next stop: a spa. The three of you indulge in a 90-min hot stone massage— something you truly needed from these grueling weeks at work. As you lay on the table while your massage is on the way, your thoughts hover to Yunho and how much you miss him. He hadn't sent many messages today, and you know he's only doing it to let you enjoy your day with the girls. But, you wish he was here. Or, that he's around.

Or, that you'd see him tonight.

You really hope the universe would align on this one with you. 

All in all, post-massage you feel relaxed. Cool, calm and collected. You, Noeul and Sian grab takeout to eat at the ease of your home— excited to sit around and take a little break before your brother and all your other friends, his friends, come over before the club.

The pre-party before the party.

Time really does fly when you're genuinely enjoying yourself. So much that it's hard to grasp just how fast it's been going.

You slip into your black dress and start working on your hair and makeup with Sian and Noeul. Your other friends trickle in one by one, touching up their hair and makeup while blasting music. Sooner or later, there's loud talking and footsteps hurrying up the stairs to your unit— a familiar voice coming through on the opposite side of the door:

"Yo!" Wonwoo yells, pounding on your door. You hurry to the door and let your brother and his friends in, all of them loudly greeting you and your friends as they come in and fill your space. "Let's get this going so we can head out!"

"Line up the shots!" Soonyoung yells. "Birthday girl, I'm connecting my phone to your speakers!" You nod and give him the thumbs up, doing the final touches to your makeup before heading to the kitchen and whipping out the alcohol for the pre-game session. You bounce along to the music while everyone hypes themselves up for the night, checking your phone for any new texts from Yunho.

There hadn't been any since you responded to him earlier in the day, and it makes you feel a little sad.

Maybe he was busy? Maybe he wanted you to be present on your birthday?

You would've really enjoyed with him around.

Guess the universe wasn't aligning for this one.

"Why are you all quiet? Is your man not coming tonight?" Wonwoo's voice pulls you out of your thoughts. Your brother leans back against the counter as you pop open the Don Julio and start pouring the shots quietly. 

"He's not my man." You shrug. "And I don't know. He never said anything after he said he'd try and I don't wanna ask or make him feel guilty about it."

"Not your man, yet." He teases. "He's probably coming. It's all a part of the surprise."

"Don't get my hopes up, Wonu." Your brother pinches your cheek.

"Simp."

"You're annoying." You shove a shot in his face. "Here. Start passing them out." Wonwoo does as he's told like the good brother he is, calling everyone to start gathering around with their shots. Once you've poured enough, Wonwoo leads the whole birthday speech nonsense before you're all taking the shots straight— many faces being made [groans being let out] at the taste and burn of tequila.

One turns to two.

Two turns to four.

Four turns to you're tipsy as hell.

You leave your studio as is when its time to head out the club, squishing in the backseat of Wonwoo's car with Noeul and Sian. Wonwoo's friend, Seokmin, takes the front seat, helping your brother keep the last bit of sanity he has left with his company during the drive over.

"You guys ready?" Wonwoo looks at the rearview mirror, watching as you and the girls drunkly respond and yell in excitement. He looks at Seokmin in the front seat, laughing while he hears the chaos echo from the back to the front. It's late in the evening, so the roads aren't as packed anymore. This makes the drive over to the club only about 25 minutes long down South. 

It's a fuckin' breeze when you're tipsy and having fun with your bestfriends in the backseat of your brother's nice ass car.

When you arrive and reunite with the other half of the group, you walk to the club together and skip through the tremendously long line down the block. You head straight to the VIP table everyone chipped in for, giving you a good corner of the club to claim as your own.

"Let's go!" Seokmin yells, leading the guys over to the bar to start ordering on everyone's behalf. The night is already off to an incredibly strong start with more shots to take— all your friends living life on the edge by chasing with cocktails.

It feels good to let loose. 

You haven't in a long time.

You begin to dance and have fun with the group, almost completely forgetting Yunho's absence until:

"Bitch, excuse me!" Sian rushes over to you after visiting the bar. "He's here! With his friends!" 

"What?" You squint and lean towards Sian's ear, unable to hear her properly.

"Yunho! He's here with his friends!" She points towards the door, finding the three walking in as they search the crowd for you and the group. 

"See! I knew he wouldn't miss out!" Noeul adds. You smile, waving Yunho over when he finally locks eyes with you in the sea of people, the excitement running through your veins.

He's here.

"You made it!" You say to him as he comes face to face. He chuckles and pulls you into a nice, big hug— his cologne filling your senses when he holds you tight. 

"Course I did. You think I'd miss this?"

"Well, I dunno. Seora?"

"She would never miss an opportunity to sleep over at her bestfriend's house." You look at him, his hands still around your waist. "I wouldn't miss an opportunity to be with you, either."

"Stop." He shakes his head while he watches you shy away.

"Happy birthday, baby." He says in your ear before placing a tender kiss on your forehead. Seonghwa greets you next, pulling you into a hug before greeting your friends. Mingi comes after, also pulling you into a hug even though you hadn't formally met until tonight.

"So, we finally meet!" He says while laughing.

"I know, it's so good to see you! I'm glad you guys made it out!"

"Of course, why not? Plus, we're celebrating you. It's a good reason to be out and having fun." You smile at him before pulling them over to the group sitting at a nearby table. Yunho and your brother have already greeted each other, and now, he's making his rounds for meet and greets with everyone else. 

"Take a shot with us?" Yunho comes back to you after he's done mingling and saying his hello's. "On me." You nod. He takes your hand as Seonghwa and Mingi lead the way to the bar, Yunho guiding you from behind as he tightly laces his fingers with yours. Seonghwa orders more shots, asking you what your preference is.

"I'm only gonna taking this one for you though because I'm driving."

"More than enough for me." You smile at Mingi, grabbing your glass while the other three wait for theirs. The moment their hands are full, you clink your glass against theirs, cheering loudly before you take the shot down the neck— the tequila burning the column of your throat as it travels down. "I don't know how much more I have left in me." You wince at the taste, making Yunho chuckle.

"I just got here. We've gotta keep going." He squeezes your hand.

"By the way, glad your bouquet and balloons made it inside safely." Seonghwa smiles.

"Wait, you dropped it off for him?"

"Sure did! I was on my way home, anyway."

"Thank you." You look at the both of them before the bartender slides down three more shots for you, Seonghwa and Yunho, claiming it was on the house for your birthday.

Once you've taken the shot and sipped on a cocktail to wash away the after taste, you've gotten yourself to a really good level with the alcohol and you don't think you wanna push yourself any further. The DJ starts hitting a good point of his set— you and your group bouncing and dancing along to the music. The entire time, though, you find yourself clinging to Yunho the more you feel the alcohol seeping in.

The more the world spins.

And he enjoys that.

"You okay?" He asks, his arm coming around you.

"Yeah. I'm just happy you're here." He smiles.

"I am, too." He kisses your forehead again. It all starts off cute— with Yunho grabbing you by the hand so you could both sing or rap along to the songs with each other. From time to time, he switches it up; hugging you from behind and swaying along to the beat. Other times, he's got you pressed up against him; hands gently digging into your hips as you work your ass on him. At one point, he's found himself backed up against the wall, watching intently as you dance on him. He's guiding your movements to the beat, keeping up as you continue. Every time you press your back against him, he leaves a kiss on your neck, hands threatening to roam up your chest and give it a good squeeze.

But, he has to remind himself that he's in public.

That this is all the alcohol getting to him and making him act on his thoughts.

That he's gotta do right by you. 

Just.. fuck. It doesn't make it any easier when he gets front row seats to a perfect view of your outfit and everything else about you. He can't help but continue to eye the way your tight, black one-shoulder longsleeve dress falls right below the curve of your ass and the way those strappy heels wrap around your ankles. Yunho keeps thinking about how sexy you look right now, and how much of a goddamn goddess you are.

The way you work him so well.

Your perfume.

Your pretty nail polish.

The way your energy is a match-made in heaven with his.

It's such a turn on.

Especially when the song finishes and you giggle, throwing your arms around his neck lazily while you plant repeated kisses to his lips. One second, he's enjoying the cute intimacy. You've managed to stray a bit from the group, making Yunho feel like he can finally focus on you and you only. His hands are still placed on your hips while you tease away— pecking him sweetly.

The next second, your lips are crashing onto his in a more intense, heated manner; arms still wrapped around his neck while his large hands are now resting on the small of your back to keep you close. He might be drunk, and you might be drunk— the surroundings might not mean shit and this might not make sense at the moment, but what you do know is that it feels like pure bliss to be kissing Yunho. To have him like this.

And he feels the same.

Which is why his hands pull you flush against his body, deepening the moment with every second that passes. His tongue lines your lower lip as a way of asking for permission, smirking into kiss when you push forward and kiss him more eagerly. 

With hunger, an edge with desire.

Right now, you two probably look like a bunch of high schoolers just making out at a party cause it's the thing to do. But to you, to Yunho, the outside world and the extra noise doesn't fucking matter.

It's just you and him.

"You're so fucking pretty." He breaks the kiss briefly to say in your ear. "Prettiest birthday girl I've ever seen." He plants hot, open-mouthed kisses below your ear and right down your neck.

"Yunho." The way you softly moan his name is driving him crazy, he can't help but lower his lips down to your neck— leaving a trail of kisses and soft nips against your skin.

"Wish I could take you back with me tonight."

"You could." You bite your lip when you meet his eyes. He cups your cheek and rubs the surface.

"Gotta do this right, love." He places a kiss to your cheek before slipping his hand back in yours. "Wanna head back to the group? We kinda moved pretty far." You laugh and nod.

"Yeah. It was nice to have the alone time, though."

"No lie about that." He follows behind as you lead the way through the crowd, getting back to your brother and all your friends. Your brother and his rowdy ass friends are all loudly singing along, a couple of new faces joining your group to dance along with them. Yunho plops onto the free space next to Mingi on the couch, while Wonwoo comes around to hand you another drink.

"Drink up, sis. The night is young and so are you." You laugh, taking the glass from his hand. "I see you're enjoying yourself." Wonwoo's cheeks are flushed red and he's smirking, throwing an arm around you to speak clearly in your ear. "Just make sure he takes good care of you, okay?"

"Yeah." You nod. "Just feels kinda complicated."

"Why?"

"Seora. Mom." Is all you say. Because yeah, you don't know how Seora or your mom would feel and you'd hate to make them upset. Wonwoo shakes his head and leans forward again.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure it'll all work out. It'll all play out the way it should." He looks at you. "Let's not worry about that right now, hm? It's your birthday. Keep enjoying yourself." You laugh.

"Thanks, Wonu." Your brother ruffles your hair and begins to dance, causing everyone around you to join in and hype you up. While you're busy with the girls, Wonwoo plops next to Yunho in the free space, sipping on some water while people-watching.

"Thanks for making it out tonight. You made her really happy." He says, turning to Yunho with a smirk. "She was all sad and quiet because she hadn't heard from you today." Yunho laughs.

"Wouldn't miss it."

"Please take care of her and be good to her, alright? Just doing my brotherly duties."

"Course. You have my word." Wonwoo nods before giving his shoulder a squeeze and standing to join his friends again. It isn't long before you find yourself getting tired from all the dancing— plopping onto Yunho's lap when he signals for you to do so. He has his arms wrapped around you while the both of you begin to laugh and flirt around with each other, Mingi and Sian in deep, drunk conversation next to you.

"Where's Noeul?" You gently nudge Sian.

"Girl, I haven't seen her in a minute. Probably out at sea trying to find a man for the night." Sian laughs before returning her attention to Mingi, and now, one of Wonwoo's other friends who has joined the conversation. You continue to look out at the crowd, hoping you can spot Noeul just to make sure she's okay. And, it only takes you about a few seconds before you find a familiar figure.

But, you were not prepared to see her up on Seonghwa like that. Director Yoori's Seonghwa.

"Oh shit." You say, causing Yunho to furrow his brows at you. He squeezes your thigh, making you shift your attention back to him momentarily. 

"What's wrong?"

"Noeul." You nod towards her and Seonghwa. Initially, she was dancing on him and it looked pretty harmless. All for fun. Until her hand starts to snake up to his neck while he holds her close. She's dancing against him, their hips moving in synchronized movements; in harmony. 

"Oh." Yunho says. "Oh shit." He repeats after you when Noeul walks away, but Seonghwa is quick to pull her back in his arms. This time, she's facing him. He's talking in her ear and she's giggling. Then, she's making the first move and kissing him.

He takes it.

"Uh." Mingi leans forward to catch Yunho's eyes and all they can do is laugh it off, shake their heads. But, yeah. Seonghwa's fucked.

"Okay, atta girl!" Sian yells, cheering them on. Sian is obviously more carefree, goes with the flow. Doesn't think much about any repercussions. Doesn't really care much for them overall. She is good at hyping you up, at being a wing woman, at helping you remember who the fuck you are; but, she could also mean trouble.

There is no grey area, it is either black and white with her.

"Are Seonghwa and Yoori official?" You ask Yunho and he shakes his head.

"No."

"Mm." You hum.

"See, then it's a free for all! It's all for the fun of it!" You all shift your attention back to the two, still handsy with each other. Still playfully locking lips before Noeul pulls back and leads him to the group. She avoids eye contact even though she's subtly nibbling on her lip and blushing, Seonghwa instantly pulling her down on his lap.

Yeah, this was gonna be some shit later on.

But, you guess you can worry about that later. It was still your birthday, and quite frankly, all the fucks you could give were temporarily out the window for the day.

The awkward tension settles and everyone is back to minding their own business and having fun. The bottle girls come over to greet you one more 'happy birthday' with the group, giving you energy to party it out for the last two hours of the night. When everything comes to an end, your feet are hurting, your calves are on fire, and you're reaching the sleepy level of drunk.

But, your heart is full and you're ending your birthday happily having spent it with your loved ones. With Yunho. 

"Aye, Y/N! Noeul, Sian! Rally up, ladies!" Your brother says, calling for you and your friends while him and Seokmin stand near the front of the club. Yunho, Seonghwa and Mingi guide you through the crowd, the rest of your friends and Wonwoo's friends already out the door and off to satisfy their drunchies while waving their goodbyes. "Y/N, Sian, Noeul! Roll call!"

"I'm here! Stop yelling!" You yell at Wonwoo, making him and Seokmin laugh while they wait off to the side. "Sure I can't go home with you?" You drunkly pout up at Yunho and he laughs.

"Soon, baby. Plus, you've got the girls and I got them." He quickly looks at the two behind him before turning back to you. "Hope you had fun."

"I did. Thank you guys for coming." You tippy-toe and kiss him on the lips. He continues with repeated soft, sweet kisses to your lips before your brother does another roll-call:

"Yo, for real? In front of me? Come on, now." Yunho laughs a bit and apologizes before kissing you one last time and letting your hand slip from his. Yeah, he hates having to leave you.

"All up in my business for what?!" You playfully push your brother as the five of you make your way to the car. Once everyone is settled, your brother offers to drive to the nearest McDonalds to cure your drunchies. When Wonwoo drops you and the girls off at home, you make an immediate bee-line to the bathroom and take a quick shower before throwing on your pajamas and getting the living room area ready for Noeul and Sian. As soon as everyone is done showering and finally relaxing, the three of you relive the night— making sure to press on Noeul about Seonghwa. She's clearly still drunk and out of it, brushing it off as if it were something that just happened in passing.

But, you know your bestfriend.

You know she'll wake up tomorrow, she'll remember all of this, and she'll already be attached to him. 

So, you let her be. You let her live in this moment, you let her take it. But, when the time comes, just like yours will, you'll be there to help her face it. Figure it out together with Sian. You just hope it doesn't backfire terribly on her. At work. 

And Yunho is thinking the same when he reads into the situation a bit, too. 

They get home, and he quickly peeks over at your parents' home to make sure all looks well. The three of them step in and take their showers to get comfortable and ready for bed. When it's time for them to relax and do their own debriefing, Yunho stands in the kitchen chugging water while Seonghwa and Mingi are getting their blankets onto the couch and the air mattress.

"You and Y/N are cute." Mingi says with a smile. "Like for real. It's nice to see you happy."

"I am happy. She makes me happy."

"Sounds like it's time to make it official."

"Mm." Yunho hums. "Yeah, maybe. I just—" Yunho sighs. "I don't come alone. I come with a package deal. I don't know how she'd feel, and most importantly, I don't know how Seora would take it."

"Ace will be fine. I'm sure it'll be an adjustment, but she'll eventually learn to open her heart to it, too. She wants you to be happy."

"I know. But, it won't be that easy. It can never be that easy." Yunho almost says defeatedly. "Anyway, sorry. I don't really wanna think about it right now. What was up with that?" Him and Mingi look at Seonghwa, causing him to raise a brow.

"Uh, yeah." Mingi laughs and looks at Seonghwa. "What was all that about? With Noeul?"

"I don't know how you're gonna explain this and get out of it." Yunho adds with a tiny chuckle.

"Yeah, I kinda fucked up." Seonghwa rubs his face. "Fuck. Whatever."

"Iono my guy, you looked like you enjoyed it."

"I mean, yeah. I'm not gonna lie about that."

"Time to get your priorities straight." Yunho snorts, taking another big sip of his water to avoid a hangover potentially creeping in tomorrow. "Can't just whatever your way out of this." Seonghwa looks at his phone to the unread texts from Yoori and he feels his heart sink. He's just not sure why, though.

What was the exact reason?

Did his heart sink because he felt bad and he knew he fucked up, or did his heart sink because he felt guilty and knew he was guilty for enjoying it?

"Have you been plotting on her since we walked into the club?"

"I mean, I see her around work, too. She's always been cute."

"Seonghwa." Yunho says with a small chuckle. "You can't keep doing this back and forth with Yoori."

"You're gonna have to decide cause even though you don't have a strict title to whatever you and Yoori have going on, it's clearly pretty deep. You've been spending a lot of time with her, sleeping over. Taking her out on dates."

"I didn't ask to be lectured, okay. I know." Seonghwa scoffs a bit before plopping into the couch and getting comfortable. "Tonight was just for fun."

"What if Noeul didn't feel that way?"

"Well." Is all he says before shutting his eyes.

"This guy." Yunho laughs. "Anyway, goodnight. Thanks for coming along tonight."

"Gonna go text your girl?"

"Yup! The one and only." Yunho teases before heading to his room and shutting the door. The mattress feels divine against his body, sheets keeping him warm and comfortable when he tucks it tightly around his body. He decides to shoot you a quick text, hoping you're resting after a successful and productive birthday.

yunho: you safe and comfortable at home?

you: i am. you? ☺️

yunho: yeah. just wish you were here. maybe i should've whisked you away.

you: yeah. ☹️ 

you: but i'm glad you came & we made the most out of it. thank you, yunho. ❤️

yunho: you're welcome, beautiful. sleep tight, okay? i'll try and see you before i pick up seora.

you: okay. goodnight, yu.

Yunho smiles to himself, setting his phone on the charger. Just as he's about to lie down and get some shut eye, his eyes land on the photo of him, Eunha and Seora on the nightstand, his smile slowly turning to a frown. His heart drops a bit when he lets out a sigh, but this time, it feels a little different. It doesn't ache and clench like it used to, it doesn't make him feel incredibly empty.

"She makes me happy. Really happy." He says as if Eunha could hear. Maybe she can, maybe she can't. But, all Yunho knows is that maybe, he's making progress.

Maybe, this was the beginning of healing.

Maybe, he'll be ready to let go sooner than later.

⇢taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @nopension @curse-of-art @thechaotictheoryy @likexaxdaydream @dalsuwaha @enha-stars @yasuraokaa @professormingisglasses @yunyunrin @pommelex @astral-trashcan @laura1399 @domfikeluva @tournesol155 @hwaskookies @yusalterego @hwa-stars @hyukssunflower @chngbnwf @jaytheatiny @lucid-galaxys-world @chaotic-floral @sofkloster @honeyrecommends @hwashua-luv @luvv4bby @spicxbnny @pandyandy71 @sanniesaurus @angel-hyuckie @wolviejex @purpleyou7x

[lihhelsing]

steddie | 888 words | angst | mature

CW: drug use, implicit violence

Written for @steddieangstyaugust Day 3

Prompt: "The sunset looks lovely, don't you think?"

Part 2 | Part 3

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"The sunset looks lovely, don't you think?"

Eddie looks up from the joint he's rolling to find the only face he never thought he would see out here. 

"King Steve," he says, and maybe it's his imagination but Harrington seems to flinch at his words. "What can I do for you?"

Eddie goes back to rolling his joint. There's a part of him that thinks this could be a trap. Last week the entire swimming team had to do a test to make sure they were all clean and one of the guys didn't pass it. 

He didn't pass it because Eddie had sold him some stuff the week before so maybe now Steve was here to put Eddie in his place. 

Eddie lights up the joint and takes a long drag. If he's going to get a beating, then he might as well do it while high out of his mind. 

"I was hoping you'd sell me something," Steve says. Eddie looks at him with the joint between his lips, trying to assess him. 

"Sorry man, I'm all out," Eddie knows best than to create evidence against himself. 

Steve looks at the open metal lunchbox on the table and raises a brow. "Really?"

"Really," Eddie says. He doesn't bother closing it and he doesn't mind if Steve knows he's lying. 

"Jordan told me all I had to do was say that bullshit thing about the sunset and you'd get me something." 

Eddie turns his face to blow out smoke. Fucking Jordan. He had come up with that password phrase to avoid getting in trouble. If people really wanted to buy something, then they would have to come up to Eddie and say it. 

"He lied," Eddie says and he can see Steve's getting annoyed. 

He gets up and put his joint out, pocketing it for later. 

Eddie could definitely use a few extra bucks this week because their kitchen sink stopped working and Wayne doesn't get paid until the end of the month, but it's not worth the risk of getting in trouble. Eddie knows the money he brings home is what helps keeping them afloat, even if Wayne likes to pretend he doesn't know where Eddie gets it.

He closes his lunchbox and moves to walk past Steve, but feels a hand wrapping around his wrist, stopping him.

It's not a strong hold, he could easily break free and walk away, but Eddie stops. He doesn't think he ever got this up close with Steve, which is both thrilling and terrifying.

"Please, man," Steve says, his voice is really low and he's wearing sunglasses, so Eddie can't see his eyes. "I just need something to get the edge off."

Eddie looks down to where they are touching and feels a fucked up thrill going down his spine. Steve's hand is big enough to circle his wrist without much effort and Eddie wonders how it would feel to have that in a different scenario. 

He wonders how it would feel if Steve were to grab him and throw him down on the table. He could probably hold both his wrists with one hand, and Eddie would be helpless to do anything but take whatever Steve wanted to give him. 

Steve moves and Eddie doesn't even flinch, thinking he might get what he wished for after all, but Steve just takes out his sunglasses and Eddie's breath catches in his throat.

Steve has a big bruise around his left eye. It's ugly and it can't be older than a day. It must hurt like hell and Eddie has to fight the urge to touch it. 

"My head is killing me," Steve offers. He looks defeated and Eddie can't ignore the way his heart twist at the words. 

Eddie should ignore it. He should pull his arm away and walk out, leave him out here alone. But Eddie is not a fucking monster.

He picks up the barely smoked joint and offer it to Steve, who lets go of Eddie's arm and takes it immediately. 

Eddie decides not to think about the absence of his touch, and instead watches as Steve puts it between his lips and how that essentially means their lips touched, somehow.

Steve is giving him a hopeful look and Eddie should walk away but instead he picks his lighter and lights him up. 

The first drag floods Steve's expression with relief and he lets out a low moan that makes Eddie's whole body tingle. 

"How much do I owe you?" Steve asks, already moving to get his wallet. His arm brushes Eddie's but he doesn't seem to mind the proximity. 

"Consider it a free sample," Eddie says and Steve eyes him suspiciously. 

"You gotta let me pay you," Steve says and Eddie has to stop himself from saying 'you can pay me with something other than money.'

Even if he doesn't say it, Eddie is under the impression the words float around them like ghosts. Steve raises a brow and Eddie has to laugh it off before he starts taking off his clothes. 

"Don't worry, big boy. Enjoy your free sample."

And with that, Eddie retreats before he does something stupid like kiss King Steve. That would get him a beating for sure and Eddie likes a little pain, but he probably wouldn't like that. 

[arrrion]

Desperate

Stanxeno x female reader

Synopsis: you've been kidnapped by Stanley and Xeno because your husband had done them wrong.

Disclaimers: kidnapping, violence, insults, husband's a coward, your mind is in bad shape.

Yes I published this when it wasn't finished. You didn't see anything 👀

Every time I think of stanxeno it's always kind of dark??

Night had fallen for a moment already and here you were, in the streets, your heels hitting the ground, the only ambient noise. You had just left work, extra hours that won't change your paycheck, and were heading home. You could already hear your husband yell at you about the time.

Your life was a mess. You have a terrible dating history, the reason why you married this man. Your mom taught you how much you needed to finish your life married to someone, you never questioned her. You were never interested in that kind of relationship but had tried so many times. In the end a man proposed to you but this was never the start of your happy married life.

He doesn't work, he spends your money. It's more of a nuisance in your life. You studied hard only to have a poorly paid job, because your husband doesn't want you to "be afar from him". And you listened.

You slow down, finally stopping a little further on. Was it really your life? Living with a man that probably doesn't love you and uses you?

You clench your fist. You have to continue the play. You can't finish your life alone, right?

You take a step forward but suddenly a force pulls you violently to the side. A hand covers your mouth but you don't struggle.

·———————·

You're tired. Your phone keeps vibrating on the small table across where you're sitting. You already know who is calling like this, and a heavy sigh escapes from your lips.

You can't see a thing but you don't mind. Your eyes are always looking low so it's not uncomfortable for you. Your feet are attached to the chair, but unlike what you were expecting, your hands were actually tied with each other but they were resting on your legs. You could actually stand up but you won't do that. You didn't plan to escape. And even if you really wanted to, it was dumb to try and run with your feet tied to a chair, not forgetting the blindfolds.

You weren't calm though. Whatever was happening was stressing you out.

But by the look of it, Your attackers didn't intend to cause any harm, at least not yet.

Your shoes were missing, and your feet touched the cold floor. You actually had a pillow for your back. What kind of situation was this ?

Your thoughts were cut short when a door, that you guessed was behind you, opened and footsteps approached you. You could tell it was a tall man, probably taller than your husband. By the sound of it, he was wearing boots that were making a strong noise. He probably was indeed unpleased to be here, you could tell.

He stopped just behind you. You recognized the strong smell of cologne. The same odor that was present a millisecond before your nose was blocked by a hand.

The blindfold is removed and you can see an orange light that comes from beneath you. The room is bigger than you thought. You quickly see the table where your phone is still ringing silently. This is where the man is heading. Golden locks swings with every step he takes.

Now that you see him completely, you are right. He is indeed taller and much more muscular. His appearance tells you that he isn't in need of money. You deduce that he is not a member of some gross gang of drunkards. No you are in a bigger problem.

"Damn, this phone won't stop buzzing." Back turned, the stranger takes your phone in his hand. "What's the password, miss." He faces you this time.

"There is no password, sir" You copied his tone. You don't have a password because your husband is suspicious of his own wife.

"Uh. Boring." He unlocked it and nodded when it actually didn't have a password. You watch him go through all of your informations. You move one of your feet, you wanted to scratch it but couldn't.

Time passes like this. You look everywhere, searching for something to pick your attention while the stranger is still on your phone. It takes him lots of time to find what he wants, another man enters. You see him upside down, your head resting on the back of the chair.

"Stan." The other man raised his head. "Did you find something." This man has silver hair that doesn't move much when he walks to you.

"Nah. There isn't even something funny in here." 'Stan' let go of your phone and he too, walks to you. "So what do we do of her, Xe'?" Here it comes.

They start to argue on the topic but you stop listening. In brief, you were kidnapped by those two. It's not hard to guess who's fault it is. But what did he do? The question is picking on you.

"Excuse me, would one of you have the amiability to tell me what my husband did?" They stop talking and Stanley burst out laughing. Xeno isn't pleased at all. His fingers land violently on your chin and his face moves dangerously close. He seems to want to intimidate you, but you don't flinch.

"Your husband played a game and lost. We've been waiting for our rewards but nothing came." His voice is terribly low.

"I see. If it's money you want, his broke. He probably played with mine."

"We know that, doll. That's why you're here." Now you were fixed. Your husband did something wrong and you were gonna pay for him. You sighed. "Oh don't make that look, dear. He is the one that told us to take you if he loses." Your head raised quickly. What did he just say?

"What ?" Your husband really threw you out? And he dared to call you non-stop like he cared? For the first time, you felt anger against him. You had accepted the way he treated you but only because he was kind enough to take you as his wife. Your nails went in your skin, your teeth clenched.

So your husband used you as an exit card? He views your marriage only as something he can dispose of, right?

An idea got into your mind. A bad idea indeed. But what else can you do when you just got thrown away like this ?

"Can you guys get rid of a marriage certificate?" You asked out of the blue. Stanley was surprised by what you said. He looked at Xeno whose smile was growing wide.

"Yes. We can." Both Xeno and you looked at each other with determination, like you both understood what idea you had. Stanley, who obviously didn't get it, looked at you like a lost child.

"Wait, wait, wait. What are you guys thinking ?!" Xeno turned to look at his best friend while you smirked.

"I have a mission for you Stanley, can you do it?" Stanley nodded.

Oh god what is he diving into?!

·———————·

Like you had asked, your certificates of marriage was broken. You don't know how they did it or what connection they have to do so, but you are free from your now ex husband.

But this is only for a short period.

Unbeknownst to Stanley, Xeno and you had planned a revenge. He doesn't even know how you passed from prisoner to coworkers with his best friend.

And now he is wearing a white suit, waiting for you to get married. He really fell from his chair when you had announced to him that you will marry him next. Xeno had told him that he couldn't marry you because he was less husband material than him. Whatever that was about. He knew it was only for Xeno's entertainment.

Now that you are freshly new weds, you didn't go on vacation, instead the three of you prepared the downfall of your ex husband.

Getting married again was the first step.

You passed months with them. You would help Xeno's with his researchs. Even if they both were part of a kind of gang, they had normal activities most of the time. Only at night would they do the bad things.

You would spend all morning with Xeno, your opinion was helpful to him and having an assistant was useful. And of course you liked listening to him ramble about his results. You don't understand everything but you don't care. You love his voice, and if you really want to understand he is more than happy to teach you.

At noon, you prepare dinner. It's almost always quiet. Sometimes Stanley turns the TV on and you comment about it but usually you all don't speak while eating. It's cosy, you think.

Then in the afternoon you would go with Stanley to do some errands. He was a very good driver. You liked to look at him. The aura he has when he drives just hypnotises you. You help him to carry what he buys even if he always ends up carrying the majority. He appreciates your efforts. You are capable on your own and he acknowledges that.

When the evening comes. You follow them at different places. From what you understand, they are an organization that has different divisions. They are the bosses of one. You only saw one other division that was ruled by a guy with green weird hair. You were surprised to learn he was younger than you.

Most of the time they just patrol over the places they own. They told you they were in a peaceful year, the reason Xeno is okay to play with your revenge. You had actually thought of this. Why would they help you? Stanley told you he only does it because Xeno does. And Xeno does it because he liked your idea. You didn't ask more.

Of course, they are tracking your ex husband. Now that you are gone he is getting help from others. He told everyone how his precious wife disappeared and how sad he was. Without telling them that the money he takes from them goes to the casino.

You were really furious when you found out about his fake acting about you. How dare he pretend he is worried. He probably thinks you died by now. But you were waiting for him to fall in a deep hole.

You collected the names of the person helping him. You spread rumors in his back and some of them quit helping.

Xeno made sure he was continuing to spend time in the casino. He hired a mentalist called Gen to make sure he would never win a single bet.

And then it came. People that helped him were gone. Money he was losing never came back. He never won one of the games, Gen always told him the next one was the one but obviously it was only to ruin him.

It was time for you to enter. Accompanied by Stanley, you both walked to his table. He didn't recognize you at first. You were gorgeous in your outfit. And Stanley was even more magnificent.

But it finally clicked when he heard you talk. He yelled your name that loud and everyone turned to you.

"Oh my! If it isn't my ex husband!" You faked your surprise.

"Oh my god, name you are safe! I was so worried!" He is actually happy to see you. But only because he hopes you will come back to him. "Let's go back home now!"

"Home? Oh no no no, we are no longer sharing a 'home' dear"

"What do you mean? You have to come back with me."

"Come back with you? What nonsense are you saying?"

"We are married, you have to come with me!"

"Married ? No, we are not. Not anymore."

"What?! Since when?!"

"Since you throw me to death for your own good!" Everyone at the table was shocked. They all looked at him with disgust, whispering among themselves about this. "And don't dare pretend I'm a liar. I have all the proof that you wanna play."

"Even though. You're still married to me. I didn't sign shit ! You belong to me!" You laugh at his words.

"You see, we did actually divorce. And now, I'm married to this handsome guy over here. My pretty boy, Stanley" The last words weren't in the script, nor was the kiss you placed on his cheek.

You smiled at him with love. People here tend to love this kind of drama. With the scene you made, you were sure that your ex husband would be looked down in every casino he went to.

Stanley put his arms around your waist and smiled, your cheeks touching each other. You giggle at the feeling. It was nice. Real nice.

Your ex-husband wasn't that pleased about this. He was about to burst out of anger when Xeno appeared. He was here for the final act.

"Oh my! What do we have here! If it isn't my good client!" He faked his affection and placed himself next to him. The jerk you married before was stunned. He recognized Xeno, it was against him he lost. "I have to thank you. With your elegant loss last time, I took good care of your girl. Look, isn't she pretty with my best man?" It felt weird being talked like this by Xeno, but you knew he was only doing this for the play.

Now that Xeno himself had made the official what this man did to you, the people started to yell at him to get lost. It was satisfactory. Seeing him distressed by all the yelling at him.

"Now, now. Let's all calm down. As much as I am grateful for the gift, you are not welcomed here anymore. You can accompany yourself to the exit because my staff is better than this."

You could finally breathe. Your hand falls on Stanley's shoulder and you can't help but hug him. You know that after all this you will probably divorce him too. But you will cherish the sensation of feeling loved by this man. Him and Xeno.

Feeling you tense, Stanley hugs you bridal style and you leave the room. He enters Xeno's office and puts you on a chair. Your hand immediately clenches on the fabric of your clothes. Head down, you think you could cry. Stanley, sitting on the chair next to you, seems to have caught on what you feel.

"What is it dear. You seem kind of sad for someone that finally crushed her enemy." You open your mouth but not a single sound escapes. A minute passes before your head rises, little tears about to fall.

"I...I don't want it to stop." You feel dumb. You know they only did it because Xeno wanted some fun. But you needed to tell it before you disappeared from their life. "I never experienced this much happiness before. I felt at ease with both of you. I think...I think it's what I should've felt with my husband..." Your head goes back down, eyes closed as tears fell to the ground.

You heard Xeno rising from his chair. Stanley hand enveloped yours. You looked at him, surprised. He was smiling gently at you. Then you felt something kneeling next to you. Your eyes almost fell from your orbit when you saw Xeno, on the knee on the ground, hands showing you a little box with a ring similar to the one you have with Stan.

"Your right, name, I never felt that happy with someone else than Stanley. So won't you mind being mine too?"

And you jump on him, yelling so many 'yes'.

You may regret marrying your ex husband but, thanks to that you met your two new husbands. This time you can understand why your mom wanted you to get married.

It's been several days since I started this. I had a vague idea of the plot but had a hard time connecting my ideas. So I hope it still please you!

See you next time!

[eclipsturns]

❘❙❚❘❘❙❘       ❲ ㅤ𝙲𝚃𝚁𝙻+𝙰𝙻𝚃+𝙳𝙴𝙲𝙴𝙸𝚃ㅤ ❳     ﹐ㅤ

⚙️｜   𝖢:\ .      ࡙    sturniolo triplets × hacker!reader﹐ㅤׂㅤ𐇡

read first part here

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ⃞☆⁠ ꕀ PART TWO ﹗! ⊹

They rolled back into the driveway a couple hours later, the new car video—a laid-back video with Chris being his usual self, Matt learning that he can just use the horn to shut them up, and Nick in the front seat.

The LA sky was dipping into dusk, streetlights flickering on as they kicked off their shoes by the door and crashed in the living room.

Nick flopped onto the couch, shoving a stray Pepsi can aside with his foot. “Okay, but seriously, what the hell happened to that video? It doesn’t just disappear into thin air.”

Matt dropped into the armchair, kicking his legs up. “Yeah, that’s not normal. Files don’t wipe themselves like that, not from everything.”

Chris splayed across the couch on the opposite side of Nick, instinctively reaching for the remote to turn on the TV. He hated the silence, he wouldn’t allow it to go quiet in the room if he could help it. Quiet clicks from the remote filled the room while he scrolled to find Netflix. “Maybe the wifi cut out mid-save or some shit? Corrupted file? I dunno, dude. It’s weird.” Chris suggested, and he’s the least-likely to know the slightest thing about what could’ve gone wrong.

“Maybe. I’ll run another scan of the hard drive tonight before I go to bed.” Nick sighed, slumping into his seat.

Across the room, Matt stared up at the TV, eyes going wide. 

“Nah, you’re fuckin’ joking.” Matt muttered, nodding his head in the direction of the screen ahead of him and his same-faced brothers. It grabbed their attention immediately.

There, in bold red letters on the screen:

“Really unfortunate circumstances. It’ll be fun playing with you boys…”

The remote went flying across the room, making Nick and Matt flinch and duck in defense. It was nowhere near them, but they could never be too sure, but it was a strong-armed chuck from Chris, of course, it could land anywhere.

Chris’ face went completely pale, void of any color other than the bright blue of his irises. “What the fuck is going on? Is our shit being hijacked? Someone’s fucking with us.” Chris stammered, pushing himself to stand from the couch. 

Matt and Nick followed suit.

What the actual fuck was happening?

Matt took a step closer to the TV, arms crossed over his chest as if to protect himself while he read the ominous red words over, and over, and over again. He silently vowed to remain level-headed and calm in the situation; whereas Nick was furious and red in the face and Chris looked like he was about to have a nervous breakdown. 

“Are we being punked right now?” Nick muttered, all too calm while glaring at his phone.

That was scarier than the mystery behind the missing video and the message flashing on their TV. Nick going quiet when he was already mad could mean nothing good. 

“Something else happened?” Chris asked, striding across the room to reach Nick. Matt joined in, peering over Nick’s shoulder to see the new update on the situation.

‘You’ve been logged out of @sturniolo.triplets. The account owner may have changed the password.’

©eclipsturns and @hazedsturns 's all rights deserved !

(｡>﹏<｡) ⠀⠀𔘓⠀

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ⚡︎ ㅤ𝑀𝐘 𝓣𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ..! @courta13 @chrislilcumslvt @marrykisskilled @chrislova @sturnshood @inspiredangel @strnilolover @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid @ariieeesworld @pixie-sticks-are-good @luvjaeeee @sturnslutz @mattswifeyy @oopsiedaisydeer @v4lsturn @pair-of-pantaloons @idkwhatthisevenislol @sturn777 @whore4mattsturniolo @mattchalattee @madifilipowiczisthebest @fratbrochrisgf @sturniolo101 @ivysturnss @mattsatellite @sturnsblogs @izzylovesmatt @allisonclairee @m4gz-png @mr-wrinkleton @bluestriips @surprisecurlyfriesbackup @immaqulate @wysmols @onevison @chrepsi @mattslolita @ribbonlovergirl @milo-the-dog @madisturni @ariestrxsh @myluck4u-com @trevorsturniolo

[forjongseong]

pine-fresh // jay (ENHYPEN)

pairing: slytherin!jay x gryffindor!fem!reader

genre: hogwarts!au, somewhat rivals to lovers, smut (minors dni)

warning: profanity, a lot of making out, fingering // word count: ~4k

summary: a dash of bickering and a whole lot of miscommunication in Potions class landed you and Slytherin's Park Jongseong in detention. did you ask for it? no. did you regret it? also, no.

author's note: at last, the Slytherin!Jay of my imagination has now, sort of, come to life...

ever since I came across that edit you see on the header, I've thought about him A LOT. now that his hair is actually silver, I have thought about him MORE. especially when @jaylaxies made this, which I thought about ALSO a lot... let's just say that Slytherin!Jay has been occupying my mind a lot more than I expected.

my knowledge on the HP universe is quite limited, so please excuse if some scenes don't seem too believable (like Snape somewhat being less strict here, or detention being scrubbing the bathroom). the title of this fic refers to the password that is needed to enter the Prefects' bathroom.

now, I know I say when I post oneshots I intend for them to be standalone fics, meaning that I most likely won't write a part two. but for this one??? if a lot of you like it, and a lot of you ask for it, I might be open to writing a sequel (once I conduct a lengthy research on Hogwarts grounds)

anyway, I hope you enjoy this little treat! I'm trying to shake off my writer's block, so please expect secretary!Jay to return soon.

taglist: @jaylaxies @excusememissiloveyou @thots4hee @end-hyphen @nyanggk @maggstar @bucketofhiros @shinkenprincess-oh @mydarlingjay @mochimchimo @jongseonglogy @strawberrification12 @xiaoderrrr

permanent taglist is open! send an ask or DM if you want to be tagged.

As your House’s Prefect and one of the smartest students at school, you thought it would be impossible to dislike a class. Getting good grades in almost every subject seemed to prove that you liked learning everything, but by God, you hated Potions. Other than the fact that the lessons took place in a literal dungeon, which made it colder than any of the classrooms above, you always had to deal with the unpleasant smell of whatever was brewing in the room. Add the inconvenient detail that half of the class consisted of Slytherin students, which was more than you could tolerate.

You did not know when it started, maybe since the Sorting Hat placed you in Gryffindor or when you witnessed one of your classmates getting teased by a Slytherin, but you had a strong aversion to anything related to that house. It became so bad to the point that whenever you got paired with a Slytherin for an assignment, all you wanted to do was to get the job done quickly for the both of you so you could leave the class as soon as possible.

“Miss L/N,” called Professor Snape. Your head snapped up and you locked eyes with him, somehow convincing him that you had been listening to all his instructions despite staring into the empty vials on your table. “Today you’ll be working with Park Jongseong.”

You nodded softly and once Snape turned his head towards another student, you made an audible groan and leaned back on your chair.

“You don’t sound so happy to be paired with me.”

Jay took the now unoccupied seat beside you and sat with a force that made his robe flutter. The flash of green caught your eye, and you hesitantly pulled your books to your side, making room for his on the table.

“I’ll handle the mixing,” you replied, completely unrelated to his remark.

Jay frowned before letting out a soft chuckle. “Wow, I guess you really aren’t in the mood today.”

You turned your head only slightly enough to shoot daggers at him with your eyes, and his response was just a huff to his face, messing up the silver bangs on his forehead. The sound of Professor Snape’s voice caught your attention, so you straightened up and listened intently, but also noticed how Jay was mimicking you. Once you were all instructed to begin, Jay grabbed his quill and started making notes for the recipe.

For the first couple of minutes, the process went well. You were mixing and adding stuff according to Jay’s dictation. However, after he misread the measurements for a certain ingredient, causing your brew to bubble uncontrollably, you began scolding him and blaming him for everything.

“What’s distracting you? How could you have misread that?” You half-shouted, a handkerchief in your hand as you attempted to clean up your surroundings.

“Maybe if you weren’t shaking so much when you’re holding the vials then I could have paid more attention,” Jay retorted, snatching a vial from your other hand to prevent more spills. “We should switch. You tell me what to do and I’ll redo everything.”

“That will take us even longer, and everyone else is already halfway done,” you complained as you looked around the class. You saw Professor Snape eyeing your table.

“Do you have another solution?” Jay asked, staring back at you.

You reluctantly agreed to switch tasks, but it turned out that Jay was worse than you. He kept spilling liquid, pouring more than needed, and overall causing more chaos than when he was just giving you instructions. Your grunts and groans were starting to gain the attention of the whole classroom, and by the time you were almost done, the bell rang.

The sound of your quill hitting your book was silenced by the footsteps of the other students exiting the classroom. They had finished their potions, and your table was literally the only one in the room that was still messy, with a mixture that looked too suspicious to be called a potion.

“I have been patient enough to let you two bicker the whole time, but for you to not finish making your potions,” Professor Snape said as he walked back to his desk, his cape almost floating behind him.

“Great, he’s gonna put us in detention,” you muttered to yourself.

“That is correct, Miss L/N,” Professor Snape continued. “Once you’re both done cleaning up your table, meet me in my office.”

The frown you wore on your face was so bad that anybody who saw you could easily tell that you were pissed, but between gathering the books and papers and wiping off spills with a cloth, you could have sworn you saw Jay smirking to himself.

---

As you placed a bucket of water in the middle of the Prefects’ bathroom, you sighed at the exhaustion that you felt despite not having even started your detention. You and Jay were both assigned to clean up the bathroom, which, despite only being restricted to use by the school Prefects, Head Boys, Head Girls, and Quidditch captains, was in an alarmingly grimy state.

You purposefully steered away from the side of the room with the toilet stalls and stood by the large, swimming pool-like tub sunken into the ground with bath taps surrounding it. The tub was drained, and you much preferred scrubbing it to cleaning all the toilets.

Jay was standing by the bath supplies on one side of the pool, staring at the different kinds of soap, bath oils, bath salts, shampoo, and conditioner. It took a while for him to realize you were glaring at him, basically waiting for him to start working already.

“Damn, it would be worth becoming a Prefect just to be able to use this bathroom,” Jay muttered, placing a small bottle of bath oil back in its place. “You must take baths all the time.”

You snorted, audible enough to make it echo throughout the whole room. “I don’t have time for baths.”

“Really? What a shame,” Jay sighed, rolling up his sleeves. “How long do you think it would take for us to finish?”

“If you keep using your mouth instead of your hands, probably a lot longer than I expect,” you replied without a pause, sounding annoyed.

Your snarky remarks did not bother Jay at all. In fact, it amused him, and the way he was laughing softly was not helping at all. He walked over to the stalls and finally began to work only minutes after you started.

“Today is really not your day, huh?” Jay’s voice echoed behind the stalls.

“Thanks to you, it’s not,” you answered, polishing one of the hundred golden bath taps that surrounded the tub.

“You know,” Jay started, only to pause to flush the toilet so he wouldn’t have to compete with the sound. “I have a feeling that you don’t like me.”

You rolled your eyes and moved your bucket to polish the other bath taps. Jay cleared his throat as he waited for your reply.

“Is it because I’m a Slytherin?” He asked. “I mean, it’s kinda unfair that just because I’m in this House, you automatically hate me—”

“I don’t hate you,” you finally responded. “Hate is a strong word.”

“Alright then,” Jay walked out of one stall and looked in your direction before entering the next stall. “So, what’s the story?”

You let out a heavy sigh and wrung out the cloth you were holding. It was a long story, you thought to yourself. You came from a family of Slytherins—both your parents and your older brother were—but since you were old enough to understand and remember things, you had always been the odd one out in your family. They would excel academically and go on to achieve things you never even dreamed of. Your interests were always different, and what got you far at school was thanks to your personality and smart work.

It was still a vivid memory to you, the moment you sat down and let the Sorting Hat analyze you. You thought you would hear a confident ‘Slytherin!’ from the Hat, but after a couple of seconds of deciding, it placed you in Gryffindor. Switching houses was never a thing, so you did what you could and made good friends, studied hard enough to make the professors notice you, and eventually, you earned the title of Prefect as you entered the fifth year.

Despite that, throughout the years in Hogwarts, you kept hearing and witnessing stories about Slytherins, how they always happen to achieve so much but at the same time are notoriously problematic. The house you once dreamed of being a part of quickly became one that you were relieved to be excluded from, but somehow, the longing remains.

Around your third year in Hogwarts, you began hearing chatter about Park Jongseong. He became popular, it seemed, after he was assigned to be the Keeper of Slytherin’s Quidditch team, and also after he had an insane glow-up. You then noticed that he was the quiet nerd who used to bury his nose in whatever book he was reading in a dark corner in the library, but since then, he had ditched his glasses and styled his luscious silver locks in a way that—

“Y/N, are you okay?”

Jay’s voice woke you up from your extensive daydreaming, and it made you realize you were polishing one bath tap for way too long.

“How long were you polishing that tap?” Jay asked, tilting his chin towards your hand.

His question spooked you, and you were beginning to think he might have heard your thoughts. You cleared your throat before moving to the next tap. “Not long, why?”

“Because I’m done with all the toilet stalls, and I noticed you haven’t moved an inch.”

Well, that’s embarrassing, you thought. How long exactly did you zone out for?

“Should I start cleaning the pool’s floor then?” He asked, fixing his folded sleeves before squatting down and then jumping into the empty pool.

“Sure,” you said, immediately picking up your pace and trying your best not to steal any more glances in his direction.

“Listen,” Jay began, both his hands firmly holding a mop. “You got really silent after I asked a question, so I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable. We can continue to work in silence if that’s what you prefer.”

You smiled as you moved on to the next tap. “It’s fine. I was just tired.”

You refocused on your own task, determined to leave the bathroom spotless, but after a moment, you noticed Jay moving oddly around the pool floor, dragging his mop in a way that was not normal. When you lifted your head to look at him, you saw that he was singing, no, lip-syncing a song and using the mop as a mic stand, completely immersed in his imagination but being considerate not to bother you with noise.

At this sight, you burst out laughing. Jay stood up straight and turned his heel to face you, looking surprised.

“Please,” you said after you contained yourself, “do continue.”

“Miss Prefect,” Jay sighed, “this bathroom is way too huge for only two of us to clean. Do you think we can sneak out and get our wands from Snape’s office?”

You shook your head. “The door is locked with a password.”

“But you’re Miss Prefect,” Jay said, matter-of-factly. “Don’t you know the password?”

“He literally changed it after leaving us here with these cleaning supplies, Jay. I don’t know the new password.”

Jay paused and for a moment you thought he was figuring out a way to escape, when in reality, his stomach just did a backflip from the way his name rolled off your tongue.

“So, what you’re saying is there is literally no way to get out of this bathroom unless we finish cleaning it?” Jay asked.

“That is the point of detention, yes,” you replied, shrugging.

Jay groaned and turned around, pushing his mop and reluctantly continuing to clean the pool floor. You were almost halfway done with polishing all the bath taps, and you sighed as you looked at all the mirrors waiting to be scrubbed clean too.

After a while, Jay finished scrubbing the floors, and you began to wonder if you should have taken his work instead since the bath taps seemed like a never-ending task to complete. He loosened the tie around his neck and undid the first few buttons on his shirt, making you quickly look away.

“Should I help you with the bath taps or start doing the mirrors?” Jay walked over to your side before pushing himself up the edge and then standing up, towering over you.

“Mirrors, please,” you answered, this time tilting your chin to point at the direction of the sinks.

“Really? Because you seem like you’re taking your sweet time polishing all those taps,” Jay said, tilting his head to one side.

You looked up at him and he had this teasing, lop-sided smirk. Meanwhile, the unintentional doe eyes you were giving him made him almost choke on his own saliva.

“Just do the mirrors, Jay.”

You saw him smile the second you finished your sentence, and when he turned his back to you, it somehow looked like his shoulders were happy. He stood in front of the sink and did a quick count on the number of mirrors he had to clean. You saw him start from the far left, where one of the mirrors was cracked on the edge.

“Be careful with that one. Ravenclaw’s Head Girl almost—”

“Fuck!”

You heard Jay groan as he stumbled a few steps back, wincing in pain and shaking his left hand.

“Jay,” you sighed, standing up and throwing the cloth you were holding to the floor. “I didn’t even finish my sentence.”

You walked up to him and stood before him with your hand out. He looked at you questionably before lifting his left hand for you to take a look.

“Is it bad?” He asked, slightly looking away. “I don’t like the sight of blood.”

“That explains a lot,” you muttered, placing your hand carefully over his. “Oh, my God.”

“What? What is it?” Jay asked, his right hand shaking in panic.

“Your fingers are so thick and stubby, like cocktail sausages.”

Jay snorted before pulling his hand away and you giggled.

“It’s just a scratch,” you said in an attempt to calm him down. “You can carry on.”

“Well, do you have something I can use to treat it?” Jay asked.

You were already sitting by the edge of the pool to continue with your polishing. “Do I look like a walking first aid kit to you? Just spit on it and move on.”

Jay looked at you, unsure of your advice. He then turned around and decided to wash his hands with soap. The suds obviously stung, so he was flinching and wincing quietly, but he could see you giggling silently from your reflection in the mirror in front of him.

“Do you really mean it?” Jay spoke, looking at you through the mirror.

“Mean what?”

“That I have stubby fingers,” Jay clarified.

You were unsure what to make of his tone. He sounded curious but also hurt, or maybe…

“So what if you do?” You asked back, not paying attention to him.

The strands of your hair were becoming loose and covering your eyes, and you were dying to fix the scrunchie on your ponytail, but both your hands were wet and occupied with polishing. You kept huffing and puffing and even attempting to move your hair using the movements of your shoulders until Jay sneaked up behind you and tapped you on your arm.

“Here, allow me,” Jay said calmly, tugging on your scrunchie.

You sat up straight and let him pull your scrunchie off, letting your hair cascade to your back. He began brushing your hair with his fingers before gently bunching it into a ponytail. He skillfully tied your hair up into a bun that was less messy than before. You were about to thank him, but he moved from behind you and jumped back into the empty pool, standing in front of you and tucking the loose strands of hair behind both your ears.

His fingers brushed against your ear, and for a moment, you were lost in his eyes. The next thing you felt was his hand behind your neck, pulling you closer as he stood in between your legs, his lips crashing against yours. You sighed as you let yourself be enveloped in his warmth—his tongue tugging yours, his lips devouring yours, his palms pushing against your back, and his breath mixing up with yours.

You felt his hand travel lower down your back, settling on your ass before he pushed you closer to him, earning a soft yelp from between your lips. His mouth detached from yours only to give you a sly smirk before he dove back into you. Your hands rested comfortably on his shoulders as you gave into his every move, and when you felt one of his hands grazing the exposed skin of your thigh from the gap between your skirt and your knee-high socks, you gasped.

“Wanna see what these fingers can do?” Jay asked, speaking right against your lips.

Your eyes searched for his before you nodded a little too eagerly. He chuckled before sliding his hand between your legs and under your skirt. His fingers easily found their place on your clothed cunt, and despite his gentle moves, you could not hold in your moans.

“Jay,” you whimpered, hands bunching up his shirt.

“Oh, I like it when you say my name like that,” he teased, leaving a wet peck on your chin. “Can you say it again?”

He pressed his thumb on your clit before sliding it down your folds, and he could already tell that you were soaked. You were biting your lip, and he chuckled, bringing the same hand that was caressing you up and towards your chin.

“Come on, now,” Jay cooed. “Prefects are usually good students. You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

His thumb slid upon your bottom lip, and you could almost sniff the scent of your own arousal. You were trembling at this point, desperate to feel more of him, so all you could give as a response was a nod.

“Say my name.”

“Jay—”

Your voice was muffled as he slid in a finger when you opened your mouth. You instinctively sucked on it before he entered another one, and then he hurriedly placed his hand back between your legs, pushing your panties to the side before easily sliding those two fingers inside of you.

“Jay!” You moaned loudly, spreading your legs wider so he could do whatever he wanted to do to you comfortably. Your fingers reached for the back of his head, pulling on his silver locks before you pushed his head to your neck. He began licking the soft skin under your chin before placing wet kisses down your neck. With one hand, you unbuttoned your top and pulled your collar open, giving him more access to your skin. He sucked on your collarbone softly and, at the same time, curled his fingers inside of you.

You repeatedly moaned into his ear, and at some point, you thought you sounded way too pathetic, but the way Jay was thrusting his fingers in and out of you and the way the squelching sound was echoing throughout the whole bathroom made you believe that the sounds you were making were actually quite tame.

“Jay,” you sighed. “Oh, my God.”

Jay lifted his head from your neck and flashed you a proud smirk before leaning in to kiss you again. You whined at the contact, and as your hands found his face, you began to caress him, pull him, and do whatever was necessary to send the message that you wanted him bad.

You felt the increasing pace of his fingers between your legs, and you began to feel the ache in your ass for sitting on the edge of the pool for too long. Jay pressed his thumb on your clit, and you threw your head back in pleasure, grabbing onto his biceps for support. When your moans started to sound higher and more in sync with the movements of his fingers, Jay leaned in and pressed his cheek onto yours before speaking right into your ear.

“Cum for me, will you?”

The deep tone and gentle vibration of his voice sent shivers down your spine, and with that, you finally reached your high. Your legs were shaking, and to soothe you, Jay began kissing your cheek softly. He kept kissing you and moving towards your lips, giving you a long peck before moving down to your chin and neck. He kissed the parts of your skin that were beginning to turn purple, and once he heard your leveled breathing, he pulled away to take a good look at you.

“Good girl,” he said right to your face.

You playfully, and very gently, slapped his face. He let out a wholehearted chuckle before pulling his hand from between your legs. Just seconds later, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching the bathroom door. Your eyes widened, and Jay quickly registered the situation. He fixed your collar for you to button up before he sprinted back to the mirror he was supposed to be polishing while you frantically searched for the abandoned cloth that you had been using the whole time.

“Why am I not surprised that you haven’t finished cleaning the bathroom?” Professor Snape stated after scanning the area. “It’s almost curfew, so wrap up and continue cleaning tomorrow. I’ll consider your detention done once this place is spotless.”

You stood up and observed as Professor Snape reached into the pocket in his robe and took out your wands. After he handed them over to you and Jay, he turned around without further question and left the bathroom. Jay looked at you, and you sighed in relief, almost collapsing to the floor because of your weak knees, if not for Jay holding you up by your elbows.

“That was too damn close,” you commented, standing uncomfortably since your panties were not fixed the right way.

“I’d say it was exciting,” Jay said, leaning into you and sniffing your neck.

“Jay, stop it,” you said, placing your palm firmly on his chest.

“That’s not what you wanted me to do when I had these stubby fingers inside you,” he teased, raising his hand and wriggling his fingers in front of your face.

You smacked his hand away, and he cackled, almost making the room shake from the echo.

“We still need to come back tomorrow and whose fault is that?” You asked, your back turned to him as you were tidying up the supplies.

“Fault?” Jay tilted his head. “No, favor. You’re missing the point. We get to come back here tomorrow.”

You stood up straight before turning to face Jay. He boldly took a couple of steps towards you, closing the distance and pulling you by your waist to press your body against his.

“Are you honestly telling me you’re not looking forward to it?”

With Jay’s arm firmly around your waist, the heat of his body against yours, his eyes boring into yours, and his silver hair messy from the way you were pulling on it earlier, there was no way you could lie to his face.

“Okay, I am looking forward to it,” you said after gaining enough courage. “Maybe instead of your stubby fingers, you can show me something else.”

Jay’s eyes twinkled at your daring tone, and you both chuckled before letting each other go, nagging at him as he collected your supplies while shamelessly ogling your body.

-END-

© forjongseong 2023, all rights reserved dividers by @cafekitsune

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!!! do NOT copy, translate, or repost any of my work to your blog or ANY other platform.

[springingsour]

S.S. Drafting Death Scene:

Scene: Possible MC's death. MC was with Damus and Shockwave, protecting him. MC had just released an inspiring speech to Cybertron about the program to stand with citizens and find a way to restore their planet. To recover and rebuild their lives together. But in the room after an assassination attack, they thought that the assassins were aiming for Senator Shockwave, and they retreated to the building. Someone knocks, and MC goes to answer it. It's him- (MC’s not dying this way, maybe…)

_____________________________________________________________

▶︎ • ၊ ၊ | | ၊ |။ | || || ။‌‌‌‌‌ | | ၊ |။ | | ၊ | • 4:05

“How are they…? Anything wrong…?” You leaned closer, hope mingling with concern in your voice as you watched him test his new servos. 

“No… It’s…” Damus flexed his digits, once, twice, effortlessly picking up a tablet that had once been a challenge. He turned the screen toward you, carefully using the system and playing an audio file of your latest composition.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, warmth blooming in your chest as you leaned against him, the two of you sitting in the quiet of the secured hospital wing. Watching him, it felt like a piece of his spark was mending along with the metal.

“[_____]... I— I can’t thank you enough…” His voice was soft, brimming with emotions he seemed to struggle to articulate. The way he spoke, with a hint of vulnerability, tugged at your spark. Even with his single optic, you sensed layers of gratitude and relief.

"You don’t have to thank me," you replied gently, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. "Seeing you move like this is all the thanks I need. Step by step, Damus,”

He looked at you, his optic shining with something deeper than appreciation. “Yeah… Step by step… I was worried I’d never adjust to these… to these new sensations. But with you here…” he trailed off, his gaze dropping for a moment. “It feels like I can reclaim what I thought I lost.”

“Really…? But to me, you’ve always been strong, even when it didn’t feel like it,” you replied, your spark swelling. “It’s just a matter of finding that strength again. And… No matter what changes about you… You’re Damus and I’m your friend… we all are…”

You hold your servo out for him… Gently encouraging him to take it.

“... Friends… Yeah…” He reached out and held your servo, gently gripping it back as the two of you sat with one another.

A comfortable and peaceful quiet settled over the two of you. You noticed Damus being careful when holding your hand, but no doubt excited as were you at the contact.

“[_____]... I… I need to tell you something,” He mentioned, putting the tablet down as he faced you.

Oh…? What is this…? You internally wonder just what Damus have to tell you, it’s so exciting-

Just then, before he could say more, a soft chime interrupted the moment, echoing from the door. “The others must be here… I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t let you go, and you looked back, a bit surprised. “Damus…?”

“Oh, sorry…” He shook out of it…

And let you go.

▶︎ • ၊ ၊ | | ၊ |။ | | | ၊ |။ | | | || ။‌‌‌‌‌ ၊ | • 3:21

“Still getting used to it,” He replied, a nervous tone in his voice.

Aww! Did he want to hold servos still?! You gush to yourself. “That’s okay…”

Rising from your seat, you made your way to the door, leaving the room. The only ones who knew of this location were your friends, Skids, Trailbreaker, Soundwave and Windcharger.

Senator Shockwave was still in his recharge recovering... They said that they would arrive at the safehouse all together to keep one another safe.

They are safe, thank Primus. But we need to make new plans to keep one another safe...

You put in the password and the door opens. You were expecting to see the others back and safe, with news of the assassin or anything about the attack.

But instead, you found yourself face to face with… Him.

He is here?! What was he doing here? You embrace him as you smile brightly, "What are you doing here…?! Why aren’t you at-"   

Before you could utter anymore, before you could even register the anguish in his optics, he lunged forward.

You barely had time to register the glint of a purple burning blade before a searing pain exploded in your chest, radiating outwards like a macabre sun. You staggered back, your servo flying to the sword hilt protruding from your chest, a bloom of blue blossoming beneath your digits.

You immediately flared with power that shattered the lights above but... It hurts! The blade burned through your body and Nebula's screams of pain and fury were cut off. Just like that. Everything within you went… quiet. You felt your powers seep away as your spark bled. Your spark had been run through… Your very soul was pierced without mercy. It flickers and flares… Like a candlelight, it starts to die slowly.

His grip on the sword twists, making you choke and cough out energon that floods down your body. You were in shock, pain, and a deep sense of dread filled you as he rested his forehelm against yours.

"… Rest…" He whispered only for you to hear, as he starts to pull the blade out of your body, and your innermost energon pours out as you stagger, your vision blurs and blackens as you feel weaker by the kilk.

No…

▶︎ • ၊ ၊ | || | ၊ |။ | |  ၊ |။ | | || ။‌‌‌‌‌ ၊ | • 2:48

“[_____]...!? I- I have something to tell you...! I lov-! Oh… Who is it?” Damus followed you, turning the corner to find you… “[_____]? Why is it dark?” 

His excited and bright demeanour died… Something was wrong. He reached out, “[_____]? Is something wrong…?”

The attacker rips the blade from your body… It’s purple pulsing blade coated in your energon… Dripping to the floor as he watches you die.

You stumble back, meeting the wall as your dark blue energon is smeared down the solid wall as you slide down to the ground…

And Damus’s scream of anguish pierced the air as he rushed forward, catching you as you crumpled to the floor. He cradled you in his arms, his new servos slick with your energon as he tried in vain to stem the tide of blue flowing from the wound. The attacker ran off, darting out of the door and into the hallway.

"Get back here! Murderer! Get back! Someone-! Help! Help me! Please!" His voice is raw with grief and terror. "NO! No-! [_____]!" he choked out, his voice breaking. "I've called for help- you're going to be okay! What- what do I do…? What do I do?!"

His spark pounded wildly in his chest as he saw the energon pooling beneath your body. Your metal chest is torn open, revealing your destroyed, charred spark that flickers and whines with loss. Your chest heaves in painful shudders as your systems fail… 

▶︎ • ၊ ၊ | | ၊ |။ | | || ။‌‌‌‌‌| | ၊ |။ | |  ၊ | • 2:01

He fell to his knees beside you, his servos trembling as he reached out to examine the wound. It was deep, and the energy loss was already significant. Panic gripped his spark, and he felt a surge of desperation rising within him. 

"[_____], stay with me," he urged, his voice trembling with barely contained hysteria. He racked his brain, trying to remember the various times he watched you patch them up.

"Let me see... A kit…Yeah, s-some bonds for the wound- You need to turn off your- Primus- I- what do I do?!" He commed for the others... His voice seemed so far away. You couldn't hear anything... It terrifies you.

▶︎ • ၊ ၊ | | ၊ |။ | | ||| | ၊ |။ | |  ။‌‌‌‌‌ ၊ | • 1:32

But you placed a shaky servo on his, silencing his frantic recital. Your optics, now dulled with pain, met his gaze. "Damus," You whispered hoarsely, "… Ngh…"

The words refuse to leave your lips, you knew that these would be your last. You have to say something.

Anything.

"Please… Listen…"

▶︎ • ၊ ၊ | | ၊ |။ | | || | | ၊ | | |  ။‌‌‌‌‌ ၊ |─ • 0:50

You made so many promises, and now you are going to break them.

Damus’s spark clenched at the sight of your weakening form, at the stark contrast between you and the brutal, jagged wound marring your body. 

He couldn't just stand by and watch you slip away, not when he had finally found someone who understood and accepted him for who he was.

"[_____], you’ll make it… Okay?" He choked out. If he could, he would cry and sob… but he can’t. “Please?! Someone!?” He cries out, and no one hears his calls for help. 

But even as Damus tried to recover what was left of your spark, you could feel the life draining from your body, the warmth fading from your limbs, your strength washing away as you tried to press against the wound.

You looked up at Damus with optics that had already begun to flicker off, your vents coming in shallow, rattling gasps. The pain in your chest was a distant thing now, overshadowed by the agony you saw etched upon his face.

▶︎ • ၊ ၊|  | | ၊ | | | ||| | ၊ |။  ။‌‌‌‌‌ ၊ | ── • 0:35

“You’re… Not alone… Okay…? Take…” You feel the warmth of your spark struggling to survive. “Take care of one another…”

What were you trying to say?

What words linger just out of reach? What can you possibly say to him now, when every breath feels like a goodbye? You’re fading before him, and the weight of it is unbearable.

This will shatter him, or perhaps, it’ll build walls so high he’ll never let anyone in again. 

▶︎ • ၊ ၊|  | | ၊ | | | ||| | ၊ |။  ။‌‌‌‌‌ ၊ | ── • 0:21

Will you be the one to lift him, or will your absence leave scars too deep to heal? Every moment you hesitate feels like a lifetime — a chance lost forever.

What if your words don’t matter? What if they only deepen his despair? 

What about everyone else…? What have you done? What can you do now?!

“You… You are treasured… remember that… Okay…?”

▶︎ • ၊ ၊|  | | ၊ | | |  | ၊  ။‌‌─── | ── • 0:17

Can you find the strength to change their paths, or will this be yet another moment swallowed by darkness? 

Will the echoes of what you say now last, or will they dissolve into silence, leaving him lost in the emptiness of your absence?

▶︎ • ၊ ၊ |  | ၊  ။‌‌─── | ───  ၊ |── • 0:08

“Stay close… To hope… Don’t… push it away…”

You couldn’t speak anymore… why…? Why- oh…

▶︎ • ── ─ ──── ─ ───── ───── ─ • • 0:00

You servo fails to reach his... and falls to the ground... landing in the pool of your life blood...

The colour in your optics... fade away...

Damus’s POV: He held you in his arms, your helm resting against him as he remained there. His servos were stained with your energon. Damus didn’t let you go, even though you were cold and unmoving. He breathed in the quiet moments, the stillness heavy around him. Each passing second felt like an eternity as he absorbed the weight of your absence.

The room was dim, darkness pooling in the corners as he stayed there, staring into nothing. He felt the weight of despair pressing down on him, a heaviness that wrapped around his chest like a vice. The urge to cry was a familiar spectre, rising from deep within, desperate to claw its way to the surface. But as he inhaled sharply, he realised with a painful clarity that the tears he craved were nowhere to be found.

His throat tightened, a terrible ache forming as emotions surged up, battling against the emotional chokehold that had taken hold of him. Memories of laughter, warmth, and love flooded his mind, now tainted by the sharp chill of loss. Every thought felt like a blade, cutting deeper, but still, the tears remained locked away by the senate, leaving behind only the hollow echo of sorrow.

He tried anything, willing them to produce even a single drop, but his body betrayed him.

Everyone betrays him. 

The instinctual release of tears that once flowed so freely was ruthlessly snatched from him by the Senate's cold, calculated servos. They had rebuilt him, reconfiguring his very essence, and in the process, stripped away his ability to cry. Now, a daunting silence filled the space where his grief should have poured forth, leaving him feeling as if he were an open wound without the means to heal.

Frustration coursed through him, raw and unrelenting, as he stood there with clenched fists, the metal of his body digging into itself. No cries emerged—only a profound emptiness consumed the room, a void where mourning should have taken root for the loss of you. The realisation struck like a thunderclap: the Senate had not only robbed him of you but had also denied him the vulnerability of expressing sorrow.

They had stolen so much, severing the connection to his emotions, leaving him to carry the unbearable weight of his grief in isolation. Without the solace of tears, he was forced to shoulder the anguish alone, trapped in a silence where the memory of you lingered, haunting and unacknowledged.

“Come back to me,” he murmured, his voice a mix of desperation and denial. Shadows flickered overhead, the remnants of pain lingering in the air, but all he could focus on was you. He brushed his fingers over your helm, careful and reverent, as if he feared that any sudden movement might shatter the fragile peace.

In the darkness, memories flooded his mind—your laughter echoing through the chaos, the way your optics sparkled when you achieved something daring, how close you got when during practised together, how you stayed with him. These thoughts fueled a flickering hope within him, a stubborn ember refusing to be extinguished. 

“I know you’re still in there,” he whispered, squeezing you gently as if that might bring you back. Outside, the sounds of the world carried on—a cacophony of clanking metal and distant sirens—but in this moment, it was just the two of you. 

He cradled you closer, leaning his helm against yours as he struggled to keep his composure. “I’m not leaving you,” he vowed. Hours could pass, but he would remain here, anchored to the spot, waiting for a spark of life, a sign that you were still battling to return to him. 

Even in the darkest times, he believed in the power of connection, in the bond that transcended even this stillness. A power you were. He would not give up on you. Not now, not ever.

He would not accept this. No matter the cost, no matter the sacrifices he would have to make... He will live with his mistake… And learn from it.

He will find you...

He would not let you go ever again. 

____________________________________________

Soundwave’s POV

He cannot hear you anymore.

[hunkpossession0]

Stealing my former high school bully’s body was so easyyy. Look, now I am hot, and the best part is that I’m gay.

I leaned back in the plush leather seat of his—no, my—new car, savoring the feeling of power. God, I’d waited so long for this. All those years of torment, the sneers, the shoves into lockers, the homophobic slurs... they were all a distant memory now, fading away like smoke. The only thing that mattered was this body I was now inhabiting, perfectly sculpted and oozing confidence.

I smirked at the reflection in the rearview mirror. His—my—strong jawline, the chiseled features that had made everyone swoon, and those piercing blue eyes that used to look down on me with contempt were now mine to control. And control them I would.

The plan had come to me after a particularly rough night, one too many drinks mixed with the lingering bitterness of my high school years. I’d always been obsessed with the idea of revenge, but not the kind that left scars. I wanted something deeper, more satisfying. I wanted to become him. To live the life he’d never appreciated and do it better.

It wasn’t hard to find a spell. You’d be surprised at how many dark corners of the internet are devoted to body swapping. A few emails, a payment sent in crypto, and a strange-looking amulet later, I was ready. The ritual was simple enough—though it took a lot of concentration. But the moment I slipped it around his neck while he slept, it was over in seconds. I woke up in his bed, in his skin, and he… well, I don’t know where he is now. I like to imagine he’s trapped somewhere, conscious of what’s happening but completely powerless.

The first thing I did was check myself out in the mirror—really take in everything I’d just acquired. This body wasn’t just hot; it was perfect. Years of disciplined workouts, clean eating, and who knows what else had transformed him into someone who looked like they walked straight off a magazine cover.

Actually, make that literally off a magazine cover. I found a stack of fashion magazines under his bed with his stupidly gorgeous face plastered on them. He’d somehow turned his pretty-boy looks and gym rat habits into a full-fledged modeling career. I guess that explained the ridiculous number of selfies on his phone, each one showing off a different outfit or a perfectly timed flex in front of the mirror.

So yeah, I wasn’t giving up the gym. If anything, I was leaning into it. It’s not like I had to do much to maintain this body—he’d already done the hard work, and now I was reaping the benefits. I still hit the gym daily, if only to flex for the mirrors and admire my reflection. The attention I get now is incredible, and the best part is, I can be shameless about it.

Of course, I couldn’t wait to see what Grindr was like from this side of things. Installing the app was the first thing I did once I figured out the password to his phone. The moment I uploaded a shirtless pic, the notifications started rolling in—an endless stream of thirsty messages. Guys were practically lining up for a chance with me, throwing compliments, and I have to admit, I loved every second of it.

I’d spend hours swiping through profiles, chatting up whoever caught my eye. The way people reacted to me now was night and day compared to before. No more awkward small talk, no more second-guessing myself. I could tell someone to meet me at the gym just to watch me lift, and they’d show up without hesitation.

And the best part? I’ve started getting more gigs, just from a few posts on social media showing off his—no, my—body. Modeling agencies are all about that lean muscle, those killer cheekbones, that smirk that could melt anyone on the other end of the camera. He’d never really appreciated what he had, but I’m about to take this career to the next level. I’ve already got a photoshoot lined up for some luxury brand—an easy way to rake in the cash while showing off.

His—my—Instagram is blowing up too. I’m always in the gym, flexing and posting thirst traps for the masses. The likes pour in, and the comments? They’re pure gold. People are practically worshipping me, and I’ve only just begun. This body was wasted on him, but now that it’s mine, I’m going to enjoy every moment of it.

Every time I flex, every time I see a new message pop up on Grindr, it’s a reminder of just how sweet this revenge is. Not only did I take his body, but I’m living his life better than he ever could. I’m hotter, more confident, and finally free to be myself in the best possible way.

This is just the beginning.

[back2bluesidex]

Monitoring Duty - JJK

Pairing: Idol!Jungkook X Managerial staff!Reader

Theme: Fluff, f2l (kinda), coworkers to lovers (kinda)

Summary: You are tasked with monitoring Jungkook's weverse live tonight, which starts with you trying to shove ramyeon down your throat and ends with Jungkook confessing that he likes you too.

Wordcount: 1.7k+

Warnings: None.

A/N: trust me, I had no plans of writing this one but couldn't really get this idea out of my head... so, please suffer with me. thank you very much. and it's really stupid so please forgive me.

Weverse: 🌟JK started a LIVE  - I am tired..

Your phone dinged with the notification. You know what it can be and you are prepared but currently you are struggling to chew and swallow the last bit of cup ramyeon, so that you can finally get into your monitoring duty. 

Drinking the water in a breath and debunking choking possibilities, you reach for your work laptop. Opening the application while putting down the password doesn't take you more than 10 seconds. 

And finally you are in. Now all you have to do is to monitor Jungkook and take appropriate actions when there is an inappropriate situation such as, he falls asleep, or he spoils his upcoming schedule, or he gets repetitive calls from a sasaeng etc. 

You melt on the hotel couch. Your limbs feel like jelly due to all the workload you have been through since 4 am in the morning. Being a managerial staff of a Kpop idol is neither fancy nor pleasant. While thousands of fans dream of being at your place, you want nothing more than a year long break. But then again, the pay is good and you are in need of money as well as a strong professional profile. 

And another reason for you pursuing this gruesome job is, the man you are currently monitoring. 

It has been more than two years since you joined Hybe. For the first year you worked with the entire team and for the last one year, you have been appointed as one of the managerial staff of the maknae.

You don’t know when in this last one year, you started to grow and harbor some kind of fondness towards Jungkook. Not that you don’t know the rules and regulations of the company (most of which don’t apply in terms of BTS), you can recite those better than your phone number, but still… staying immune to Jungkook’s charms, and especially the way he treats you with all the kindness of the world (which makes you wonder at times whether feelings are mutual or not), wasn’t possible for you. 

You know it’s foolish, you know there will be no return to your affection but you still like to enjoy this feeling of liking him, adoring him from afar, praying for him in silence. You will move on someday, but as of now, your focus is trained on him and only on him. 

“Oh the festival? The festival was crazy! You know it’s the first time I have performed in a festival all alone without the members, so it was scary and I was nervous. But seeing the other artists enjoying themselves and watching you guys cheering for me helped me a lot. Hope you guys liked it.” Jungkook giggles. You mirror his actions while watching him through your laptop screen. 

If you put your ear on the wall, you could probably hear his mellow voice piercing through the thin cement of the overpriced hotel room. You are given the room beside him for handling emergencies quickly and he doesn’t even know that. He doesn’t even care, does he? 

You shake off your thoughts as you try to focus on the live.

Jungkook restlessly talks and tries to interact with the fans despite being dead tired. You have been with him all day long and you know how hectic things were. He has hardly got any sleep since the day he landed in the US. Interviews, performances, event invitations, everything was lined up one after another. It all ended with the Summerfest performance today. Just this one live and after that he will get to rest for a couple of days before catching a flight back to Korea.   

You roll your eyes as Jungkook starts to sing to comply with the request of a fan. 

“He just performed for an hour and twelve minutes! And you people still want him to sing? Even when he is clearly tired?” you groan at the screen. Most of the time you respect fans’ love for Bangtan but sometimes their nonchalant demands really piss you off.  

Jungkook finishes signing and starts coughing immediately. You follow the live stream as he leaves his chair and starts looking for water in the refrigerator. 

He coughs some more and then with a very choked voice, says, “ah! Guys! I’m running out of water. Should I drink water from the faucet then?” 

You grab two bottles from the nightstand as soon as possible and run towards his room. 

Within a few moments of ringing the bell, Jungkook appears at the door. At first his eyes go wide seeing you standing there wearing an oversized tshirt and a pair of sweats, then his eyes fall on the bottles you have in your hold. He coughs again and you hastily open the cap of one of the bottles and thrust it towards his lips. He grabs it immediately and drinks until he is satisfied.  

You try not to stare at the way his adam’s apple bobs when he chugs water down or the way he wipes his lips to get rid of the remnants of water, but fail miserably and you guess Jungkook notices that too, otherwise there is no apparent reason for him to smile sheepishly. 

“Thanks” he says, closing the bottle, “so… you are on monitoring duty tonight?” 

“Yeah. Are you okay though? You have been coughing since morning.” You reply, neglecting the way your skin heats up because of Jungkook’s intense stare at your smaller form. 

“I am fine, Y/N. Much better now that you are here…” Jungkook pauses, your eyes widen at his statement, “with the water I mean.” both of you chuckle nervously. 

“Umm.. I will wrap it up quickly okay? I don’t want to overwork you. Just give me ten more minutes.” 

“Jungkook, it’s alright. Take your time. I like to watch you doing silly stuff anyway.” you smile and he giggles. 

“It felt nice… hearing you say that.” Jungkook gives you one of his bunny smiles as his dark orbs find yours. You two stay there staring at each other, without giving a damn about the 10 million people that are currently staring at a chair, until reality finally seeps into your veins again. 

“Bye. Good night.” you murmur as Jungkook nods. 

He is already back at his seat when you come back to your room and sit on the couch. 

“Jungkook-ah, I wish I had a better word than love to explain how much I love you.”

Jungkook reads a comment. 

“Umm… better word than love? Is there anything like this?” He thinks for a moment, squirting his eyes, placing his index finger on his chin and pretending to think hard, “I watched a drama where the male lead confesses his love for the girl he likes saying something like ‘the moon is beautiful’ and I think that was really romantic. So, from now on if you want to say that you love me beyond explanation, use ‘the moon is beautiful’ and I will understand right away. Okay?” 

You see as the comment section goes wild with “moon is beautiful” comments rapidly. Fans really love him a lot and he too, is so dedicated to his fans that sometimes you get jealous. 

Within five more minutes, Jungkook is saying bye and turning the live stream off. You leave a sigh of relief, nothing went wrong under your watch and now you can finally sleep. 

You hit the bed with a thud, wrap the duvet around your body and close your eyes only to be startled by the vibration of your phone that is kept on the nightstand. 

You grab your phone with an annoyed huff, which vanishes when you see it’s a text from Jungkook. 

“Do you wanna grab a beer? If you are not asleep yet?” 

And the next moment you are bolting towards Jungkook’s room, fucking your sleep and nighttime rest. 

You two settle comfortably at the balcony, talking about nothing and everything at the same time, while staring at the night sky. Gradually you forget that you are tired and you haven’t got any sleep for almost 20 hours now. But who cares. If having no sleep exchanges a bit of quality time alone with Jungkook then you would gladly stay awake night after night. 

“Jimin hyung texted me earlier, saying I did a great job.” Jungkook says, sipping on his beer. 

“See, you were panicking for nothing. You always do a great job.” You reply, he chuckles and then for a minute or so, you two fall into a comfortable silence. Until Jungkook decides to break it.

“The moon is beautiful.” Jungkook whispers and you hear it loud and clear. Your heart stops beating for a moment. You stare at the said moon blankly. You don’t know if it is what you think it is. Maybe you are wrong, the moon is really beautiful tonight and that pact he made, is between him and his fans, it has nothing to do with you. On the top of that there is no way he feels something for you. You are just a nobody, nothing in front of him and his grandiose life. 

So you reply, “yes, it is.” 

“Y/N… You have been watching the live and you know what I mean right?” Jungkook’s voice suddenly feels closer to your body. You don’t know if it’s really happening or is it just a fragment of your dream, so you stay silent. 

Jungkook grabs your arms and turns your body to face him. 

And then within a moment you are caged between his muscular body and the balcony railing. 

“Don’t I deserve an answer?” Jungkook breathes on your lips. 

“Do- do you really..?”

“Yes, I do. And I wonder why you didn't notice it when I am always giving you heart eyes, when I am trying to be as close to you as possible, when I am always looking for chances to converse with you, to spend a little bit of time with you.” 

“But- Jungkook..”

“What’s your answer, Y/N?” 

“Jungkook, my answer doesn’t matter. Not when I am one of your employees. It’s prohibited for me.” you try to make him understand. 

“You just need to say yes, Y/N. I can manage the rest.”

“I will get fired.” 

“You won’t. Don’t you trust me?” 

“I do.” “Then let me take care of things okay?”

“Okay.” You smile at him, as he connects his forehead with yours. You breathe in him, his scent, his warmth and his affection for you. You don’t know about the future, you don’t have a clue about the struggles you are about to face. But you know you love him and he loves you back. So maybe things will be alright. You will let Jungkook take care of things as he wants, as for now, when he reaches down to lock his lips with yours, you taste euphoria on him.  

A/N: The idea of "Moon is beautiful" instead of "I love you" is derived from the KDrama "Romance is a bonus book.

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @soraviie @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @sukunabitch