#seriously. its falling apart in every which way

[abluescarfonwaston]

How to say: "if you use 20 year old equipment then you gotta accept that sometimes that shits gonna find new and challenging ways to break" in a way that doesn't get me a nasty-gram from QA

[muntitled]

Indebted

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Summary: He wouldn't call it jealousy... He just wasn't very fond of sharing his toys.

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Jealousy Language, Violence, Age gap, God Complex, Brainwashing, Psychopathy, Blood, Gore, Codependency, Yandere!Salesman, Stalking, Smut (+18) mdni, Caning, Forced Orgasm, Controlled Orgasm, Dumbification, Impact Play, Blood Play, Blood Kink, Sadomasocism, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Rough Sex, Blood Play, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Sadism, Punishments, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Overstimulation

A/n: I'm not responsible for the media you consume

4k words

"Seriously, if it weren't for your help, I'd probably fail this module-" you meet him at the door, your Salesman, who's come to play one of his games. He arrives just as you're ushering someone else out.

"It's honestly my pleasure," you say, "You've made me feel useful."

As you speak, you open your front door to reveal your Salesman standing on the opposite end of the threshold.

You hadn't been smiling, not until you saw him standing there in a crisp, well-fitted navy blue suit. He's not looking at you. Not immediately. His eyes are trained on the boy you're standing beside. The one who's slipping on his sneakers, still murmuring about how incredibly grateful he is for your tutoring.

'It's nothing,' you replied modestly, even though it was most definitely not nothing to dedicate your entire Wednesday afternoon to tutoring. The boy is a first year and budding with the need to get better in psychology. His essay would have been flawless, had it not been for the grammatical and spelling errors that plagued the page. You'd both sat for the majority of this Wednesday afternoon hacking through the issues and improving on his spelling. It was endearing. To be in university and still need a spelling tutor.

"Thanks so much for the help." The boy tries to maneuver his lanky frame past your Salesman who takes up the majority of the space by your little doorway.

"See you next week." He shoots you a small smile before giving an uneasy glance to your Salesman.

"Hello." Says the Salesman, so painfully formal it causes a wave of unease to swell. He peers down at the boy like a tiny little thing.

"H-Hey." Your student replies before thanking you once more.

When he leaves and it's just you and the man you're paid to please every Wednesday evening, an uneasy sort of silence settles between you both.

You're smiling up at him.

And he's smiling down at you but it's different somehow. Tighter. Not a genuine smile at all.

Although admittedly, none of his smiles were genuine. His entire face was a carefully orchestrated scam, to get any suspecting victim to trust him.

And yet somehow, this smile feels more phoney.

Like a tempest is brewing beneath.

Before you're able to dissect it further, he's already stepping closer, letting his large, elongated shadow fall on you. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"The last time you came to my house, you killed someone." You lean against the door, your hip leaning against the wood as you fold your arms over your chest. His eyes zero in on the movement and a rare occasion occurs: You feel powerful. That's the last thing you've ever been made to feel in his presence.

"It took a week to get the smell of blood and death out of my room." You continue.

He lifts his hands in front of you, showing the briefcase that hangs from his heavy fingers and the blisters coating his palms. Like a magician convincing you his hands were clean, "I come in peace." That deep and gravelly vibrato veneering his voice causes a tantalizing hum to run all the way down your spine, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. You step aside, staring blankly ahead of you as he steps into your house, bombarding everything with his presence.

From his brisk walk alone, trudging into your apartment like he owns the palace (which he regrettably does) you almost immediately realize that something is wrong. You are not under the impression that you've done anything to make him angry but unease still rolls in your stomach like a tempest that's brewing. When you make it into your adjoining living that bleeds into the kitchen, you find him standing in the kitchen. He lowers his briefcase onto the counter before resting both his heavy hands there.

You move to the other side of the counter, leaning down- giving him a more than perfect view of the cleavage spilling from your dress. You hope it might appease him as you try to wrack your mind for possibile slip-ups that would've caused this terrible silence.

This little-to-no-conversation between you both makes your dynamic feel like the transaction that it actually is: a girl, who needs her university fees paid and a sadist who wants his needs met. Feelings weren't in the equation and yet, your heart stops when he asks,

"How was school?"

"School was school." You reply, sounding pathetically excited to finally hear his voice since the moment he entered your little home.

"Although," you peer down at your jittery fingers on the counter. Your nerves are shot to hell as you admit, "I don't know how proactive I'm going to be tonight-”

He was a ruthless dominant, never failing to leave you absolutely spent by the end of the night. It left you with great discomfort to not be able to perform to the greatest of your abilities during these sessions. “I'm so tired... I've got this psychology quiz and-"

"Who was that?" His questions cut through yours like the tip of a hot knife.

“Who was who?” You ask.

He only smiles before turning his back to you, frantically pulling open cupboards as he says, “Rice. Where's the rice? Do you have rice?”

“The cupboard in the bottom row- Who are you referring to?”

He pulls out your tall container of rice and you watch him round the counter with it in his hands. “This place is so fucking small.” He says, popping the lid of the container, “Reminds me of my childhood home.” He stands right in the only open space in your apartment and all you do is watch as he tips the container over, watching millions of rice grains scatter to the bare floor.

“THAT'S MY FOOD, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU-”

His voice is like molten lava when he looks down at you and points toward the ground. “Kneel.”

You feel nothing but cold air slide across your exposed arms when he trudges back to your little kitchen. Your mind reels and your stomach sinks and sinks and sinks- burning a hole through the rest of your organs.

“Am I being punished for something?”

“Be a good girl and kneel on the rice.” He says and because you were nothing but a slave to the dominance in his voice, you slowly lower yourself to the ground. From behind the kitchen counter he watches your face contort into unmistakable pain as the rice grains dig into your knees. He takes a while but soon you're fully kneeling on the floor. He rounds the counter once again until he's standing before you.

“That… child that was just here,” his voice is eerily calm as he caresses your cheek, “Who was that?”

Had you been in any other situation, under vastly different circumstances, you might have looked for the urge to laugh. His blatant jealousy of some university first-year was nothing if not laughable.

“He's just a friend from class- ah.” It almost becomes unbearable but for the sake of your self preservation, you know not to get up.

He continues to caress you, loosening his tie as he asks. “Which class?”

“P-Pardon?”

“You mean to tell me you only go to one class?” He snaps and you fight off tears, “What the fuck am I paying for?”

“You're paying for me to get my psychology degree.” You reply with feeble words, trying to put away the thought of all the little stabbings plaguing your knees.

“And does that entail sleeping with your classmates?”

“What?!” You screech as he walks away. You're suddenly left without nothing to hold onto and you sway forward, your palms landing on more rice.

“Y-You know I don't do that.” You cry, feeling the sting more from the accusation than the pain of all this bloody rice, “Y-You know I don't sleep around- You know I don't talk to anyone-”

You hear his briefcase click open. From your vantage point on the lowly rice-filled floor, you cannot see what he's taking out. It fills you with more dread than you've ever experienced before. Which was utterly ridiculous.

With him, dread is a thing you ought to be accustomed to. Dread is where you live now. You ought to get comfortable with it.

“Such a shame.” He tsks as he finally rounds the corner to reveal whatever it is he's gone to go fetch. His dress shoes clack against your recently varnished floor and you breathe heavily. The pain had subsided- or perhaps you've gotten used to it- which scares you more than anything. He's messing with your pain threshold. Causing you to build a tolerance for certain things and that terrifies you.

Hidden under all that terror was unmistakable lust.

God help you.

“I thought we were making progress, you and I.” you see the cane first. Made of rattan, it hangs from his strong hand corded with tense veins. A gleaming watch is secured around his wrist and you're already shaking your head as you slowly look up at him. Now the tears are right by the doorway. No matter how much pain he forces you to get accustomed to you could never survive this. Your body still has limits.

“He just asked me to help him with his spelling- Please!”

He raises an eyebrow. “Spelling, you say?” he pats down on your head, eliciting a dizzying wave of subordination as he says, “I think you've just given us our game for tonight, Doll.” He bends down, knees bending until he's somewhat closer to your height. He's still far too big for you. Far too much. You try to crawl backwards, you try to crawl away but he grabs you by your face. You're quite literally being expertly manhandled as he turns you around until you're on your knees in the opposite direction.

“Please…” You're begging but you don't know what for. Once his games were set in motion, nothing could stop him.

Your movements still when you fill him lower his large hand onto your backside. It's so big and warm and you momentarily forget about the rice digging into your skin. He slowly lifts up the skirt of your dress, revealing your underwear beneath.

“Our little Spelling Bee,” he lowers your panties down your thighs, causing a shiver to wrack through your entire body. It's pointless to hide how affected you are by every little thing he does.

“For every word you spell right,” he lifts your leg for you, giving you momentary reprieve from the pain as he manoeuvres you out of the underwear, “You get to cum.”

You'd never felt more degraded: being forced onto doggy style onto a million grains of rice while this man lets his fingers graze over your exposed cunt. He parts your folds and a wave of embarrassment rolls over your face. It's all so normal to him though, just sticking his fingers inside your cunt. He does it with the professionalism of gynecology and all you're able to do is stare blankly ahead while he prods at you.

“We can't make things too easy, though, so you're gonna keep this little thing warm for me while we play,”

You're craning your neck back, trying to get a look. “What thi-”

You release one hoarse gasp when he inserts something round and bulbous and vibrating, straight into your cunt.

“Th-This isn't a game. It's a punishment.” You say through gritted teeth, trying to fight off a moan as the vibrator hums inside you, “I've only ever had sex with one person-”

You. That voice pipes up in the back of your head, feeble as you felt. You think back on the time you gave him your virginity. It had been a bloody affair.

The second his cock ruptured your hymen and the blood began to coat your thighs, it only made him ravage you more. You'd gone to bed crying that night, your tears soaking into your pillows. You were unable to get up and head to classes the next day. All that pain and yet you also felt so incredibly fulfilled. The pain was a godsend.

But this pain? It's angry.

He's angry and he's punishing you for it.

Silence follows your pleas.

“Are you done?” He asks and your shoulders slump as the tears begin to fall. The urge to grind down onto the vibrator coupled with the rice stabbing your knees puts you in an odd predicament. The inner workings of your body is being made a fool of and he's the root cause.

“I'm afraid you've gotten too comfortable with me-”

“Comfortable?” You scoff, whipping your head back to glare at the man watching you with calm eyes and raised eyebrows. “I could never feel comfortable around you.”

“And you've forgotten your place.” He smiles before standing to his full height, “Letting little boys over to your place-”

“We were studying-”

“I've gone soft on you as of late.” He lets his other hand drag across the length of the hard cane. “Shame on me. It's clearly deluded you into forgetting about our arrangement.”

He steps around you until he's once again standing in front of you. “You've forgotten your place as a thing.”

He grabs your face. “My thing.”

You do a very wrong thing then.

You moan.

It's soft and insecure and so dreadful but you moan

His eyes search yours. You can see the pleasure diluting them. Causing them to go as round as saucers.

He wants to lean into that sound you just made, but he's still furious with you and that sends you into a spiral.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay-”

“So you admit you're a slut?” He asks, inches the buttons of his blaze as he readies his assault. “You whore yourself out to that little boyfriend of yours.”

"Boyfriend?” It's laughable. “Me?”

“Are you condescending me?” He asks darkly and you screech in frustration.

“You know I don't talk to anyone- Why are you so angry with me!?”

“You haven't seen angry, Little girl.” His face is calm. Dangerously so. “You haven't fucking seen angry.”

A shiver wracks through your body as you look up at his cold dead eyes.

“Fine.”

Whatever it takes.

“I am a slut-” you really weren't and the words barely register as truth but you're scrambling as he steps away from you. His hands folded in front of him and he appears oh so in control as he says, “Your first word is Gorgeous.”

You breathe out as you try to refocus enough to successfully spell the word.

“G-Oh.. fuck.” Your cunt spasms around the device and your eyes roll back. You're rocking backwards and forwards, frantically searching for friction that just isn't there. He loves the show you put on for him, writhing on the floor like a puppy in heat. He barely contains his glee as he raises his hand and says, “Wrong.”

“W-What!?” you blink, trying to shake away your pleasure-filled daze, “N-no that wasn't my final-”

“G-o-r-g-e-ou-s,” he says smugly as he moves until he's behind you. Your body tenses and the world shatters when he darkly repeats, “Wrong.”

The cane cracks through the air before it ever lands on your backside. The word ‘sting’ doesn't begin to cover the utter agony that blossoms across your asscheeks. All you know for all those seconds is white hot pain. Everything is at attention, and your body vitaly tries to urge you to take care of the inflicted wound but you can't.

“Sane.” He's breathing heavily as he walks over to stand in front of you. He's getting riled up, a strand of black hair falls in front of his almond eyes. His shoulders rise and fall and rise and fall. Seeing you get caned once does unspeakable things to his resolve. “Your next word is sane.”

Too easy.

"W-Which one?" You blink through the pain, trying to will the tears away. The second you slipped into self pity, it'd be over for you. "S-Sane is a homophone.” You say thickly. The pain. The pain. The pain. “There's Sane,” you glare up at him through wet lashes, “Which you very much aren't-" that amuses him greatly. You're regrettably far too happy to hear the dark chuckle. “Then there's Seine, like the fishing variety-”

He places his hand on your head. “Clever girl. I thought you didn't have a dad.”

“I don't,” you hiccup, “I just like fish. Men aren't the only fishers in the fucking world.”

“Smart mouth.” He pulls away again until he's standing at his full posture. “You use it like that with the boy from Psyche?”

Your shoulders slump and you don't care about the desperation in your voice as you reaffirm, “I'm telling you I haven't done anything-”

“Seine as in the fishing practice. Spell it.”

“S-E-I-N-E” your eyes are squeezed shut as you take a strike from a whip that never comes. Your eyes that had once been squeezed shut, slowly flit open and you're amazed to see his grinning face right in front of you. Every wrinkle running like tributaries around his eyes. The smile lines. He's so handsome it's devastating.

“Correct.” He says. “You're allowed to cum. Congratulations.” Just those few words have your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as you begin to rock back and forth. You lean into the pleasure like a warm and fluffy blanket during aftercare. It's a godsend and it has you moaning and whining into the air.

“Let me give you a hand,” he says, before stopping to deliver that signature, “My little winner.” He brings you in close, your hands cling onto his forearm while the other reaches behind you. He delivers a kiss to your forehead as his fingers find your puffy clit.

“I'm gonna-”

“Cum for me my Clever girl. Cum for me before I change my mind,” There is nothing but him. He consumes you as you fervently hump against his hand on all fours like the animal he reduced you to. Your hips move on their own accord and in his eyes, you can see his own pleasure mounting. Its in the gravel in his voice when he clears his throat and says, “Thank me for letting you cum.” your orgasm crashes down on you and it's ferocious. It's vicious. It's guttural. The rice underneath you still serves as a reminder of your punishment and that somehow has you coming harder.

“Thank you for letting me cum Sir,”

his eyes flutter shut and his chest expands as he basks in your servitude. He breathes it in, letting it settle in his bones, making him feel as important as he needs to.

“N-No more, please,” you whisper once the orgasm passes. He doesn't switch off the vibrator and soon the pleasure bleeds into a painful discomfort. the aftershocks rattle through your body as you drift into overstimulation, “Please-Done-” you became horribly useless with your words when he had you like this, and he watches you so intently as if not only turned on by your torture but so completely intrugued by it. You intrigued him.

“Stop-” You begin but he chuckles as he moves away from you. He straightens his suit and readies the cane, “Why? You’re not even bleeding yet.” He says, “Suck it up.”

“Oh my god, I need to come again,” it rolls through you quite literally out of nowhere and you gasp as you try to keep it at bay. Cumming without having won a round was a breach in the rules of the game and you didn't wanna do that.

“Well then, I guess you better spell the next word for me.” he says with a smile.

You swallow thickly. Your previous win elicits a tiny sliver of confidence and spelling is something you excel in so you steel your nerves. You breath in deeply and stare blankly ahead.

“Honorificabilitudinitatibus.”

You immediately look up at him.

“Latin words arent-” another aftershock rams through you. You're so close to cumming completely hands-free. “L-Latin words aren't allowed.”

Nothing but a dark chuckle escaped him at your expense. “I had no idea you were making the rules.” He says sarcastically. “Had no idea the cane's in your hand.” That draws your gaze to the cane, leaning in his palm.

Point made.

He could throw in whatever wild-card word he wanted because he held the cane.

“H-o-n-o-r-” you make the mistake of looking up at him then. He's gazing down at you with his head tilted slightly to the right. His cane behind his back as he leans down slightly.

“No cumming,” he tsks, shaking his head. “Disqualified.”

“B-But I didn't-” even as you say those words, you feel it. The lightning zipping through you like a phantom. A ditzy sort of smile flashes across your face as you succumb to the pleasure being forced out of you. “F-Fuck-” its so painful and so fucking good you're seeing stars. He runs a hand through his messy hair and the cane comes down on your backside. This time it draws blood.

“I'm a rusty old man, glad to see I've still got a firm grip,”

“P-Please-” You're still caught in the world of unicorns and rainbows. Your orgasm is center stage, in spite of all the pain. You didn't even know your body could cum for this long. You didn't think it was possible but here you are, riding wave after wave of pleasure induced by a vibrator in your cunt while he canes you almost mindlessly.

He transcended every realm of physical possibilities.

He's breathing heavily now as the cane falls to the floor. The end is bloody. You stare down at the floor while he moves behind you.

“Don't forget, this is a transaction,” Behind you he kneels behind you, his fingers graze your backside, “This is about you avoiding student debt for the rest of your miserable life. A life you'll probably spend married to some depressed drunk who beats you and doesn't even let you cum.” A hand pulls you back by your hair until you're seated on your haunches. Skin had broken.

Your blood drips down your backside like a marble statue in the rain. There were marks. Scars.

“You're indebted to me.” He says behind you. “Say it.”

“I'm indebted to you.”

“Thank me for hitting you, Doll.” His hands drift over your body. The softest touch after these moments of brutality.

Th-" You struggle to catch your breath as he digs his fingers in your cunt, finally freeing you of the vibrator that rattles to the floor, “Thank you… for hitting me.”

He hums into your hair, smelling you, feeling you. “You're welcome, my little winner,”

You hear the sound of his zipper, and frantic movements behind you. You're utterly spent. You'd let him do anything he wanted. Anything at all.

“You look so pretty, Baby. Look at you,” his fingers swipes down the arch of your back. He brings his hand around to show you the crimson dropping from his index. Almost automatically as if the two of you were in communication far beyond that of human understanding, he brings your finger forward the same time you dip your head lower and roll your tongue out. Until the taste of your own blood drawn from all his sadistic torture is wiped along your tongue.

He groans. “I wanna jerk off with your blood.” He admits, “Fuck-”

You gasp, beginning to rock on haunches as if you could still feel that vibrator inside you, “Please- don't say stuff like that-”

This was bad enough.

You were bad enough.

He's already corrupted you to a point where you didn't even recognize yourself.

Where is the quiet, shy girl you had been? She's drowning under all the blood he'd spilled to make himself cum. She's buried under all the pain, all the turmoil and all the damn torture.

You don't miss her

"Pl-lease fuck me, I need it." Your voice is hoarse and you realize you're making demands but still you peer at him over your shoulders. Your tired eyes plead with him.

“I never ever ask you for anything. I've let you control everything.”

While you speak, your voice deep and hoarse, his hand is already moving over his erection. He bends you forward, until you're in doggy style again. Fabric rustles. Your limbs are trembling.

“For once, just grant me th-” the words are barely out your mouth before he's shoving his cock all the way inside you.

“O-Oh God!” Your eyes squeeze shut as he fucks you on the floor like a rabid animal. You try to crane your head back, to watch him ravage you.

His hair is a mess, his tie completely undone. He's everything he tries to hide from the rest of the world. Nothing but an untamed beast.

“Your cunt is so fucking tight-” he says, resting his hands on bloody ass. He guides your movements, pulling you roughly down on his cock until you're screaming into the open air. You're both like animals. You've both regressed to the very basis of your instincts.

“I need to see your blood on my cock,” He's already pulling out of you. The sound reverberates with finality all around the apartment and you cry. It's all you're able to do as you crane your head back to watch him stroke his cock with a bloodied fist.

“Are you ready to cum for me again, baby?”

Your lips are quivering as you rock backwards urging his cock in, “L-Like you won't believe,”

“Then cum for me, Princess.” He says, sliding his cock back inside your overstimulated cunt. Your orgasm is instant and swift and it rocks through you, tightening your cunt around his cock like a vice. His movements grow more frantic as he fucks you through it, keeping a firm grip on your ass.

Your mouth falls open when you realize he's fucking his own cum and your blood back into you and its all too much. He throws his head back when he cums, letting his hips stutter against your ass and the world spins.

“You're s-such a fucking slut,” he laughs manically. You've quite literally given yourself to a sadistic monster and the post nut clarity is vicious.

“I want to take you out,” he says, way softer than he had been a minute ago.

Your body tenses. “Out? Where-”

“Dinner.” He says. “You deserve it… my little winner.”

If you knew anything about anything, you knew it wouldn't just be any ordinary dinner.

But who were you to refuse?

© to @muntitled on tumblr; do not repost

[strawberrymatchawhore]

p power

rafe cameron

“take it from him and i leave him with nothing”

summary- john b cheats on you with sarah cameron you get revenge by getting with her brother

warning- DUBCON, sex under the influence, raw sex (wrap it folks), drinking, smoking, partying, fighting, sex tape (reader knows hes recording but doesnt know he sent it to her ex), semi public beach house sex, meanish pussy drunk rafe lol

you took a hit of your pen, gently coughing from the amount you just inhaled. you were currently in your boyfriends room, confronting him. you had caught john b cheating on you with sarah cameron, kook princess and someone you thought was your friend.

“can you not do that in my room? take this seriously.” john b said swiping his hands in the air to get rid of the cloud puffs floating. you scoffed, the audacity.

“i dont give a fuck about what youre asking for me to do right now john b, you cannot be for real about me taking this seriously.”

“i dont know what to tell you, she was going through something. she needed me.” john b gave his bullshit excuse which made you even more angry.

“what about me, did you even think about me for one bit before you decided to fuck her ?” you screamed at him, getting up from the couch ready to leave the room. as you have your hand on handle, john b grabs it. his large hand covers yours.

“i love you.. please” he pleads, eyes getting wetter.

“dont touch me with that dirty ass hand john b, i shouldve known. no matter how much i showed my love for you, no matter how much i cared. you will always choose her.” you gritted through your teeth.

“i-”

“no, its okay. im done with this shit.” your voice cracks and you slam the door in front of john b's face, driving away with tears blurring your vision.

AT THE PARTY

you strut your way into the party, the annual bonfire that happens the same week every year. you grab a pink solo cup and fill it to the brim with jungle juice. you had already pregamed before and begged your friend to drive you here, laughing at yourself when you caught yourself tripping over the pile of beer cans on the floor. obvious that you were feeling the effects of the weed and alcohol combining.

you were tired, physically and mentally, you couldnt deal with anyones bullshit anymore. especially after what happened earlier in the day, you just needed a break.

“what are you doing here ?” you heard a voice question from behind, you turned and saw rafe cameron looking at you up and down.

“oh hey rafey, nothing honestly just trying to forget shit you know ?” you down the rest of your drink and turn again to retrieve another cup. before you can take a sip out of it, it gets knocked down by rafe. who angrily walks over to john b and sarah cameron who were conversing with each other in the corner.

oh shit

“the fuck are you doing bro? chill.” john b says and backs up. sarah tries to intervene by calling his name and you just stand there interested in what was about to happen.

“you feel good about yourself ??” rafe pushes john b, getting ready to instigate a fight. you fight the urge to run up and defend your man. but you stayed still.

this is what he deserves

sarah cameron stops her brother in his tracks and tries to stop him, he ignores her.

oh yeah try to get him to stop, cheater.

“looks like you got my sloppy seconds... good luck with that. shes a real handful” john b insensitively says, rafe continues his way toward him. and within a second throws a hard punch to his face. john b falls to the ground and rafe looks over him.

“you like that shit johnny ? huh ?” he moves and hovers over john b's body, and continues to beat him unconscious. kiaras dad finally pulls them apart, and you walk over to rafe checking to see if he was okay. sarah starts to angrily push rafe, but he doesnt budge.

“sarah you better stop that shit before you end up on the ground just like john b.” you glared at her angrily and pushed her away before gently grabbing rafes arm and walking away with him.

……..

“jeez rafe you really fucked him up…” you said while wiping the blood off his knuckles with disinfectant. he winces when you finishes it off with ointment.

“yeah i dont know what i was thinking, i just.. its just that he pisses me off so much an-” rafe drunkingly rambled, you hesitated. but then losing to your own thoughts you grab his face and kiss him. you quickly pull away fluttering your lashes, mouth slightly open. taking short deep breaths in and out, nothing but the sound of waves crashing could be heard.

“fuck im sorry.” your voice cracked, tears forming in your eyes. you even shocked yourself with that action, moving your hand from your face you fidget with your bikini top. rafe then gently grabs your face and makes eye contact, kissing back but with more passion. everything in the room starts to blur and your focus is only on him. he pulls away and begins to hover over you. cornering you further into the plush couch.

“nah don’t apologize.. just kiss me back” rafe whispers into your ear making his way down to your neck, giving it light kisses and sucks. his hands wander around your body, you begin to grow desperate and grind yourself onto his thigh, hands rubbing his back. you grabbed his hair to pull him closer to you, he groans in response.

"you dont understand how badly i want you.." he kisses you deeper.

"..how badly i wanted to do this." he backs up and takes off his shirt, his abs and buff body glistening from the ocean water combined with the low light of the moon. he lowers himself and his hands reach for your bottoms, untying them then tossing them onto the floor.

your breathing hitches when you feel his cool breath on your pussy, rafes arms grab at your thighs and spread your legs open.

"oh fuckkk" you lightly moaned when you felt his tongue on your clit making slow but rough licks. rafe laughs and moans into you, sending vibrations throughout your whole body. he looks up at your and makes eye contact with your glossy glazed over eyes.

"you taste so fucking good." he continues to lap at your juices, you looked at the blonde. dazed and memorized by how pretty he was. forgetting all your worries and troubles because of how good he worked his mouth. it was over for you when you felt his fingers prod at your entrance.

the combination of his long thick fingers sliding in and out of your wet pussy and his mouth on your clit drove you over the edge.

"fuck, you gonna cum f'me? please cum baby." he slurps and fingers you faster, your chest heaves up and down before you cum all over his face and make a mess. but rafe doesnt stop there, he removes his fingers and uses both his arms to hold your legs open. continuing to eat you out.

"oh my go- fu- please.. too much! rafe please sto-" you mewl trying to close your legs to no avail.

"uh uh stay still f'me" rafe tuts, eventually he stops and gets up, his mouth and chin dripping with your juices. he grabs your jaw and kisses you before taking off his shorts, the classic calvin klein banding accentuates his v line and you could see his bulge.

you sit up and your fingers hook at the band and pull his boxers down, immediately his cock springs up and hits his stomach. your eyes widened.

"its not gonna fit." you say, his tip is leaking with precum and you fight the urge to swallow him whole right then and there.

"dont worry it will." his hand pushes you back down and he uses his knees to spread your legs. rafe starts to rub himself up and down your pussy, circuling his tip around your clit. and you let out a satisfied hum. he was fighting the urge to just shove himself completely inside you and fuck you deep into the couch. rafe eyes your phone, and leans over to grab it.

he hovers the phone over your face and unlocks it, opening your messages app. he clicks on john bs contact and sees that he left 30+ texts, laughing at the idiot rafe then clicks on the camera feature.

“rafe w-what are you doing?" you asked, closing your legs shyly. your eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"dont worry, just trust me." rafe responds, leaning down to kiss you sloppily before he pressed record on the camera. using his free hand to push your thighs apart he moves the camera closer to your bodies, your lower body and his are in view. rafe then uses his fingers to spread your lips, showing the camera your slick. he slides two fingers inside you and gives it a few pumps before he removed them.

"open up f'me." he gently taps your cheek and slides the two fingers into your now open mouth. his long fingers caressing your tongue, automatically you start to suck his fingers. cleaning them.

"thats it... good job baby." he admires the way your plump swollen lips wrapped around his fingers, at this point his cock was aching in need to pump you full of his cum. he must have you.

"please rafe.. need you." you whined and looked up at him, watery eyed and pupils blown. you desperately moved your hips, and thank god he started to rub your aching pussy with his cock again. the both of you were hungry and needy. gentle whines filled the room, and rafe eventually slid himself in.

"oh fuck." rafe dragged out, slowly pushing deeper and deeper inside you.

"youre so tight, holy shit. mmmmm." bottoming out he stayed there for a moment to let you adjust. he was so long and thick, you felt every vein on it in your walls. you seriously had nothing to say, no words could have been let out to describe what you were feeling right now. pure ecstasy.

the both of you continued to say nothing as rafe sped up, drilling harder and faster into your wet pussy. his balls slapping against you ass, nothing could be heard besides moaning and the sound of his rough thrusts. you could barely see anything aside from rafes figure but you were sure that his back and biceps were now covered in scratch marks from you. the bright flash of the camera blinding you, you've never been filmed like this before. and the thought of you being slut out on camera made you even more wet.

"such a good fucking slut for me, youre takin' me so well." his free hand gripping tight on the fat of your hips to guide himself against your sweet spot.

"oh FUCK!" you let out a combination of a moan and scream when he continued to hit that spot, the knot in your stomach growing tighter.

"does your ex fuck you like this?" he slows down his pace, but you were too fucked up to respond.

"huh?" he asked and slid out just to snap hips back into you bringing you back to reality.

"no! oh fu- youre so much bigger.." you moaned, your pussy leaving a white ring at the base of rafes cock.

"yes yes yes. ah!" you whined when he sped up, which you didnt think was possible. rafe was pounding you so hard you were seeing stars. your hand went to cover your mouth but rafe slapped it away, and put it on your lower stomach.

"dont do that i wanna hear you moan f'me."

"you feel that?" rafe asked, you could see his cock bulging from your stomach.

"god- squeezing me so fucking tight..." rafe grunted, and lowered his hand to rub circles on your clit. your mouth slack and open, boobs bouncing up and down from rafes thrusts.

rafe wasnt even sure if he was getting all of this on frame, he was jackhammering into you like he hated you. he relished in the way your cunt clenched around him like you were made for him. and he was sure you were. all perfect, pretty and stupid for him.

"rafe i feel like im gonna pee, stop!" you screamed out and gripped his bicep. your stomach burned in pleasure and you felt like it was going to explode.

"pl-please oh my god, oh... my"

"thats it baby, squirt all over my fucking cock. youre so pretty like this." your eyes started water even more, he was fucking you so good you stared crying. overwhelmed with all sorts of emotions and feelings.

"so cute when you cry for me, if you keep doing that im gonna cum inside you." embarrassed you turn your head away and shake your head, the squelching and sight of your cunt was so sloppy and messy. rafe gripped your jaw and forced you to look at the camera.

"open your eyes sweetheart, keep looking at me." his fingers made their way down to your throat and squeezed.

"fuck." he whimpered, rafe has never done that before. the both of you were shocked but youve never been turned on this much.

"mmm keep doing that, you sound so fucking hot rafe." you urged him.

"im gonna cum, can i cum inside you? please baby" he begged, his thrusts becoming less controlled.

"yes, fuck. i need you to fill me right now. i wanna see your cum dripping out of me, breed me." the both of you were whiney, your cheeks were wet and your legs were shaking and sore.

"shit, you are so perfect.. this pussys so p-perfect." rafes body was tired, rutting into you like you were nothing but a fleshlight. his tip twitching inside you before he came deep into your cervix, making sure to push every ounce of his seed inside you before pulling out. and filming your dripping cunt before he ended the video.

rafe didnt have evil intentions but he wanted to let john b know what he lost, who would want to miss out on a girl like you?

*attached video*

"shes busy rn bro"

5 hours later you were laying next to a knocked out rafe, finally sobering up you went to check your phone. the most recent message being from none other than your ex.

why is he spam texting me?

"what the fuck? youre such a bitch" the text read, confused and curious you decided to scroll up. only to get surprised by a video of you and rafe from earlier. you dropped the phone in shock and turned to see rafe who woke up from the sudden sound. you picked your phone back up and shoved the phone into rafes face.

“what the fuck is this rafe?!"

[thatdeadaquarius]

About your language brainrot. I see your "Reader's writing can't match tyvat's long and flowery writing" and bring you "Tyvat isn't used to books over 50 pages long so a short story to the Reader is a whole dictionary to tyvat readers".

Seriously, have you seen how thin the books are? They don't wrote novels, they write short chapters formatted in the way really old stories are. As in, summarizing all the events down into one smooth story then adding a few quotes. Fanfiction writers are insane. They will willingly sit down and write hundreds of words at a time. To them, a proper modern day story of maybe, oh 10k words or so, would probably be like the Oddessy itself.

If we were to combine the two headcanons. It would end up as many historians being intimidated by this insanely long written scripture in the language of the forgotten.

I'm going to take this a step further and say that if the creator asked some people to proofread their things, it would establish a hiarchy of who is able to actually finish the book the creator read and who isn't.

NOW THIS, THIS IS MY FUCKING JAMMMM

I'm so sorry this is so old!! u probably all know this by this point that I've really slowed down as the year has gone on, but I graduated university and then got my first job so its been pretty crazy!

Sun: Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish

Stars: dash of all the book/nerds of Genshin, heavy on Sumeru?

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: Cussing, 16+ Mature Audiences, Spoliers for Sumeru Archon Quests/Scaramouche, & Trigger Warnings: mention of shipping/characters shipping themselves with you.

Comment if any missed, please.

☆

FULL STOP.

THE AKADEMIYA, FONTAINE RESEARCH INSTITUTE, HAVE BEEN WAITTTINNGGGG ON YOUR ASS LMAO

You fall from the fucking sky like a 5 star, or pop out of the Irminsul or whatever

and immediately are mobbed by scholars. LMAO jkjk (not really, bc that's what it’d feel like)

can you even imagine the dread older stories(”the classics” to them), that was instilled in the poor students around Teyvat??

id like to think ur works are the most preserved over the thousands of years of Teyvat archeologists excavating them, in comparison to other authors (teyvat just likes you more, suck it William Shakespeare)

also, bc I cant resist language differences/world building I'm sorryyyy 😭 😭

the vocab of Genshin lang vs. ours, has significantly less vocabulary like their actual dictionary is 1/3 the size of ours type of energy

(Omfg all ur fanfics being considered like insanely long realistic romantic classics or tragedies like Jane Austen-level, and only the richest and biggest play companies put on plays about ur stories bc the script goes on for hours)

(ur plays only get put on for rlly big events bc of this, like Lantern Rite or like a Summer/Winter festival/your birthday, which is, yes, an international holiday)

dude the sheer power move of anything you’ve written being essentially “Journey of the West” to them, like Damnnn.

endless like adaptations, plays, Teyvat-short stories condensing it, (THEIR OWN FANFICTION ABOUT UR STORIES)

the power is, in fact, going to your head every time another scholar both deflates at how long ur stuff is, but also lights up bc they get to read it

speaking of scholars… you know who snatched you up first. you know. you don’t even need to read the next line.

Alhaitham.

sneaky bastard he is, absolutely manipulated, mansplained (and manwhored bc he knows he’s handsome, cheeky little shit) his way into getting you to sit down with him and interview you about both translating other classics, your own, giving your own analysis of others works and ur own, and picking ur brain apart of how/why you wrote urs, etc. its fucking endless,

Kaveh had to come rescue you bc u were starving to death after getting stuck with the Haravatat scholar in his office for nearly 7 hours of interrogation discussion about literature

and Alhaitham wasn't even nearly done, he’d informed you as you left that he already had another appointment for later conversation scheduled (how?? you don't even know ur own schedule??? you have a schedule???) and was looking forward to more of your “creative and enlightening input” :)))

(you’re never going to escape him, not even Nahida herself can save you from his stubborn ass)

On another note, Xingqiu is quaking when you agree to autograph his copy of your stories (of which he has all hard covers of the first edition translations)

Zhongli/Rex Lapis is known for having a near-lifelong passion for searching for your works specifically, and learning how to translate them better into Teyvatian vernacular

like the same way he can absolutely speak on Rex Lapis facts/rocks/adepti info, is the same confidence he speaks about knowing ur work lol

(yes he did also ask for several autographs and another sit-down talk about the works, tho a lot more sneaky then Alhaitham bc he just casually gets u guys into it during dinner)

Barbatos/Venti has written some of the most famous songs based on your stuff, he has his favorites too,

but he always claims the best songs are any that have been written in the story, like either when a character sings something, or there are like quotes from songs ur fanfics are based on lol

(he also demanded to hear what they actually sound like from you, yes, you have to sing them for him lol)

Venti also can surprisingly drunkenly ramble the entirety of at least one of ur stories, like, word for word lmao

(Diluc gave in and did give him a drink on the house for that one, just once, Venti doesn’t remember it lol)

(I forgot to mention, u guys still speak the same language, just like, different versions of it)

ur works being one of the few things all the Archons can freely talk about with each other, like it’s neutral ground bc they’re all fangirling about it lmao

Furina and Neuvillette have had like,, fierce debates over the decades about character dynamics and the general drama of ur stories, they’ve gotten into it enough they’ve stopped talking to each other for a couple days a few times lol

Albedo, Sucrose, Kokomi, Yae Miko, Ei, Raiden, have read every single work they’re gotten their hands on in Teyvat (it took them like a literal year or longer)

Albedo drew you fanart for every single story, bc he’s hyperfixated on everything related to you ngl,

Kokomi had commissioned smaller pocket versions of ur works (which later got popular thanks to Yae Miko) both the OG and the Teyvat shortened versions

THE HARBINGERS ARE THE MOST DOWN BAD LMAO

Childe has literally tried to recreate battle scenes from ur works lmao

and gets especially riled up about fighting someone who resembles any characters from them (esp villains, what a cutie)

You cannot fathom the amount of research throughout Teyvat that has been secretly or indirectly funded by Pantalone/Tsaritsa

from the experts to analyze them, to funding play companies to act them out, to actually excavating places to get more of ur stuff unearthed

(the Harbingers absolutely are the first group of people that got to read several of ur stories first bc of this, like the world’s most exclusive secret book club lol)

Scaramouche used to clown on Childe all the time about how he was too impatient to even “sit down and read the King’s classics”, and he was downright insufferable when he found out about Tartaglia’s habit of recreating battle scenes/that being what motivated him to fight sometimes lol

that being said, Wanderer surprisingly never forgot ur stories.

Even when his memories were wiped for a bit, he found comfort in these fantastical epics still sticking around, even when his old names did not

(he mayyyy or mayyy nottt have secretly namedhimselfafteroneofthetragicprotagonistsherelatesto- )

oh btw, Nahida also found joy and comfort in ur stories when she was trapped, they also helped her literally grow as a person bc she had ur stories to help her sort of process the world/what life was like outside of her dreaming prison 🥺💔❤️‍🩹

◇

OMFG

ANYWAY FULL TONE SHIFT LMFAO-

the ABSOLUTE SPIRAL-RED-STRING-CONSPIRACY-THEORY-BOARD ENERGY IF THIS WAS A BLUNT LANGUAGE AU LMAOOOO

like specifically how Teyvatians like to give all the context ever thru their words, but older deities/beings like you just do simple phrases that can have deeper meanings (whereas teyvat just explains all the meanings behind their words)

STOP there’s like an official display at the Akademiya and Fontaine Institute of red string theory boards 😭😭 (look what you’ve done to themmm LMAO)

for like every story of urs, INCLUDING THE FANFICS STOP

IMAGINE THE SHIPPING WARS IF U EVER WROTE ONE THAT WASNT EXPLICIT OR LIKE ONE OF THE MAIN ROMANTIC INTERESTS HAD CHEMISTRY WITH OTHER CHARACTERS HAHAHAHAA

that's actually what Akademiya scholars argue about the most viciously, it’s like politics you can’t just bring up ships from ur stories casually in regular convos 💀

(poor Cyno has to deal with a shipping war once a year bc someone always makes the mistake of reading ur work for the first time (without being told to not talk to others abt ships lol) and it starts an all out brawl in the cafeteria every time LMAO)

Also yes.

Cyno is a fanboy.

(he has read Creator x Reader-insert fanfiction.)

(As have most of the characters mentioned, and those not lol)

…

(I'm gonna make a whole Creator x reader fanfic post one day i stg lmao)

☆

an iced coffee? for me?? :0

ok but real talk…

wtf do you guys wanna see for new years!!

i didn't do a inktober/october days thingy bc i felt too unprepared (and bc id wanted to post that 1000+ followers eldritch au for Halloween)

but now i kinda wanna, at least for a few days :o

ill post a poll in a minute, so check it out!! but still, please feel free to comment some ideas here! :)

Safe Travels Deafening Dreamer,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily

[loveyouprongs]

overnight rush

authors note: using the "Oh, look at the stars! Ursa Major… so beautiful!" "We're inside. Those are just ceiling lights." prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting

upcoming content: fluff!! alcohol mention, james is drunk. food mention.

word count: 1.2k

masterlist

James is practically a furnace draped over you, all heavy limbs and warm breath against your neck. His arm is slung across your shoulders, the other flopping uselessly at his side as he stumbles through the hallway with you bearing most of his weight. Every step is an exercise in patience and balance.

"You're really strong, y'know that?" James slurs, giggling into your hair. "Like... like a dragon. No, wait. A... a really buff flower. My strong flower.”

"I wouldn’t have to be if you could walk straight," you huff, fumbling with your keys as he leans more heavily into you. "James, for Merlin’s sake — can you stand up for two seconds?"

"Standing is overrated," he declares dramatically. "Besides, this is nice. I like this." He tightens his arm around you, swaying on his feet. "You’re warm. An' soft. Like... like a pillow." He tucks his face further into your neck, standing at an angle that can hardly be comfortable given the many inches of height he has on you. Yet, he practically purrs with content as one of his hands snakes up underneath your top, fingers skating across your waist making you giggle.

"James," you try to sound firm, but the way he presses a sloppy kiss to your neck makes it come out more like a laugh. "Stop distracting me. I’m trying to get the door open."

"M'not distracting you," he says, grinning against your skin. "I’m being supportive. 'S different."

You manage to wrestle the door open and practically drag him inside, kicking it shut behind you. James stumbles over his feet and flops onto the couch, arms spread wide, looking up at the ceiling with wide eyes. He jolts up as quickly as he fell down.

"Oh look! The stars!" he gasps, pointing dramatically upward. "Ursa Major... so beautiful." James stumbled in a dazed formation, totally in awe of the “night sky” that shined above him.

You blink at him. "James, those are the ceiling lights."

He frowns, squinting. "Whaaaat? No, they’re stars. Look!" He lifts his hand, tracing invisible constellations in the air. "See? The Big Dipper’s right there, silly girl!”

You bite back a laugh. "We put those up, remember? The little glow-in-the-dark stickers you insisted we buy last month? You said every flat needed its own night sky."

James gasps, staring at you like you’ve just shared the secret of life itself. "That was us? No way. We’re brilliant,” he let out with a bewildered whisper, now sitting cross legged on the rug, his stare darting between you and the stars. He couldn’t decide which view amazed him more.

"Mmhmm." You crouch beside him, brushing a curl from his forehead. "Our apartment, remember? We can do whatever we want with it."

His face softens, and his eyes go all melty and fond. "Our apartment," he repeats dreamily, reaching out to poke your nose. "That’s so cool. You and me. Living together."

"Yes, love. That’s what happens when people move in together."

James hums contentedly, flopping onto his side and curling into the cushions. "Best decision I ever made. Apart from falling in love with you."

You roll your eyes, cheeks heating. "Alright, Casanova. Let’s get you ready for bed."

He grumbles when you tug him up, but relents when you pull him toward the kitchen, his feet dragging along the floor. He sags against you, arms wrapped around your waist, and you practically have to pour him into his chair.

"Okay," you say, carefully handing him a large glass of water. "Stay."

James salutes you with two fingers, swaying slightly. "Aye, aye."

You stifle a giggle. "I’m going to the bathroom. Will you be okay?"

"Yes, of course," James says, puffing up his chest in mock seriousness.

You raise a brow. "Really?"

"Yes!" he insists, nodding so enthusiastically that he nearly topples off his seat. "Totally fine."

You hesitate for a moment before slipping into the bathroom. The mirror is streaked in places, toothpaste flecks near the sink, and you make a mental note to clean it tomorrow. You catch your reflection, eyes lingering on the tired but content expression staring back at you. The apartment is small, your job doesn’t pay you enough, and sometimes the ceiling leaks when it rains too hard. But it’s yours. Yours and James’. And somehow, even when things are tight, you make it work. The place feels full — with laughter, with love, with him.

A loud clang makes you jump.

You rush out of the bathroom, heart racing, and find James sitting cross-legged on the kitchen floor, staring forlornly at what used to be a slice of cake. It’s now a sad mess of crumbs and frosting.

"James, what happened?"

He looks up at you, eyes wide and guilt-ridden. "It fell."

You press your lips together, trying not to laugh. "I can see that."

"I was trying to mold it back into cake shape," he explains, pushing the crumbled mess together with his fingers. "But it’s not working."

You kneel beside him, brushing his hair back from his forehead. "It’s okay. We’ll fix it tomorrow."

James pouts. "But I wanted cake."

"I know, love." You help him to his feet, dusting crumbs off his shirt. "Come on, let’s get you cleaned up."

He lets you lead him back to the bathroom, collapsing onto the closed toilet lid. "Okay," you say, guiding him onto the closed toilet lid. "Now don’t move, and I mean it this time."

James nods and bounces on the toilet seat like a child would. God, even drunk off his ass, he’s still the most endearing person you’ll ever know.

You grab his toothbrush and squeeze a dollop of minty toothpaste onto the bristles before holding it out to him. James stares at it blankly.

"You have to put it in your mouth, James."

"Oh. Right."

He takes the toothbrush and promptly misses his mouth, nearly poking himself in the cheek. You sigh, gently taking it from him.

"Alright. Open up."

He blinks at you. "You’re gonna brush my teeth for me?"

"Unless you want toothpaste all over the walls?"

He grins. "I love you."

You snort. "Yeah, yeah. Open."

James obediently parts his lips, and you carefully brush his teeth, trying not to laugh when he makes exaggerated "ahhh" sounds like a child at the dentist. His eyes stay fixed on you the entire time, half-lidded and soft.

When you’re done, he swishes some water around his mouth and nearly misses the sink spitting it out. You wipe his chin with a towel, shaking your head fondly.

"There. Minty fresh."

James beams at you, pulling you into his arms and pressing his face into your neck. "You’re the best. My best girl. My only girl."

"Yes, yes, I know. Let’s get you to bed before you pass out in the sink."

He lets you lead him to the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed like a starfish the moment his back hits the mattress. You pull off his shoes, tossing them into the corner, and tug the blankets over him. Just as you’re about to turn off the light, his hand catches yours.

"Stay."

You slip under the covers, and James immediately pulls you into his arms, his face nuzzling into your neck.

"I love our apartment," he mumbles sleepily. "I love you."

You press a kiss to his curls, smiling into the dark. "Love you too, James."

He’s asleep before you can say anything else, snoring softly into your pillow. And as the glow-in-the-dark stars shimmer faintly above you, and the faint smell of alcohol mixed with mint fanned your face, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you’re the luckiest person in the world.

[honeybelljar]

Wicked Hands

Wicked Hands Upon Me (oneshot)

// You live at the edge of town, withdrawn from the claws of society and pressures of others, no husband, no family, you spend your days barefoot in your small garden, yet you feel eyes upon you…//

wc: 4304 :: remmick x f!reader :: MDNI :: not beta read so sorry for mistakes!:: (also I love this movie so much! seriously best thing I have ever seen, the barn dance scene has had me tearing up!)

Moist dirt pushed through the gaps of your toes, the hem of your thin nightgown stained dark. The plants needed watering before the crest of the Mississippi sun came blazing over the tree line. Much to your dismay, a lazy grumble sat in the back of your throat as you stretched. Water spews out of the metal watering can. You could practically hear your plants cheering. With how damn hot it has been, you were shocked they weren’t shriveled and dried to nothingness.

Crows cawed amongst the morning mist, the subtle hum of cicadas preparing their day-long screaming. It was comforting in a way of familiarity. It was the same every morning: watering, checking the chickens, and finally breakfast. A simple routine that brought you a small amount of peace. Living out here on your own tended to become bitter, some even going out of their minds. Most were unable to handle the heavy full silence of just nothing.

The chicken pen closed with a slam, and you dusted a few stray feathers from your dress. The weight of a dead bird felt like a ton in your hand. Death was always uncomfortable, even with animals. Squeezing your eyes shut, you reeled your arm back and tossed the limp body past your property. Nature would take its primal course. Crusted blood flaked on your hands, you would need to fix that wire fence, especially since the chickens could now potentially get stuck.

Death aside, breakfast was creeping into your disturbed mind. Dead chicken aside, your hens had laid a few more eggs. With the eggs safely cradled in a muddied night gown, you headed into the creaking house.

Days blended into one another, but nights were unique. The air changed once the sun set; it was heavier, more charged. As if something was alive within the woods around. Your crooked wooden house sat like a beacon in the void. Protection was a serious matter; you were a young, unmarried woman. It would be stupid to not know the risks. Two heavy shotguns sat mounted on the wall, just beside the front door. Just the weapons being there felt as if they were guarding you. It eased the paranoia just a bit, where on summer nights you get comfortable enough to open the screen door and listen to your gramophone.

You’d cook up some dinner while music softly drifted through the house. You only owned a few records because of how expensive they were, but they never failed to make you smile. Humming, you spun around with your apron. Your bare feet thumping against the wood floors. You were so lost in the rhythm, you almost didn’t hear the soft knock against the door frame. Frowning, you froze. Your head snapped towards the screen door. The only thing that separated you and the desolate void outside. Porch lights weren’t a necessity typically, but now you could see the appeal.

Taking a cautious step towards the door, your eyes slid to the shotgun. It was too dark to see any figure, which was most definitely a knock. However, this house was old and practically falling apart. Your shoulders dropped a bit, maybe that was it.

Knock Knock.

Your stomach dropped. Someone all the way out here? You were over ten miles from town. Who could possibly be out here? Fists clenched, you took another step towards the door and the shotgun. The tension tightened in your spine as you neared the screen door. Through the metal, you could see what appeared to be a man. His clothes worn and dirtied, suspenders slipping from his broad shoulders. His features were shaded in shadow. He stood just on the first stair of the porch, just a the tip of the darkness that surrounded him. If he took one step back, he would probably disappear from your sight.

“Can I help you…?” You called out, hand now tightly gripping the cool metal of the gun by your side.

A heavy beat passes before he speaks up.

“Aw I’m awfully sorry for botherin’ you ma’m-“

“State your business or get on.” You spit out, venom leaking out of every word. The bone of your teeth squeaked under the pressure you clamped down. Every fiber in your being alight and tense, ready to be on guard.

The middle of the night was no time for pleasantries; a strange man in the odd hours meant trouble. His smile never dropped, as if your rudeness didn’t faze him in the slightest. His hands raised in apology. Expression twisted up in a strange combination of pain and poignancy.

“Apologies ma’am, I was just wonderin’ if you could give a traveler some food, is all…” His accent was thick, yet there was a hint of something foreign. Your brow ticked, the gun still grasped in your hand. His voice was ragged as most were down here, but there was a hint of curve on certain words. Unfamiliar.

“Where you from?” You jut out, eyes now sliding down his person. You just noticed the strung-up banjo resting on his back. A man of music never had good intentions; you could practically hear your daddy yapping.

“Hah-“ He huffed a laugh, the noise tinged with disbelief, shocked you'd even ask such a thing, “Somewhere far away, darlin’”

His answer only made your brow furrow deeper, yet he made no move to come closer. Even in the darkness, you could spot the subtle movements of anxiety within him, the gripping of his trousers, the cracking of his fingers. He was antsy. Fear bloomed in your stomach. This man was off.

“I ain’t got no food for you, you best be off, there’s a town just a few miles up the road.” You internally prayed he would take your decline and go; you had no desire to shoot him down where he stood. Violence wasn't a vice of yours, but this damn world forced everyone's hand at least once. Maybe tonight was the night you'd take your first life.

The man shifted on his feet, the silence between you heavy again. Almost as if it were awaiting what direction this would go. You awaited his next move with bated breath. Please, please, please, you internally chanted.

“You alone?”

Fuck. Your stomach dropped through the floor. Lie.

“No, my husband is just resting.” The fib slipped seamlessly through your bared teeth.

“Lies.” He rasped, taking a slow, calculated step closer onto the porch. His features now washed in the soft glow from within your home. He was handsome, but his eyes reflected. Too much so. Almost like a gator, a predator. The curve of his lips felt like a threat.

“N-no, honest, he is quite possessive, so you'd best be leaving…” Blood rushed through your ears, your chest practically clenching with the thunderous beats of your heart. Not even realizing you had subconsciously taken a step backward.

“Is he?” His voice was thick with something unspoken. He inhaled, throwing his head back. You could see the darkened veins protruding past his pale skin. A soft, unsteady sway to his body. Uncanny in a way that almost felt as if it was mimicking someone's movements.

“Y-yes, he-“ He interrupted your lie by taking another step forward. Shortening the distance between the two of you. The man was now no more than a foot away.

“L-listen darlin’- I’m starvin’ just let me on in, it can be our little secret.” He breathed, so honeyed and broken you felt your heart stutter. Why couldn't you breathe properly suddenly? Your throat felt tight and dry as the dirt below. His eyes tracked your movements, how your chest rose with heightened breath, the small part between your lips, and the clenching of that damn gun in your calloused hand.

"Oh, he doesn't have to know now, does he?" The tease is nothing more than a breath, hushed between the two of you.

“I’m-“ You faltered. What could you say? You shook your head, words failing you. The closer he got, the more you could there was something deeply wrong about this man. His pupils were larger, his skin decorated in a sheen of sweat, his lips cracked and bloodied. He shook like a leaf, as if he were ill. You didn’t notice before, but his knees kept buckling ever so slightly.

How did you not notice that before? So overcome by fear, you had failed to even assess the man properly. Now that you peered at him, the tremors in his hand were hard to miss. He did come here to ask for food; perhaps he was truly starving. He looked as much, at least.

“Are you sick?” You whispered. The wandering of your gaze was not unnoticed by the stranger. Illnesses weren’t uncommon, but many didn’t have access to a doctor, so they’d just die. It was important to avoid sickness when you were poor, which led you to grow a multitude of herbs in your garden. Maybe this traveller didn't have that privilege.

“It’s not the contagious type.” He breathed. His admission made an ounce of the fear vanish; the man was probably delirious and feverish. Which is probably why he thought it was acceptable to taunt a lady outside her home at night. His strange behavior could be chalked up to malnutrition and whatever sickness he had. It would be cruel to leave him to die out here.

“I can leave some food on the porch, that’s all I’m able to give.” You declared. The finality in your voice ran through the air. He nodded gratefully, a wobbly smile on his lips.

“I’d be eternally grateful.” He murmured. Seemingly slumping at your decision.

You were uncomfortable with the thought of losing him from your sight, but the kitchen was no more than five feet away. The gun was still locked within your hand as you messily scooped some stew into a bowl with one hand. The weapon felt strange in your grasp; you weren’t a fighter. The thought of using it sent a chill down your spine. But you would, if pushed, you’d pull that trigger without a second thought. As if to remind yourself.

Hurrying to the screen door with food, you panicked at the missing form of the man. Shit. Only to jump out of your skin when a pained groan erupted from the porch. You gaze shot down to see the man sprawled onto his back, an arm flung over his eyes. The white shirt was drenched in sweat more than before. He writhed on the floor, the illness probably wreaking havoc on his insides.

“S-sir?” You called out. He only whimpered in response, not even looking at you. Your teeth pushed into your bottom lip. This man was dying on your porch. Shakily, you stepped out to set the stew by his side before quickly retracting your body inside. Even if he wasn’t dangerous, you had no idea what this ‘not contagious’ illness was.

“Sir?” You tried again. He flung his arm away from his face, small pants leaving his lips. He looked paler than before, all color drained from his face and neck.

“W-what a shame such a pretty girl gotta see me this way…” He laughed weakly. A string of drool dripped off the side of his mouth. You tried not to stare. Heat flaring in your cheeks at the compliment. You snapped your gaze back to the floor.

“Can you eat?” You gestured to the small bowl of stew at his side. He grunted, craning his head upwards to peer at the food. A small grimace on his face.

“Anythin’ for you…” He coughed. He pushed himself onto his hands and knees to kneel in front of the stew. His back slumped forward, almost like it was too much energy to even hold himself up now.

You only watched from behind the partially open screen door as he drained the stew, slurping loudly. Not even bothering to use the bent spoon you’d stuck in there. Yet once he was done, he licked the bowl clean, slowly. His gaze never drifting away from you, it set a slow simmer just beneath your flesh. Noises of wet spit sending a shiver down your spine. You turned, interrupting the slickness you felt between your thighs. Inappropriate timing, this poor man was starving.

It had been too long since you’d been in the presence of man. Too long since you had someone to warm your bed, so that's why this was sending you sparks. That was all, just been celibate for too many years. The man slowly pushed the empty bowl towards you, his eyes still not straying. He kept low as if not to startle you.

“God bless ya…” He rasped. Thick and syrupy, it slipped through your veins. Thrumming through your body, you redirected your focus.

Bending down, you picked up his empty dishware and turned towards the kitchen, not noticing the way his gaze locked onto the switch in your hips. Or how he dug his nails into the rotted wood beneath him. Or how the drool just wouldn't stop, roping down towards the floor. You returned to the door with your apron off and a wash rag.

“It’s gettin’ late, wipe yourself down and good luck to ya…” The gun was now leaning against the wall, unneeded in your grasp. Although odd, he was just a man, a sick man.

He pushed up and began slowly lifting to his feet. You nodded and held out the wash rag between your fingers. Time seemed to stop as he stared forward at your hand. It poked through the threshold of the house, into the abyss of night. The prick of goosebumps bloomed on your skin, the hairs standing up at your nape. Then in a moment, it was gone. He softly took the rag and offered another nod.

"Appreciate you, ma'am." With that, he entered the dark void just down the steps. That unsteadiness gone, as was he. Clutching your night gown, you hurriedly slammed the door, locking it tight. Not so sick anymore suddenly? You shook your hand and snatched the gun to haul it up within the safety of your bedroom.

Yet, as you lay for sleep, red eyes plagued your mind and spirit.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

The next few nights pass without a hitch. No strange men, and luckily, the nightmares fade. You continue with your quiet life as if it never happened. However you did take one thing from that night, you needed to get fucked. If you were to the point that you were lusting after strange men who drool, then you needed a reset. Which meant heading into town.

It was late afternoon, and you were in your finest dress. The walk had been a little over two hours, and you utilized a red parasol to shade yourself from the blazing sun. It matched your dress, which you couldn't deny being a little proud of. The dress hugged at your hips then flittered around your knees, the best type for dancing.

People bustled around as usual, and it was always overwhelming when you did make the trip into town. Which wasn't often, every few months or so. People waved, some ran over to chat, and secretly 'check up' on the woman who lived alone and so far from town. You were sure there were countless rumors of why you chose to live such a way. Even so, it felt nice to converse for once.

After a few interruptions, you finally made it to your destination, a small club just at the end of an alleyway. A few people surround the entrance, and you give them a nod. One of the men holds out his hand, curling his fingers in expectation. Of course, nothing is free around here. Digging through your coin purse to pull out the fee. Then you're enveloped in thick smoke and dim lighting. It's sleazy, it's dirty, and full of cheats. Exactly why you are here, no respectable woman would ever dare come to this establishment. A few tables are spread out, groups play poker, some just lost in a bottle, others occupied with a woman filling their laps.

"Anything I can get ya, sweets?" A smooth voice calls out, and a handsome man behind the bar winks. A smile crawls up onto your lips, and you can't push back the feeling of butterflies. It's been way too long for you.

"Whatever you think is nice, sir." You hum, the excitement coursing through feels oh so right. The man laps at your words, leaning over the bar. His brown eyes are like honey and whisky. A nice stubble brushes his chin, tall and fit, what more could you ask for?

"Oh, I know a few things that are nice..." He murmurs, seemingly enraptured by your features. A chuckle escapes you at the clique remark. He will do nicely, you think to yourself. You had quite the itch to scratch, you wondered how nice that stubble would feel on your cunt.

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

The drive back to your home was a constant wave of unchecked lust and moaning. You two could barely keep your hands off one another, his touch igniting you in a way that felt distant. A few times, he even swerved when you palmed him through his jeans. It was well past dark now, the pink colors of the sunset washed away in that violet blue.

"It's here." You gestured to your quaint little home just off the road. He slowed, breaking into your yard. The car's rumbling halts.

"Shit, you weren't lying about livin' far from town..." He chuckled, you only nodded, and jumped out of the car. Far too excited to chat about such mundane things. Usually, you'd be on edge about bringing a man home, but Jack? No, no, Charles. He was well known around town for bang 'em and leave 'em. So your worries were slim to none.

"Come on." You smiled, gripping his hand and pulling him inside.

It's all hands. Gripping your hair, your ass, spreading you open. Lips suck the hollow of your neck, and you release a cry. That slick wetness filling the space between your panties. The blood roars in your ears as he sinks to his knees, bunching your dress up. Small pants punch out of him, and he looks enthralled. It's fast and sharp. Small bites litter your thighs as he works his way upwards towards your apex. Your head tosses back, gripping the wall for strength. Ever so slowly inching upwards, the warm, wet tongue sends spikes through your body. Your chest heaves as you stare down at him, eyes lidded and heavy. He is just about to touch your clit when a noise shatters the moment.

Knock knock.

Charles lifts his head, peering at the door, then at you.

"Expectin' company?" He rasps. Yet you can tell by his expression that he is annoyed. You huff, yanking your dress down and almost stomping to the door. The house rattles with how fiercely you yank it open, revealing no other but your sick pal from last week.

"Evenin' darlin, I just-" His gaze flickers behind you to Charles, still on his knees. You see his lips tighten, and in an instant, he flickers back to you, softening.

"Apologies, I didn't realize you had- uh, company." His body shifts, once again looking uncomfortable in his own skin. You glower, the overwhelming rage of being cockblocked clouds your judgement.

"I am quite busy, so please kindly fuck off my property." You spit, your gaze locked onto his unusual eyes. Charles says nothing behind you, and you are about to slam the door just as his foot catches it. His face is cold and expressionless, so much so that it makes you stumble back a bit.

"Ha, throwin' me out so suddenly? Where'd all that hospitality go, doll?" He taunts, and the urge to smash the door into his face rises within you. A lopsided smile found its place on his face again. How fast does this man's emotions switch?

"Dried up, now if you'll excuse me." You try again.

"This the husband you told me about?" He mocked. Charles froze just beyond your peripheral vision. Fuck.

"Husband?" Charles echoes, now standing and making his way closer. You grit your teeth. Two problems are quickly arising, and your arousal is drying up fast.

"No, I ain't got no husband, now fuck off." He feigns shock at your statement, clutching his chest. Charles looks past your shoulder at the man, his eyes darting between the two of you.

"No, you lied?" He gasps, you wonder if you could shut the door hard enough to break his foot. Would that even be enough to shut him up?

"Enough. You're interrupting." You growl out. You were over this petty show of dramatics. The stranger jolts back, his brow furrowed. As if what you said physically struck him.

"Well, please don't stop on my account!" His arms go wide, gesturing to both you and Charles. You frown, shaking your head.

"No, you need to leav-" Charles abruptly cuts you off.

"Hold on now, doll, if he ain't gonna leave, let's just continue..." Charles breathes, voice full of excitement. He brushes his hand through your hair, a soft grin on his handsome face. Huh? You blanch, what the fuck was he talking about? Your eyes flicker back to the stranger, his gaze now zeroed in on Charles beside you.

"I-" Charles' hand slides up your dress once again, and oxygen escapes you. In front of him? You nervously look to the stranger once again, he stands just at the threshold, fisting the sides of his trousers. Almost as if his grip was the only thing rooting him to the spot.

"Cmon baby, you came to me lookin' for some fun..." Charles purrs, those slick fingers sliding through your fold, testing and gently pulling. Your mouth falls open slightly, but your gaze never flickers down to Charles, only the stranger before you. It's like you're entranced and you can't shake the feeling you truly are.

"There you go, baby." Charles encourages as you absentmindedly give small thrusts to his dancing fingers. The stranger tilts his head, assessing each small reaction. For some reason, that has you clenching down onto Charles' fingers. Fuck.

"Here, get down onto the ground," Charles instructs, pressing you downwards onto the cool wooden floor. He is behind you, your dress now crumpled up past your ass. Yet, you can only stare at the stranger as he lowers himself with you, almost face to face. You can feel his breath from beyond the door. You aren't even paying any mind to Charles' belt clinking on the floor and spitting on his cock. All your breath has been stolen by the mysterious man.

"Uh-huh, there it is..." Charles groans, entering into you with a slow pulsing push. Your mouth drops again, and it feels heavenly. The sloppy thrusts echo within the entryway. The stranger before you is on his hands and knees, so desperate to press closer. His eyes are bright, shining so oddly, if you were in your right mind, you'd say something.

"Fuck!" Charles cries out, fucking you so good it has your eyes rolling. Sweat pours down your forehead, and you move back and forth with his punishing thrusts. It's liquid heat.

The stranger's breath is ragged, and the tent in his trousers is beyond noticeable. He leans a tad bit closer, his voice low, just for you.

"I could fuck you so nice darlin'" He drawls, the tone lazy and breathy. It sends pricks against your flesh like a live wire. You fall forward onto your arms, unable to keep your head up, the smack of skin like music to your ears.

"Cmon baby, I'd be so deep inside ya' you'd feel me for weeks..." It's practically a growl. As if he is threatening you. Misture hits your face and you blink, he is drooling, long, thick ropes fling at you. He smiles widely, fingers digging into the wood.

A whimper slips out of you at a particular angle, and you can't tear your eyes away from the sight before you. The man is on the ground, and he thrusts against the floor messily. It's intoxicating.

"Charl-" You moan out, but the stranger shushes you. A shaky finger raised to his spit-slick lips.

"Remmick doll, name's Remmick." You can only nod dumbly.

Remmick.

Remmick moans, throwing his head back and exposing the length of his neck. Had you moaned that out loud? Charles is paying the two of you no mind, just mindlessly thrusting, chasing his own high.

"Fuck Darling- you gon' make me cum in my pants whining like that." Remmick huffs out, and oh, how you wish you were outside with him right now. He lets out a delirious laugh and stares dead in your watering eyes. The friction is becoming too much, Remmick is becoming too much.

"I'm gon' kill that bastard behind you then I'll fuck you in his blood." He grits out, spitting on your face with the sheer force of his words. You tense all at once, that Earth-shattering feeling washing over you at his words. Promise? It's sick, but you can't stop from gushing around the cock inside you. Remmick groans at your expression, and Charles cries out. Seemingly unaware of the situation.

Boneless, you somehow find the strength to look up. Glowing red pupils stare back, fingers suddenly longer and sharper, the stench of death rises in the air. Your breath catches at the sheer vision of the devil in front of you. From this moment on, you knew this man, monster, would forever change your fate and alter your very existence.

[jungkoode]

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 12

˗ˏˋ vanilla coffee ˎˊ˗

"There's a science to making perfect coffee, he says. But there's no science to explain why watching him make it—shirtless and sleep-rumpled—makes you forget every reason you shouldn't want him."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 7,4k

rating: explicit (sex)

content: jungkook literally has a vanilla kink at this point i'm sorry that wasn't even planned he's just got free will, coffee lessons that are somehow hot, tiny shorts being instigators, verbal sparring as foreplay, protected sex, titty play, titty worship, penetrative vaginal sex, him fingering her

✧ author's note ✧

Listen. LISTEN. I don’t know what kind of demonic possession took over me while writing this chapter, but I had zero control over my own hands. Like, the coffee scene? The mug sharing? The delicious moment??? I AM IN HELL. (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

I started this chapter with the intention of them being petty little gremlins about vanilla-scented products, and somehow it ended with Jungkook making a whole latte just to flex on Y/N. A LATTE. And don’t even get me started on the mug proximity crimes. The way Y/N is actively short-circuiting over his hands and forearms like a Victorian woman seeing ankle for the first time?? We are ALL in trouble. (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)

And then—oh, god—the sweatpants menace. If you know, you know.

As always, please send thoughts, screams, and existential crises to the comment box. Love you, stay hydrated, and if a man ever offers to elevate your coffee… RUN. (Or sit in his lap. Your call.) (¬‿¬)

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

Good tired is still tired.

Your bag hits the dining table with a thud that perfectly matches how your brain feels right now—heavy and slightly bruised. 

7PM. 

You gave him way more than forty minutes. Actually gave him two whole hours, not that you're counting. 

Not that you care. You're just... observant.

But then you catch it—that familiar scent hanging in the air. Vanilla. Your mind immediately goes to that specific vanilla body wash that costs way too much but is the only thing that doesn't make your skin break out.

Oh, he fucking didn't.

Your fist connects with his door maybe a bit harder than necessary. There's a loud thud from inside, followed by what sounds like someone falling off a bed, then a muffled "shit” before footsteps approach.

The door swings open and—oh.

Oh no.

He's shirtless, because of course he is. Hair a disaster, eyes heavy with sleep, that stupid silver ring catching the light as he runs a hand down his face. There's a pillow crease on his cheek and he looks... soft. Which is absolutely not what you need right now when you're trying to be angry.

"What," he growls, voice rough with sleep, "is your problem?"

Right. Anger. Focus on that.

"My problem?" You gesture vaguely at the air between you. "My problem is you letting random hookups use my shit!"

His brow furrows, like he's trying to process your words through a fog of interrupted sleep. Then his expression does this complicated thing—confusion to understanding to something else you can't quite read.

He presses his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Phoenix, I didn't." When he looks at you again, he seems more awake. "I told her your stuff was off limits."

"Then why does it smell like—"

He brushes past you, heading toward the bathroom, and you absolutely do not notice how warm he is when he passes. Or how he still smells like rain under the vanilla.

"Are you seriously walking away while I'm—"

He stops so suddenly you almost run into him. Turns. Points at the coffee table.

"It's your candle."

You follow his finger and... oh.

There's one of your vanilla candles burning quietly on the table, nearly at its end. Which means it's been lit for...

He groans, running a hand down his face again. "You said to open the windows, and I just..." He waves vaguely at the candle. "Whatever."

"You..." The words aren't quite computing. "You lit my candle?"

"You told me to air out the apartment."

"So you used my candle to get cozy with some random—"

"For fuck's sake, Phoenix." He looks like he's regretting every life choice that led him here. "I lit it because you like these stupid vanilla things, okay? Thought it'd make the place smell nice when you got back."

Oh.

Something warm and uncomfortable squirms in your chest. Because that's... that's actually kind of...

"Well." You cross your arms, refusing to acknowledge the weird feeling. "Maybe ask next time before using my stuff."

"Maybe don't ghost me for two hours when I asked for forty minutes."

"I was studying!"

"With your phone on silent?"

"Some of us have actual academic responsibilities, Rogue."

His mouth twitches. "Some of us have other responsibilities."

"Yeah, bet ‘pussy eating’ looks great on a résumé.”

“Didn’t eat her pussy. Just fucked it.”

You grimace. “TMI.”

He shrugs. “You brought it up.”

“You were the one bragging about responsibilities like it’s a noble calling.”

“Hey, takes dedication. Skill. Stamina.” A smirk. “Not my fault you’re fixated on it.”

Fixated—

“Right. Just like I’m fixated on your four-hour recovery nap.”

“Wasn’t napping the whole time.”

“Gross.”

“You asked.”

“I literally didn’t.”

He's fighting a smile now, you can tell. Which is annoying because you're trying to be mad about your candle. Or your body wash. Or... something.

"Whatever." You turn toward your room, because this conversation needs to end before you do something stupid like thank him for thinking about the smell. "Just ask next time."

"Before lighting your pretentious vanilla candles?"

"They're not pretentious."

"They're thirty dollars each."

"How do you know how much they—" You spin back around. "Have you been looking up my candles?"

"No."

"Oh my god, you totally have."

"I was curious why they cost so much when they all smell the same!"

"They do not all smell the same, you absolute heathen."

He raises an eyebrow. "French Vanilla and Vanilla Bean are literally the same thing."

"I'm not having this conversation with someone who probably thinks Old Spice is a personality trait."

"At least I don't need a PhD to buy soap."

"No, you just need—" You stop, narrowing your eyes. "Wait. How do you know what's in my shower?"

"You know what?" He stretches, and you absolutely do not track the movement with your eyes. "All this talk about vanilla is making me crave coffee. Specifically..." He grins, slow and deliberate. "Those vanilla capsules you hide in the back of the cabinet."

"Don't you dare—"

"The ones behind the protein powder?"

"Those are mine." You follow him as he saunters toward the kitchen, still annoyingly shirtless. "I specifically said they weren't for you."

"Come on, Phoenix." He's already moving toward the kitchen, all loose limbs and bare chest like putting on a shirt is beneath him. "Let me show you how to actually make coffee. Teach you some culture. Some technique."

You swat at him as he passes. "I know how to use a coffee maker."

"Sure you do." His laugh is rough with sleep, and you hate that you notice. "That's why you murdered a perfectly good espresso shot this morning."

"I did not—"

"The beans were crying, Phoenix. I heard them."

But you're already following him to the kitchen because apparently you hate yourself. 

He's wearing those stupid gray sweatpants that hang just low enough to be illegal in at least three states, and his hair is still a disaster from sleep, curling at the nape of his neck.

"First rule," he says, running his hands over the coffee maker like it's something precious, "is respecting the machine."

"It's a coffee maker, not royalty."

"See? No respect." His fingers dance over the settings with practiced ease. "That's why your coffee tastes like sad bean water."

You lean against the counter, watching as he measures grounds with ridiculous precision. 

"My coffee tastes fine."

"Your coffee tastes like betrayal and broken dreams." He adjusts the grind size, movements quick and sure. "You probably think instant coffee is acceptable."

"Only when I'm feeling particularly spiteful."

His horrified gasp is so dramatic it actually makes you laugh. "You're a monster."

"Guilty."

He shakes his head, tamping down the grounds with absolutely unnecessary focus. The muscles in his forearms flex with the movement, and you definitely don't notice. Just like you don't notice how his hands look wrapping around the portafilter, or how his ring catches the kitchen light when he locks it into place.

"Watch," he says, flipping switches with the confidence of someone who definitely spent too much time watching barista tutorials on YouTube. "This is where the magic happens."

"It's coffee, not alchemy."

"Shh. You're ruining the moment."

The machine hums to life, and okay—maybe you can kind of see why he's so precious about it. There's something almost hypnotic about the way the espresso streams out, dark and perfect.

"See how it's not running too fast?" He's fully in teacher mode now, gesturing at the flow. "That's what you want. Nice and steady. Not that waterfall disaster you created this morning."

"Are you done being pretentious yet?"

"Never." He grabs your vanilla capsules—the ones you specifically told him not to touch—and starts steaming milk. "But I'll make it worth your while."

"By stealing my coffee?"

"By elevating your coffee." The milk pitcher moves in his hand like it's an extension of his arm. "You'll never want that chain store stuff again."

"Bold of you to assume I want anything you make."

His smile is all trouble. "Liar."

And okay, maybe he has a point. Because the drink he slides across the counter a few minutes later looks... kind of perfect. The foam is glossy and smooth, and the vanilla smell hits just right.

"Well?" He raises an eyebrow, waiting.

You take a sip and—fuck.

Fuck.

"It's..." 

No. You refuse to give him the satisfaction.

But he's already grinning, the bastard. "Say it."

"Absolutely not."

"Come on, Phoenix." He leans forward, elbows on the counter. "Admit it. I made your vanilla whatever-the-fuck better than you ever could."

"I will literally die first."

"That good, huh?"

You flip him off, taking another sip instead of answering. But then he's there, right there, and when did he get so close? His fingers brush yours as he takes the mug, gentle but deliberate, and your throat goes dry.

He holds your gaze, something dark and playful dancing in his eyes. Doesn't ask permission with words—just tilts his head slightly, the question clear in the quirk of his mouth. And you should say something. Should stop him. Should—

The mug touches his lips. Your lips were just there. Three seconds ago, your mouth was exactly where his is now, and that shouldn't make your stomach clench but it does.

His eyes are too much. Too dark, too intense, too fucking knowing as he takes a slow sip. Have they always been this brown? This smoky? Like whiskey in low light, like trouble wrapped in honey. 

The kind of eyes that should come with a warning label: Danger. Side effects may include stupid decisions and ruined underwear.

His tongue darts out, catching a stray drop on his lower lip. Slow. Deliberate. The silver ring on his hand catches the light as he lowers the mug, and his voice drops to something husky.

"Delicious."

Nope. Absolutely not.

You snatch the mug back, ignoring how your fingers tingle where they brush his. "Make your own, you coffee nerd."

Retreat. Strategic retreat to the couch is definitely the smart play here. Because your brain is currently short-circuiting, trying to process how one word—one stupid, fucking word—in that voice can make your thighs press together.

His laugh follows you, low and knowing. The sound wraps around you like smoke, like the way he smelled that thunderstorm night, like—

Griffin chooses that exact moment to slink into the living room, green eyes judging you both as he hops onto the windowsill. He stretches, impossibly long, before curling into a perfect orange circle, pointedly turning his back to you both. 

At least someone in this apartment has standards.

Focus. You're focusing.

But then you hear him moving behind you. The quiet rhythm of his breathing, the soft appreciative hums as he works the coffee maker. The whisper of fabric as his sweatpants shift with his movements. Each sound feels magnified, like your brain has decided to process everything in HD surround sound.

Don't look back. Don't do it. Don't—

Fuck.

You glance over your shoulder and immediately regret every decision that led to this moment. Because his back is a work of art, all broad shoulders and defined muscle, and it's not fair. It's not fucking fair that even from behind he's attractive enough to make your mouth water. The way his shoulder blades move as he works the machine, the dip of his spine disappearing into those low-hanging sweats, the unruly hairs curling at his nape...

Snap your head forward. Drink your coffee. Stop being a horny disaster for five consecutive minutes.

But you can still hear him. Still feel his presence behind you like a looming cloud. Still taste the ghost of his lips where they touched the same spot yours did on the mug.

This is fine. Everything is fine. You're just tired and touch-starved and maybe a little worked up from your stupid assignments—

"Want another taste, Phoenix?"

His voice is closer now, right behind you, and you absolutely do not shiver. "Didn't anyone teach you to drink your own coffee?"

"Didn't anyone teach you that stealing tastes better?"

You refuse to turn around. Refuse to acknowledge how his words squeeze your chest. "You're impossible."

"You like impossible."

And that's... that's not something you're equipped to handle right now. Not with him standing there all sleep-warm and shirtless, voice rough like gravel, smelling like rain and coffee and sin.

"I like peace and quiet," you lie, taking another sip of your rapidly cooling drink.

His laugh is soft, dangerous. "Liar."

The couch dips as he drops down next to you, thigh pressed against yours like he owns the space. Like personal boundaries are just suggestions. He has a mug in hand now, and his coffee smells kind of amazing and you hate him for it.

You shift away, but his hand lands on your thigh—warm, heavy, there. His fingers span the width of it easily, and your brain helpfully supplies memories of those same fingers in other contexts. 

It doesn’t escape your notice, how his eyes linger on where your shorts have ridden up your thighs from your hours in the library. 

"No," you manage, swatting his thigh with yours.

"No what?" His voice is still rough from sleep, and it's doing things to you. Unfair things.

"No manspreading next to me." You try to sound annoyed instead of affected. "Keep your sweaty balls to yourself."

He squeezes your thigh, just once. Just enough to make you want to throw the mug at him. Or yourself. "My balls aren't sweaty."

"Bet they are.”

"Want to check?"

"You're actually the worst." But you don't move his hand. Why aren't you moving his hand?

"That's not what you said last time."

And fuck him for bringing up last time. Fuck him for smelling like rain and coffee and sleep-warm skin. Fuck him for the way his thumb is drawing absent circles on your thigh, like he's not even aware he's doing it.

"Lapse in judgment."

His laugh rumbles through you, too close, too much. "Which time?"

"Pick one."

"I'd rather pick you up."

You turn to tell him exactly where he can shove that line, but it's a mistake. Because he's right there, all heavy-lidded eyes and sleep-soft mouth, and your brain fizzles. His hair is still a mess, curling at his temples, and you want to grab it. Want to find out if it's as soft as it looks. Want to—

"You're staring, Phoenix."

"Untrue."

His fingers flex on your thigh. "Big word for someone who can't stop looking at my mouth."

"I'm not—" But you are. You absolutely are. "Shut up."

"Make me."

Always those two damn words. Always saying ‘make me’, like he knows how it riles you up. Like he likes how it riles you up. His eyes are dark, dangerous, and you can feel his pulse through his fingers on your thigh. Or maybe that's your pulse. Everything feels too hot, too close, too—

"Your coffee's getting cold," you manage, voice embarrassingly breathy.

His smile is slow, knowing. "Yeah?”

His eyes drop to your shorts—the ones you've been wearing all day, the ones that rode up your thighs during your study session. And okay, maybe they're a little too short. Maybe you felt Jimin's concerned glance when you stretched in the library. But it's not your fault the AC in your car is temperamental at best.

"These can't be comfortable after sitting in the library all day," he murmurs, fingers playing with the hem. “Could help you out of them."

"Thought you were tired from your afternoon activities."

"Second wind." His thumb traces the seam where it cuts into your thigh. "Come here."

You raise an eyebrow, ignoring how your body wants to lean into his touch. "I am here."

"No," and his voice drops lower, rougher. "Here." He pats his lap, and the casual confidence of it irritating. Hot. Irritatingly hot. "Unless you're scared."

"Of what? Your ego?"

"Of how bad you want it." His eyes flick to your chest, where your shirt dips just low enough to be interesting. "Been thinking about these shorts all day. Since you drove me to class."

"Didn't realize my driving skills were such a turn on."

"Your driving skills are terrible." His hand slides higher, testing. "But watching you grip the steering wheel..."

You swallow. "That's kind of pathetic."

"Yeah?" His fingers find the spot where your shorts meet skin. "Then why are you breathing so hard?"

"Because you're annoying me."

He laughs, low and dangerous. "Hop on, Phoenix. Let me annoy you properly."

"That's your big move? 'Hop on'?"

“As long as it gets you on top of me...” He smiles now, actually smiles. “I’d say it’s working.”

And fuck him for being right. Fuck him for the way his eyes are all pupil now, for how his skin is still warm, for how he smells like everything you want to taste.

"You're awful," you breathe, but you're already shifting closer.

"Show me how awful."

His fingers hook through your belt loop and suddenly you're being yanked forward with zero warning. The squeak that leaves your mouth is embarrassing.

"Rude," you swat at him, but he catches your wrist easily. His hand is so warm around your cold skin.

"C'mere," he breathes, and before you can process it, you're straddling him. 

His hands slide down to grab your ass, fingers digging into the flesh and pulling you closer until you fall forward, catching yourself with hands on either side of his head.

He hums, the sound vibrating through you where you're pressed against him. And—yeah. Well. That's definitely not his phone in his sweats.

"Ride me?" The way he says it is almost lazy, but his eyes are dark, hungry. That half-lidded look that means tarnation.

"Excuse me?"

"Come on, Phoenix." His fingers flex on your ass, making you rock against him. "Don't be mean."

You raise an eyebrow, trying to ignore how good he feels under you. "Mean?"

"Been hard since I saw you in these fucking shorts this morning." He bites his lip, looking up at you through his lashes. "Just thinking about your thighs spread over my lap like this..."

"That sounds like a you problem."

His laugh is breathless, a little wild. "I’ll make it an us problem."

"Thought you were tired from earlier."

"Different kind of tired." His hands guide you into a slow grind against him. "This is more... inspiration."

"You're actually insane."

"Yeah?" He rocks up, making you gasp. "Feeling pretty sane right now. Feeling like I really want you to—fuck—" 

You'd rolled your hips, just to shut him up. Just to wipe that cocky smirk off his face. But now he's looking at you like you’re his favorite dessert, and his hands are everywhere, and—

"That's it," he breathes, voice gone raspy. "Just like that, come on..."

He guides your hips into another roll, watching you with that hungry, hazy look. His thumbs dig into your hipbones, controlling the pressure, the pace.

"Been thinking about this," he breathes, voice rough. "How you'd look bouncing on my cock. How your tits would—fuck—" You grind down harder, feeling him twitch against you. "Haven't even gotten to see them properly yet."

"Poor you," but your voice shakes when his hands slide up under your shirt, spanning your ribs.

"Poor me," he agrees, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. "All I got was that quick fuck against the window. Then you cumming on my tongue." His eyes are dark, pupils blown. "But this? Getting to watch you ride me? See these bounce while you—"

"You talk too much." You're trying for annoyed but it comes out breathy.

"Make me shut up then." His hips snap up. "Come on, Phoenix. Show me how well you can take it, yeah?"

"That's your big plan? Get me all worked up in the living room?"

“Getting worked up anywhere you’ll let me.” His fingers find your nipples through your bra, rolling them until you arch. “Been waiting to get you like this. Spread out on top of me, swallowing me deep in this greedy pussy…”

You let out a breathy laugh, grinding down just to spite him. “Yeah?” Your voice is pure teasing, but the heat is real. “She didn’t wring you out completely?”

His grip tightens on your waist, nails pressing in just enough to make you feel it. “Seems like she didn’t.”

You hum, dragging your hips forward again, slow and deliberate. “Mm. That’s a shame.”

“Yeah?” His voice dips, rough and taunting, but his hands—his fucking hands—are already shoving your shirt up, fingers tracing up your spine before yanking your bra down just enough to expose you. His thumb drags over one nipple, his breath warm against your throat. “You wanna fix that?”

You pretend to consider, rolling your hips again, dragging your pussy right over the thick ridge of him. Fuck. He’s not even inside you, and it’s already so good.

“I don’t know,” you murmur. “Wouldn’t want to overwork you.”

His laugh is sharp, incredulous. “Nix.” His voice is wrecked—the kind of hoarse, hungry sound that goes straight to your cunt. “You feel what you’re doing to me?” He thrusts up, slow but deep, and you suck in a breath. “Think I’m fucking tired?”

And yeah, okay. He’s still hard as fucking steel beneath you. Still needy. Still looking at you like he’s seconds from losing what little patience he has left.

“It’s these fucking shorts,” he mutters, grabbing a handful of your ass like he wants to leave bruises. “Oh my god, this fucking ass.”

You hold back a laugh, rolling your hips again, enjoying the way his breath stutters. “That easy, huh?”

His hands tighten on you. “You know what you do to me.” His mouth finds your throat, teeth scraping just enough to make you quiver. “S’why you wore these, right?”

You don’t answer, just reach between you to shove down his sweatpants, dragging them low enough to free his cock. And—fuck. He’s so hard it’s almost obscene, thick and flushed and already leaking. 

“Jesus,” you mutter, running a teasing finger up his shaft, watching his stomach tense. “Didn’t even get a full reset, did you?”

His jaw flexes. “No.” A muscle in his cheek jumps as he watches you wrap your hand around him. “The fuck do you expect when you walk around in these little fucking—” His breath hitches when you thumb over the head, smearing the wetness there. “Shit—shorts. The second I saw you, I knew—”

“You knew what?” You press the question into his skin, lips just beneath his jaw, hand still working him slow.

His grip on your ass tightens, grounding, punishing. “Knew I was gonna end up inside you tonight.”

And fuck. That sends a fresh wave of heat through you, has your thighs squeezing around him. Because yeah, okay, maybe you had the same thought the second you walked in and saw him standing there in nothing but those damn sweatpants.

But there’s still one thing gnawing at you. One thing that makes your brain fight for a fraction of control through the heat.

“Did you use condoms?”

His head snaps up, brow furrowing like you just asked if water is wet. “Of course I did. Who the fuck do you think I am?”

You exhale, relief flooding through you faster than the heat pooling low in your stomach. 

“Okay, fuck. Okay.” You swallow. “Where are they?”

And Jungkook—fucking Jungkook—instead of answering, he grabs your tits. Both hands, rough and impatient, unclasping you bra like it personally offended him.

“Jesus—wait—” You barely manage to lift your arms before he’s yanking it over your head, flinging it somewhere behind him.

“You on the pill?” he murmurs, barely pausing his focus on your tits.

“No.” You don’t even hesitate.

And to his credit, he doesn’t either. “Okay. Condoms it is.”

Respectful. A menace, but respectful.

You barely have time to process that before his fingers are pressing into the small of your back, guiding you forward, making you press flush against him as he leans toward the coffee table.

And you—because apparently you’re both equally insane—just let him.

His other hand reaches forward, jerking open the small drawer in the coffee table, fishing out a foil packet with practiced ease.

“You keep condoms in the living room?”

Jungkook doesn’t even blink. “Yeah. Just in case.”

“In case?” Your eyebrows shoot up. “Don’t you fuck in your room like normal people?”

“Yeah?” He grabs the foil packet, tossing it onto the couch beside him before his hands are right back on your waist, thumbs sliding under the waistband of your shorts. “But, y’know… just in case you wanted it.”

Your brain short-circuits for a second. “Me?”

“You, Phoenix.” He squeezes your hips like he’s grounding himself, like he has to touch you while he says it. “I usually fuck in my room. But you and me—we already did it against the window, so I figured…” He shrugs, casual as ever. “Might as well be prepared.”

“I—” You blink, processing, trying to form actual thoughts. “That’s crazy.”

He shrugs, so fucking nonchalant it’s unfair. “Is it?”

“Yes.”

“Think about it.” His mouth curls, eyes flicking from your mouth to your bare chest and back again. “Imagine I had to stop and go all the way to my room right now.” He pauses, letting the implication settle. “Wouldn’t that just kill the mood?”

And okay. You do snort at that.

Because this is ridiculous.

Because this is actually thoughtful.

Because he’s still hard as a rock under you, talking about condom logistics while casually groping your ass, like he’s planning for a fire drill and not fucking you senseless on the couch.

“No, like. You’re a complete nut case,” you murmur, shaking your head.

“Quick access,” he corrects, and then—fuck.

His mouth is on your tits again.

No hesitation, no teasing buildup, just his tongue dragging over one nipple, warm and slick before closing his lips around it.

Your breath catches, fingers twitching where they brace on his shoulders. “Jesus—”

He hums against your skin, like this is just an extension of the conversation. Like he can talk about fucking you and have his tongue on your tits in the same breath.

And then, because he’s Jungkook and apparently completely fucking obsessed with your chest, he moves to the other one, sucking deep and slow, like he’s savoring it.

“Can’t help it,” he mutters against you, voice rough. “Tits too fucking perfect.”

Which—okay. You shouldn’t preen at that, but his mouth is so fucking warm, and his hands are so fucking big—

Your nails dig into his shoulders, and his breath stutters.

And then he’s leaning back just enough to look up at you, lips slick, pupils blown. “You gonna let me fuck you cowgirl now, or you wanna keep pretending we’re still talking?”

You poke at his dick playfully, watching with satisfaction as it twitches immediately.

His breath stutters, eyes flicking up to yours, but he doesn’t say a word. Just watches—completely absorbed—as you pluck the condom from the side and roll it down over him, slow and deliberate.

His jaw flexes, lips parting slightly, and when you glance up, you catch it—his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, hard enough to leave a mark.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice all low and wrecked.

You smirk, dragging your fingers back up his shaft just because you can, because you like making him twitch, like how he watches you like he’s seconds from losing his mind.

His hands are already on your thighs when you lift up, finally removing those tiny ass shorts—but when your fingers hook into your panties, he stops you.

“Keep them.”

You blink, brows furrowing. “What?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.” His hands skim up, palms rough against your bare skin. “They’re red and lacy and fucking beautiful—” His voice breaks off into a sharp exhale as he shifts under you, cock nudging against the damp lace between your legs. “Just shove them to the side and let me fuck you like this.”

Heat licks down your spine, and fuck, maybe it is kind of hot—his voice raw, gaze locked where you’re already so wet for him.

“Yeah?” You drag the fabric aside, slow and teasing, letting him see what he’s about to have. “You want me to ride you like this?”

“Nix.” His voice is all smoke and gravel. “Fucking sit on it.”

Your fingers tighten on his shoulders.

And then, in one swift motion, you sink down onto him.

“Fuck—”

Jungkook shudders, breath breaking apart as he bottoms out inside you, hands clamping down on your hips so hard it’s murderous. His fingers dig deep into your skin, like he’s fighting the urge to slam you down harder, deeper, but he doesn’t—he just grips, holds, feels.

And fucking watches.

Because this—this—is his favorite.

The way you stretch around him, the way he can see it, can watch himself disappear inside you from this angle. The lace of your panties bunched to the side, the way your slick coats his cock, the slow, obscene drag as he throbs inside you.

His jaw clenches, his head falling back, but his eyes stay locked on where your bodies meet. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

You suck in a breath, thighs trembling slightly, trying to adjust to the stretch, the pressure, the way he fills you completely. You brace your hands on his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle shift beneath your palms as he groans deep in his throat.

“You feel that, Nix?” His voice is rough, wrecked. “Feel how deep you’re taking me?”

You bite your lip, trying not to squirm at the way that sounds coming from him, the way his cock pulses inside you like he can feel every little squeeze.

His grip on your hips flexes. “Come on, let me hear you.”

You swallow hard, already feeling too fucking warm. “I—”

“I what?” His hands slide down, palms rough and greedy as they find your ass, grabbing handfuls, spreading you just to push inside you deeper. “Fuck, Phoenix, you feel so fucking good.”

Your thighs twitch, heat licking up your spine, and okay—okay, maybe that makes something inside you tighten. The way he wants you to feel it. The way he sounds like he’s barely holding on.

“Look at you. Sitting so fucking pretty on my cock like this.”

Your breath stutters.

“Fuck—” His fingers flex again, grip punishing, possessive. “Knew you’d look good like this. In this position. Been dreaming ‘bout it.”

You exhale shakily, pressing your palms harder against his chest, feeling his heart pound beneath your hands.

“Yeah?” The word slips out before you can stop it, quiet, breathless, barely more than an exhale. 

And then, even as much as you convince yourself you hate dirty talk—his dirty talk—how you tell yourself it’s cringe… You find yourself engaging. You find yourself slipping. 

“You wanted me in this position, Ro? Riding you?”

And Jungkook? He fucking relishes on it.

“Yeah,” he rasps, dark eyes flicking up to yours, mouth curling slow, dirty. “Getting bold on me, Phee?”

Heat rushes up your throat, your pulse pounding, but you don’t look away. You can’t—not with the way he’s looking at you, not with how deep he is inside you.

“God,” he groans, hands gripping your ass again, spreading you wider just to watch himself sink into you even more. “You should see how you look right now.”

His voice is wrecked—half-growl, half-moan��and you have to fight the way your thighs want to squeeze around him, hold him there.

But he notices.

And grins.

“Fucking knew it,” he mutters, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “You like hearing it, don’t you?”

You suck in a sharp breath, fingers twitching on his chest. “Shut up.”

“Nah.” He tilts his head, thumbs digging into your skin, grounding, teasing. “Think I finally got you to like it.”

And fuck—fuck—you can’t even argue, because his cock twitches inside you and your whole body reacts, a shiver running up your spine.

His smirk widens. “See?”

You exhale sharply. “Rogue.”

“Phoenix.” His hands tighten again, his voice a slow, taunting drawl. “C’mon, yeah? Ride me.”

Your thighs flex as you lift yourself up, the slow drag of him leaving you just enough to make you whimper, then you sink back down, faster this time, harder.

Jungkook’s jaw goes slack, hands gripping your ass like he’s barely holding himself together. “Christ—”

But you don’t stop. You can’t stop.

You move again, rising and dropping, setting a pace that has his breath coming out in ragged exhales, his nails biting into your skin. Every inch of him stretches you open, fills you up, makes your stomach coil tighter and tighter.

And then—

His right hand moves.

Fingers slipping lower, rough against your skin, then lower, lower—

Until he’s spreading you.

His fingers part your folds, stretching you open wider just so he can watch himself disappear inside you.

“For fuck’s sake Ro—”

“Shit,” he exhales, low and wrecked, eyes locked on where his cock is sliding in and out of you, the obscene wetness coating both of you. “Look at that. Fucking dripping for me, Phoenix. Can’t help it.”

Your thighs shake, breath shuddering, and you want to tell him to shut the fuck up—but you can’t, because you may not see it, but you feel it. The way your body takes him, how slick and messy it is, how deep he’s buried every time you drop back down.

It’s filthy. He’s filthy.

“You’re so nasty,” you gasp, nails digging into his chest for balance.

He laughs, dark and smug. “And you fucking love it.”

Before you can snap back, he finally—finally—looks up at you.

And his breath stutters.

Because, of course, in this position, your tits are bouncing.

His pupils blow wide, throat working through a hard swallow, and then—his hands fly up immediately.

Grabbing. Palming. Squeezing.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice breaking apart, gaze flicking between your tits and your face like he doesn’t know where to look first. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

His grip on your waist tightens, nails digging in, and then—his head falls back. His chest rises and falls beneath your hands, breath coming in sharp, desperate pants.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he gasps, voice wrecked, low and so needy you almost mewl, because you’ve never heard him like that. “Gonna cum so fucking bad—”

Your rhythm stutters. “Don’t you dare finish before me.”

“Fucking—” He grunts, muscles tensing beneath you as his hands clamp down harder, like he’s fighting it, trying to hold on, but— “Oh my fucking god, Phoenix—”

You can feel him struggling—his thighs trembling beneath you, abs flexing tight, his cock twitching inside you, buried so deep.

“How the fffffuck—” his breath shudders, “do you expect me—Jesus Christ—to hold b-back when your tits—god—”

His hands are everywhere—palming, grabbing, fucking worshiping your chest like he’s possessed—and then his mouth is there again, latching onto your right tit, tongue flicking over your nipple, sucking deep and wet.

“Shit,” you whimper, back arching.

“Fuck—fuck—” 

He suddenly leans back, dragging you down hard onto his cock as he thrusts up to meet you, hips snapping with short, frantic rolls.

Your breath shatters, thighs burning, your whole body jolting with every desperate slam of his hips. 

And his eyes.

Jesus.

His eyes are locked on you, wide and hungry, flicking between your parted lips and your chest.

And then—

“Grab ‘em,” he pants, voice rough, ruined. “Fuck—grab those titties for me, Phee.”

Your stomach flips.

“Grab’em while you ride me—” His breath catches, his abs flexing. “Fucking—God, I need to see it—”

Heat floods your spine, your pulse pounding as you do what he says—palms sliding up, gripping the soft weight of your tits, squeezing just enough to lift, to move, to give him exactly what he wants.

And his reaction—

“Jesus fucking—” His head falls back hard against the couch before snapping back up, completely fucking wrecked. “Oh my god—look at them—look at you—fuck, fuck—”

His fingers dig into your hips, forcing you down harder, thighs flexing beneath you as he thrusts up, trying to get deeper, trying to burn this into his brain.

“Oh god, oh god, Phoenix— I swear to fucking God—” His hands slide down, gripping your ass. “Fucking dripping— so messy for me—”

His voice breaks on a groan, hips slamming up, chasing it, his body seizing up as he loses it.

“Shit—shit—I’m—oh my god—fuck—I’m cumming—”

And then—he snaps.

His grip on your waist locks, his whole body tensing beneath you, and his head tips back, mouth falling open as he moans—a deep, raw sound from the bottom of his fucking chest.

He creams inside the condom, hips jerking up in short, shallow thrusts, pulsing thick and hot as he spills into it.

His hands shake as they guide your hips down, grinding you onto him, milking every last drop, needing to feel every second of it.

And you—

You’re about to sigh, about to roll your eyes, because seriously? He just came? You haven’t even—

But before the frustration can even fully settle, he moves.

One second, he’s slumped against the couch, breathless, spent. 

The next—he’s flipping you onto your back.

Your gasp barely leaves your lips before his hands are on your thighs, gripping, spreading you open like it’s his fucking right, pushing your knees toward your chest.

And then—no hesitation.

No questions asked, no smug teasing, no half-assed effort—just his fingers shoving your panties back to the side, replacing his cock with two thick fingers, burying them inside you like he already fucking knows you can taste it.

Your breath shatters. “Jesus—”

“Shh,” he murmurs, focused, dark eyes locked on your pussy as his fingers curl, stretching you open, pressing deep. “Not leaving you hanging.”

And fuck—fuck—his thumb.

Right there, dragging over your clit, pressing just right with slow, deliberate circles.

Your thighs twitch, your hands clenching in the couch cushions as your body jolts from the sudden shock of pleasure. “Oh—fuck—”

“That’s it,” he groans, gaze flicking up to watch your face, your wrecked fucking expression as he fingers you open. “Gimme that pretty little shake—know you’re close.”

You barely process your own whimper before he’s pressing in harder, thrusting his fingers faster, his thumb working you like he owns your orgasm.

“You think I’d leave you like that?” His voice is low, hushed, wrecked, pressing filthy into the space between you. “Think I’d fucking cum and not make you lose your mind, too?”

“Ro—”

“Nah, Phoenix.” His fingers drive into you, slick and obscene, thumb relentless. “You’re gonna cum all over my hand—” he leans in, breath warm against your throat, “and I’m gonna watch every fucking second of it.”

His fingers pump into you, wet and filthy, every slick thrust echoing between you. And god, the sounds are just so fucking obscene it makes you want to die a little.

“Come on, give it to me, Phee,” Jungkook rasps.

You can barely breathe. His thumb keeps dragging over your clit in these slow, devastating circles, the pressure just right, and your whole body is trembling, your thighs twitching where he holds them open.

“Listen to that,” he groans, gaze flicking down, mesmerized. “So fucking wet for me. Making a mess all over my hand.”

And then his mouth is on you again.

He latches onto your tit, sucking deep, tongue flicking over your nipple before pulling off just to groan against your skin. 

“God, your vanilla shit Phoenix. Makes you taste so good. Could suck on these all fucking day—”

“Jungkook—”

“Yeah? You gonna cum?” 

Your back arches, hands flying to grip his arms because—fuck—fuck. The pressure is too much, his fingers so deep, his mouth so hot, and you’re right there—right fucking there—

“That’s it,” he groans, hand drenched, your walls pulsing around his fingers. “Come on, give it to me.”

And then—

It hits.

Pleasure rips through you, fast and all-consuming.

And Jungkook—fucking Jungkook—just groans, watching you fall apart.

“Mm, yeah that’s it,” he mutters, fixated on the way you shake, the way your pussy flutters around his fingers, soaking his palm. “So fucking good, huh?”

His name slips out in a wrecked, shattered moan, and he loves it, enjoying every sound, drinking in every twitch and tremble.

He finally slows his movements as you shudder through the aftershocks, his fingers still deep, thumb pressing lazy circles to wring out every last second of it.

“Shit,” he murmurs, voice a little breathless, and when you manage to blink down at him, he’s staring at his own hand—glistening, messy, coated in you.

His throat works.

And then—his eyes flick back to yours.

And he fucking grins.

Jungkook collapses on top of you.

Full weight. No warning. Just dead fucking weight pressing you into the couch, knocking the air from your lungs.

“Oh my—get off!” You yelp, struggling beneath him, but he doesn’t budge.

“Nnngghh,” he groans into your neck, voice muffled, completely ignoring you. “Shut the fuck up and let me rest for five minutes.”

You blink up at the ceiling, absolutely fucking done. “Weren’t you sleeping, like, thirty minutes ago?”

“Your point?” His breath is warm against your skin, his body solid and heavy, still way too fucking hot from everything that just happened.

“My point,” you grumble, wiggling under him, “is that you’ve done literally nothing today except nut and nap, so why are you tired?”

“Because,” he mutters, arms tightening around your waist, “I’m a growing boy.”

You snort, smacking his bare back. “You’re a menace.”

He just hums, pressing his face into your neck like he’s about to fall asleep right there, and for a second, you let it happen—just breathing, the two of you still wrecked, bodies cooling down, silence stretching.

But then—

“Oh, shit—”

Jungkook jumps, suddenly wide awake, jolting upright so fast he nearly knocks you off the couch.

You blink up at him, still catching your breath. “What the fuck is wrong with you—”

“Wait—” He leans over you, hands on either side of your head, eyes huge and excited. “Do you have any toys?”

You stare at him. “What?”

“Toys,” he repeats, fully invested now. “Sex toys, Nix. I didn’t even think about it, but—fuck—I could’ve made you finish with one.”

You blink again, brain scrambling to catch up. “No?”

His brows furrow. “Why not?”

“Why would I—” You sit up slightly, pushing at his chest. “Do I look like I came here with a full-ass sex kit?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, genuinely baffled, “don’t you girls have dildos and shit?”

“Oh my fucking—” You shove his shoulder. “Do you really think when I was packing my shit to move in, I was like, ‘mmm, yeah, definitely need to bring my dildo’?”

His eyes narrow. “So you had one?”

“No—”

“So you’ve never had one?”

“No, Ro, my parents would’ve killed me.”

He pauses, frowning like he’s actually considering that for a second. Then, with absolutely zero hesitation—

“Okay, then we’re going toy shopping.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, no, fuck that.” He waves a hand, like this is a done deal, like you don’t even get a say. “You’re getting something. I refuse to believe you’ve gone your whole life without at least a vibrator. That’s a crime.”

“A crime?”

“Yes.” His face is serious, like this is a personal offense to him. “You deserve to cum even when I’m not here.”

“I don’t need you to cum.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

“Oh my fucking—” You drop your head back against the couch, groaning. “You’re so stupid.”

“I’m being a good friend.” He grins, smug as hell. “And an amazing fuck buddy.”

“We are not friends.”

He blinks. “What?”

“We’re not friends.” You cross your arms, looking him dead in the eye. “Fuck buddies. No friends.”

Jungkook gasps, pressing a hand to his chest like you just deeply wounded him. “That hurts.”

“You’ll live.”

“Aren’t we, like, friends with benefits or something?”

“No.” You shake your head. “Fuck buddies. No friends. Just the benefits.”

“That’s the stupidest logic I’ve ever heard.”

“Coming from Mr. Stupid himself? Woah.”

“Pft. Right.” He stretches, cracking his neck, still grinning like an idiot. “Then we’re going this weekend.”

“To what?”

“Buy you a vibrator.”

“Fuck you.”

“Bet.”

You swat at him, grin still on his face and all. 

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© jungkoode 2025 no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[writingsofwesteros]

a smile from the Gods one shot please

AN: Hi , I hope you like it x

PART 1

The waves crashed against the harsh, cold stones with practised ease as the cold air moved over the cliff. It was as if the place itself was mourning with its grey skies and the threat of rain coming down. Not for the first time, did she believe herself to be an outsider even with her husband’s presence beside her. The farmer’s daughter is surrounded by royalty; so far from her once life. Her sweet boys clung to her skirts, their small bodies humming with shyness, while she stared straight ahead. As Lord Vaemond spoke; the words moved over them as her daughter subtly moved to stand in front of her mother. Her hand gently rested on her daughter’s shoulder; playing with those soft locks of hers - half to calm her own nerves.

Daemon subtly stepped closer to his wife; the rogue Prince could feel the stares coming their way and he fought against a smirk tugging on his lips. His pride was for all to see even as his wife’s shyness clung to her like a second skin. Lord Vaemod’s words only became quieter before finally coming to a close. As silence fell over the gathering, Daemon leaned closer to his wife. His larger hand found the curve of his wife’s back; a brief touch before he pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. An act she could only lean into. Her shoulders eased if only slightly as his presence as ever brought her peace of mind - for now.

“Watch the boys,” he whispered in her ear. Those boys of his were quite mischievous once their shyness would escape them. Daemon knew this time would be no different. His wife only shared a knowing smile with him before nodding her head. His hand reached for his daughter’s curls before stepping towards his own brother. The unease settled in her stomach as soon as her husband was paces away from her; the desire for him to be close once more nearly overwhelmed her. A soft sound of footsteps drew her attention as she turned to see the Princess Helaena approaching with quiet grace and those bright eyes of hers; so like her own children locked on.

“You are beautiful,” Helaena’s words escaped her before she could comprehend, which was more often than not. A faint blush made its way over her cheeks, “Thank you.” The farmer’s daughter did not know what else to say - their worlds so very far apart and if she was honest; the Princess was slightly unnerving. Not that the children seemed to mind. It seemed her boys were forgetting their once shyness as her older one blurted out, “You have a dragon.” As if that was the most important aspect. And for his small mind, she imagined it was. He was, after all, so taken by his father’s dragons. The children’s own dragon eggs had still not hatched - much to their disappointment.

She watched as her children conversed with the Princess; the feel of unease slowly falling from her now. Before long, another set of footsteps approached again. This time more composed and steady; and they could only belong to the Queen. “Helaena, darling, it's time to go.” The Queen’s voice was softer than she had expected; Daemons’ words carried in her mind. “You smell like lemon cakes.” Her daughter whispered out before Helaena could answer her mother. A sweet laugh escaped the Princess and Alicent seemingly softened even more at the sound of it. “Your Grace, I'm –.” The apology was waved off elegantly; Alicent’s rings shining in the strong sunlight.

“Are you the Queen?” Her oldest seemed to follow his sister as his own words babbled out without warning. She could only watch on as Helaena gently took her daughter’s hand whilst the Queen turned to reply. “I am,” she whispered, kneeling slightly to be at their height. “That is the King with your father.” Alicent pointed over to where the two brothers stood. She watched as her son nodded seriously; taking in every word. The sight brought a soft smile to her face. Still, her shy boy stayed by her side and Alicent could also see the similarities with Aemond as she watched on. “I do believe there are some lemon cakes.” Alicent whispered as Helaena only tugged on her new friend’s hand.

“It seems Helaena has found a new friend,” Daemon’s wife could not describe the Queen’s tone and she worried a line had been crossed. Still, both women shared a smile as her hand reached for both of her sons to hold. “Come now,” she whispered down; her fingers moving through their locks - this time without the unease. Gracefully, she followed behind the Queen as the giggling of Helaena and her daughter only continued. The stare of the rogue Prince only followed her; not that his wife seemed to notice as she gracefully moved. Viserys could only watch his brother; the Prince’s facial expressions softened in ways the King had never seen before. Not even with his daughter. 

“Brother,” Viserys began as a flash of disappointment came over Daemon’s face as he was interrupted. “She is good for you.” The king continued as Daemon’s eyes flickered to his wife and their children who were easily growing from their shyness. “She is. Too good.” The rogue Prince admitted. Viserys could only watch on; half glad that his brother’s attention had fallen from Rhaenyra and half happy for him. It seemed all would be well. A moment of comfortable silence moved over the pair as Daemon only watched over his family some more. He did not even notice the stares coming from the realm’s delight.

Alas, the King did as he brought his brother’s attention back to him.

“Aegon, be polite.” Alicent scolded her oldest as the Prince could only pout; the goblet of wine was now taken from him. An amused smile tugged on her lips as she watched the exchange; it was a different picture than her husband had painted but he always was one to expand his stories, she thought to herself. The movement from her side caught the farmer’s daughter’s attention as she subtly turned her face. The Princess Rhaenyra herself was beginning to make her way towards her; with Alicent’s body straightening even more - if that was even possible. “Princess,” the words fell from her with ease as she gracefully bowed her head.

She could not stop her eyes from moving over the obscenely dark hair of Rhaenyra’s children but made no comment, not even mentally. “My Lady,” the Princess’ voice was calmer than she expected, especially after Vaemond’s not so subtle words. It did not seem to worry the Princess in the slightest and she nearly had to admire such a thing. It seems the Queen had the complete opposite mindset as the two women stared at each other for a second too long. “Alicent,” the Queen’s lips parted as if to speak when a large, rougher hand took her own. She would recognise her husband’s touch for as long as she lived. 

“Father, look.” Their oldest boy desired his father’s attention as Daemon pressed a soft kiss to her temple before turning to his son. She watched as he pointed to the rogue Prince the dragons set on top of the cliff. “Caraxes will become jealous, my son, if you start having other favourites.” Daemon could not help but tease. She could not stop the smile that tugged on her soft, plump lips as the conversations easily flowed before her.

[flemingsfreckles]

Surprise (18+)

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Synopsis: based off this request!

Warnings: smut, grinding, making out, oral sex (r giving), accidental orgasm, cursing

WC: 1.8k

A/N: just a short little smutty blurb :)

“God I’ve missed you.” Jessie’s voice is soft, needy almost, as the two of you walk through your apartment, bodies tight together. You had just gotten back from picking her up at the airport, she had been away playing with Canada for seven weeks, the longest seven weeks of your life.

“I’ve missed you more.” You manage to whisper back between kisses. You weren’t able to take that much time away from work so you resulted to watching your girlfriend play on tv.

“Doubt it but we’ll agree to disagree.” Jessie’s hands fall to the shirt you’re wearing and she quickly pulls it over your head and proceeds to discard her own before you get the chance to do it for her.

“I’ve been counting down the days until I could do this to you.” You gently push Jessie back onto your bed. You had sent her half naked photo with some equally vulgar texts just before her plane took off, knowing it would drive her crazy.

“Thought about doing this a lot didn’t you?” She looked up at you with a teasing smirk. You climbed onto the bed to straddle her waist.

“Everyday. Seriously everyday.” You couldn’t get Jessie out of your head while she was away. You wanted to be with her every moment, cuddled into her side under a blanket, holding her hand while walking to get coffee, wrapping your arms around her in the shower, you missed every aspect of her. What you also couldn’t escape was the dirty thoughts you had about her, thinking of what she could do to you, imagining her above you, under you, in every way possible, now finally you had your hands back on her.

“Did you touch yourself while thinking about me?” Jessie cocks her head at you, she already knew the answer, you had told her every time you touched yourself thinking about her. Over the seven weeks you sent her photos and dirty texts to let her know just how much you missed her.

“A couple times, it’s nothing like the real thing though. The only time it felt even close to as good as you was when we were on the phone and you talked me through it.”

You thought back to the phone call, you had been riled up after watching her game, one in which she and her teammates had been fouled a couple of times none of them being called. The camera man had done you a favor by zooming in on your sweaty, angry girlfriend as she shouted at the referee. She had been shown a yellow card to which she rolled her eyes and you found yourself itching to let her take her frustrations out on you as she would if the two of you were together. She had called you after the game, blood still boiling, and before you knew it your pants were off and you were listening as Jessie directed you to make yourself cum.

“I wish you had been there that night.” Jessie looks at you, her hands moving up to grab your chest. “I would’ve really had my way with you.”

“I wish.” You sigh as her fingers graze over your nipples. “I’ve missed touching you, tasting you, everything.”

“I know, baby.” Jessie’s hand abandons your chest and finds its way into the band of your sweats and underwear. She gently cups you before letting two fingers run through you. “Wow someone’s eager.” She felt through your folds, gathering your wetness before letting her fingers linger on your clit.

“Shut up, it’s been so long, I’m sure you’re just as wet.” You pull her hand from where it was touching you. She gives you a disappointed frown.

“Hey, I was doing something there.” Her bottom lip sticks out in a frown. Her frown only lasts a second before she sticks her fingers, covered in your wetness, into her mouth. She sighs as she tastes you for the first time in weeks.

“You’ll get your turn in a second baby, I want to taste you first, I’ve been wanting to have my mouth on you for months.” You give her a dirty kiss before moving to kneel between her thighs. Your hands find their way to her waist where her shorts sat. You dig your fingers in and look at Jessie who nods to you. You pull down her shorts and boxers, leaving her completely exposed to you.

“Fuck.” You breathe out as your eyes wander across her legs, up to her waist before taking in the sight of her chest. You can’t believe she’s yours, all yours, only yours. “I love you Jess.” You shake your head, unable to fathom how you got so lucky.

“I love you.”

You move to lay down on your stomach, your face between her thighs. Wrapping your arms around her thighs you gently pull her toward you. You lock eyes with Jessie as you stick out your tongue and move to taste her. At the first swipe of your tongue Jessie’s eyes flutter closed and her head tips back.

“Look at me.” You pull your mouth away from where Jessie wanted you to direct her. She tilts her head back down to make eye contact with you. The way she stared down at you has a hum of electricity running through your body. “Good girl.” You mumble against her skin before putting your tongue and lips back onto her.

It was overwhelming, you hadn’t had your tongue on her in nearly 2 months. You had been longing for her taste, her smell, the pretty sounds she made, you had missed it all and now you were getting it all at once. You were already wet but now a subtle throb was present between your own thighs.

You close your lips around her clit, sucking and running your tongue over the nerves making her hips buck up. Moving your hands you put pressure on her hips, holding her to the bed. Jessie lets out a whiney sigh and you find yourself squeezing your thighs together, her sounds making your core tingle.

“Oh baby, fuck.” Her hands gripped onto your scalp harder. Between her moans and the incessant pleasure radiating between your legs it was becoming hard to focus. You open your eyes and meet Jessie’s gaze. “You’re so good with that tongue.” She smirks down at you and your eyes roll back and you can’t help but let out a pleading whimper against her slick core. Your hips start to roll subtly against the bed, looking for any kind of friction, so turned on by Jessie in every way, you couldn’t help yourself.

Jessie knew you loved being praised, wether you were giving or receiving, her praises could get you nearly halfway to finishing without her even touching you.

“You look so pretty between my legs, you’re doing so well baby.” One of her hands gently pushes your messy hair from your forehead before she’s back to digging her fingertips into your scalp.

You feel Jessie’s legs begin to close around your head, her moans growing louder. You watch the way her stomach begins to clench and flex at each movement of your tongue, her chest is rising and falling rapidly. The sight of your beautiful girlfriend on the edge of falling apart has you grinding yourself into the bed harder, your movements definitely noticeable.

You didn’t care if she could tell you were grinding yourself on the bed. Too overwhelmed with her you can’t help it. Your movements would only make it easy for Jessie to get you off once you finished devouring her, you were just getting her a head start. The tightness in your stomach already evident, you were close, all Jessie would have to do was put her fingers or tongue on you and you’d be moaning her name.

Jessie shouts your name as she finally breaks eye contact with you. She throws her head back, mouth wide, one fist gripping the bed sheet and the other tight in your hair. The air mixed with Jessie’s sounds, the smell of her, the taste as she ground her hips against your face and you let her. Letting her use your mouth however she needed to work through her orgasm.

It’s all too much.

As Jessie lets out another breathy whimper of your name you grind into the bed again, your thighs clenched tightly, you feel the knot in your stomach break and a wave of pleasure overcomes you. You can’t help but shut your eyes and your mouth falls open against Jessie’s slick skin as you let out a deep moan. Your hips keep grinding against the bed, desperate for more friction, more feeling, desperate for Jessie’s touch.

Your mouth comes off of her for a moment as your body shakes a few times and then the wave of pleasure is over and you come back down to reality. You blink your eyes open a few times and you’re met with your girlfriend’s stare.

“Did you just…?” Jessie’s mouth is open, eyes wide in what looks like a mix of shock and amazement.

She didn’t have to finish her sentence you knew what she was asking and you both knew the answer. You had. You just finished from eating her out and barely grinding on the bed. “Um.” You divert your eyes away from Jessie’s to a spot on the wall above her head.

“Were you even touching yourself?”

“No.” You suddenly feel embarrassed. You drop your head to the bedsheet hiding your face from your girlfriend, you still hadn’t wrapped your head around what just happened. You had gotten off just from the sight of Jessie coming undone, the noises she made, the taste of her, everything about her had gotten you so worked up, all it took was a little friction from the bedsheet and the pants you were still wearing.

“Oh.” You can’t quite tell what Jessie’s thinking. Maybe she thought it was weird. All you can hope is that you didn’t make her uncomfortable.

“Sorry.” You mutter still resting between her legs, you can’t bring yourself to look at her.

“Why are you apologizing? That’s honestly fucking hot.” Jessies hand grabs your chin from between her legs. She pulls your face up toward hers and you crawl on top of her body, still avoiding looking at her. She pulls your chin up to force your eyes to meet hers. She’s got a shit eating grin on her face. “Missed me so much you just couldn’t hold it in could you?”

You bury your head into the crook of her neck, your cheeks on fire. “Stop.” You quietly murmur into her skin.

“Oh I’m just teasing you baby.” She gently rolls the two of you so she’s hovering above your body. She gives you a quick kiss before teasing you again. Her hands move to your pants. “Let’s get these off, let me show you I can make you feel better than a bedsheet.”

[kinokkotsu]

Girlfriend — Yuuta Okkotsu x Reader

You found yourself sitting at the edge of a building. You took a small box and opened it, revealing the several cigarettes sticks inside. You pulled one out of its box as you push it in between your lips. The Tokyo city lights were amazing from above, though you had seen this view many times before. Maybe you’re getting high with yourself without even noticing. A low chuckle escaped your lips as you figured so.

Your ears immediately perked up once you heard footsteps from behind, “…relax, it’s just me” a gentle voice crept out as a tall figure appeared from the dark, Yuuta Okkotsu.

The special graded sorcerer had always something to do with you and it was always something about love. Maybe it was just you trying to deny it. You’d had went on dates and even had shared the same apartment before.

But you guys were not a thing.

He was a jujutsu sorcerer and worse he was the student under Gojo’s wing. And you? You were a puppet of Kenjaku in fact you know everything little things he had done including him pulling a trick on Itadori’s dad.

Maybe that was one of the reasons why you always had not been accepting his and your feelings to get in the way.

“Are you not going to say anything?” You said firmly, staring at the guy that just settled down next to you without a word. “no, not yet.” he smiled, a genuine one. you scoffed, “the fuck you mean no? I did not come here for nothing.”

Silence fell between you both before Okkotsu turnt to look at you. “I actually..don’t want to seem like I’m using you.” he said as he stared at you flick the cigarettes with your fingers. “Use me? Then what do you wanna do? Propose me? Don’t be an id-”

“Yes..yes. I want to make us an official thing. I want to make you an official thing.” he said, almost seemed like whispering.

At the moment, his face was too close to yours. You can feel his hot breaths against your cheeks, slightly making you feel things you had never experienced before. A rush of blood flowed through your cheeks which caused Okkotsu to laugh.

“Are you seriously blushing at this? c’mon it’s not like we have not even slept together bef-”

“Will you shut up already? Your voice is so loud that people on the ground might even hear.” you said, trying not to break a smile as you push him away.

You loved these kinds of moments. Moments that cannot be shared with anyone. You knew he was serious about his previous commitment yet you were not convinced you agreed too.

“..I just don’t want you to get executed once they found out.” you exhaled before your hands worked their way for another cigarette as it stopped its track once Okkotsu stopped your hand.

He looked at you sincerely, “they won’t find out.. I’m really tired of staying as strangers and you know how much I would like to hold your hand without feeling guilty.” He said before rubbing his palm against the back of your hand gently. He grabbed your soft hand and placed it on his lips, giving it a peck on the veins.

your heart softened at the sight, his face illuminated by the city lights, featuring every details perfectly. His hair messily falling off to his forehead. he was indeed handsome though it may take sometime to actually admit it.

“I promise they won’t. I don’t care if they do, I only need a world with you and me in it.” He grinned as he crooked his head in your neck.

you laughed at his words, “do you even know who you are talking to right now?”

“my girlfriend — obviously.”

“You’re such a hard headed guy.” You smiled softly while rubbing his skull. Though your brain told you to stop your actions, your heart convinced you to trust his words.

And you did.

I lost the request to this but if you’re seeing this, thanks for the brilliant idea xx. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Thanks!

[incrtz]

How many times will it take..?

Part Two

Pairing ⋆ sick! gojo x past lover! reader

Summary ⋆ After last time, you both wanted more… So, Satoru decided to give you the best birthday sex, but it feels way different this time.. more gentle.. more purposeful.

Warnings ⋆ Smut, 18+ topics, NSFW, MDNI, flirty! gojo, rough but gentle, alcohol, condescending! gojo

Word Count ⋆ 2,256

It’s been a few weeks since I had to look after Satoru. After we fucked I left since he decided to tell me he wasn't actually sick I didn't have to look after him anymore.

I'm now laying in my bed with a pack of beers, my favorite thing to do. I flick on my favorite movie, and pull my covers over me, I was about to put my head on the pillow when I was rudely interrupted by my phone buzzing. I brace myself and slide the ‘Answer Call’ button across my screen, lifting my phone to my ear before it gets blasted off.

“Ah. Hi Utahime.” I let out a deep sigh as she rambles down the phone. To be honest, I was completely zoned out until I heard her say, ‘We’re on our way. ‘My eyes widen. What? On your way, where?” I begin praying consciously, hoping she doesn't say… “To your apartment! Pay attention!” She shouts from the other end of the line.

My head falls back against my headboard as I put my fingers to the bridge of my nose, “Who is we? Who are you with?” I ask her, but I have a pretty good guess. “Satoru & Suguru for Christ's sake woman.” She scoffs, “Satoru’s… Done something. I don't know, that's why we’re coming to you.”

“I’m not a doctor. Go see Shoko.” I tell her, my patience wearing thin. “Get off your bed and get dressed, (Y/N). He's seriously hurt.” Before I knew it I was crawling out of my nice comfy bed to my closet, pulling on some loose pants and a tank top before slipping my blindfold on, I put my feet into my slippers as my door buzzes, followed by Suguru & Utahime entering with Satoru.

To my surprise, Satoru isn't injured and they're all carrying something, Suguru has a bottle of what seems to be Champagne, Utahime carrying a few gift bags and Satoru has hold of a white box. My eardrums nearly burst when they all screamed ‘Happy Birthday’ in unison. Oh yeah, I forgot.

I snicker a little before scolding them, “You made me rush thinking he got his ass kicked or something?!” I fold my arms over my chest before we all walk into my living room, Satoru places himself next to me and swings his arm over my shoulders, “Happy Birthday, gorgeous.” He hums as he kisses my forehead.

I roll my eyes and look to the side, “Yeah, thanks.” I mumble back to hum. “You’re gonna love my gift, I don't recommend opening it whilst every ones here.” He whispers into my ear. My body shudders at his tone, so sultry. “Yeah shut up,” I grumble before pushing him off me to stand up.

So somehow we've ended up all black-out drunk, dancing with the lights off in my kitchen whilst we wait for their taxis to pull up. Thankfully, Satoru actually left. To be honest I was fully expecting him to insist on staying the night since that’s what he’d usually do. I’m thankful though. I get to avoid talking to him about feelings.

I tidy up a little before pulling my eyemask off and crawling back into my bed, grabbing the box Satoru gave me. I place it gently on my lap and untie the blue ribbon, softly lifting the lid and then the tissue paper which matched the ribbon color. “Satoru.” I mumbled as I lifted the lace outfit he bought me, its light blue with basically no coverage. I think he bought me lingerie. For my birthday.

I sigh and climb back out of bed, taking the outfit with me before stripping off, gently pulling it over my legs and arms. I stand in front of my mirror, how the fuck does he know my clothing size? My mind starts wandering until my phone buzzes again, this time it's a text. A text from Satoru.

I clicked on his message, “You opened my present yet?;)” it read. I snicker a little. My mind is blurred from the alcohol because I'm pulling out the camera app, taking a photo of myself in the lingerie he got me. I cover my face with the phone and cross my legs, sending it to Satoru. I immediately close my phone and leave it on the bedside table whilst I undress and get ready for bed.

Once I’m tucked under my comforter I peel my phone off my bedside table, lifting the screen closer to my face when I realize Satoru sent me a pic back… he's stood in his mirror, his white Calvin Kleins hung low on his waist whilst he flexes his abs and the arm not holding the camera. If I had a drink, it would be spat out by now because Jesus Christ. I bite the inside of my lip and fold my legs, texting him back.

Satoru’s Iphone

Me: {my photo} I quite like it.

Satoru: {his photo} You like this?;)

Me: Teasing a girl isn't very gentleman-like is it, Toru?

Satoru: That right baby? D’ya want me to come back over?

I hum to myself, smirking whilst biting my finger as I message him back. I think for a minute, looking down at myself before replying.

Me: Maybe I do. How long will you be?

Satoru: I’ll be right there. Give me ten.

My smirk grows wider as I pull the lingerie back on, take my blindfold off and apply a small amount of makeup so I don't look totally ready for bed and I quickly make my bed, flattening it out before layng on it. Satoru knocks at the door and I text him, telling him to just come in, which he does almost immediately.

I hear his movements get closer to my bedroom door, my eyes burning homes through the wall as if to see him quicker. Shortly, his tall figure filled the doorway, I turned my lights off and there’s just a few lit candles dotted around my room. The flames reflect off his face as he crawls onto the bed, “Holy fuck. You look even better than the pic you sent me.” He mumbles before crawling over me, slipping himself in between my legs, and placing his hands on either side of my head. “You smell amazing.” I hum, smirking up at him before his hands begin exploring my body.

My fingers trail up his torso, unbuttoning his white shirt that he has rolled up to his elbows. His face lowers to mine, connecting our lips as he shakes his arms out of his shirt, pushing his hips into mine gently, creating some friction in-between us.

As his mouth envelopes mine, it feels as though his entire body is taking over mine, touching me where I wanna be touched, breathing onto my lips just the way I like it. My back arches as he reaches underneath me, unclipping the lace attached to my body. My palms glide down his toned torso until I hit his waistband, hooking my fingers under it as he peels the lace from me, I reach my free hand up to his face, yanking his blindfold off to join his shirt on my floor. I look him in the eyes, tugging gently at his waistband, “God. What’s gotten into you?” He smirks down at me, gently guiding the lace down my legs. “You have.” I hum back as he drops the lingerie on the floor.

“That right?” He grins as he pushes my legs apart, his palms on the back of each one of my thighs as he leans his neck down, pressing his lips to my pussy. My eyelids flutter shut as he slides his fingers in between my wet folds, his free hand sliding up to firmly press on my lower stomach. His gorgeous blue eyes connect with mine as he flicks his tongue against me.

He lifts his free hand, tracing his fingertips up my leg down to my inner thigh, gently massaging as he devours my core, “Fuck ‘Toru~” I breathe out, my voice laced with desire as his groans send vibrations through my body, my hips bucking at the sensation. I push my hand down my body, running my fingers through his luscious, shaggy, white hair and gripping, pulling his head further into me.

He lifts his head up, his lips & chin covered in my arousal as he sits up, my lips forming into a pout as he crawls over me, smirking as he sees my lip pop out of my mouth. His grin widens as he leans down, catching my lower lip in between his pearly whites. His left hand fumbles with his joggers, untying the string before tugging them down to his lower thigh, just where his boxers end. He hoists my legs onto his shoulders, his mouth covering mine once again as he tugs his boxers down, his veiny cock springing free as he lets out a sigh of relief. His palm grips his cock, slowly pumping it whilst his tip glistens with precum.

His tongue explores my mouth, reaching every untouched corner all whilst trying to cover his stifled moans. He pushes his hips forward, his tip pressing against my cunt. His mouth peels off mine as he presses his sweat-lined forehead onto mine, heavily breathing onto my lips as his dick-head finds my hole. His eyelids peel open as he gently pushes into me, my lips parting slightly as I look up at him, his eyes aren’t covered with the usual hunger, and desire that happens when we fuck, they look different, he feels different and I feel it too.

It’s as if we are trespassing, entering enemy territory.

My stomach flutters along with my eyelids as his tip hits my spot, my back arching in unison with his thrusts. The headboard of my bed begins colliding with the wall, with each push inside of me, settling me right on the edge. My head sinks into my pillows as I lift my eyelids open, his orbs refuse to look away from me as I almost hit my climax. My teeth abruptly clamp down on my bottom lip as he lifts my hips, getting a better angle to fuck my G-spot perfectly.

My teeth quickly release my lower lip and my mouth begins sputtering out all kinds of words, Satoru’s hands slide up my hips, like he’s touching the most expensive thing he's laid eyes on. My head pushes further into the pillows as I hit my climax, my legs tightening around his shoulders, “F-fuck ‘Toru..~” I practically scream out. That seems to push him over the edge too as I can now feel a sticky, hot substance coating the insides of my thighs.

Satoru leans back down, caging me in with his arms as he places a gentle, purposeful kiss on my parted lips before climbing off me, and disappearing into the bathroom. He tends to do that, I think he likes giving me aftercare because every time we’ve fucked, without fail hes always cleaned me up and made sure I was dressed and comfortable before leaving.

But this time, I decided to ask him something I've never asked him before, “Satoru. Stay the night?” I shout to my bathroom. I hear the water abruptly stop running from the tap as he re-enters, “(Y/N)(L/N). Have you just asked ME to stay the night?” He repeats, his muscular arms folded over his chest, holding a damp cloth in one of his hands. I scoff and roll my eyes, “Forget it then. Dick.”

I hear an amused chuckle escape from his lips as he gets closer to me, pressing the cloth on my cum-covered thighs, “Of course I’ll stay the night, gorgeous.” He hums, nodding along with his words as he steps back, just looking down at me.

I can’t believe I’m now curled up in my bed with Satoru Gojo, his huge arms wrapped around me whilst I use his chest as a pillow, my palm sits gently on his bare chest as the TV plays in the background. His eyes are glued to me whilst I watch, entertained at the screen.

It must've been pretty late by the time we actually slept because it’s now 2 pm and I can just about open my eyes until my brain starts attacking the rest of my body, begging me to go back to sleep. I pull myself together and sit up, looking at the empty bed next to me. I sigh, frankly, I’m quite disappointed that I’m not being woken up by breakfast in be…

“Finally.” I hear a voice tease from my doorway, my eyes glance up as a wave of relief washes over me. “You slept for hours. I was just about to wake you.” He tells me whilst approaching my bed with a plate of food, placing it gently on my lap before handing me the bottle of water he had shoved in his pocket. “Figured you’d have a hangover.” He hums as the bed sinks beneath him, he leans his back against my headboard as I thank him, letting him know he didn’t need to do this before divulging in the food, taking full advantage whilst i can.

“You know…” He trails off, his eyes watching me in amusement at my reaction to his cooking, “I got you two birthday presents.”

I raise an eyebrow, squinting my eyes a little as he answers my unspoken question, “I gave you the lingerie, and the most amazing birthday sex.”

© 2025 INCRTZ | pls don’t copy or repost w out creds on any of my works. all rights reserved.

[alexanderlightweight]

Amazing to see you better and back writing again! I've been pretty much off tumblr for a while because on RL stuff so quite a shock (but a wonderful surprise) to see I'd missed a Writing Wednesday, but great fun to read through the recent prompts and answers - you still write as beautifully as ever! If you are in the mood for it, I'd love to see something with Alec changing from 'In Command' to 'Melting/Falling Apart' as he walks to Magnus - any verse is good :)

hi!!! it's been a while yes but its amazing to be back and good to hear from you! I get that, RL makes it really hard to be online sometimes, when I wasn't writing I tried to stay somewhat active but tbh writing is why i'm interested in being online so I was kinda bad at it.

i'm actually relieved my writing hasn't gotten too rusty, so i'm thankful to hear that! I hope you enjoy this, it's in the petals vs and is Mirai's POV

<3 lumine

-

in his wake petals fall

Mirai is pleased with her position as Alec Lightwood’s second.  

He’s tough but fair — though he has his own weaknesses — and beyond that, he takes the lives of his hunters seriously.

Which means that when someone from the outside fucks up and puts either lives or the reputation of his Insitutte  in danger, he takes it seriously.

Like now, where he stands half-naked and dripping from his hurried decontamination shower and is dressing down a dirt-smudged, scowling shadowhunter.

“You opened up a manhole to track down a nest of demons and then you just happened to leave it open? Along with the other three hatches and locked areas you went through that allowed two dozen minor demons to flood the streets? I had to send two teams back down to make sure no mundanes fell or were dragged in.”

As he speaks Alec’s volume stays calm and measured and despite being two inches shorter than the hunter he’s scolding, he holds every bit of power in the room with just the tone of his voice. It’s cold, like ice despite the gentle pitch of it and every single hunter in the room can hear the anger and disappointment in it.

“I didn’t know we were supposed to shut it.”

It’s not a question and it’s not even an attempt at an apology and Mirai knows that Idris’ latest and best will be sent back by daybreak.

“Why is he even here?” 

It’s a valid question even if the answer is the same as it always is, politics. 

“His mother just joined the council.” Kaleb has barely looked up from his tablet since Alec was called from his office to deal with the dozens of demons loose in a mundane night market. They’d needed his skill to deal with it quickly and efficiently and even Jace was woken up to direct a city wide communication web despite having only just ended a shift. “We accepted the transfer because his scores were among the top, apparently they no longer test for critical thinking.”

“...”

Mirai has never seen a nephilim move so quickly without active runes before.  Alec’s strength due to his training and use of the bow is legendary but there is still something impressive about watching him lift someone taller and broader than him with the ease of a cat dangling a mouse.

Alec shakes him, as if that will somehow help impart the lesson he wishes to teach him. Considering that half of Alec’s skin is still raw and pink from being regrown after ichor coated it, Mirai imagines the only one truly suffering is her commander. But if this helps relieve his stress after the evening he’s had, she’ll take it.

“Alexander—” 

Salvation comes in the form of Magnus Bane and Mirai will always be grateful for the privilege of having his private phone number.  It means that there is always a quick way to de-escalate the many situations Idris creates.

Her commander drops the offending hunter like an ichor covered stele and moves just as quickly — yet far less angrily — to his husband.

“Magnus.” 

Just as soft but no longer filled with ice, Alec’s tone turns from a cold dagger to a cool, gentle breeze petting against the senses.  The dark furrow of his brow and the angry turn of his lips smoothes too quickly to catch as his eyes soften and he smiles.

If Mirai was any less confident, she’d wonder if he’d ever actually been angry at all.

There’s a quick moment where Alec’s gaze catches her and she relaxes at the pleased acknowledgment there. 

Good.

So far Alec’s never minded that she uses Magnus to reign him in, sometimes she feels almost as if he plays into it, just a bit.

Then something will happen that will remind her that no matter how far he plays into it, Alec Lightwood-Bane truly is just a smitten mess for his husband. No matter how fierce his anger or great his agony, Alec’s attention will always shift to where Magnus Bane is.

Having no need to worry about the success of her mission — the minute Alec heard his husband it was a success — she nods to Kaleb who smirks and taps the tablet in his hands.  

He’ll have the hunter processed and escorted back to Idris before Magnus is done taking her commander out for dinner.  

When she turns, Magnus has already summoned actual clothing beyond damp sweatpants for Alec and a crown of flowers that he’s actually holding away from her commander.  

“Magnus, please?” Alec’s voice is a quiet plea, something so fragile compared to his strength just moments before, as if being denied the flower crown he knows his husband specifically brought just for him will truly break him.

Magnus Bane laughs, winking at her as he shakes his head in mock pity. 

“Duty first, darling.  I can hardly give you the flowers if they might get ruined in a few moments.  You finish handling things here, then you get the crown.”

It’s an opening that in any other situation Alec might take him up on, but Mirai has watched this particular scene replay itself for months and as always, Alec delegates.

“Mirai?”

“Everything here will be handled shortly. I’m sure sending a scathing letter for the council to read publicly will be a much more effective use of your time, sir.”

He definitely agrees, if the way Alec’s immediately turning back to Magnus and dips his head down along with the offering the full effect of wide, glossy hazel eyes peering up pleadingly.

Magnus caves instantly, a crown with flowers Mirai doesn’t know from memory but a scent that tells her is honeysuckle, placed on Alec’s brow.

[spideysbruh]

Neighbors

request- Maybe timmy is ur neighbor and it somehow ends up smutty? 

a/n- sorry it took a bit! also, its 4,500 words gawd damnnn

warnings- cursing, smut, oral, spit kink (just a lil), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!!!!!!!) praise kink kinda

~

They had met in the most rom-com of ways…. she was moving in and he heard a commotion in the hallway. 

He looked through the peephole and saw a very attractive woman carrying one too many boxes up the stairs and into the adjacent apartment. 

The commotion was her spewing every curse word as she carried the boxes up the stairs. He chuckled a bit and opened the door, silently hoping that she didn't recognize him.

“Hey, do you need help? Is anyone else helping you out?” He said, catching her off guard, causing the top box to fall down. Thankfully, his reflexes were quick and he caught the box, she smiled.

“Thank you, cute guy.” She grins, “I know I should lie and say yes someone's helping me so I don't end up on the news later tonight, but this is my third trip up here and there's still a million things in the truck downstairs… so, yes I need help.” She sighed, placing the boxes on the floor inside her apartment. 

He chuckled and awkwardly stood at the door, not wanting to intrude on… the empty apartment???

“Come in, cute guy… and sorry for calling you cute guy, don't know what else to call you.” She shrugged, watching him place the box next to the others, her eyes never leaving his frame.

He laughed and went to shake her hand, “I'm Timothée, and no worries, I wouldn't have come out here to help you if I also didn't think you were cute.” He replied, making her laugh.

He found himself thinking that he wouldn't mind making her laugh on a daily basis.

Hold up- what?

“Would've pretended that no one was home, huh?” She chuckled, walking past him to go back to her haul. He caught a whiff of her perfume and loved it, he followed behind her.

“Ahahaha, yeah exactly.” He replied, she turned and smiled at him as they walked down the steps. “So, what was your name again? I didn't catch it.” 

“That's cause I didn't say it.” She shrugged, sending him a smirk as she walked out to the truck.

“Ah, well I would say it's only fair that you tell me, you know- since you know mine now.” He replied, stepping into the truck and gathering a couple of boxes together.

“It's Y/n.” She said, sending him a shy smile.

“Y/n.” He says, smiling as she nods and walks past him with her boxes. “Y/n.” He repeats, liking the way it rolls off his tongue. 

“Don't wear it out, now.” She jokes.

He thought it was the most beautiful name he'd ever heard. A name for this absolute goddess that will now be living right across from him.

He had spent the rest of the day helping her carry everything in, asking her questions about herself and just getting to know her. She was awesome, everything he learned about her only made him like her more.

She offered to buy him dinner, which he accepted with a blush, “You can wait for it in here and watch me unpack my kitchen boxes to find some plates and cups if you want.” She said, making him laugh.

“Sure, that sounds like a plan.” 

After that, he found himself wanting to be with her more and more. She was so cute and witty, she didn't seem to know who he was, which was fine. She knew he was an actor, she just didn't know how big he really was. She knows him for him. And he loves that. 

When he was home and would hear her leaving or coming back, he would open his door just to talk to her.

“Y’know you can just text me, right Timmy?” She laughed one day, “Or come over. I haven't had a friend over in a while.”

Friend. 

He laughed, “Or you can come over to mine.” He offered, shrugging his shoulders.

“Ugh, it's just such a long journey.” She joked, smirking at him and resting her head on the doorframe.

He laughed, “You're cute.” He looked down at his feet as he said that, missing her blush. “Seriously, do you wanna come over? I'll cook something for you.”

She's quiet for a moment before she nods, “Yeah, lemme just get changed-” 

He cuts her off, “No please! I'm in my pj's so… all good.” He chuckles, she smirks and quickly changes out of her gym shoes into her house slippers. 

They're cute, they're unique, they're blue and really big, “Those look like space shoes.” He comments as she walks over, she quirks an eyebrow at his words.

“Don't diss my slippers, Timmy.” She teases.

“In a- in a good way!” He tries, she giggles and he widens the door to let her in. “Make yourself at home, I'll start cooking.” He smiles, watching as she subtly looks around.

She had been in his place before, just not recently, “You rearranged some stuff since last time, huh?” 

“Ahahaha yeah, thought it was time to change it up.” He said, grabbing the TV remote and handing it to her. “Put on whatever you like.” 

“Thanks.” She smiles, sitting on his couch, “It looks nice though, love the changes.”

He smiles and gets her a glass of water, “So what's new? We haven't seen each other in a while.” He asks, handing her the glass.

“You mean like a week?” She laughs, watching as he gathers some ingredients in his kitchen. He moved with ease but in reality he was nervous, this girl that he really likes is in his home, teasing him and making herself comfortable on his couch.

It's never awkward when they do this, with other people there's usually that awkward moment when they first come in, where you're not really sure what to do, but with them it was never like that. 

Maybe it's because their first meeting was literally him helping her move into her apartment, but he likes to think it's because they like each other so much and are just immediately comfortable anywhere with each other.

Timothée laughs, “Yeah, it feels longer! It's like dog years.” 

She snorts, “You're stupid.” his cheeks redden as she continues looking for a movie to play. She sighs and looks over at him, “You need help?” 

He shakes his head, “No, I'm okay! Just find a movie for us.” 

She smirks and goes onto hbo, humming as she sees the banner pop up. “The fuuuuck?” 

He hums and looks over at the TV, “Uhhhhh.”

“Bitch, is that you!?!?!!???” She exclaims, “With Oscar Isaac!??!?!?!?!!!” 

That makes him laugh, “Um.. y-yeah.”

“How don't I know this about you?!! You’re a whole, real actor, what the fuck.” She says in disbelief.

“Well y’know you were in school until-” 

“But stillll! Oh my god I'm so uncultured.” She groans, rubbing her face, “That's so embarrassing, Timmy. I had no idea you were in these big, sci-fi films.” She says, her voice muffled from her hands.

He chuckles and walks over to her, sitting down next to her and wrapping an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder, “It's alright, I mean- I never mentioned it so…”

She looks up at him, “Yeah, why didn't you actually?” 

He shrugs, “I dunno… I didn't want it to… to change anything. I just wanted to be the same old Timothée to you.” 

She chuckles, “Nothing could change any of this. You're still the same little cute guy that helped me when I moved in.” 

He laughs and brings his hand up to lightly pinch her cheek, “You're still the same beautiful girl with the prettiest name I've ever heard.” 

“Well, I would hope so cause you didn't just find out that I'm a fucking celebrity.” She joked, her cheeks reddening at his words.

He smiled and kept his eyes locked on hers, “You're the funniest person i've ever known.” He said softly, his heart racing as he watched her smile, “Can I kiss you?” he asked, so low he didn't even hear himself say it, but she nodded.

“Yes please.” She says, his lips on hers milliseconds later. 

She kisses him back, her hands going into his hair, softly tugging on it which elicits a whine from Timothée.

His hands caress her face as his soft lips meld with hers, his tongue slipping into her mouth. She hums and finds herself shifting to sit on his lap, which he welcomes. Her pussy gushes as his hands move down her body, passing her breasts, her stomach and landing on her thighs. He squeezes them and she giggles into their makeout. 

“What's so funny?” He mumbles, a string of their saliva connecting them as he disconnects their lips ever so slightly.

Y/n shakes her head, looking around his apartment, his head subconsciously following hers, waiting either for a response or for her to kiss him again.

“It's just so- I can't believe this is happening, Timmy. I've liked you for so long.”

“Me too.” He replies, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I'm still praying that this isn't a dream.”

She laughs, “It feels pretty real to me, but no way of knowing.” She shrugs, running her thumb across his face. He laughs and plants another kiss on her lips.

“I've wanted this forever, Y/n/n. I've wanted all of you for months. Will you let me?” He wonders, his hands now on the waistband of her joggers.

She feels her panties dampen at his words and she nods, “Yes.” She whispers, kissing him again. 

He slides a hand into her pants and runs his fingers along her panties, “Fuckkkk, you're so wet, baby.” She moans at the nickname and grinds her hips against his hand. He grins and presses a soft, wet kiss to her neck.

He takes his hand out and licks his fingers before turning her over so she's sitting on the couch and he's kneeling in front of her. She whines and he slowly pulls her joggers down her legs, delicately taking them off and placing them next to her. 

“You're so cute.” She says softly, he looks up at her and smiles.

“You're beautiful.” He says, leaning forward and kissing just below her bellybutton, he peppers kisses all the way down to her thighs and moves back up to press a kiss right on her clit through her underwear. 

She whines, her hips involuntarily moving up for more friction. “Please Timothée! Touch me.” 

He smirks and his fingers pinch the waistband of her underwear, slowly moving them down, “It's like I'm unwrapping a present. This might be the best gift I've ever received.” He says, his eyes meeting hers, she giggles and teasingly shakes her head. 

“Might?” 

“Yeah I dunno, my Xbox was a pretty good one.” 

She laughs and closes her legs together, stopping his agonizingly slow movements, “Fuck off.” She giggles.

He grins and spreads them open with his free hand, finally getting her panties off, “Fucking hell, baby. Your pussy is fucking heavenly.” He sighs, her pretty folds glistening already, he licks one of his fingers and runs it along them, spreading her slick around. Finally, the tip of his finger traces around her hole. 

She moans at the touch, “Please, baby boy.” 

His cock stiffens at both her noises and the sight of her pussy, he can't hold back any longer. He shoves his whole finger inside, slowly moving it in and out as she moans softly. 

“Fuck, Timothée.” She whimpers and he adds another finger, leaning in to lick along her folds, his tongue flicking up to suck on her clit. Her hips rotate against his face at that. “Fuck! Please don't stop, baby! Mmmm fuck.” She moans, loud enough that he's sure the neighbors heard it. 

He hums against her pussy, curling his fingers, massaging her walls and finding that perfect spot inside of her. 

She doesn't stop moaning, they leave her mouth every few seconds, echoing across the apartment.

He pulls his fingers all the way out, gathering his saliva in his mouth before letting it fall onto her pussy. She moans at the warm sensation. 

“Kiss me, Timmy.” She whines, he wastes no time in standing up and leaning over her to press his lips to hers.

“You taste so fucking good.” He mumbles against her lips, deepening the kiss, rubbing his hard on against her through his joggers. 

She moans and her mouth parts against his lips, and he takes the opportunity to let some of his saliva fall into her mouth, coating her tongue before she closes her lips and swallows it.

“You're a goddess.” He praises, moving back down to her pussy. He licks at her hole, his thumb rubbing slow circles on her clit. 

“Oh fuck! Mmmm yeah, mhmmmm baby, fuck.” Loud moans now emit from her endlessly, and he never wants that to stop. 

He returns his two fingers inside of her, curling and easily finding her g-spot again. He licks her folds and his thumb quickens on her clit, her walls clench around his fingers and he speeds up his fingers. 

Her moans hit his ears like music, mixed with the squelching noise coming from his fingers in her pussy, oh he was in heaven.

He pulls his head away to look at her, admiring the way the pleasure is etched onto her face. 

“I'm so fucking close!” She moans, her eyes shut and one of her hands playing with her nipple. 

He groans, wishing he could replace her hand with his own, or even with his mouth. But, in due time.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” His hands speed up to a tireless pace, her walls constantly clenching around him. 

“Uh huh.” She nods, her pitch higher than usual.

“Fuck I've thought about this so much. What you'd feel like, what you'd look like, what you'd sound like. It's all so perfect, better than what I fantasized. You're so fucking beautiful, y/n.” He moans, feeling her thighs begin to shake.

“Mmmm fuck me.” She whines, he returns his mouth to her pussy, his tongue running all along her folds, kissing them as she rubs her hips against his face. “I'm gonna cum- fuck!” 

Her walls clench tightly around his fingers as her thighs shake beside his head. His eyes move up to see her face as she cums and he almost cums himself at the sight alone.

He slows his thumb down on her clit as she comes down, his fingers still inside her. “You look so beautiful when you cum for me.” He praises her.

She blushes and moves her arm to cover her face, “You're fucking incredible.” She compliments, he laughs and kisses the inside of her thigh, pulling out his fingers and licking her arousal off of them. 

She sighs as the cool air hits her pussy, “I haven't cum like that in so long.” 

“You wanna do it again?” He smirks, standing up completely and leaning over her, softly and quickly kissing her lips. 

“Fuck yeah.” He laughs at that and offers her his hand, which she takes. He pulls her up and guides them into his room, laying her on his bed.

“I want you so bad.” He mumbles, kissing from her cheek down to her neck. She moans and wraps her arms around his neck as he sucks a hickey onto her neck, “I've wanted to mark you forever.” 

She hums, her pussy gushing at his words. She reaches down to the hem of his shirt and pulls it up over his head, exposing his torso, she wolf whistles which makes him blush.

“You're so beautiful.” She says softly, running her hands across his chest. 

Goosebumps rise on his skin at her touch and she smirks, he presses their lips together again, his tongue clashing with hers now. 

He's needy and desperate for her now, he pulls up her shirt over her breasts and kneads one of them in his hands. She moans at that, her hips rising and rubbing against his, “Fuck.” He groans at the friction on his cock, he pulls her shirt off and places it next to them on the bed, making her smile again.

“Get these off now.” She says, sitting up a bit and reaching for his pants. She pulls on the strings to untie them and he lets her. He watches as his pants loosen up and she tugs them down, “You're hard already?” She asks, blushing at his dick poking through his boxes.

He hums, “Mmm hmmm, been for a while.” He admits, caressing her face in one of his hands. 

“Fuck, Timmy that's so fucking hot.” She moans, pulling his boxers down now and leaning forward to put his dick in her mouth. His head throws back at her warm mouth almost completely taking him in. 

He moans as she sucks and licks his cock, one of her hands softly stroking him, “God damn, baby, I can't- fuck- I want to be inside you already please.” He moans and she stops her movements. He takes his pants and boxers off completely and lightly pushes her onto her back, “Can I, baby? Can I be inside you?” He hums, peppering kisses on her chest, she softly moans and nods.

“Yes, please Timo.” She furiously nods, touching his face and kissing his lips.

He groans and reaches down, grabbing hold of his dick and slowly rubbing it against her folds, she loudly whines as he rubs her arousal and his precum around her pussy. Before he pushes into her, he suddenly looks at her and then to his nightstand, “Um… fuck.”

“What?” She pants, her hand gently tracing along his torso, prompting goosebumps to rise on his skin again. He sighs and meets her eyes, before he even opens his mouth she realizes. “I’m on the pill, soooo…” She drags, making him chuckle, “If you don’t have a condom, it’s okay.”

“You sure?” He asks, he desperately wants to be inside her, but if she’s worried, he’ll stop. They can always have fun in other ways tonight. 

She nods, “Yes, I trust you.” She caresses his cheek and he leans into it, kissing her palm.

“I’ll pull out.”

“Okay.” She smirks, and he smiles and kisses her lips, enjoying the softness of them as he gently pushes into her. They moan into each other's mouths, their hot breaths hitting the other's lips. 

“Ughhh fuck. You’re so fucking tight babygirl, god damn-” He groans, slowly thrusting in and out of her. He rests his forehead against hers, heavy breaths leaving his lips.

“You fill me up so good, baby.” She moans lightly, kissing him desperately, her tongue messily clashing with his. 

He speeds up a bit, one of his hands moving down to play with her clit, her hips move up against his at the feeling. 

His fingers circle on her clit and he slams into her, “OH! Mmmm fuck.” She moans, moving her head to bite his shoulder as she attempts to quiet her moans down.

“Let me hear you. I want to hear you, forever and always.” He moans, slamming into her again. She clenches around his dick at that.

Her noises get louder and louder with every thrust which only gets him more and more eager. 

“You’re all mine now, right baby? I want you forever, please be mine, Y/n.” He moans, staying deep inside of her and not moving his hips. 

“Really?” She asks, playing with his hair and wrapping her legs around him, pulling him even deeper inside of her if possible. She hums at the feeling as he nods.

“Yes. I like you so much and still can’t believe this is happening.” He pants as he starts thrusting again, watching her breasts bounce with each one. 

He moves his head down and licks at her nipple before continuing, “You're so fucking gorgeous, funny, intelligent and your laugh is the prettiest sound I've ever heard. I'm so lucky to be inside you right now.”

Her eyes roll back at his words and her pussy squeezes around his cock as a constant stream of moans leave her mouth. 

“Well… maybe the second prettiest sound.” He chuckles, kissing her cheek as she giggles.

“I like you so much, Timmy. I'll do anything with you.” She whispers, leaning up and sucking a hickey on his neck. “Can I even give you hickeys? What with your job and everything.” 

He laughs and nods, “Even if you weren't supposed to I'd still fucking let you. They can just fucking deal with it.” He says and speeds his hips up, playing with one of her breasts as he makes out with her.

“Mmmm fuck Timmy-” She gasps against his lips, reaching down to play with her clit, but he redirects her hand to his back and moves his hand down to massage her clit. “Oooo fuck, fuck me.” She moans, running her hands across his back and sides.

“I'm trying.” He grunts, making her giggle. “You're perfect. You feel so good around me. I've never had a pussy this fucking good. You're so perfect." He moans, slamming into her harder as he feels his high approaching. "Never wanna leave your tight little pussy. Feels like heaven." He sighs into her neck.

She whines at his words and his fingers on her clit speed up, “Mmmmm!” Her hips once again grind up against his, “N- no one's ever fucked me this good, baby. I'm so close- god fucking- damn I'm so close!” She exclaims, pulling his head down to kiss him, trying to suppress her moans.

“You're such a good fucking girl.” He pants against her lips before licking into her mouth. 

She clenches around him again and he groans, “You like hearing that? That you're a good girl?” He hums, nudging his nose against hers and she quickly nods, “That's exactly what you are, baby. A good.” He slams his cock into her, “Fucking.” He slams into her again, “Girl.” He kisses her as he nears the edge, his fingers tirelessly rubbing her clit as her moans reach a volume that will definitely get him a complaint, but he couldn't care less. “Cum for me, my pretty girl.”

Her whole body shakes as she cums around him, her moans music to his ears as he thrusts through her orgasm. He kisses along her neck, and when she comes down he pulls his dick out which earns a whine from her.

He strokes himself several more times and groans loudly as his cum spurts all over her pussy and lower stomach, “Fuck you look so pretty like this.” He sighs, leaning down and kissing her again.

“With your cum on me?” She laughs, tracing her finger along his face.

He nods, shrugging, “Mmm yeah.” He chuckles, turning over and laying down next to her. His eyes lock on the side of her face, trying to memorize every detail.

She blushes and feels herself gushing again at his words, “Hmmm, who would've thought the cute guy across from me would be the best sex of my life?” 

“So far. We've gotta beat this session, and then the next one… and the next one, and then the next-” 

“Okay okay, I got it.” She laughs, leaning up on her elbows to see the mess he made on her. “Fuck Timothée, you came a lot.” 

“Only for you.” He sighs, watching as she drags a finger through the cum on her tummy and then places it on her tongue, making eye contact with him as she licks it off. His eyes don't blink as she hums around her finger, “Holy fuck.” He moans, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her on top of him, she giggles and places kisses all over his face.

They lay there silently for a while, resting their eyes and listening to the sound of the others breathing.

He finally speaks up, “Y’know, I was just thinking… I have to leave at the end of the month, I gotta film a new movie. I'll be gone for a couple months.”

She frowns and looks up at him, “Oh yeah?” 

He nods and tangles his fingers in her hair, “Yeah. How'd you like to come with me?” He nervously asks, his heart racing as he awaits an answer.

She quirks an eyebrow, “Really?” he nods instead of saying something, “I would love to Timmy, but- what about my job? What do I do when you're on set? I don't know the first thing about your-”

He sits up and holds her face in his hands, locking his eyes on hers, “You can work from there! And- and if there's something important that you gotta come back here for, you can always fly out. And you can join me on set! You'll make friends so easily, watch. You can hang in my trailer whenever you want, or go explore the city! Though, I'd want to do that with you, too.” He chuckles, rubbing her cheekbone, she giggles and anxiously looks down.

“Ohhh I dunno, Timmy. Don't you have paparazzi? I-”

“Oh, fuck them! We'll lay low if you want, but I don't care either way. I just got you… I don't want to be without you for three whole months.” He says, resting his forehead against hers. 

She kisses him and shrugs, “Okay. I'm down!” 

His eyes widen at her words and he grins, “Yeah?!” He exclaims, she nods and he pulls her into an all encompassing hug, kissing all over her head and neck, “Fuck yeah! This is going to be so fun, baby. You'll see.” He grins, she laughs and kisses his cheek.

“You know what's not fun, though?” She says, suddenly serious.

“What?” 

“The fact that my boyfriend promised he'd cook for me, but here I am, famished, starving, hungry as fuck.” She teases, pretending to faint back onto his bed.

Boyfriend.

Hell yeah.

He laughs and his eyes scan over her naked body. Her smooth skin, her breasts sitting so perfectly on her chest, his cum still on her pussy and tummy. 

He reaches forward and runs his hand over her waist, “Let's save that for tomorrow, yeah? I make a good ass omelet, you'll see. I'll order something for us tonight.” 

She opens her eyes and smiles, “Nah I think I'll just go home.” She teases.

“No way, I'm not letting you walk home alone this late.” He jokes, she giggles and sits back up, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

“Ahhh.” She sighs as she rests her head on his chest, “Soooo what movie are you filming next month?”

“It's a Willy Wonka prequel.” He says, his fingers tracing her sides.

Her head jumps up, “No way!” She grins, “That's so cool.”

He nods and kisses her head, “It is pretty cool, huh?” 

“I gotta catch up on your stuff, babe.” 

He laughs and sighs. He finally has the girl of his dreams.

*

[sanccharine]

loser's game | jh

pairing: jihyo x reader

genre: (questionable) comedy

word count: 6.1k

warnings: descriptions of blood, gore, violence. includes popular monsters/villains from horror movies. 

summary: when you and jihyo lose spectacularly as the mafias in the mafia game, you are both are forced to endure a horror house as punishment.

a/n: this started on feb 20, 2021... finally finished on oct 31, 2024 ·_· the banner is so serious for such a ridiculous fic, im sorry. this was inspired (100% stolen and copied) from run bts, going seventeen, and time to twice — like it is literally scene for scene going seventeen the tag. anyways thanks to my gorl indigo (@eternallyghosting) for correcting the shit out of my spelling...it was bad. and happy diwali and halloween (diwalloween if you will)

A soft curse escaped your lips as you observed the meticulously decorated building in front of you.  

Granite statues of goblins guarded the front steps, which seemed like they were a second away from falling apart. Along with their pointed ears and wrinkled foreheads, they had a grotesque grin etched across their face, more to showcase their rows of sharp teeth instead of a welcoming smile. The worst part was their eyes, hidden away from the rain by protruding eyebrows, they were caved in and greasy, making them twinkle in the night. 

The stairs were also of the same stone, splattered with what you hoped was dirt and grime, leading up to the entrance of the mansion. Beside them, led a staircase to the right side of the house all the way up to the upper floor. It was a beautiful house, truly, with its high roofs and many windows. Maybe in its prime, you would have been able to appreciate its beauty, maybe even dreamed of staying in such a place. 

However, in the darkness of the night, the pastel pink walls turned into an ugly shade of grey similar to a trodden sidewalk. It didn’t help that the paint was cracked and peeling to show the large splotches of mould. Then there were the overgrown vines spewing over the railing beside the entrance and crawling up the walls, reaching the open windows which creaked eerily with wind, barely hanging on. 

It was the type of house the protagonist of a horror movie would have to move into at the start of the film. Even with cleardistaste for the house and the knowledge of its past from the neighbours or rumours, they’d choose to stay there. The mere sight of it had you wrapping your arms around your stomach and pulling at your overcoat. 

For a random haunted house at an amusement park, they had spent quite the money to make it look…convincing. 

Beside you, Jihyo’s torso heaved as she inhaled and exhaled deeply, allowing a misty cloud to escape her lips. When she was done collecting herself, she spun on the balls of her feet as she proclaimed. “We’ll do the dishes, Jeongyeon! And vacuuming! For a week!” 

Normally, you would’ve nudged Jihyo, gesturing that you wanted nothing to do with cleaning duties. What with Jeongyeon breathing down your neck for every second of it? Absolutely not, you did not have a death wish. However, considering your current predicament, between cleaning with Jeongyeon badgering you every second or entering this haunted house of horrors, you would easily pick the former.  

Nayeon scoffed at Jihyo’s pathetic attempt at bargaining which caused you to turn as well. Next to the oldest, stood Jeongyeon with her hands in her pockets, completely relaxed at the knowledge of her friend’s imminent suffering. Beside the pair, stood Sana and Momo, who clung to each other for any sort of warmth during this late October night. However, there was no warmth in their mischievous eyes.

When Jeongyeon’s face stayed as expressive as the stone behind you, Jihyo continued with hands clasped in front of her chest. “Seriously! For two weeks, then?” 

But, of course, Jeongyeon was not easily convinced. 

“No,” Jeongyeon said with a composed smile as her eyes moved from the begging girl to you, who remained as stiff as a board. “Neither of you can properly clean. It’s just more work for me.” 

Nayeon folded her arms as her eyes flitted to the ground to suppress the cackle that would surely burst out. Jihyo’s clasped hands parted, shaking as they dropped. The corner of her lip twitched as she straightened herself, the facade of a begging innocent transformed into a character dead set on spilling blood.  

Before that could happen, finally coming to your senses, you offered. “I’ll pay for dinner.” 

Jeongyeon tilted her chin up to consider. Even Jihyo turned, waiting for you to continue. 

“I’ll pay for tonight,” you nod, resolving yourself. You need to sound confident. “Dinner at the new restaurant that opened down the street. Tzuyu wanted to go there, I’ll pay!”

Sana and Momo started giggling like schoolchildren at the thought of free food, while Nayeon nodded her head with satisfaction, convinced. However, Jeongyeon only raised an eyebrow at the offer, clearly mulling it over. The only thing that could distract the group of demons you call friends is food, they were primitive that way. You turned to meet Jihyo’s stare, which was oddly inexpressive, but all of you knew better than that. It was all just a mask, to cover the rage simmering right underneath, waiting to be unleashed. 

“No,” Jeongyeon said with a clenched half-smile, one that would accompany an apology, but she looked anything but apologetic. 

Right next to you, a shrill yowl erupted that nearly shattered your eardrum. Instinctively, you shifted and threw your arms around Jihyo’s waist. Fortunately, you’d caught Jihyo just before she could pounce and tear out Jeonyeon’s bleached hair strand by strand. Although, with the way she thrashed in your arms she was only a second away from escaping and doing just that, maybe you’d even join in. Nayeon let out that cackle while Sana and Momo continued to giggle, all at the sight of their friend going absolutely feral. What must’ve irritated Jihyo even more though was that Jeongyeon stood in the middle, completely unaffected. 

“You set us up!” Jihyo shrieked, but the ringing in your ear didn’t deter you from your task. “Jeongyeon, you set us up!”

Joining Jihyo, but also tightening your hold on her, you agree. “She’s right! You purposely put Chaeyoung as the police and Dahyun as the doctor, while Jihyo and I were the mafia. Obviously, we’d lose!”

“Lies and defamation,” Jeonyeon shook her head before placing her hand over her heart, “I did no such thing. I would never, ever, do that.”

“Or maybe you’re just bad at playing mafia!” Sana said, sticking her tongue out. Momo let loose more giggles while Nayeon let out another hearty cackle, this time, smacking Jeongyeon’s shoulder in the process.

“As if you’re any better!” Jihyo growled, panting but still caged in your arms. “As if you–”

“What’s going on?” Mina’s small voice asked as she came over, holding two ginormous sticks of cotton candy. Behind her, the three youngest members of your circle followed like little ducklings after their mother. 

Dahyun was busy counting leftover change and checking bills to see if everything was accounted for. Chaeyoung and Tzuyu, on the other hand, lugged in more carnival food—enough snacks to skip dinner. Of course, they’d never actually skip dinner. They’ve bought buckets of popcorn as if they’re out to watch a movie, which was true in a way, your misery will be their entertainment. 

Sighing at the image, you accepted your fate. 

Momo eagerly took a stick of cotton candy from Mina, while Nayeon answered. “Jihyo and Y/N are trying to weasel their way out of their punishment, you know, like a bunch of weasels.” 

Nayeon shook her head with two fingers pinching the bridge of her nose in feigned disappointment. Mina flashed her gummy smile just as a carnival worker came out to call you. Jihyo turned to offer a small bow, as your friends began to holler. The woman arrived with two selfie sticks in her hand attached to cameras and handed them to the two of you. She offered a kind smile, completely missing the dread swirling in your eyes.

“Welcome to Mysterious Mansion! Your objective is to find the four keys necessary to escape the mansion in under thirty minutes. That’s it!” She said with a small shrug and you narrowed your eyes at that obvious lie. “Once you enter, there will be a map of the mansion to your right as well as a few rules outlining the gameplay, please read them before proceeding. When the two of you are ready, just raise your hands above your head and you’ll hear a buzzer which will be the start of your time. 

“As for the rest of the group,” the woman leaned to Jihyo’s right to offer a kind smile to your already snacking friends, “please follow me to the back where you can watch them play the game.” 

When the girls hollered, you slowly turned to Jihyo’s stare. There was a mismatch of emotions passing through them, none of which you could make any sense of, apart from the fact that neither of you wanted to do this.

One last attempt at a saving grace, your eyes landed on the cost for one run of thirty minutes. It was quite pricey. “Damn guys, this punishment looks like it will be really expensive, instead I’ll just buy dinner—”

“Just go already,” Tzuyu deadpanned to your offer, her voice muddled as she munched on popcorn. 

“Plus, we paid in advance. All of us!” Dahyun added in her chirpy manner. 

“Right, of course, you did,” you muttered to yourself. “Why did I even bother?”

What were the five stages of grief? Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance? Yeah, well it was about time you accepted your demise. Jihyo must’ve come to the same conclusion after having gone from being scared to offering to clean to going absolutely mad, completely skipping the depression stage as an odd light filled her eyes. 

“Thirty minutes, right?” You snapped to your right at Jihyo’s words. “What’s the record time?” 

“Eight minutes!” The worker said in an unnecessarily chirpy tone. “Three guys made it out in a flash, best run we’ve seen!”

Jihyo mumbled something and nodded to herself while Nayeon began to snigger, completely aware that Jihyo’s competitive spirit would be a thousand times worse than whatever was waiting for you inside. 

Jihyo offered her empty hand and you sighed dejectedly as you took it, your fingers quickly entangling. Your so-called friends giggled and howled like the irritating children they were, offering encouragement that was mostly empty. You were sure Jeongyeon had a wicked grin plastered on her face, you didn’t have to turn around to know that. 

With a camera stick in your left hand and your right in Jihyo’s, the two of you approached the steps. You tried to drown yourself in the giddy laughter of little children visiting the carnival, the same overplayed pop music blaring from speakers, and the vibrant flashing lights adorned on various rides to remind yourself that the horror house you were entering was just another ride. None of it was real, and you were not going to get hurt. As the worker put it; just find the keys and escape, that’s it. Simple. 

With a final few rowdy howls from the young college girls, the entrance to the mansion closed behind you. To say the place was dark would be an understatement. You could just barely make out the grand stairs leading to the upper floor, and by baseless deduction, you assumed there were rooms on either side of the staircase because right now all you could see was black. Jihyo squeezed your hand and you stopped staring blindly into the abyss to stare at something you could see. 

As the worker had mentioned, there was a map to your right. It was lit up by flickering yellow light and detailed both floors. There were a total of six rooms aside from the three bathrooms, the kitchen, the dining room, and the main hall. Basically, the place was ginormous—again, quite the budget for an amusement ride. The exit was marked with a large red ‘X’ on the upper floor. 

Jihyo quickly read aloud the rules as you let out another dejected sigh, bringing up the camera to glare at it, you mumbled. “You know this is all your fault?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Jihyo scoffed, turning to you before yanking her hand out of your clasp. “My fault? If anything, this is your fault?” 

“Oh, please enlighten me.” You replied, throwing your arms up, sending a scathing glare her way, though she probably couldn’t see it well. 

“If you didn’t look so suspicious, then—”

A loud buzzer sounded and the two of you froze—both of your hands had been raised, even if it was only for a second!—as the dim yellow lights changed instantly to hues of crimson. 

Jihyo’s hand grabbed yours and brought it down before interlocking fingers again. She then hissed as she took the first step. “If you didn’t look so damn suspicious, then you would’ve lasted more than two rounds and we would’ve won.”

“That’s just my face! If I smile too much I’m suspicious, if I don't smile at all I’m still suspicious! What am I supposed to do?” You hissed back, squeezing her hand tightly. Clearly, both of you have regressed back from acceptance to anger. “And what about—let’s go left—what about you?”

Jihyo turned left, dragging you along, and entered a grand dining room. In the centre of the room stood a large mahogany table, large enough to feed eight people and was neatly adorned with plates. If you squinted, you could make out the beautiful patterns on the plates and the intricate engraved details on the ends of the cutlery.

Letting Jihyo lead you around the table, you continued. “What about you, huh? The second Nayeon mentioned your name, you blew up. It was clearly a trap, and you walked right into it!” 

Jihyo sighed, leering over the table to check for a key among the silverware, and admitted. “I should’ve killed Dahyun after you were voted out.” 

Dahyun was too good of a doctor and managed to save everyone you tried to kill. If Jihyo had taken her out, that would’ve given the mafias an easy win. You grumbled your agreement while eyeing the strange baroque painting at the end of the dinner table. 

The painting was of a woman in a silk gown, glancing to her left, wholly uninterested in the elaborate platter she held. Strange since the platter held a severed head. The man was bearded, his mouth frozen agape in shock as his sockets had been carved out, devoid of eyes. He was adorned with pomegranates, grapefruits, and plums—the juice of the fruit and the blood from his neck pooled and dripped down the woman’s hands, soaking into her sleeves. What a terribly morbid painting, it disgusted you but for some reason, you couldn’t look away. Deciding to search the table along with Jihyo, you opted for one last glance. 

Probably the worst decision you’ve ever made, as your heart nearly burst through your ribcage. 

The woman’s eyes in the painting looked straight at you. 

If Jihyo sensed you crushing her hand in a panic, then she ignored it. Instead, she shuffled around, tugging you, and aggressively prodded the table with the camera stick, prioritizing finding a key over a broken hand or the camera. Not trusting your voice, you nudged Jihyo to warn her, unable to break your gaze from the painting. Of course, completelyused to your irritating behaviour, she overlooked it. Jihyo only offered low grunts, much like a caveman, when you nudged her more frantically, panicking after you caught sight of the blood dripping from the painting and onto the floor. 

Jihyo was about to reach her limit from all your nudging, especially when she was the only one trying to find the keys. You knew she was preparing to give you a verbal lashing when suddenly she went taut under your grasp. Jihyo let out a guttural scream, loud enough to break the sound barrier, and jumped a meter into the air. In response to that, a horrid screech escaped from you and as you were still very much stuck to Jihyo, you were yanked harshly out of the dinner hall. 

“There was something under—something grabbed my leg!” Jihyo repeated frantically, shivers passing through her body as she ran back to the entrance. Jihyo let go of your hand, though with a lot of difficulty, to try opening the door. No such luck because the door was locked shut.

You swore profusely, before obsessively jangling the door handle with your now free hand. Rage had quickly enveloped your fear and this was the only way to let out your frustration—bullying an inanimate object. You sent a kick to the handle after trying to slam the door open with your shoulder. When these failed, you finally acknowledged what had already been proven. “Damn it, we have to find those stupid keys!”

“Should we split up?” Jihyo asked, already studying the map, while you glimpsed at the dining room. It was difficult in the dark, but you were sure you saw a shadow moving. “How about you take the ground floor, and I’ll take the other?” 

Jihyo glanced at you as if she was offering you the better option as if she was being generous. Yeah, the ground floor had fewer rooms, but that was only because the rooms were larger. Plus, the dining room, kitchen, and the main hall were all open spaces. Your only proper refuge would be the smallest bathroom, which was at the very far end to the right. 

You were just about to decline and suggest you stay together when something—well someone—came growling from the kitchen. The two of you screamed as much as your lungs would allow you. Without a second of hesitation, Jihyo bolted up the stairs still yelling, successfully leaving you for dead.

Well, guess you would be taking the ground floor then. 

Personifying the fight in the fight or flight response, you wielded your camera stick like a bat and stood your ground. You jumped side to side on the balls of your feet, swinging the makeshift bat as the monster came to a slow stop in front of you. It was too dark for you to make out the costume and makeup, but with the tufts of fur and leaves hanging from the torso, you’d assume this was some sort of swamp monster. Perhaps you would have criticised how a swamp monster took away from the immersive experience considering you were in an elaborately decorated mansion, but at the time, you were too busy screaming to think of such things. 

“I swear I will hit you—don’t come closer!” You shrieked, with only the stick in between you and your murderer. 

Whoever this poor actor was, was probably not paid enough to do this every night, especially with the makeup and heavy costume, but right now, that wasn’t your biggest worry. If this person were to make any sudden move, you were more than ready to whack the life out of them. You could live with that. Covering their medical bills and assault charges will be a problem for you in the future. 

The two of you circled each other until your back was to the dining room entrance and you let yourself be backed into the room. However, the second your back hit a chair, you grabbed whatever silverware you could find and hurled it in your attacker’s direction. Lucky for you, the cutlery was not attached to the table, or worse, made out of porcelain. The spoons, knives, and forks clattered to the ground while you dashed to your left, moving to the kitchen. 

There was a strange bubbling noise but you decided to return to this place when you’re not so close to being killed. You exited the kitchen through its proper entrance and opened the door on the left. It was a small storage room, littered with nothing but a few discarded canvases on the floor—you don’t remember this room on the map. 

Oh, also, there was a crying woman in white, huddled in the corner. 

Greeting her with a quick bow, you immediately shut the door before you could register what you’d seen. Ignoring the violent shudder that passed through your spine, you ran back towards the main entrance, just about to cross the staircase to follow through with the plan you never agreed to when a blood-curdling scream came from the first floor. 

Your self-sacrificing instincts kicked in and you climbed two steps at a time while cursing your feet which carried your body towards Jihyo’s screams. Crashing into the first door on your right, you burst into the room screaming all the while swinging your camera stick strong enough to make baseball stars weep… only to find Jihyo backing her assailant to a corner. 

You paused, chest heaving violently, as you witnessed Jihyo in her warpath. Her hands were clenched in tight fists as she stomped forward, making the poor actor back up. She let loose those guttural gnarls that would have one’s throat grating as if someone were pulling it taut. Surely, by the end of your punishment, Jihyo would end up with a sore throat that no amount of honey could cure. Her attempt at asserting dominance slowed down to snarls and hissing before she came to a stop at the sight of surrender. You would have been impressed had she not looked completely mad. 

Jihyo heaved and moved back to the enormous bed in the room, with her eyes still trained on the poor zombie, who tried to become one with the wall. When she sat down, huge plumes of dust wafted into the air and she began coughing violently but had no energy to move away. 

Catching yourself on the door frame seeing that Jihyo had saved herself, you whimpered out. “Got all your anger out now?” 

Both the actor and Jihyo stiffened at your voice before Jihyo said. “I’m going to kill Jeongyeon.” 

You cringed at Jihyo’s hoarse voice, which was nothing but air, she seemed to speak every word as if it pained her. You close your eyes to collect yourself before asking. “Did you find a key?” 

Jihyo wordlessly raised her hand, holding a whole ring of keys, glinting in what little moonlight the tattered curtains allowed. You gasped and walked forward, reaching over the bed to take them. Ignoring the dust being released when you dropped your camera stick carelessly, you counted the number of keys. There were exactly four, all seeming to be in different colours, shapes, and sizes. One of them even had the number three on it. 

Before you could ask, Jihyo pointed behind her and croaked. “Drawer.”

You repeatedly muttered okay to yourself, giddy to finally be free from this mad house. 

So giddy, that you failed to notice the traumatised actor in the corner shaking their head when you exited the bedroom. Getting a head start, you made it down the corridor and found the room where the exit was supposed to be. You opened one door and were met with four other doors. Two to your left, one to your right, and a metal one in front of you. Otherwise, the room was completely barren. 

This was not good. All of these doors were closed meaning you had no idea what monstrosity was hiding behind them. Hearing the muttered curses and stomping, you know Jihyo wasn’t far behind. Quickly, you pulled apart the ring, separated the four keys, and laid them out in the same order with key number three in its place. The door right in front of you was clearly the exit, as it had four coloured and numbered squares with keyholes in the centre.

What do you know? The colours of the keys matched the squares!

Even then, your mind in all its excitement failed to see the obvious trap, like it had failed to predict Jeongyeon’s plans to frame you and Jihyo. You hurried and put all the keys in their respective holes, some with difficulty, with you standing in front of keyhole numbers one and two while Jihyo was in front of the others. With one last glance at Jihyo, you tried the first key.

Except that it didn’t turn. 

“No,” Jihyo mumbled before harshly turning key number three which worked. She tried turning key number four but it wouldn’t budge, she pulled it out and threw it to the ground. “Damn it!” 

Right at that moment, the door on your left swung open revealing a person with the Jason Voorhees mask and a machete to match. Once again, in unison, you and Jihyo were screaming as much as your lungs would allow. However, this time, both of you bolted out the door you’d entered and Jihyo closed the door behind you just in time, so your attacker couldn’t come. Panting, you leaned on the wall by the door, hand wrapped around Jihyo’s own hand which clung to the door handle. 

“Swamp monster, crying ghost, zombie, and Jason,” you count out as you catch your breath. “Four monsters so far, you think that’s it? Four keys, four doors, four monsters?”

Jihyo, panting herself, nodded. “Has to be.” 

“We need to get those stupid keys,” you sighed. Even panicked and running high on adrenaline, you could feel your fear giving way to frustration. You were ready to get this game over with. “I didn’t find any, but I’m assuming it's two per floor.” 

Jihyo nods again, while her attention is on the door, pressing her ear to make sense of the killer behind. But it was silent. 

“Do you want to stay here, and I can find the keys on the first floor?” 

“I’d be a sitting duck,” Jihyo shook her head. “I’ll ransack the top floor, there are still the bathrooms.”

“Dining hall is a red herring with too many clues,” you said, unsure if the room was to be misleading, but it definitely was a waste of time. “I’ll recheck the kitchen and main hall.” 

You glance back at the door and frown. 

“Give me some time before running to the bathrooms, I don’t have places to hide downstairs,” you say and gently take your hand from the door handle, shaking off your nerves. 

Again, Jihyo nodded as she leaned beside the door, taking your place. 

Nodding back at her, you headed towards the stairs. Forgoing the steps, you sat on the railing and quickly slid down, landing easily at the bottom. Your first location was the kitchen. 

You knew the swamp monster had to be waiting in the dining room for you. As well as the crying ghost in the nearby storage room. You’d take your chances with the ghost any day. Taking the route from the back, you entered the kitchen. Walking to the nearest cabinet, you tugged on the handle—it was glued shut. Nodding to yourself, you squinted at the marble counters for anything, nothing seemed to stand out apart from the bubbling pot on the stove, lit up by a flame—it was a light, not real fire. 

A shuffle in the dining room, made you snap your neck to the left. Your eyes, like magnets, turned to the eyes of the morbid painting, glaring into you. Any moment, the swamp monster would return. Turning your attention to the pit, you lifted the lid to see stagnant liquid—so the bubbling was just a recorded sound—that helped break the immersiveness. Rolling up your sleeve and steeling yourself, you stuck your hand in the freezing cold water—or what felt like water. You were grateful for the low viscosity, anything else, and you would have given up finding the key. 

Speaking of, your fingers brushed against shaped metal and pulled out a handful of keys. Cringing at the metallic clangs and clinks as you dropped the wet keys on the counter, you easily found the only key that had a number on it. 

Just as you pocketed the key, the swamp monster made itself known. 

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered and tipped the pot over. They really should glue that down too. 

Water splashed onto the tiled floor, covering the space between you and the monster. Yes, there was another door leading straight to the main foyer from the dining room, but the distraction was all you needed for time. 

Taking the back entrance again, you sprinted out of the kitchen, past the main foyer, and into the room you’ve never been to before. The main hall. 

The moment you entered you had to clasp your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from shrieking.

Every corner of the room, every shelf, every breathing space from the mantle of the fireplace to the couch to the emptyspace of the majestic piano were seated with antique dolls. Dolls of all kinds, and colours, and clothes with their glassy eyes and rosy cheeks and perfectly brushed hair. Not to mention that all the oil paintings of young girls, similar to the antique dolls taking up every inch of the walls. 

Somehow this was worse than the painting that dripped blood onto the floor. 

But much like that painting, it was like all their eyes followed you. That couldn’t be. 

The dolls’ eyes were all looking in one direction, up at the paintings. And the paintings looked up at the ceiling, following them, your head tilted up. 

If you didn’t have trypophobia before, you certainly did now. 

The ceiling was filled with magnificent glass-painted lights, barring the eye-like structures all clustered to look into a direction. Letting the hairs on your neck raise, you followed down the ceiling to the back of the room, once again met with paintings on the wall as your eyes landed on something marginally worse. 

A clown. 

Gulping so loud, you stayed frozen. 

Had the actor just waited until you figured out the eyes?

Their grin widened as their head tilted in an almost robot-like manner. 

Trypophobia and clowns were not fears you expected to gain tonight, but life works in mysterious ways. 

“Come on, man,” you hoped to sound a little relaxed, but with the way your voice shook, you’re doubtful cool confidence came across well. 

When the actor’s grin only widened, you let out a pained whine, like a child throwing a tantrum.

Regressing to your throwing habits, you glanced at the dolls. If they weren’t glued to their places, and also if they weren’t porcelain, you could kick a few to the ground as a distraction. However, touching or holding any part of the dolls matched with those lifeless dead eyes, chubby rosy cheeks, and coloured pouting lips was a thousand times more revolting than facing discount Pennywise. 

“I will swing the camera stick and I know you’re not getting paid enough to take that,” you bartered instead, both hands on the camera stick, once again like a bat. 

The actor chuckled and shook his head. “It happens more often than you think, even though it's against the rules.”

“Rules?” you question, camera stick slightly lowering. 

“The ones under the map,” he offered. 

“Shit, yeah. No, we didn’t have time to read those,” you frowned, completely dropping your stick to your side. “Assuming, we’re not supposed to throw and spill stuff either?”

“Generally, not proper etiquette but it happens,” he shrugged. The casual action was so odd when he was dressed as a horrifying killer clown. 

“Really sorry about that,” you frown deeper with a sigh but he only shakes his head, dismissing your apology with a wave of his hand. 

“You’re all good,” he smiled. Now, you knew he was trying to be friendly and accommodating, but in his make-up, his grin was chilling. It was exactly the reminder you needed. 

Lifting up the stick, almost as if going into an act yourself, you steeled your nerves. The clown followed you as he lowered himself, his eyes narrowing while his grin widened. “Where’s the key?” you asked. 

You were sure he was about to recite some quote from the source material, or just something to elevate his performance. However, both of us were distracted by the ear-shattering scream that could only be Jihyo’s. Perhaps, you’d have jumped the couch and run to her, that is if she wasn’t swearing like a sailor. 

Knowing she had herself covered, you used the distraction to run. The clown followed. 

Maneuvering in a room filled with dolls was difficult, but it was difficult for the clown as well. Following the eyes and where the clown had just been was key number two, all the eyes had been pointing towards it. Such a simple find, but the dolls and clown were such huge deterrents. 

In a sprint, you made a grab for the key notcaring as you rustledsome dolls and exited the main hall. Swamp monster, much like a game character, was waiting at the entrance to the dining room, and themoment he saw you run to the stairs, he was activated. 

“Jihyo, get to the door!” You screamed climbing the stairs two at a time and ignoring the fact that swamp monster and Pennywise himself were on your trail. Jihyo’s answer was only a snarl back, no doubt fending herself from Jason Voorhees. 

Making a quick right, you entered the room and sprinted straight to the metal door. Jihyo was in some circling match with Jason Voorhees as you slotted in key number two and turned it. When you slotted key number one and turned, the swamp monster, the clown, and the zombie piled into the room. 

“Jihyo!” You shoved open the door, which to your embarrassment, while coloured like metal, was not metal, so you nearly planted head-first into the ground when it swung open with ease. 

Catching yourself on the corroded metal railing, Jihyo followed you out and slammed the door shut. Both of you panted, staring at each other as noises from the carnival once again surrounded you. The back of the mansion was… barren to put it kindly. 

None of the money that was spent at the entrance and inside was spared for the back. It looked merely like a storage container. 

You crumpled to the floor, leaning on the railing, and sighed. Your camera stick fell by your thigh with a thunk as Jihyo closed her eyes. You were done. You made it out. 

“Well done, losers!” 

You looked over your shoulder, following the taunt and the clapping. Nayeon giggled as Jeongyeon slowly clapped from the ground. 

“Come down!” Jeongyeon said with a blinding grin as you pulled yourself up to stand. By the way, Jihyo held her jaw, you knew she was seething. However, she was far too exhausted to do anything. 

The pair of you took the stairs down and headed into a smaller shed by the mansion followed by Nayeon and Jeongyeon. Inside, the rest of your friends were gathered as well as the worker who had greeted you. The room was filled with cameras inside the mansion, two screens still transmitting from your camera sticks even as you handed them over.  

“Good job!” The worker said with a forced smile, though you glanced behind her. One of the cameras caught the swamp monster pulling off his mask and taking a seat on one of the chairs while Jason Voorhees just flopped to the floor, his head tilted to the ceiling. All the while Pennywise and the zombie helped clean their respective rooms with the help of cleaners. 

“We’re sorry,” you sighed, Jihyo only nodded, her eyes were still narrowed. She looked anything but apologetic, but you knew she was. “Adrenaline just—poof, you know?”

“It’s alright,” the worker sighs, her taut smile dipping more into a genuine one. “It happens.”

“Yeah, Pennywise said that,” you gave her a small smile. “Good experience, good game. Terrified the shit out of us.”

You ignored the way your friends laughed behind you.

“Please rate us well on the website,” you nodded as the worker pointed out a QR code printed out on the wall. 

While Jeongyeon pulled out her phone to do that, Jihyo sighed and stepped forward. “What was our time?” 

There was no point in asking. The pair of you definitely did not beat the eight-minute record. 

With a frown, the worker answered. “Twenty-seven minutes and fifty-four seconds—”

“Twenty-eight minutes,” Jihyo’s entire form deflated like a burst balloon. You rolled your eyes at her while your friends laughed. 

Instead, you asked a question that bugged you most as you studied the camera screens. 

“Where is the fifth one? Ghost lady?” 

The worker frowned as your friends became silent. Both you and Jihyo looked around to meet everyone’s faces, their expressions ranging from confusion to apprehension. 

“The one in the storage room? She was crying,” you prompted again, glancing back at the cameras to see the four monsters now all in the dining room picking up the utensils you spilt. 

When the worker cleared her throat, you and Jihyo turned back. Her face ashen as she gulped. 

“There is no crying ghost.”

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: i believe the house was based off of coraline house and the painting i described was judith slaying holofernes by artemisia gentileschi :] gonna go binge gose now, good day/night everybody !

tagging: @someone-who-likes-broccoli

[wileys-russo]

hi!

could you do a fic with reader x aitana bonmati??

okay so maybe reader is swedish but is still shorter than aitana, frido finds it super funny and constantly teases r for it but aitana finds it cute

half sized II a.bonmati x reader

"bon dia! if it isn't my favourite little half swede." you looked up from your phone with a filthy glare toward your national team mate who gave you a toothy grin.

"i thought you were full swedish?"pina asked with a confused frown, whining as you rolled your eyes and lightly smacked her forehead. "i am fully swedish, frodo just thinks she is a comedian." you scowled up at the older girl who flipped you off for the nickname.

"she is a half swede because she is half sized." frido explained happily and you exhaled deeply at the laughter than rang out throughout the locker room. "do you like having two unbroken legs frodo? keep going." you warned seriously, pulling on your boots.

"at least my legs are fully grown lillis. did you not eat enough vegetables as a kid? not drink enough milk?" frido continued to coo, moving closer to grab your cheeks and pinch them, shaking your head to and fro as you kicked at her and yanked them off.

"lillis?" keira questioned with a raise of her eyebrows. "it means little one, because she is so little!" frido mocked, darting out of the way as you swung at her and unloaded a string of swedish curses in her direction.

"such a filthy mouth for such a small body." frido whistled with a smirk, standing to go after her before hands fell to your shoulders and pushed you back down onto the bench.

"hey, do not listen to her amor." you settled at the familiar voice, your girlfriends presence soothing your anger instantly. "it is every day now, it was worse at camp!" you huffed quietly, head falling to her shoulder as her body vibrated with gentle laughter.

"ignore it hermosa. actions speak louder than words, shut them all up on the pitch." aitana pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet. "i love you." you mumbled, stealing a quick kiss from the slightly taller girl.

"you should ask your girlfriend for a piggyback lillis, longer legs mean you get places a lot faster." frido continued to tease as you all made your way out of the locker room, doing your best to ignore her as aitana tried to busy you in your own conversation.

"tana will you be renovating your apartment?" your girlfriend turned and gave frido an odd look at the question. "and why would she do that?" you sighed, the older girl more like your sister than your teammate having taken you under her watchful eye both for country and now club, and you both treated one another as such.

"well how are you going to reach everything if you move in lillis? her kitchen is sized for normal people, not dwarfs." "mi amor don't-"

but you didn't listen to the catalans warnings, turning and charging at the taller girl with a war cry, tackling her to the ground as the two of you rolled around on the grass. "the height thing again?" aitana looked up as mapi stood next to her with an amused grin, ingrid rushing over to try and seperate you and frido.

"it is always at its worst once they get back from camp together!" aitana rolled her eyes, mariona holding you back as ingrid tried to reason with frido about the teasing and laying off you a little.

"si frido you need to be more respectful-" your girlfriends arm draped over your shoulder as you moved away from mariona and more into her side. "-after all she has half a temper." you looked up at her in shock as frido doubled over with laughter.

with a huff you shoved her off of you, storming away into the gym and ignoring her calls after you, most of which were drowned out by frido's obnoxiously loud barks of laughter.

you battered off the girls attempts to speak to you all morning, shrugging off her hugs with a glare and a scoff, blocking your ears to her sweet words and busying yourself in the company of your other teammates.

"why are you ignoring tana chica?" alexia chuckled as the two of you paired up for the final drill of the session. "she joined in teasing about my height." you huffed with a roll of your eyes. "i see." the captain hummed with an amused smile as you glanced at her.

"ale! don't." you warned seriously, knowing a teasing remark was likely on the tip of her tongue. "i did not say anything! so sensitive." the older girl tutted as you continued, grateful that the focus needed to be on the ball as you went through with the drill.

finally the coaching staff called time as everyone moved to the coolers for some water. "hey look, they have ones your size lillis!" frido teased, handing you her half drunk water bottle as you scowled. "frido." ingrid warned, sending her a look which the woman dismissed.

"hey frodo, think you should cool off!" you grinned, opening another water and dumping it over her head, the girl squealing in shock. now she was the one to let out a war cry and lunge for you though you'd already taken off, sprinting away and toward the locker room with her on your heels.

though before you could quite get away you felt hands grab at your training top, yelping as you were tugged into another room. you felt a hand now settle over your mouth and frido's angry footsteps go racing past before it was removed.

"hola amor!" you rolled your eyes at your girlfriends grin, the two of you jammed together in what appeared to be a janitors closet. "are you done being mad now?" aitana teased, her body pressing into yours as her hands fell to squeeze your hips.

"are you done making fun of me now?" you countered, crossing your arms over your chest and raising an eyebrow only making her smile grow wider. "i was not making fun of you hermosa. i think it is very cute that you are shorter than me, come on amor you know i love you." the girl promised, pushing herself more into you.

"lo siento bebita, lo siento." your eyes fluttered closed as her nose tucked into your collarbone and her lips peppered gentle kisses. "tana-" you started but she shushed you, massaging your hips in her hands as you melted, the girl knowing exactly where to kiss and touch you to have you be putty in her hands.

"i think we should head home amor, let me really show you how sorry i am for my teasing."

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

The fandom can't make up its mind on what's supposed to be a joke and what's supposed to be serious because the show can't either half the time. It's a tonally disjointed mess that wants to have absurd over-the-top humor as well as a plot and moments of drama, romance, and angst that demand you see the characters as people and feel for what they're going through. Except you can't do that without also treating the dumb bullshit in a somewhat grounded way. Like, you're still dealing with the same characters. You can't just go "Oh, that? Let's ignore that!" the moment it's no longer convenient to you. You've opened this can of worms and now you have to sleep in it. So, every character flip-flops between two different versions of themselves depending on what the writers need in any particular scene.

This is not to say surreal humor can't be used right alongside characters you're supposed to empathize with, Teen Titans (not Go) did that and it worked. It's just that the absurdity can only come from the setting (Mad Mod, Mother Mae-Eye, pretty much anything Control Freak is in) or from designated joke characters (Date With Destiny). Teen Titans never had the main characters acting in clearly absurd ways as the butt of a joke unless those characters were brainwashed somehow, because the writers knew that would ruin any of the more grounded moments they wanted to write. The writers of Miraculous missed the memo on that one.

I don't disagree. A perfect example is Derision where the show takes all of the bad jokes about Marinette's crush and decides to take them seriously as if you can possible take them seriously without making Marinette come across as unhinged and dangerous. You can't, which brings us to the topic at hand: how do you even begin to understand these characters when the show is constantly making character-breaking choices?

My approach - and the approach I recommend others take if they're going to keep watching the show - is to focus on the characters' cores and reject anything canon does to violate those cores. I don't argue for this stance because I love the characters so much that I only want the good things to count. I take this stance because, if you don't, then the characters fall apart. There is no way to make them work as fully realized characters while embracing every choice canon has made. Miraculous has massive characterization issues that go well beyond the humor.

For example, Adrien has multiple moments of terrible behavior that are played in a serious manner such as the moment in the episode Frozer where he tries to start a fight with Ladybug in the middle of an akuma attack because she wouldn't accept a rose from him earlier:

Setup

Ladybug: I can't accept this rose from you. I told you already. I'm in love with someone else. Cat Noir: I know, M'lady. But if he weren't here, would things be different between us? Ladybug: Well, you know, I can't even begin to imagine him not being here. I'm sorry, Cat Noir. I really gotta get going, and you better do the same. (Swings her yo-yo to head back home; Cat Noir is sad, looking downwards, with one petal of the rose falling.)

Payoff

Ladyice: Cat Noir. We need to set up a trap for whoever turned the city into a giant ice rink. (throws yo-yo) Icecat: (bitterly) My feline instincts prefer to track and observe before I attack. You go your way, I'll go mine. Ladyice: Please don't tell me you're mad at me about the rose. Icecat: There may be a certain chill now between us. Ladyice: I get it, but we should really focus on saving Paris right now. Icecat: We don't always have to do everything together, after all. It's not like we're a couple. (skates away)

There's no way to argue this off as a bad joke. While Adrien has every right to feel hurt, those feelings don't excuse him acting like a pouting child in the middle of an akuma fight. It doesn't excuse him acting like this at any point! Ladybug is not a villain for telling him no. She wasn't even mean about it!

I clearly fully agree that Adrien looks awful and selfish here, but I'd still argue that it's not something that should be used to define Adrien's character if your goal is to tell the "ideal" version of Miraculous. "Ideal" being the version that canon seems to be going for based on the overall picture we can sort of make out if we back way, way, way up and look at the extremely abstract picture canon is clumsily painting.

Unless canon is going to do something monumentally stupid, Adrien is Marinette's endgame romantic interest. It's also clear that there is no plan to cut him from the team. He's going to be Chat Noir for the rest of his life or at least well into his adulthood. This means that he is supposed to be a good hero who deserves his miraculous just like he's supposed to be a charming and cute romantic lead. These are the two things I keep in mind when trying to shift through canon to figure out what writing choices I should fully embrace and what writing choices I have to either ignore or treat as true flaws that get an actual character arc. In my book, either approach is fine because most of the characters are deeply flawed at this point and you can't give them all arcs without bloating the story to nonsense levels.

My goal with this approach is never to say, "oh, that moment shouldn't count in terms of how people feel about the character." It's more, "that moment goes so hard against who this character is very clearly supposed to be that I can't take it into account if I want to tell the kind of story that Miraculous is trying (and clearly failing) to tell."

As an example, let's list off Adrien's worst behaviors. The things that make him look terrible:

He sucks at communicating his needs and feelings, leading to multiple moments where he gets mad at Ladybug for things she's totally unaware of

He has quit or considered quitting without warning multiple times and only one of those was because of something he did "wrong" (NYC Special)

He puts his feelings before the safety of Paris on multiple occasions, even going so far to purposely miss akuma fights to see what happens

He is incredibly pushy about his crush, often ignoring Ladybug's feelings on the topic by continuing to bring it up even after she asked him to stop

There have been multiple instances where he almost cataclysmed multiple people in a fit of anger

His love for Ladynette isn't strong enough to let him break free of things like akumas and nightmare dust even when he's looking her in the eyes making him a pretty crappy romantic lead

People will argue that some of this behavior makes sense for his character because of the abuse that canon has technically introduced, but that the writers seem blissfully unaware of. I don't disagree with that argument, but that doesn't change the fact that none of this is acceptable behavior for a hero and Adrien is a hero who keeps doing these things. A sad backstory doesn't give you the right to behave poorly without consequences.

At the same time, if I fully embrace these elements of canon, what I get is an Adrien salt fic where he loses his miraculous for good while Marinette finds her real true love or even just a non-salty fic where Adrien leaves for his own meatal health and gets replaced by someone who can handle being a hero right now. Canon's not writing either of those, so the only way to engage with these flaws while enjoying canon or aiming for the same end goals as canon is to say, "I guess this doesn't count" or "I guess I need to tone this way down and work through it via a character arc" or even "I guess that was just a bad joke maybe?"

That is the essence of what I mean when I call myself a writing salt, character sugar blog. It comes from looking at canon and seeing that there's simply no way to embrace the worst moments and the best at the same time. We're not dealing with a coherent plot and/or complex characters. We're dealing with a nonsense plot that will warp the characters to bizarre shapes to make random ideas work even if those idea go wildly against canon's end goals.

As an example, Glaciator and Frozer should not exist in the same universe or, at the very least, something should explain why Chat Noir randomly changed his stance on Ladybug's crush from acceptance to pushiness. As is, the pieces don't fit together. The behavior is too contradictory. Remember, this is how Glaciator ends:

Perhaps Ladybug will love me someday. I mean, like, I love her. I have to believe. In the meantime, her friendship is the best gift of all.

Where did this version of Adrien go? Why did he regress in Frozer? There's no in-universe reason. It happened because the writers weren't ready to let the love square date or grow close, but they also wanted the love square to cause drama, so Adrien ends up looking terrible just like Marinette ends up looking terrible when it's her turn to cause love square drama. Her terribleness takes a different flavor so it can be hard to realize that this is a systemic issue, but that's what it is. It's deeply frustrating, but it also clearly stems from cheap writing and not quality characterization.

This is also why my stance is that canon as a whole only supports my Doyalistic core-character analysis style of approach. The writing is too poor quality to do Watsonian analysis where you embrace the full picture and try to put it all together. The closest I'll get to Watsonian analysis is pointing out how much the writing botches a Watsonian take by showing you all the way the writing contradicts itself, twisting into a nonsense pretzel of frustration where the payoffs never satisfy! (See the season four rant for an example or anything where I talked about Chloe's supposed damnation arc.)

There are even characters where canon is such a total mess that you can Doyalistically argue for two separate takes! Gabriel is a perfect example. He is all over the place and his ending was so poorly handled that you can make strong arguments for writing him as a cold-hearted villain or a sympathetic villain without the end result feeling like it spits in the face of canon because both takes maintain his one core element: villain.

That's the big thing I keep in mind when I look at the characters and the lore and the plots and try to come up with versions that the average fan would like. I don't think that there's one true version of any of these things, but I do feel comfortable saying that there are versions that will very clearly only appeal to people who are salty about a specific thing that canon did poorly. That's not who I want to appeal to in my adaptions, so while I'm not going to argue that those takes have no backing in canon, I will argue that those takes are not supported by canon as a whole. Embracing them requires you to take the worst parts of canon at face value while ignoring what canon is clearly trying to do with the overall story.

I get the appeal of that, but it's not fun for me because that approach feels like rolling around in the mud with the pigs. I don't want to sink to canon's level! I want to have fun! That's why I talk about how to make canon into its best self, not its worst self. If you want its worst self, just go watch the actual show. I will be shocked it if disappoints you.