#social cocaine was a thing back then

[thelambthatkilledthewolf]

Do you guys ever think about the fact that Elias Bouchard could legitimately have been/be addicted to cocaine?

Because I do

A lot

[froody]

The Italian restaurant in my mom’s hometown WAS definitely a mob front. The owner briefly served in the Italian military, immigrated to America in his twenties back in the early 70s, mysteriously had enough money to open a chain of Italian restaurants and was convicted for trafficking cocaine across the Virginia/West Virginia area and spent 15 years in prison.

My mom had worked as a waitress at the place while she was a teenager and throughout her 20s and she realized that when she was sent to the restaurant’s sister location in West Virginia in a mysteriously packed car by her mysteriously nice boss, it probably wasn’t pizza ingredients she was hauling. It was the 80s. She was a tiny, very naive, conventionally attractive church girl with no criminal record so she was the perfect unwitting drug mule.

The thing was, this restaurant and the man who operated it were locally loved. Beyond large scale organized cocaine trafficking, food was his other passion. Everyone waited anxiously for him to get out of prison and when he did this guy started a crusade against the corrupt local sheriff’s office. He started doing anti-police brutality advocacy work WHOLEHEARTEDLY. Donating to local families who had been victims and participating in local drives and awareness campaigns.

Made men usually do local charity work but the balls on this guy to take up sword and spear against shitty corrupt ineffectual law enforcement. Incredible. One thing about Appalachians is that we hate the cops and we love social agitators. This guy lived a long eventful life and died recently of natural causes and the overwhelming outpouring of love for him on Facebook was incredible, a uniting force that the town had not seen in decades, everybody was sharing their favorite stories about him and I’m sure local law enforcement was fuming.

[gladiatorcunt]

FIND YOUR LOVE | CORIOLANUS SNOW

summary: modern!coriolanus snow thoughts

cw: crack treated seriously vibes, typical coryo warnings, possessiveness/obsessive behavior, piss kink mention, period blood mention, spit kink mention, slight impact play mention, coryo and reader both have double majors because they’re overachievers, plus sized reader implications, drake mention, reader has bunny teeth & hip dips & glasses, talks of carving letters into skin, spying mention, overstimulation mention, images used in social media elements are not an exact represtation of the reader’s gender or image & are more about the vibes, “wife” usage but he’d feminize you no matter what, implications of sejanus playing the long game, 18+ minors dni

word count: 2.4k

requests are open (read the rules first <3)

block & move on if uncomfortable.

do not repost or translate!!

Unaware rich kid because while a tragedy did happen in the family (his mother dying in childbirth according to his politician father who was later assassinated) nothing happened to really set them back to square one like in canon. He never really has had to claw himself back to the top, he’s just always been on a steady elevator ride to it.

Clumsy in the beginning in the way that he tries to be intimidating. He’s never had to starve so how can he understand its usefulness as a weapon?

Meets scholarship student double major classics and archaeology (minor in philosophy) reader who has only ever struggled.

The type to violently beat someone to near death on a whim and smirk as he’s escorted out of the police station with apologies because his family’s amazing team of lawyers were called.

Definitely part of some Saltburn ass family where you visit and you’re just like “what the fuck?” the things the 1% normalize (there are rumors of his family being cannibals back in the day, they might be a crime family, his high school principal fucked his mom AND his dad) never cease to disturb and confuse you but the gardens are very nice!

Strolls with you through them to seem romantic but also to brag about his family on your second date that he insisted be at his house (he was kind enough to let your first be at his family’s vacation house in the south of France)

Piss kink (creaks the bathroom door open to hold your hand or he leans against the door and stares you down if you take too long), period sex (more the type to eat you out on your period though) spit sharing and smearing, etc. Because of his carefully manufactured image, when he’s in love he just wants to completely let go and be gross and have that he accepted by the person be loves (plus it scratches the possessive itch in his brain by marking you and knowing you’d be too embarrassed to do it with anybody else)

Really only hand spanks you when you’re actively fucking and he’s so caught up in it all, he just grips the flesh of your ass and furiously jiggles it in his hands in between brisk strikes of his open palms and gets caught on your hole accidentally, it gets to the point where you’d want him to hit harder even if you thought you wouldn’t be into it because it’s just so unintentionally teasing.

Unlike the stereotypes, wouldn’t really be into drinking (other than wine because he thinks he’s above the beer drinking peasants) or drugs (other than the occasional line of cocaine 🤭) thinks keeping a clear head while you’re doing evil plotting is important. Typical white college rich boy hypocrisy (keeps you away from it though, even weed because it can kill your brain cells and he likes his bunny smart.)

He WILL carve his full government name onto you like a womb tattoo if you answer his texts 5 seconds after he expects you too. You CANNOT play with him.

Asked you out by leaving a bouquet of roses on your desk every morning with a note like “these are my grandma’am’s roses, and their beauty could only remind me of you 🥺🥹” (he threatened your roommate to deliver them and made sure they did thanks to the hidden camera he also had them put in)

Double major Political Science and Latin, minor in Philosophy but he likes ancient/older philosophy more. #1 “um actually 🤓👆” offender (hell is hot but his body runs ice cold, so he does not care <3) someone says they like philosophy and he goes “name three philosophers other than Nietzsche and Camus. I bet you’re the type to read Kafka too huh? whore.” (/j)

So hot though like modern Coryo has the curls but a touch shaggier. Everyone on campus turns their phones to the side and takes “discreet” pictures and makes those whisper posts like “need me an unhinged crazy jealous psycho possessive bf” but they’re not you so that wish will never come true :)

Say you’re going to McDonald’s, and he will kill you (if you’re from the south and you try to feed him anything traditional you’re used to, his charcuterie board and caviar eating ass will implode)

Another student in class asks you to borrow a pencil & his brain genuinely goes haywire so without looking he sends them the “let’s play a little game I made” TikTok (by the time you look back at him, he’s warmly smiling as he makes sure you see his hand sliding up his thigh)

If you think you’re working after getting your degree (he could’ve made you drop out, be grateful you get to spend more time together this way) then you’ve got a big storm coming (hope you can accept being baby trapped mwah)

He’s your little chihuahua named sparkles that bites people.

Emotional drake listener

The type where if you 99.7% (he will allow some wiggle room) give into his delusion and insanity, it’s nothing but smooth sailing (for you) and sex would still be passionate but never rough. Sometimes he slips a bit, but you just get more family heirloom jewelry and 5 billion sessions of oral as apologies.

On the swim team and runs track (somehow still looks hot no matter what doing those sports, wants you lick all the sweat off his body after he’s done. (he’d do that for you.) has a private yacht and does polo with Sejanus.

You once sat down, opened a package of cabbage leaves and went to town & Coryo knew in that moment that love is not a choice, it’s a curse.

Buys you mountains of clothes (the softest sweaters or the tightest evening wear because he loves how nothing about your body is hidden from him and one of his favorite ways to wind down is to soothe the marks left by the tight clothes digging into the chub of your tummy with his tongue) also loves how much bigger your thighs get when they spread out as you straddle him in one of his buttons up that reaches just under your ass.

Has a garage full of classic cars that he fucks you in and takes you on drives in.

(Insp. by that one video) fucks you on your stomach while cradling your jaw and when he’s done, he’s kissing down your back and all over your ass while hold a hand on the back of your neck. Eats you out upside-down kneeling straight up on the bed, the skin of your thighs spilling between his fingers as he grips them and nearly bends you in half. You don’t really ride him because he uses you like a fleshlight.

Tits guy no matter the size, prefers jerking off over them and covering them in cum over a boob job.

He won’t let you out in it, but you can be his bunny for Halloween since your front teeth remind him of a bunny, he already has the ears and tail waiting for you. That tweet where it’s like “okay everybody my bf’s about to walk in you all have to clap or I’m blowing this whole fucking building up” but that’s him when it comes to you.

Canon era snow is a girl dad, but modern snow is a boy dad, I fear.

Met you when you had just finished checking into your dorm, you were scrambling all over the place and without looking you bumped into the it boy of the school. His hands suddenly curved like shackles around your hips, his fingers subconsciously stroking your hip dips being the only reason you both didn’t careen to the floor from the collision.

“You should be more careful, wouldn’t want you to get a nasty bruise now, would we?” said with an unreadable yet playful tone and a snake’s smile, lips slightly curled up in the corners and a little too many teeth showing to feel truly comforted. His tongue flicks over his canines for a split second.

Smells like Maison Francis Kurkdijan’s baccarat rouge 540 (buzzcut Coryo gives Dior Sauvage vibes)

Matching airpod max sets and lets you put little bows on his.

Impeccable cable management, phone wirelessly charging on the nightstand or kitchen counter until it’s at 100% and doesn’t charge it again until it’s at 1%

Teaches you how to swim if you don’t know how, with a hand curled under your neck and another under your thigh to help you float. But has no problem just lounging with your back on his chest on the deck of his yacht or laying his head on your chest while you read together on the private beach he booked during your trip.

Slowly fingers you while making out with you and massaging your throat with his other hand. His chunky rings make clanging sounds against your pussy, and he smiles into your lips when you whine. He rests his forehead against yours & slowly spits in your mouth when it falls open as he makes you cum over and over until you’re too tired to leave the apartment he bought for the two of you.

Jiggles your tummy rolls when you’re fucking but sometimes, he’ll just casually bite them, loves laying his head on your stomach and when you sleep. He likes to have a firm grip on the chub of your tummy. He also just plays with it, pulls it, and kneads it but occasionally he’ll gently smack it.

NUTS ON YOUR STRETCH MARKS LIKE HE’S ICING A CINNAMON ROLL

Anyway, his grandma’am owns a fleet of flower shops across the country as well as managing the snow family’s gardens, and luckily enough the one closest to campus was hiring when you enrolled!

Pisces sun Capricorn rising Aries mars, stay strong.

Has to look you in the eyes or he can’t cum.

Always keeps glasses cleaner and a microfiber cloth on him so the second he sees you rub your eyes in frustration because you can’t see through them anymore (because in your mind that would somehow fix it) and reach to grab them off your face, he’s snaking his hand out and snatching them up. He doesn’t even give then back to you; he tenderly tucks your hair behind your ears and slowly slides them back on your face. literally booping the center of them with a grin. Also has your custom designed glasses case (with his initials) in one of his bag’s front pockets.

You asked him to buy you the Gojo skin in Fortnite and he grumbled “you already have my information.” But in his mind, he’s like “what does he have that i don’t?” 💀 (he’ll lose his mind when he finds out you like Geto more). Will play with you on a team consisting of the two of you and Sejanus. (so, he can keep an eye on you two)

Has very pretty cum, pearly and so thick you get jump scared when it leaks out because your pussy tries to weakly clench to keep it inside and it just pushes through. Cums less often but when he does its huge continuous loads, humps against whatever part of you he can like a dog and lays his head on your chest.

You could almost argue he likes anal more than anything else. When he eats you out, you run an extremely high risk of him “getting lost” and starting to eat out your other hole. When his dick slips out, he makes you watch while he slaps it against your clit and drags it through your slick to teasingly act like he’s going to push it into your ass.

Kisses his camera when you fall asleep on facetime if you’re apart from each other. wipes his lips afterwards though for sanitary reasons.

For sure the type to go overboard when someone says they want honest advice. Then when they’re on the verge of tears and he’s made everything worse, he goes “that’s just me though, who am I to judge yk? take it with a grain of salt.”

Museum dates but he’s pointing at depictions of goddesses and saying, “that’s you.”

Will drop kick those annoying Sephora kids if you need a certain product that they’re going after.

Y’all are battling for who has more products, your bathroom so is huge but every time you move something’s always falling off the double vanity sink.

If you need an inhaler or an EpiPen or anything like that, he’ll always have one on him. when you need it, his reaction is so fast you almost can’t see it and he tries to hide how his hands shake slightly even if the attack you're dealing with is more minor.

You could tell him you hate coconut and when you go on your fancy little dates to 5 stars restaurants, if your plate has even the tiniest hint of coconut, he’s sending that back with the harshest glare on his face imaginable (“They asked for no pickles!” *Gunshots* vibes)

Gets jealous of fictional characters, you show the slightest interest in a man who’s literally not real and his eye nearly falls out from how much it twitches.

The possessive bf coded TikTok trends you’d make him do would go crazy though like the nails on his dick through his pants one, any princess treatment one, any one where you’re dancing and he has to cover you, “hey daddy” & other text ones.

Alarms every five minutes, not only for him but he wants to be awake at the same time as you for a bit before you have to go your separate ways during the day. (kisses your temple when you slump against him while you try to wake up)

“What’s up, Petal?”

“What’s up, Coryo?”

While he acts like he’s been doing you a favor all this time, he would get you that engagement ring that has a spike going through the finger bone in it, and he would get a matching one <3.

Double penetration with a dildo that’s a replica of his cock 😻😽

Closet bi (childhood crush on Sejanus, who btw has been eyeing you too much for his liking lately.)

Scars on his back from An Incident. shaved his head and dropped out of school for a bit but it wasn’t hard for his family to get him back in

Gives you the worst side eye when you ask him to play Roblox total drama island with you but when Sejanus offers, he’s galloping to his pc (he absolutely kills it, like he’s undefeated and he’s not afraid to bully whatever kids are in the game)

Vibes:

a/n: this is lowkey so cringe but i am free. i hate him (i'd tell him i love him on the first date.) will definitely do more with this verse but have this brainrot for now. hope you enjoyed anyway! btw i'll actually be opening comissions next month. so i'd really appreciate it if y'all would keep that in mind! talk to me about modern coryo or any version of coryo lol.

[pixelshiftexe]

In a modern universe, Cersei Lannister would get sent to one of those fancy private rehabs/psych hospitals (she doesn't want to go but Jaime booked her in after her latest breakdown and convinces her that actually it's super trendy these days for rich white women to go on "mental health retreats") and immediately tries to convince her psych team that she's totally fine and actually doesn't need to be here only to promptly be diagnosed with Bipolar and put on an ungodly amount of Seroquel.

Every single meeting she's forced to attend, she sits in her chair huffing up a storm while everyone else speaks, and when it's her turn goes on a fifteen minute rant alternating between insisting that everything wrong with her isn't actually her fault, insulting everyone else at the meeting because can't BELIEVE people actually fall for this psychobabble therapy nonsense, and sobbing uncontrollably over how her life has turned out.

After she's done she goes back to ignoring everyone.

Would absolutely look down on the people in there for narcotic addictions despite the fact that she's spent roughly the equivalent of the GDP of a small country on cocaine over the years.

Also freely admits to her therapist to having had an incestuous relationship with Jaime during childhood and adolescence but insists it doesn't matter anymore because they "grew out of it" after Jaime went to military school and she realised it would've been social suicide for her modelling career if anyone got photos of them together while she was dating various other celebrity guys, and remains completely oblivious to the ongoing emotional incest and codependency that's running through her entire family.

She emphatically insists that the only problem with Tywin's parenting was that he didn't send Tyrion away at birth and that he got Jaime a spot at Harvard Business School even though he didn't actually WANT to go and SHE did.

If this sounds like I'm bashing her, I promise I'm not. These are simply things I know to be true.

[patolemus]

Sterek fic recs: ABO/Mpreg AU Edition

As per @oldefashioned's request, since this is for her, here you go. I tried to filter my bookmarks, so these are more about the plot than the smut. There's probably a lot of ABO without mpreg, but I hope some of these change your mind about it!!

1. Fire, Fury and Flame by IAmAVeronica

Stiles Stilinski was never going to be the omega who got knocked up right after high school, and then he's accidentally artificially inseminated with a stranger's sperm. Awesome. And the father of Stiles's baby just so happens to be Derek Hale. Half-feral, quite possibly a murderer, and pursued by a gleefully sadistic band of hunters who are only too eager to use Stiles and his baby to hit Derek right where it hurts. Joy.

Notes: this is Jane the Virgin if there were werewolves and abo. It’s absolutely phenomenal. That's it, I have nothing else to say, 10/10. It's completed!

2. I don't know why, but I guess it has something to do with you by LunaCanisLupus_22

“You smell like me,” the guy says, scowling as he crowds in and Stiles staggers back between the coats and finally hits the wall. “Why do you smell like me?” He barely lets out a garbled sound as the blood rushes to his cheeks. “No reason,” Stiles yelps, struggling to get his footing and grasping at a whirlwind of puffy fur. Or the one where Stiles goes thrift shopping and steals an alpha's shirt. And gets a lot more than he bargains for.

Notes: Stiles does something he's not supposed to. Derek is... confused. It ends up pretty okay. Also kind of an office au?? Anyways they're both dorks and I love them. It's completed, but you need to have an account to see this work.

3. Take Me Away From Here by Hedwig221b (also @hedwig221b here on tumblr!)

Derek Hale looked terrifying. With his broad frame and muscles, with his wild black hair and thick beard, with his eyes the color of blood and fangs of a killer. Despite his kindness and his apparent attraction to Stiles, he was still a stranger, a predator, a wolf. The thing is, Stiles would deal, but others might not. People found Lord Hale horrid, monstrous and unapproachable. If Stiles stood behind him, no one would touch him. He’d be safe with the wolf. If not from him, then definitely from everyone else. And that was enough.

Notes: of course I had to rec at least one Hedwig abo fic, they're the best! Don't you worry, there's a lot more in this list. This is a historical au... sort of. If history had werewolves and omegas. Don't worry, it works out fine. The whole world building in itself is interesting, because it treates omegas like a different species. Derek, my beloved, always and forever obsessed with Stiles! It gets dark for a little while, but don't fret, all is okay in the world. It's completed!

4. Scent Left Unsaid by bleep0bleep

In a society where werewolves are second class, Deucslist is an alternative werewolf network (similar to Craigslist) where humans and werewolves offer (mostly sexual) services. Derek is a long-term client of an anonymous human omega whose scent is just perfect. He never expects to meet him, until it happens.  Derek has slept with that faded red hooded sweatshirt every night since he got it in the mail. It’s calming, that scent; it’s everything to him. So it’s strange now that Derek is smelling it wafting from the end of the subway car as it careens towards the L line, lights flickering on the passing platforms.

Notes: imagine meet cute, only Derek is too socially awkward to actually enact the necessary steps to make it a meet cute, and Stiles has to do it instead. Also using the good old trope of Stiles' scent being like cocaine to Derek. It's very wholesome, and it's completed.

5. Never a Hardship by Julibean19 

“Derek, meet Stiles, your new bodyguard,” Talia says. Derek doesn’t get up. He’s frozen to his seat on the couch, staring at the man who will now be hounding his every step. “What’s a Stiles?” he asks dumbly, finally budging when his mother smacks him on the shoulder.  “That’s Chief Stiles to you,” his mother says, scolding him. Derek huffs in annoyance, wondering how this could possibly get worse. “Senior Chief Stilinski is a Navy SEAL, Special Operations Forces, and has been handpicked by me, out of several hundred options. You will treat him with respect and do what he says.” “I’m a grown man, Madam President,” Derek says through clenched teeth. “You can’t expect me to listen to this guy. I don’t know anything about him."

Notes: I love First Family aus! And Omega First Son!Derek with Alpha Bodyguard!Stiles is just delightful. There's a lot of omega politics, and Stiles gets to be a total badass when he and Derek are not pining after each other. Also, Chris Argent, surprisingly, is the best. I don't know what else to say without spoiling everything, so just know this is amazing! It's completed.

6. A Sheep In Wolf's Clothing by dumpac

"What the fuck, Stiles, what the fuck?!" "No, no, you don't understand, Scotty, this is the best idea ever!" "Because you think registering as a fucking alpha to college when you're actually an omega is the best idea ever? It's not even a good idea!" Or : Being an omega, Stiles has few chances to be accepted in the college of his dreams. Registering as an alpha seems like a good idea... until his new roommate, hot-as-the-sun alpha Derek Hale, comes in the equation.

Notes: I know I say this a lot but this fic is SO GOOD!! Stiles pretends to be an alpha and IT WORKS because he's a badass, only things go a little bit sideways because he's not an alpha and Derek... well Derek has no idea. My poor man is confused. Also has a dash of good old discrimination against omegas and nepotism. One of my favorite abo AND college au fics. It's completed.

7. Untouchable by Hedwig221b

The day Stiles Stilinski entered the Berkeley campus was the day all the alphas went absolutely fucking nuts. See, omegas were rare, even more than redheads. Got to be extremely fucking lucky to even see one in a lifetime. They were supposed to be these ethereal creatures of beauty and elegance, irresistible and blinding. And Stiles Stilinski was exactly that.

Notes: another Hedwig fic hehe. This one makes me go feral EVERY TIME. Literally one of my favorite fics to ever exist, I think I've read it three times in the last month and a half alone. If you're looking for unhinged sterek with absolutely besotted Derek, and pretty omega Stiles who has only eyes for him, this is the fic for you. They are literally so great!! 10/10, please please please go read this. It's completed.

8. You Smell Like Mine by bleep0bleep, marguerite_26 

People talk about the alpha instinct, an alpha's head being swayed by a nice-smelling omega, or the desire to drop everything and show off. Derek's never felt any of that. He's just not that kind of alpha. Then he meets Stiles.

Notes: I love Derek in this, he's trying SO HARD to remain nonchalant over Stiles, but he never stood a chance. One whiff of Stiles' scent and he was a goner, pathetically entranced. Good thing Stiles wants him back hehe. A sprinkle of Enemies to Lovers (and really, can we say it's sterek if it doesn't have enemies to lovers who are inexplicably drawn to each other despite their best efforts to appear indifferent?). It's completed.

9. His Only Defence by LunaCanisLupus_22

Stiles had just accidentally challenged an alpha. Oh God, and Scott had just stood by and let him do it. He was the worst best friend ever. Stiles was going to kill him. Except, oh right, the alpha was going to kill him first. Like beyond dead, ripped into tiny little pieces dead. So far dead that his dad would not be able to identify him, dead.

Notes: I honestly don't know how to explain this one. It's a modern au, only archaic abo rules exist and Stiles and Derek... well, Stiles is Stiles and Derek is Derek. They work it out. It's completed, but you need to have an account to read this work.

10. cheer up, babe by graveltotempo, SpringlockedSpectre

He was the basketball captain. And he was a cheerleader. Can I make it any more clear? OR: Derek Hale thought he had his crush on Stiles Stilinski under control. And then Stiles decided to show up to school in a skirt.

Notes: Derek is pining and makes a fool of himself all the time in front of Stiles. Stiles, thankfully for Derek, finds it charming. That's it, that's the fic. It's completed. I also recommend checking up graveltotempo's other works, they're great!

11. Love's Violent Delights by Dexterous_Sinistrous

Derek caught the way the man’s eyes looked over Stiles before lingering on his ass. He waited for the clerk to place the key on the counter before he reacted. Stiles startled at the loud noise, turning away from the pamphlets in the display box to see Derek pinning the clerk’s head against the counter. He drew in an even breath, looking between the struggling man and Derek. Derek briefly looked at Stiles, hesitating before he saw the gleam of excitement in Stiles’ eyes and the hint of lust in his scent. “Ever look at him, or any other Omega, like that again, and I’ll slice your eyes out with my claws.” He shoved the man back, not caring of the commotion that was made as he snatched up the key from the counter.

Notes: this makes me go feralllll it's so good. The Sheriff is imprisoned for what basically amounts to bullshit charges, and he and Derek share a cell. When Derek is freed, he looks for Stiles to make good on his promise to the Sheriff to take care of him. Somehow, they end up running from the law lol, my little criminal babies. Their relationship here is so uuuuuuughhhhh so wonderful! There's also critics to the system and talk about abo politics. It's completed.

12. Side Character by Hedwig221b

He should’ve kept his mouth shut. He should’ve smiled like always. Now everything was ruined, crushed, destroyed. Dust, shards, and the remnants of his pride. Love that no one needed. Derek’s gaze scalded the side of his face but Stiles refused to meet it. He had already revealed too much.

Notes: Hedwig, as always, writes such good stories! Seriously one of my favorite sterek writers! Stiles is oblivious and pining, Derek is also oblivious and pining, only in a completely different manner. They still end up together because they are meant to be in EVERY UNIVERSE. This doesn't have the traditional Alpha/Omega pairing, since Stiles is a Beta (really, the root of all this issue in the first place) He is very insecure in this one, but Derek is here for him. It's completed.

13. Made Your Mark on Me (A Golden Tattoo) by writteninthewolfstar

Beacon Hills High and Lycan Heights High are well-known enemies. Derek Hale, Lycan Heights' star quarter-back, is well-known for being aggressive and arrogant. Imagine Stiles surprise when he discovers that Derek Hale is actually his soul-mate.

Notes: this is a very sweet one. Pretty light hearted, especially compared to canon. The bullying does get a little intense at some points, though, so if that's triggering proceed with caution. Jock Derek, my beloved. Stiles is a loner, and also very insecure on this one! But Derek is an absolute sweetheart and a real champ, so love conquers all. Has some Bad Friend Scott, too, so if that's something you're interested in, this is your fic. It's completed.

14. We Gotta Hide What We're Doin' by CharWright5

As a Bodyguard within the Stilinski Rodzina, Derek's one and only job is to watch over the Omega son—and only child—of the Family's Head, Stiles, a task that is easier said than done some nights. It's just good that the Alpha knows the best way to punish the little troublemaker when his bratty behavior threatens to expose a secret that could get the Bodyguard killed.

Notes: this one has a lot of smut, and the premise is absolutely killer. I'm actually very sad it's not 200k words long, but what can you do? Stiles is the heir to a Mafia Empire, and Derek an enforcer and Stiles' personal bodyguard since he was young. Stiles is a spoiled brat here, but Derek likes that hehe. It's also a secret relationship. It's kiiiiind of dark, since this is a mafia au, but nothing too terrible. To be honest the most explicit part is the smut. It's completed.

15. Survival of the Species by Lissadiane

“I think I’m dying.” Nothing makes sense – and now Derek has left him. “No, Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton says grimly, rooting around in his special cupboard of herbs and remedies. “I’m afraid not. You’re merely suffering from a biological imperative to bear your alpha’s children and strengthen the pack.” Stiles considers that for a moment, as best he can with his mind a hazy mess, and then he says quietly, “I think that might be worse.” “So, so much worse,” Scott agrees. * In which Derek's pack is apparently stable enough to begin planning for the future, and somehow, the universe has decided Stiles is the perfect candidate to bear his alpha's children.

Notes: honestly?? One of the best fics I've read about mpreg, not just in the Teen Wolf, but in general. It keeps things real, everyone is the appropriate amount of freaked out, for a while no one is having a good time, and there's enough to hint at body horror that my angst thirst is satisfied. Don't worry though, everything's fine! And there's no actual body horror, Stiles just has a very wild imagination. There's also not actual mpreg either, it's just discussed. It's complete.

16. before the world catches up by negativelyme

Stiles is a beta, so he’s never been a part of the annual Winter Mating Rituals that take over his high school. Or so he thinks.

Notes: this one is so wholesome! Derek truly is trying his very best, you can do it, Derek! Stiles' I'm-a-Beta-no-one-wants-me issues are getting in the way of true love. All ends well. It's completed.

17. All You Ever Needed to Know About Knotting by orphan_account

Derek had started reading the column by accident. Really, reading strangers’ questions about knotting and heat had never really appealed to him. However, at that point in time, he was a little desperate. And he was right: most of the questions submitted by anonymous readers didn’t appeal to him. The answers, though, did. (Or: In which Stiles writes an advice column about knotting and Derek is smitten. Also they're neighbors.)

Notes: it's pretty much what it says in the summary. Overall very wholesome, made me laugh. Derek is absolutely precious here. It's completed.

18. You Want Me Back by graveltotempo

Stiles and the Hale pack come back to Beacon Hills for a High School reunion.

Notes: classic 10 year reunion fic (or maybe it's not classic in this fandom?? Tbh, most of the reunion fics I've read are from KHR), Stiles comes back to BH married and with a child. He, Jackson and Isaac are the best of bests, and Derek is, of course, wonderful. Peter is also pretty great, even if he appears for like 5 seconds. Canon Divergent from season 3b, bad friend Lydia, bad friend Scott. There's an epic smackdown and the Hales are basically top dogs. It's completed.

19. Over the Moon by likeshipsonthesea

Stiles and Derek spend a night together, and Derek, thinking he's protecting Stiles, tells him it was a mistake. Stiles leaves Beacon Hills. He also leaves behind 6 letters to say goodbye to the pack. From his letters, the pack thinks he's killed himself. Meanwhile, Stiles is in NYC, living with Jackson, going to Columbia, oh, and he's pregnant.

Notes: Derek is an idiot, but his heart is in the right place. Misscomunication ensues, basically, and it escalates way too much. Jackson and Stiles' broship is literally the best thing ever, I love them!!!! We should have more fics with them being the best duo ever.

20. the Jurisdiction series by elisera

John is a pretty level-headed guy. He wasn’t always, back during his own Sturm und Drang period, but he married a firecracker of a woman and got a kid with an affinity for trouble like he got payed for ending up in it, so someone had to level out or they would’ve ended up living in a treehouse or Lapland doing god knows what. Anyway, getting a hold of his temper is one of John’s better life achievements. It makes him a good sheriff and it kept him from blowing his lid too badly those last two years when Stiles started acting out in a way that John had never seen before.  But the temper is still there. He’s reminded of it when he comes home on a random Saturday in March after spilling his milkshake all over his uniform shirt only to notice he didn’t have a spare in the station and finds Stiles bend over the kitchen sink with hunched shoulders.

Notes: the first part of the series gets, admittedly, pretty violent. Everything after that is very wholesome though. The Sheriff is an absolute gem in this one! Also, the mpreg is a very important factor after the first part of the series, but the first part is mostly just sterek pining and the aforementioned violent events. I'd mind the tags. It's completed.

21. What To Expect When You're Expecting (A Litter of Sourwolf Puppies) by Brego_Mellon_Nin

The Sheriff sighs and plops down in a chair opposite his son. “Stiles, I’m going crazy here. We need to get you to a doctor. You sleep like you’re trying to get into the Guinness Book of World Records, and your eating habits are bizarre! You vomit around the clock and for some reason only the tea your mother used when she was pregnant will get your stomach to settle down for any length of time. Is there something you aren’t telling me? Can werewolves get guys pregnant? I’ve noticed how you look at that Hale kid-”  Stiles meeps and flails, sloshing tea down his front. Luckily it’s not scalding anymore, but still hot, so he jumps up and wrenches his shirt off. “God, dad, no! Guys can’t get pregnant, that’s ridiculous, it’s like...” “Like werewolves being real?” his dad questions, deadpan.

Notes: a wonderful accidental pregnancy fic. I love the Sheriff on this one, he's so supportive and actually has a hold of every single braincell because he is just THAT great. Stiles is also lovely, and while Derek is missing for like the first third of the fic he's great, too. This are pretty fluffy all around! It's completed.

22. I Don't Blame You for Being You (but you can't blame me for hating it) by LadySlytherin 

Derek hits Stiles with his Camaro - 'Dammit, Stiles, it was an accident!'...'Why don't I believe you?' - and hilarity ensues.

Notes: do you know how there are fics that make you go 'I LOVE STEREK SO MUCH AAAAAAAAAAH'? Well, this is one of them. Derek hits Stiles with his car, Stiles ends with a broken leg, Derek gets to take care of him while he recovers as payment. Oh, and there's a fight about which pack Stiles actually belongs to, but that works itself out. It's pretty great. It's also completed.

23. Predators by Hedwig221b

He was born for this. Nature itself whispered into his ear where he should put his hands, how to twirl his tongue just right and when to bite. Stiles knew well enough that his saliva was currently working its magic on this unfortunate man, making him hungry, lustful, and insatiable. Soon, all his thoughts would be consumed by Stiles. And, just this once, Stiles would allow Derek to consume him.

Notes: to be honest, I thought I'd be putting this on another section, since this is a creature!Stiles fic (and it'll definitely go there when I make that fic rec list), but if it has mpreg then it has mpreg. This is actually one of my favorite fics ever!! I feel like I'm always saying this but it bears repeating, so: Hedwig always makes such great stories (as proven by the sheer amount of Hedwig fics I have in my rec lists lol). Stiles is so uuuuuugh in this one, I love him! And Derek! Oh lord, Derek makes me go feral here. Honestly, so good! It's completed, but do mind the tags because it gets... intense.

24. Disposition by Tulikettu

Stiles has an itch. A kinky, kinda dirty itch he needs to scratch.  So why not go on the Internet and look for a complete stranger to scratch it?  Derek needs a partner for his rut.  What a coincidence.

Notes: alright so this last one really veers off track from the rest of this list. It's basically pure smut so if you're not into that, don't read it. It also doesn't actually have mpreg, it's just discussed (and barely as a subject, since in their current present it isn't possible). Also, the kinks are... well, they are. There are some pretty triggering stuff in here so please mind the tags before you read, because if it's in the tags, you will read it, in detail. Other than that, it's pretty great! Stiles and Derek are very obsessed with each other, as they should. It's completed!

And this is everything. I honestly surprised myself with the amount of fics that ended up here, I hadn't realized I'd read that many sterek fics with ABO and mpreg. I hope you like these, Shar! And of course, anyone else who bounds finding this, I hope you enjoy these too.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Tempest

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader (third person, no use of y/n) Warnings: Very brief mention of drug use, heavy petting. Word count: ~2k

Summary: Michael provides shelter when they get caught in a downpour, and reveals some uncomfortable truths.

Author's note: Happiest of birthdays to @dreamymoomin // @in-a-mountain-pool - hope you enjoy this little gift! No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

It’s mid June in Oxford, a time when the air hangs thick and humid, the rain showers and storms as frequent as the blazing sunshine and cloudless skies. It’s an odd time of year, the feeling of transition as apparent in the weather as it is in the nearing finality of the end of term.

Exams have descended upon the students of every course, and while everyone studies hard, the need to let off steam is as burgeoning as the pressure in the atmosphere that promises thunder and lightning. The parties get wilder with every weekend that passes, a celebration of the turning in of coursework, completion of written assessments and an undeniable sense of finality; first year is drawing to its close.

She steps out of the wine shop on Turl Street, the nicest bottle she could find for under seven pounds wrapped delicately in navy blue tissue paper. Her friends in this city are of a different breed to what she’s used to back home; turning up to a party with a litre bottle of cider or a four pack of WKD Blue is social suicide. There is an unspoken, but incredibly obvious air of refinement, and if your face doesn’t fit then you’re destined for an incredibly lonely three years.

So, she has learned to play along. Turn up with fancy wine, pretend she’s one of them, until Felix and Farleigh show up with a wrap of cocaine and a bottle of Jägermeister, and things inevitably degenerate. They always degenerate. She makes her excuses and leaves whenever they arrive, she knows better now, having attempted to keep up in her first week, and then waking up the following day with an impending sense of dread and a general feeling of sickness that had continued to outstay its welcome after two days.

The social protocols are something she has perfected to a fine art; turn up, bring a bottle, ensure people see you, talk just enough to ensure you’re invited back next time, and then leave before things get too messy. It’s lonely, exhausting, and utterly unfulfilling, but it’s better than the alternative of being ostracised from her course mates.

As her feet land upon the pavement from the shop doorway, the sky blackens. Thick, grey clouds roll overhead and she looks up just in time to feet the first raindrop splash upon her cheek. Shit.

The sudden downpour makes her gasp, and though Trinity College is only a five minute walk away, she knows she’ll be drenched by the time she makes it back, so she runs in the direction of the Brasenose, seeking shelter beneath the covered entryway as she waits for the rain to pass.

She shivers, hair sticking to her neck, cursing under her breath as she watches the tissue paper that had been covering her wine bottle disintegrate in her hands. She shuffles to the side as she spots someone in her peripheral vision step beneath the entryway, giving them space as they lower the jacket they had been holding over their head.

“You’re not staying at this college.”

The brusque statement isn’t a question, it’s almost accusatory, and she snaps her head up, looking into the face of a person she recognises, but doesn’t know the name of.

“No…sorry,” she utters, awkwardly turning her bottle in her hands as more paper sloughs off of it. “Just waiting for the rain to pass.”

The rectangular glasses, sandy coloured hair and angular features are unforgettable. She had seen this guy hanging around with Oliver Quick towards the start of term and in the lead up to Christmas. When they’d all come back from break, she’d stopped seeing them together. Considering that Oliver now hung around Felix Catton like a shadow, it wasn’t hard to guess what had happened. She felt sorry for him.

“You could be standing here for a while,” he tells her.

She watches as a droplet of rain drips from the cleft of his nose, before her eyes flicker up to his. “Better than getting soaked on the walk back to Trinity.”

He hums under his breath, regarding her warily. “You could make it back in under five hundred steps if you walked quickly.”

“Or you could invite me in until the rain passes,” she replies hopefully, her eyes meeting his.

She watches him carefully as he blinks once, twice, three times, his mouth twisting in a mixture of confusion and apprehension as he considers her proposition. She is certain he’s going to refuse, until he utters a clipped “fine”, before turning to open the door.

Following him in and up the staircase, she wonders why she had been so bold. There is no denying she is curious about him, the maths genius that everyone says had shouted “fucking ask me a sum then!” during the Fresher’s dinner, but she would never ordinarily ask a complete stranger to allow her into their room. He’s not even leading her to the common area.

As the door to his room clicks closed behind her, she takes in her surroundings. It could not be more different to the rooms of other boys she has visited during her time at Oxford. It’s clean, tidy to the point of being orderly, everything has its place. The bedspread is pulled taut against the mattress, pens and pencils are lined up perfectly straight next to the neat pile of notebooks on the desk.

She feels her skin heat up when she sees him standing there staring at her. She hasn’t even introduced herself.

“Sorry,” she says, giving her name with an embarrassed smile, “probably should have told you that before inviting myself up. And you are?”

“Michael,” he says, “Michael Gavey.”

He reaches for her hand to shake it, but withdraws upon seeing the soggy blue tissue paper it’s coated in, and she silently prays for the ground to swallow her up as fresh humiliation burns hotly through her.

“Here,” he says, passing her a towel that had been carefully folded over the back of a chair, “dry yourself off.”

She gives a quiet thanks, setting her bottle down on the bedside table, before toweling her face, hair and hands. It smells faintly of Head and Shoulders shampoo, and it’s oddly comforting.

Passing the towel back, she busies herself with opening the wine as Michael works to dry himself. Using the end of a fork that has been left upon the bedside table, she pushes the cork through into the bottle.

“What are you doing?”

She looks up, watching as he wipes at the lenses of his glasses with a cleaning cloth. He’s actually quite beautiful without them, less severe looking, his eyes are strikingly blue. Forcing herself to avert her gaze, she replies: “well, I can’t see a corkscrew.”

“No, I mean, why are you opening it?”

She gives an easy shrug. “Something to do while we wait for the rain to stop.”

Taking a swig of the cheap chardonnay, she winces slightly and holds it out to him. He hesitates, eyes shifting between the bottle and her, before he tentatively reaches out to take it from her. His own face contorts in disgust as he drinks, causing her to laugh.

“Only the finest for five pounds fifty!”

“Christ,” he winces, passing it back to her. “So, what are you reading?”

“History of art,” she replies, slugging from the wine bottle once more.

“Fucking hell,” he scoffs derisively, mouth turning up into a sneer.

“Oh fuck off,” she shoots back playfully, perching herself on the edge of his bed. “We can’t all be maths geniuses.”

He eyes her curiously. “How do you know I’m reading maths?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

Recognition flickers in his eyes for a moment and she sees a tinge of pink flush his cheek, as he averts his gaze in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” she blurts hurriedly. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s impressive, really, it is.”

“I don’t need one of Felix Catton’s vapid cunts to validate me,” he retorts, his tone suddenly icy.

Her brows arch, eyes widening as the comment hits her like a slap to the face. “I’m not…I’m not making fun of you,” she says quietly, “and Felix isn’t my friend, not that that’s any of your business.”

He narrows his eyes at her, putting his glasses back on. “Well, go on then.”

“What?”

“Ask me a sum. You’ve been dying to since you first saw me.”

“It’s fine. I wasn’t going–”

“Just do it,” he interrupts with a sigh.

She chews her lip hesitantly, placing the wine bottle on the bedside table, before leaning back on her palms against the bed as she sits on its edge. “Alright. Two hundred and eighty four divided by sixteen?”

“Seventeen and three quarters,” he replies instantaneously. 

It shocks her, he doesn’t really even have to take time to think about it.

“I’ve got no way of verifying if that’s correct,” she says, chuckling nervously.

“Hmm, why don’t we even the playing field then?” He says, coming to sit beside her.

She feels her breath hitch as the mattress dips beside her, his closeness making the humidity of the air seem hotter still.

“What do you mean?”

“You ask me a maths question, I’ll ask you a question, and it’s up to us if we believe each other’s answer.”

“Art history questions?”

“What do you think?” He shoots her a withering look.

“What sort of questions then?”

“Just ones about you. You’re in my room, after all, makes sense for me to get to know you.”

She swallows thickly, nodding. “Okay, that seems fair.”

“So, why aren’t you friends with Felix Catton?”

“I don’t like him,” she says honestly.

“Why not?”

“That’s two questions.”

“Just answer it.”

She wets her lips, considering her answer. It’s not something she’s ever really even admitted to herself before, let alone said aloud to another person. “I–I don’t like how he makes me feel…about myself.”

“Your turn.”

She turns her face towards him, noticing how close they’re sitting together. The smell of Head and Shoulders shampoo is more fragrant on him than it had been on the towel. “Eighty eight times ninety one?”

His skin breaks out into gooseflesh at the feeling of her breath upon it, and she smiles to herself as she watches him shift upon the bed, his answer slower than the first time. “Eight thousand and eight.”

He looks at her, his face so close to hers their noses almost touch. “Why do you hang out with Felix’s friends if you don’t like him?”

Exhaling shakily, she dips her face into the crook of his neck, feeling him tense beneath her touch, the proximity causing her own heartbeat to quicken. “Because I don’t want to be lonely,” she whispers. She ghosts her lips tentatively against the flesh of his neck, delighting in the way he shivers. “Six hundred times three hundred and twenty one?”

When he breathes out, it’s audible, the faintest hint of a whimper carrying alongside the expulsion of air. “One hundred and ninety two thousand, six hundred,” his voice is strained as he replies, an indication that he’s struggling.

He reaches across, long slender fingers gripping her thigh, out of desire to touch her or simply to ground himself, she is unsure, but she takes the initiative, slinging her leg over his lap. She can feel the rapid hardening of him through the fly of his cargo shorts.

“Why did you want to come up today?” He whispers, turning his head, nuzzling into her still damp hair.

“To get out of the rain,” she utters, gripping the front of his t-shirt as though it’s a lifeline.

“Liar, the rain’s stopped now.”

The darkness of his tone causes her core to squeeze involuntarily, excitement making her tummy flutter. “I was curious about you, you seem lonely too.”

“Do you want to stay?”

“That’s two questions,” she chides, pulling back, resting her forehead against his.

“Answer me,” he insists, his grip on her thigh tightening.

As she looks at him, his pupils dilated, full lips parted, she knows she has no intention of going to the party later. From the moment she met Michael, her plans had changed without her ever being aware of it.

“Yes, I want to stay.”

He leans in, lips pressing feverishly against hers, and as she kisses back, savouring the taste of cheap white wine upon his mouth, it feels as though the pressure has finally lifted. She hopes it rains forever.

[tiredofthehumanlife]

EvansFavMasochist

Barbie dolls: rosekiller x reader

Word: 1.8k

Summary: modern fame au you and Evan are famous acting professionals and Barty runs an edit fanpage of you 2

Warnings: you ride Barty but no genitals mentioned, mentions of bondage blood choking cocaine degradation praise, mentioned that Evan sucks Bartys dick and also mentioned that you sucked Evans dick, Barty posts parts of your sex tapes with your permission, i'm going to lose it dude, a bad username for Barty listen I could only come up with tiredofthehumanlife and that was in sixth grade what more do you expect of me, you used pet names

Acting was a strange profession to explain. ‘I play pretend for money and millions of people know my face.’ If the person didn’t already know what you did or who you were you just said you did accounting. Evan did the same, he said he was a mortician instead. Evan Rosier was your coworker at the moment, and also your boyfriend but that was not public knowledge. Neither was your shared boyfriend, Barty. You and Evan were currently working on a pretty popular show. Popularity caused more paparazzi. You and Evan had to sneak around a little more, frowning at each other and keeping your distance in public.

In the show you were working on, your characters hated each other. They constantly got into fights and glared at each other. They had to see each other frequently due to the shenanigans in the plot. The fanbase wanted to see your characters kiss. Bad. Edits, fanfics, and tweets begging for you two to just shut up and make out already were some of the most popular things in the fandom. It puts both of you in the spotlight. It caused more edits of you in interviews to go viral, theorizing about the obvious tension between the two of you. Try as you might you couldn’t hide your attraction for your gorgeous boyfriend(s). It gave the show free publicity. Which is why your bosses told you to keep the act up.

Within the fandom, there was a particular editor that was extremely popular. If you knew the show then you probably knew EvansFavMasochist. EvansFavMasochist was most popular because he somehow managed to get clips and photos of you and Evan that the fans have never seen before, and he was a fabulous editor. None of his millions of followers understood how he could find these pictures and videos, they were never posted on your or Evan's socials. You knew. He was your boyfriend. Barty loved editing, he spent most of his time on his phone tapping away. He also loved the confusion he caused. Fans asked how and where he found these pictures. He always answered with a joke. It made him giggle when people would make videos or comments theorizing how he got them.

“I hate filming late, like eating staight rusted nails,” Evan muttered, flopping into his seat and letting Makeup do retouches. Barty sighed next to him, in his hournary guest chair.

“Tell me about it,” Barty grunted. Evan shoved Barty’s shoulder. You sat in your chair next to Evan’s letting your own makeup artist fix the parts that got messed up in the process of filming. Evan intertwined his fingers with yours as Barty left without a word. Eventually, the makeup artists backed up letting you both take a small moment of meditation. Barty returned with two bottles of water, handing one out to each of you.

“You’re a blessing, B.” You sighed, chugging it. Evan did simaily. You both closed your bottles, handing them to Barty. You lightly pecked Evan as the director called places. You moved back to your taped starting place. Hours passed before the director finally yelled that you were done. You let yourself relax as you got out of your costume as fast as possible and into your comfy clothes. You were skittering over to Evan’s trailer in a few minutes. Barty straightened up when he saw you. You smiled at him, greeting him with a kiss. He had his hoodie pulled up and, a highly decorated jean vest pulled over it. He had spikes on the shoulders that Evan liked to fiddle with. Barty had huge bright green glasses that covered half his face. You looked similar to be perfectly honest.

You had to keep most of your face covered, even though the paparazzi could still recognize you it was worth a shot. Eventually, Evan joined you both. He looked nothing like you two, in his full gorgeous outfit with nothing covering his face. You rolled your eyes at him. You hugged him bye and said you’d meet him at home. He left first. A few minutes later, you pushed your glasses further up, Barty pulling his hoodie down more as you both left the gates into the parking lot. A large group of flashes and yelling following you. You reached back and grabbed onto Barty’s jean jacket, dragging him through the crowds of questions.

“Are you and Evan Rosier dating?”

“Are any of the characters going to die at the end of this season?”

“Do you have a cocanie addiction?”

“Do you have any idea who EvansFavMasocist is?”

”No comment.” You said with a monotone voice as you shoved through the crowd, finally reaching your car. When you finally made it home Evan was already on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table. You collasped into his lap, and Barty laid ontop of you.

“What if we just made out in front of them, maybe they’d rest a little.” You whispered against Evan’s pant leg. He gently reubbed your cheek.

“Maybe.”

You wrapped up filming soon after that. After months and months of interviews and late-night shows pretending you haven’t sucked Evan’s dick or even knew his favorate color, the last season of the show was released. The fans were beyond joyous when in the very last episode you two did shut up and make out. They were excited to see what EvansFavMashocist would do with new footage.

Barty was excited too. He was schemeing, hardcore. He decided since the season came out, so could your relationship. Barty was going to do it the only way he knew how, in a slightly immoral way. He was editing for hours and finally, he had the finished product.

It started with a picture of you. It was a picture that got pretty popular in the fanbase, you were looking at a fan as they talked and people thought it was attarctive. Over the picture was the caption ‘how they look at you’. The picture flipped to show a picture that you never posted. You were on your knees, staring up at Barty as you licked his blood off the knife in your hand with the caption ‘How they look at me.’. Then it transitioned into regular editing things, clips of you varying postions and clothes but one clip that could easily slip past if the viewers weren’t paying attention was an EvansFavMasochist specialty.

Another clip that woudn’t see the light of day until he posted it. Fully from the one of the many recordings of you fucking. It was from below. Barty’s veiw of course. You knew you actively were riding Barty with Evan behind you in the video but Barty cropped it just right. The audience couldn’t see past your mid-forearm. They could see how you were moving, your bare shoulders, blissed out look and put two and two together. Evan’s head was pulled over your shoulder, staring down at Barty. He had one hand around your neck and the other was out of frame but in the original it was traveling past your belly button. Your head dropped back against Evan’s shoulder before the clip quickly changed.

It was squeezed between two regular clips barely noticeable. Next after a few more clips of you it was showing you and Evan’s on screen kiss. It flipped to a photo of Evan smiling at a fan, another popular one, with the same caption as yours ‘how he looks at you’ before it switched to another picture of Evan. It was really just a picture of the top of Evan’s head his hair and only his eyes visible. You had seen the original picture before the cropping and knew if it was zoomed out you'd see Barty’s dick halfway past Evan’s lips. This picture had the same caption as yours had, ‘how he looks at me.’ It transitioned into another regular edit, classic clips seen a thousand times before it wasn’t anymore.

Then it was a recording you had taken this time of Evan tying Barty’s hands to the headboard. Barty was out of frame mostly, just his arms and tufts of hair. Evan was the main focus, his focus and trained fingers moving quickly. With a handful of regular clips after that, the edit ended.

One thing you noticed was the sound in the background. It was a regular edit sound until you heard voices you recognized. Over your portion oof the edit, it was your moaning, Evan’s name slipping past your lips followed by a lot of curses. While it was Evan’s portion of the edit, it was his dirty talk. Degrading and praising Barty at the same time. Barty’s name wasn’t in the video but you knew who Evan was talking to, he used a different tone for you. You slowly looked away from the screen, up to Barty’s big smile.

”So? can I post it?” You waited a moment, thinking it over. It would be fun and dramatic.

“yeah sure I don’t care.” You said, sitting back on the couch. Barty turned to Evan.

“Could not care less.” Barty celebrated by running around the living room before he posted it.

The fans were shocked to say at the least. Firstly, you and Evan were in fact dating or at the very least sleeping together. Secoundly, this random editor somehow had your sextapes. Thirdly, you guys were a little more freaky than they were expecting. They thought this EvansFavMasochist guy released these clips of your tapes without your permission, resulting in a lot of backlash. Barty was chuckling his way through all the comments before he finally decied to make a follow-up video. He started with the camera low, pretending he wasn’t recording. Barty walked into your shared bedroom while you and Evan were cuddling, waiting on him.

“Guys I have a question that I need you to answer because the people in my phone are upset with me.” You both hummed at him as he jumped into bed with you two, snuggling between you. You and Evan pulled your heads over each of Barty’s shoulders so you three were in the frame.

“Okay are we dating?” Barty asked, a wide grin on his face.

“mm-hm for years.” You whispered in response.

“And I posted that last video with your permission?”

You and Evan agreed.

“And we fuck regularly?” You tilted your head back in forth in a ‘so-so’ motion. Evan snorted, pulling his head up to peck Barty on the cheek.

”Yeah, B. Whatever you want.”

“And you guys love me more than your fans because they're stupid and can't please you in the ways I can?” Barty asked, his smile edging on cheesy. You grinned at him.

“Oh yeah baby, you’re perfect.” You whispered, kissing his temple. Barty’s face got hot. He grimaced, standing up from the bed.

"Alright alright, get off me. You harlots.” He muttered as he stormed out of the room before posting his brand-new video to clear up a couple of things. Barty giggled his way through all the comments talking about how his partners talked to him and how oddly attractive it was.

[sailoryooons]

Lights | Episode 1 | jjk (m)

❀ Pairing: Idol!Jungkook x Producer! F. reader

❀ Summary: Meeting Jungkook was a chance of fate. A moment frozen in time, eyes meeting across a room full of lights. The more the two of you advance in your career, the more lost in the lights you become. What if you never find your way back?

❀ Word Count: 15,069 

❀ Genre: Heavy angst, Idolverse, strangers to lovers, eventual smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Warnings: Discussions of manipulation in the music industry, there are gentle hints at the potential for Jungkook and reader to be addicts, general topics of competitiveness between kids growing up, recreational drinking, references to people using sex as advantage, allusions to topics of promiscuity, recreational drug use (weed), reader’s agent straight up trying to get her to have sexual relations with people, implications of using people, reader is aggressively goal-oriented, Jungkook and reader are a little naive and sort of love-at-first-sighting, explicit language, explicit sexual content, three sex scenes, sex in a public place (restaurant bathroom), oral (m. and f. receiving), spit play, spit in general, light degradation, rough sex, sex under the influence of alcohol (both are able to consent and want it), Jungkook drives after drinking (not implied or referenced that he’s drunk but he is driving after having glasses of wine), nipple play, vaginal fingering, reverse cowgirl, ass play (f. receiving), missionary, fucking from the side, a little bit of come play, voyeurism if you squint, a hint of possessiveness, literally so many bodily fluids like a ton, reader kind of being in something like subspace and being fucked stupid/to sleep basically, aftercare referenced, implied toxic relationships with past coworkers/current coworkers, references to vicious/toxic work industry, light depictions of cocaine use (not explicitly seen) by a side character, honestly Jungkook and reader are a lil cringe in this and moving very fast but they have addictive personalities idk what to tell you, there are hints to their addictive personalities, talk about social anxiety needing medication/alcohol to take the edge off (not good to do people!!!), very light hinting at traits that will be a problem 

❀ Published: October 6, 2023

❀ A/N: This might be the most gratuitous thing I have ever written - it actually might be too much sex? At what point is it too much and just too much come and kissing and the word c*ck, genuinely? Anyway, my goal with this chapter wasn’t so much plot as it was to introduce how volatile these two have the potential to be. If you’ve ever known someone who has struggled with addiction, you will notice the little innocent behaviors that have the potential for utter disaster. These are two people who are wildly native and very much think they are in control of their life, but who are a little reckless. It will seem like they get together fast because they do with like.. Very little regard for anything else. I really hope you enjoy this story. I think it will become sort of a little thing for me to put parts of past traumas I have into it to finally let them go, maybe! Also - I am using the western naming pattern in this with first name last name because of the ambiguity of where this story takes place. ❀ A/N 2: This story was originally named ‘Hiraeth’ but after chatting with a kind anon, I realized that the definition and translation of the word did not fit and lost cultural context from its original meaning and thus changed the title to Lights. Thank you @here2bbtstrash for the loyal beta read and @gimmethatagustd for helping me get VERY unstuck multiple times by letting me talk in circles and offering words of wisdom.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment, or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. This series does not attempt to paint a realistic depiction of idols, or the industry, or draw comparisons. None of the scenes or elements in this series in any way reflect how I perceive the music industry and do not represent any opinions. This is not intellectual commentary, it is just straight-up fiction. 

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Ask | Lights Playlist | Previous Episode | Tag Lists | Next Episode

Jungkook looks like sin. It’s the first thought you have as you pause at the bottom of the stairs, eyes nearly blinded by the twinkling lights above. But there he is, standing in the glow of flashing purples and pinks, looking right at you.

He’s standing at one of the booths on the far end of the club, which has been rented for an event that you don’t remember the details of. His eyes land on you, and though you’ve never met, you suddenly feel a connection snap into place, something magnetic. For a moment, everything goes quiet, like in those romance books you used to read when you were a teenager.

Before, it used to seem a little silly. You didn’t think it was possible to suddenly see no one else in a room full of people except one person.

Now, it doesn’t seem that preposterous. You’re only able to take in a fraction of information in the second that your eyes connect with his: round face, long, wavy hair, and an arm full of tattoos with a drink held in his hand. 

He is stunning. You already knew that from the other two times you’ve caught a flash of him at events, but every time you see him in person, you’re awed all over again by the effortless way he catches the eye.

The tension between the two of you breaks as someone knocks into you and you stumble, trying not to twist your ankle with the high heels you’re currently wearing. Too short to see over the rest of the crowd, you lose sight of Jungkook. Music comes rushing back to you, the vibration of the base and the hum of synth making it nearly impossible to hear what your agent says next to you.

“What?”

“Do you remember the list I gave you?” Mila demands, grabbing your wrist and pulling you through the crowd. It hurts a little as she drags you along, impatient after arriving at the event late because you had a problem with your wardrobe for the evening. “That list is imperative.” 

“Yes.” 

The list is impossible. You have memorized at least two dozen people that your agent expects you to talk to and rub elbows with tonight. Some of them are certainly doable - people at your own company, artists you’re familiar with. Others are ridiculous, including idols that are several calibers above your station as a newly promoted producer at ILIA. 

Sure, you have the new glow of recent popularity after some surprising award wins and being likable on social media - which matters to your company as much as producing award-winning records - but you know what they all think. You know that they think your parents paid someone or that you fucked your way out of being a junior producer. 

It helps that neither is true. It doesn’t help that you would have done it anyway, if it meant feeding the simmering hunger inside of you that never seems to fade, your desire to win outweighing everything else. 

“You should catch up with your old friend Luna, she should be easy. You trained with her in the early building stages of ILIA.”

“Yeah,” you mutter faintly. “I remember her.”

You remember almost all of them. Something about spending your formative years with a bunch of teenagers being pitted against one another to be the best has made their faces and names permanent. Even the ones who didn’t make the cut or quit on their own.

Quitting is a foreign concept to you. It’s not as foreign as Mila kissing the cheek of some manager at some company you don’t know, pushing you toward them. You don’t care about who he is. There’s nothing he can offer you if he’s not someone who makes music. And as far as you’re concerned, you’re under the careful and powerful tutelage of the Suga. 

Yoongi is a better connection than almost everyone in this building and you know it. 

Suddenly you regret turning down his offer to stay at the studio and work. Yoongi has the agency to say no to scheming agents and public relations teams. He’s already paid his way to be able to do whatever he wants. Specifically, he’s paid in manipulation, blood, sweat, tears, and drama.

You are fresh meat swimming alone in shark-filled waters. Still, you look people in the eye as you shake hands and force smiles all night, going through your mental rolodex of names and achievements. You exchange phone numbers with a few actresses, promising to get drinks. You’re sure they wouldn’t want to if you weren’t fresh off an award-season win. Still, it’s something. 

You spot Jimin in the crowd, feeling relief as you step up toward the series of booths that you spotted Jungkook near earlier. 

“Finally someone tolerable,” Jimin yells when he sees you, tossing back the rest of his champagne. He has kohl smudged around his eyes, making his gaze far more intense as he gives you a once-over. “You look ravishing. Are you sure you don’t want to take me up on the offer to come home with me?”

It would be a lie to say you both haven’t flirted with the idea. There’s something genuine in your friendship, though. Something difficult to find, a twin-flame soul that you’d be hard-pressed to ruin for a bit of publicity. Even if Jimin is the most divine creature you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

It’s out of the question, though. Jimin has become your safehaven in a house of cards world.

Looking him up and down, you let out a long whistle. His hair is freshly dyed bubblegum pink, glittering earrings looped through his ears that scatter the light. Tight black pants with a designer belt and a silk shirt tucked into the waist make him look elegant, the textured Chanel blazer cut perfectly to his narrow frame. 

“Honestly, Mila doesn’t care whether we fuck or not. She still sells that rumor to the press. Doesn’t matter if it’s true. ”

Jimin makes a face at your agent's name. He glances over to where she’s talking up someone from X Entertainment. “She’s a fucking snake.” 

“Well, she’s the snake assigned to me. It’s not like I picked her. As soon as they saw me as marketable, there she was hissing at my door and telling me I have to get in glam to wipe my ass.”

“So bite back. I know you have it in you.” You grimace and reach for a glass of champagne from a tray as it passes you. Jimin sighs as he looks you up and down. “I know you have fangs, little monster.”

You sip the champagne and make a face. It is far too sweet, fizzing on your tongue. “A dragon does not kill the sheep because it feels threatened. It kills when it pleases.”

“My girl. Let’s go around the room, shall we? I want to keep those rumors going.”

With a laugh, you take his hand and let him lead you around the room, passing Mila who grins at you as you go. You try not to leer at her, irritated with her obsession with your relationship with Jimin. When she first noticed that you and Jimin hit it off, she surprised you with an entirely new designer lingerie line. Just because, she had said. A girl should feel powerful and sexy. 

After a few attempts, Mila has finally learned you’re not a dumb little lamb. You’ll take her advice when you want it, but you refuse to let it be at the expense of the single person you trust outside of Yoongi, though Yoongi does not entirely count. As your mentor and senior, he would be horrified to hear you call him a friend. 

After nearly an hour of fake smiles, forced laughter, and far too much champagne, you’re tired and buzzed. You’ve talked to at least ten people on Mila’s long list of celebrities, execs, investors, and influencers that she’s pushed onto you. Another member of that list is standing a few feet away from you, laughing loudly at something Jimin says as she puts her manicured hand on his arm. 

As you contemplate whether or not you should bite the bullet and risk saying hello to Luna, someone behind you says, “She hates you. I think she still holds it against you that you got a producer deal without debuting.” 

Whirling around to identify the voice, you stop short. Jungkook Jeon stares down at you, his eyes just as dark and alluring as they were earlier when you made brief eye contact from across the room. This close, he is taller than you expect. His skin-tight white shirt leaves nothing to the imagination, showing the defined muscles of his stomach and chest, and his perfect, tapered waist. 

It’s a face you’re familiar with, pasted across fashion campaigns and media outlets as he talks about his new single. Your heart is pounding as you drink him in. Soft lips, round cheekbones, and gentle eyes that darken considerably when he watches you look him over.

“Yeah,” you say back, swallowing the rest of your champagne. The carbonation catches you by surprise, making you cough as you swallow the sweet liquid the wrong way. 

He laughs and takes the flute away from you, sticking it on a tray as a server passes by. “Bad swallower?” Instead of answering him, you put one hand on your chest as you cough and the other on his arm, steadying yourself as you lean over and cough, clearing your throat. “Damn, Mozart. You okay?”

“Yeah,” you rasp, feeling your face warm in embarrassment. You remove your hand from his arm and ask, “Mozart?”

“Don’t you do all that composing and shit?”

“I do that producing and shit, yeah.”

“It’s about the same. You’re Min’s prodigy, which means you’re Mozart. And he’s Haydn.” 

“I’m sorry, you know the names of classical composers?”

He smirks. “I know your name.”

“Well, I’m afraid I don’t know yours.” 

It’s a lie. You both know it is, and the grin that spreads across his face is downright devilish as he sticks his hand out. “Jungkook,” he says. You shake his hand, admiring his tattoos. And his fingers. But mostly his tattoos. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure is mine.”

“I would love to make that come true.”

You raise a brow. “Is this how most of your conversations go? Telling people that others hate them, name-dropping classical musicians, and making sexual innuendos?”

“Honestly? No, but I am having a great time. I will, however, drop the innuendos if they’re not your style.”

You smile. “I didn’t say that.” 

His answering smile makes your stomach flip.  “Want to get a drink?”

“Depends. Are you going to tell me about all these people who hate me?”

“This is my promise to you that I will only ever be honest with you. So yes.”

You gesture toward the bar. “Lead the way, then.”

Bodies press against you as the two of you snake through the crowd. Jungkook turns a few times to check on you and flashes you a quick smile to reassure him that you’re okay. It’s cute, you think. You don’t know much about him, but you’re impressed thus far. 

And perhaps a little intimidated by his star power and reputation. 

At the bar, the crowd pushes you closer, knocking your arm into his. He steadies you, keeping his hand on your elbow. “What’s your poison?” 

“Vodka soda!” you shout back to him. He nods and leans against the bar, giving your order to the bartender. Jungkook draws attention like moths to a flame, people looking at him and whispering behind manicured hands. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you.”

You narrow your eyes as he waits on the drinks, one elbow propped on the bar, his other hand still on your arm. He bites his bottom lip, staring at you. “One might try and say you have something up your sleeve.”

“Nope, just my heart on my sleeve. You’re cute and I’ve heard nice things about you from Jimin. We grew up together.”

“Wait, really?”

That is a surprise to you. Jimin has never mentioned growing up with Jungkook or being remotely friendly of the sort. You frown as you think about it, wondering if Jimin left it out for a reason or felt that it was an unimportant fact. 

“Mhmm.” Jungkook hands you a drink, the glass already sweating from the humidity of the club. “What, Jimin doesn’t brag about me?”

“We don’t gossip about people in the industry.” 

Carefully, the two of you navigate back toward your section. Jungkook finds an empty booth and slides in, patting the seat next to him. You sit down and lean back, kicking your legs out in front of you and crossing them at the ankle. Your dress is short but remains modest, enough to keep people guessing. You take a sip of your drink, the burn making you hiss.

“I so rarely see you at events,” Jungkook says after a sip of his dark drink. “I’ve wanted to introduce myself for a while and then you came in and it was like we had a moment.”

“You mean you wanted it to be a moment.”

“Maybe I did.” He smiles. “So where have you been hiding?”

“Legend of Zelda isn’t going to play itself. I come to the events I feel like are worth it.”

Actually, you come to whatever Mila drags you to. Jungkook doesn’t need to know how most of your time is spent in a music studio with the caffeine shakes trying to perfect songs to make sure you don’t get tossed out on the street.  

He narrows his eyes. “Tears of the Kingdom?”

“Obviously. I’ve been building weapons of mass destruction for days.” 

Jungkook tilts his head back and laughs. “What other games do you like, Mozart?” 

Talking to Jungkook is a pleasant surprise. He isn’t at all what social media makes him out to be. You find he’s incredibly kind, certainly flirty, but also wildly endearing. You feel a little guilty at assuming his veneer would be thin and made of plastic like the rest. 

It certainly doesn’t feel like you’re talking to someone who went number one on Billboard the week prior. Jungkook doesn’t talk about other people he knows or ask about work. He flits through topics like a curious bird, quizzing your interests, scrunching his nose, and pouting when you say something he doesn’t like. 

It’s cute. He’s cute, and you’d be lying if you said that the longer you sat next to him,  you haven’t started to think about what it would be like to taste him. Even if he moves on the next day like his reputation has led you to believe. 

But… there’s something there. A spark, though perhaps a trick of the lights.

-

“You want me to what?” you ask, lowering your voice as you lean into Mila’s ear. 

A raucous chorus of Happy Birthday is being poorly sung on the dance floor. You hadn’t even realized this event was for someone’s birthday, and you have half a mind to ask who the hell you should be wishing a happy day of birth to, but Mila is bitching you out in front of the building’s restrooms. 

Even tucked away in the hall outside of the bathroom, you speak in hushed tones, worried someone will overhear her scheming. She looks down her beaky nose at you, eyes like an eagle. “Fuck him,” she repeats slowly, drawing out the syllables like you’re a toddler. “He’s into you and it would be great for publicity.”

“I’m sorry, but since when do you dictate my sex life?” 

Not only are you a little too buzzed to have this conversation, but the very implication that your agent thinks she can make you fuck Jungkook is hilarious enough to have you start giggling hysterically. Mila watches you with narrowed eyes as you cover your mouth, laughing behind your hands. 

“You are not a naive little girl,” Mila hisses at you. “He wants to fuck you, so let him. He’s attractive, he has influence, and he’s with one of the big four companies. It would be good press.”

“You and the fucking press, you’re obsessed!” 

“No, I’m right. My job is to be right and to tell you what to do, and right now I’m telling you that Jungkook is already known for sticking his dick in anything he can. He’s been staring at you all night. You’d be doing yourself a favor.”

You take a step back from her and hold up your hand. “If I fuck him, it’s because he’s hot and I want to. Not to play political chess for you, understood?”

“In my experience, you either become interesting or watch your career fade. Your time of being interesting is ticking. Your call. I’m getting out of here. Do what you want, like you always do.”

What Mila says hurts but you refuse to let it show, holding out a hand to gesture the way out of the hall. She walks by you brusquely, sweeping her blunt, black hair over her shoulder as she goes. You stand in the dark, the door to the bathrooms opening and closing, flashing bright light and then leaving you in with colors pulsing in front of you as your eyes try to readjust every few seconds. 

A loud group of girls startle you as they stumble out of the bathroom, laughing raucously. They’re a tangle of legs and heels and sweet-smelling perfume, nearly running you over as they sway, a collective mass of bodies. They look exactly like the women you cut out of magazines and pasted in your journal as a kid, dragging your finger over the pretty dresses and the designer names listed in the captions.

Luna stops short when she sees you, straightening and brushing her freshly dyed silver hair out of her face. She is cherubic and beautiful, her round cheeks flushing naturally and doll mouth always rosebud pink. You feel trepidation as she regards you, the girls in her group hanging back a bit as she assesses you.

“How are you?” she questions, settling on polite while flashing you a pointed smile and holding out her arms. 

Fake. Fake. Fake. Fake.

You feel a flicker of anger at yourself as you let her pull you into a hug, resentful that you must play this game. She smells like vodka and vanilla, and when she pulls away, you see the barest hint of white on her nose. You brush your finger back and forth on your nostril. 

“Oh.” She wipes it off with the back of her hand, giving a short, shallow sniff. “Thanks.”

“You look nice,” you offer stiffly. Your tongue is heavy from drinking and you scramble for compliments to say, even if they aren’t true. “I like your new song.”

“Thanks! I have the best producers and writers available out there. They really know exactly what they’re doing.” 

You feel the strain in your smile tighten. Moves and counter moves. “That’s good.”

“My team is great. I’m so thankful I had the opportunity to be with S3vn.”

Luna’s voice is polite. Happy, even. But you hear the double meaning in her words. Remember the way she cut your hair before a major review day when you were sixteen. She’s become better at being mean in a nice way. And you have become better at being unaffected, knowing it is her least favorite response.

“It’s nice to see you, Luna.”

Her smile drops when you don’t get upset. You turn and leave the hallway, palms sweaty and head spinning. Swallowing thickly, you wipe your hands on your exposed thighs and walk back to where Jungkook is sitting, surprised to see Jimin has joined him. He narrows his eyes as you approach, but his expression is overall unreadable.

You sit back down silently on the other side of Jimin, staring off into space. The room feels like it’s spinning. You’re toeing the line of buzzed and drunk, so you sip some water, letting yourself go silent as you absently stare into the crowd, watching the cascading lights, a little lost in them.

Jimin waves his hand back and forth in front of your face. “Are you listening?”

You blink a few times, turning to see him and Jungkook looking at you. “What?”

“Jungkook invited us to an after-party. J-Hope is having some people over.”

“Oh.” 

Chewing on your lip, you let your eyes drift to Jungkook. He gives you a tentative smile, nodding his head in encouragement.

“You should come,” Jungkook encourages with a coy grin. “I’d have fun with you there.”

“Do you want to go?” you ask Jimin quietly, looking back at him. He still has a vague expression, one you can’t figure out. “I’ll only go if you do.” 

“Sure,” he offers. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

-

“So you’re Yoongi’s prodigy? No shit!” Hoseok asks, looking at you from the front seat of the van. City lights blur on the other side of the window and it’s hard to hear him over the screeching singing in the car and the blaring music. “You’re about as hard to meet as Yoongi is!” 

J-Hope - Hoseok, as he has asked you to call him - gives you a bright smile. You just stare at him, shocked that he has any idea who you are. You make a mental note to thank Yoongi for even mentioning your name to him. Hoseok is an absolute powerhouse and someone you’ve followed for years. It’s a good connection.

“Told you that you’d want to meet her,” Jungkook says, voice deep. 

Jungkook’s body presses against yours in the packed-tight vehicle. His hand is on top of your knee. His cologne smells like amber and sandalwood, making your eyelashes flutter as you breathe in. You lay your head back against the headrest of the seat, letting it roll to the side a little to test his reaction when you place your head on his shoulder.

He turns his head toward you, his breath fanning against your forehead. You smell his mint gum. If you look up at him right now, your mouths would be close enough to kiss. “Hi,” he says softly. 

“Hi.”

“You have pretty eyes.”

“I grew them myself.”

Jungkook’s laughter is abrupt. You grin at his mirth. He has a cute laugh, totally at odds with the edgy tattoos and the way he carries himself. The paradox intrigues you.

“That wasn’t very smooth, was it?” 

He shakes his head. “It’s honest. I like it. Your reactions are probably the most genuine thing I’ve seen all night. I like genuine.” 

“There’s not a lot of that to go around.”

“I know. That’s why I’m glad we locked eyes from across the room.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, The Lonely Island.”

Hoseok lives in a luxurious apartment on the east side of the city. The entrance is private in a parking garage, away from wandering eyes. Everyone piles out of the car and when you slide to exit, you find a tattooed hand waiting to help you out.

Grinning, you take Jungkook’s hand. Your fingers tingle where they’re interlocked with his, warmth spreading across your palms. Once you’re out of the car, you start to let go. Jungkook squeezes his fingers tighter, urging you to look up at him. There’s a question in his eyes, gaze flicking down to where your hands are clasped. 

A small grin lights up your face and you squeeze his hand back. He leads you toward the elevator, swinging your hands back and forth. You know this game well: Jungkook is priming you. The hand-holding, the compliments, and the staying near you all night are all his signals to you that he wants you to go home with him.

You want that too, but you also don’t want it to come easy. It’s a risk to make him work harder for it, but you want to see if he will.. 

“Cute,” Jimin mutters, raising a brow as he walks next to you. 

Hoseok’s apartment is a dream. It makes sense for someone with as many writing and choreography credits across the industry as him, in addition to having two top charting albums, a clothing partnership with a popular designer, and countless brand endorsements. 

It’s much nicer than the small but flashy apartment ILIA has put you in. Where your apartment feels like a model home that you can’t leave fingerprints in, Hoseok’s feels authentic. There are hand-selected pieces of art on his walls, a towering bookcase of awards and plaques, blankets and pillows thrown over the couches, books and video game controllers on the coffee table.

Someone gets control of the speaker system and starts pumping hip-hop through the two-story apartment. You navigate to the kitchen where you run into Hwasa pouring drinks. She screams when she sees you, abandoning her bartender duties and making everyone in the kitchen flinch and turn in your direction. You let go of Jungkook’s hand, casting your arms open.

“Helllooooo?!” She grips you tight, kissing your forehead and both cheeks. You laugh, immediately feeling yourself relax having seen a familiar face. The greeting is a little more than you expect, but she’s drunk and happy. You take it in stride. “I cannot believe you’re here and with… well isn’t that new?” 

“Hello, Hwasa.”

“Jeon,” she greets, narrowing her eyes. She tucks you into her arm, pointing a finger at Jungkook. “You better not fuck with this girl, understand me? She is way too cool for your bullshit.”

He rolls his eyes. “What bullshit?”

“I’m so serious. I like her.”

Hwasa lets you go and laughs it off, giving Jungkook a quick kiss on the cheek before going back to her drink-making. Jimin is nowhere in sight, having drifted off to a corner of the living room to chat with Hoseok, leaving you with Jungkook. 

Jungkook scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry about that,” he ventures.

“It happens.”

“Still awkward.” 

“It is,” you snark. You bring your fist up to your mouth, speaking into it like you’re giving an interview. “Jungkook, how does it feel to be put on blast for your spicy endeavors right when you walk into the party?”

You hold your fist out to him, offering him the mic. “Spicy endeavors?” 

“Promiscuous has negative implications and we are sex-positive here.” 

“Wow, such forward-thinking media. I’ve never heard of that before.”

“You never will again, I’m afraid.”

Jungkook shakes his head and chuckles, gesturing to the drinks all over the counter. “You want a drink?” 

“I do.”

With a drink in hand, you both return to the party. There’s dancing going on in a corner of the living room, a card game going on in the dining room, and a smoke session going on around the couches. Jungkook sits on the arm of the couch next to Jimin and another girl you don’t know.

You freeze up a little, unsure where to sit. Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice, reaching a hand out as he joins the conversation around the coffee table. You hesitate for a second, a little caught off guard before placing your hand in his and letting him pull you against him, leaning onto his thigh with your hips pressed together. His arm loops around the back of your thighs, hand resting on the outside of your leg. Your hand drops on his shoulder as you lean into him. 

People you know stop and say hi, their eyes lingering for a long time on the way you and Jungkook lean into one another. You ignore them, content to let them wonder how it is a little producer from ILIA got her claws into Jungkook for the night. 

When a weed pen is passed to Jungkook, you watch with curiosity to see what he’ll do. He takes it but looks up at you, raising his brow in question and holding it out like he’s asking for permission. You’re surprised but you nod - you don’t control what he does.  It’s sweet. Surprising, but sweet.

Jungkook takes two short pulls, blowing the smoke in the opposite direction from you. The girl next to him whines, swatting at it and smacking his leg, giggling. You pay it no mind, unworried about the flirting. He’s not yours, and even if he was, it’s your waist he has pressed against him.

Jungkook holds the pen up to you and you make a face. “I don’t know whose mouth has been on that.”

He snorts. “Alright, Mozart. I have my own. Would you prefer that?”

“Yes, I would.” 

Rolling his eyes but smiling, he passes it over to someone else and stands, your hand falling from his shoulder. “Come on, brat. We’ll go to the balcony so we don’t have to share.”

“Thank you, that’s what I deserve.” 

He giggles. “You can’t even say that with a straight face.”

“Imagine if I meant it.”

Jungkook navigates the apartment easily. You follow him, not unaware of the gazes and whispers that pass. You lift your chin. Let them talk. The only opinions that matter to you are those of your bosses, Yoongi, Jimin, and occasionally your mother on a good day. 

Right now, nothing else matters. 

It’s cold outside. You shiver while Jungkook shuts the sliding glass door to the balcony just off the bedroom. Light floods in from the hallway into the room, casting a golden glow behind you. Jungkook leans on the railing, pulling a weed pen from his pocket and waving it in front of you like a prize. 

You snatch it from him, sticking your tongue out. Bringing it to your lips, you suck gently on the tip, filling your mouth with acrid smoke as you inhale. It burns a little, making your eyes water as you let the air and remaining smoke out before passing it back to Jungkook. He echos your movements. 

Leaning against the railing, you look out at the city. It is dazzling from this high up, a home made for a god to watch over their creation. Silence hangs between you, occasionally passing the pen back and forth. The wind feels good, though a little cold. And you appreciate how quiet it is, the sounds of the party muted through the windows. 

Down below, the street looks mostly empty. It’s so far down that you’re not really sure. Your high starts to hit, dulling the edges of everything and making you feel a little soft and floating. You grip the railing a little tighter, looking at Jungkook from the corner of your eye. 

Fuck if he isn’t beautiful. 

“What?” he asks, a smile in his voice as he side-eyes you. “You’ve got a look on your face.”

“Nothing.”

“Mm. Not nothing. What?”

“You’re not what I expected. It’s a really nice change of pace.”

“Ah,” he answers, ducking his head. You grin, realizing that he’s blushing and trying to hide it. You poke his arm, laughing as you prod at him. “Stop, you’re making me shy.”

“You? Shy?” 

“Oh yeah. I am a mess around people. I might seem good at it, but it takes champagne and sometimes a Xanax to get me to operate at a level that’s normal with everyone else.”

“And then do you stay up all night re-thinking every single interaction you had and punishing yourself like why the fuck did I say this very weird thing?”

“Yes!” he exclaims, frowning and tilting his head up toward the sky. “It is exhausting. Sometimes I’m so worried I’m going to embarrass myself that I skip an event altogether and take the fucking verbal beating from the company.” 

“Ugh, Mila would fit right in.”

“She’s kind of a snake, huh?”

You hum. “Jimin called her exactly that earlier tonight.” 

“My agent hates her. Says she’s a total control freak and vicious.” You snort. That is an understatement. “Makes her successful, though. She has some of the world's biggest names under her.” 

“Yeah, but I didn’t choose her. She was assigned to me. Honestly, I don’t think she thought I had any potential to bring her success and be a household name until I won that award for producing Hwasa’s song.” 

“It was a good song.”

You smile distantly, looking out at the hazy lights of the city. Everything feels a little slow and dreamy, your thoughts fluid. “I liked it. I want to do better - be better. A lot of it’s about connections though and I… am not great at that part.”

“I think you’re doing pretty okay.”

Jungkook shifts closer. He’s turned to you, so near that you’re almost touching. He looks down at you through long lashes, watching for your reaction. You look up at him, a little starry eyed and dizzy at his proximity. This close, you can see the freckle just under his mouth. You want to kiss him, but you hold back, feeling your insecurity worm its way in.

“Yeah?” you ask, a little breathy. “Are you saying there’s a connection here?”

“Uh-huh.” He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth. He reaches a hand forward and brushes the underside of your chin, tilting your face up toward him even more. “Come home with me.”

The breath leaves your lungs. You’re not surprised that he’s asked, and yet your body still reacts, adrenaline taking over. His gaze is hungry as he watches you, waiting for your response, finger still propped under your chin like he might kiss you.

“Take me on a date,” you assert. Perhaps it's the drinks and the weed that makes you so bold, but you want more than anyone else has had from him. You want to be different. “Dinner.”

He tries to fight a smile, tonguing the inside of his cheek. The action is wildly attractive for some reason, nearly making you waver and let him take you home now. “Do you like Italian?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he says. “Tomorrow.”

“The day after. I’m busy tomorrow with work.”

He narrows his eyes. “Damn. Gonna make me wait in agony, huh?”

You grin. “I’m worth waiting for.”

“You very much are. Day after tomorrow at eight. Wear something nice.” 

“Fine. Wear those necklaces you wore for your Vogue shoot.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Oh?” Jungkook purrs. “You like the necklaces?”

“I like to imagine what they look like dangling above my face.”

He shakes his head. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me.”

“Good. The day after tomorrow.” You take a step back, a wicked grin on your face. He drops his hand, staring you down. “Don’t be late.” 

-

Jungkook isn’t late and you wish that he was. Cursing over and over again, you pull the knee-high boot up your leg, thankful for the supple, flexible leather that fits your calf. You nearly fall over tugging on the next, finally getting your boots on and standing up straight in front of your mirror out of breath and flustered. 

The outfits had not gone according to plan. Something about going on a date with Jungkook has you feeling all out of sorts, going through enough outfits that your bed is now covered in them. You refused to tell Mila that you were going on the date, knowing that if she caught wind of it, she’d send paparazzi. As it is, Jungkook has assured you he’s gone through the hoops for a private dinner at an upscale Italian restaurant near the river. 

Turning in the mirror, you decide that the short, black dress over sheer black pantyhose paired with platform boots and a long, black peacoat will have to do. Grabbing your phone, you text Jungkook back quickly that you’re coming downstairs, apologizing for the delay.

Jungkook: Like you said, you’re worth waiting for. 

Me: Oh, I can take longer… 

Jungkook: Don’t make me come up there. 

Jungkook: Actually, on second thought, make me come up there.

As you pass your kitchen, you double back and run to the alcohol cabinet, pulling a bottle of tequila down quickly to shoot back a quick swig. It burns your throat, making you cough and squeeze your eyes shut as you hack for a moment, corking the bottle and gasping for air. 

At least it will take the edge off. 

Wiping the traces from your chin, you rush out of your apartment, letting the tequila burn its way through you to set the first layer of calm. In the elevator, you take in a slow, deep breath for five seconds. Exhale for five seconds. Inhale for five seconds.

The elevator dings, making you flinch. Clutching your purse to steady your trembling hands, you step out onto the ground floor of the parking garage where you find Jungkook parked illegally and leaning on the side of the vehicle. 

Slowing your steps, you appreciate the boy and then the car. Jungkook is dressed in black slacks with a belt at the waist and a black, tight-fitted turtleneck. The material of the shirt forms to his body, showing his defined arms and toned chest. 

Jungkook’s hair is slicked back, a single dangling earring on his left lobe paired with the rest of his signature hoops. You have no idea how a single piece of jewelry changes everything about his energy, but your heart rate skyrockets as you approach him, a little shy. 

He lets out a low, slow whistle. “Fuck. You are a knockout.” 

“You look pretty good yourself.”

“Nah, Mozart. You look…” He shakes his head and scratches the back of his neck, laughing a little. “You’re gonna fucking wreck me.”

A nervous laugh escapes you and you chew the inside of your cheek as you stop in front of him, hands crossed in front of you. He pushes off the car, which is a sleek Porsche, and sticks his hand out to you. Tentatively, you place your hand in his. 

Leaning forward, Jungkook places a kiss on your cheek. Your lashes flutter, skin warm. He pulls away with a small smile. “You look beautiful. I mean it.” 

“You’re making me nervous.”

“No kidding, I feel like my heart is about to come out of my chest.”

He’s going to be the death of you. It’s endearing, how honest he is, letting what he’s thinking pour out of his mouth. You’re unsure if it’s part of his game or if it’s genuine, and it puts you a little on edge, trying to guess what’s going through his mind. 

Lacing his fingers with yours, Jungkook escorts you around the car and opens the passenger. The interior of the car smells clean and is lined with white LED lights and red leather seats. You raise your brows as you slide inside, your coat protecting you from the cold leather. 

Jungkook closes your door and rounds the back, slipping into the driver’s side. He turns to you, tilting his head to the side. You fiddle with the buttons on your coat. “What?”

“Kiss me,” he says, sounding breathless. “Kiss me so we don’t have to be nervous anymore.”

“You just want me to kiss you.” 

Jungkook puts his elbow on the center console and leans forward. He looks down his nose at you, eyes focused on your mouth. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to fight a shiver of adrenaline threatening to take over. “So what?”

“Ask me nicely,” you murmur, leaning toward him. You look him in the eye, trying to still your hummingbird heart. This close, you see the flecks of gold in his irises, swirls of brown and caramel. They’re beautiful, framed by silky lashes. “I’ll take it into consideration.”

“Please kiss me.” 

“Hmm?”

“I am begging you to kiss me.”

“Almost…”

“I need you to kiss me.”

So you do. 

Jungkook’s mouth is soft. He laughs in surprise but leans into the kiss, slotting his mouth against yours firmly. It’s innocent and sweet, just a gentle brush of lips. You pull away, noses bumping against one another as he rests his forehead on yours. 

It’s quiet and cold in the interior of the car, only the sound of your shallow breathing and the hum of the engine audible. Something electric courses through your veins, ignited by the feeling of his mouth against yours and you immediately want more. You’ve never felt this sudden, carnal desire before. This need to fall into him. 

For a second, you fight it. Then, you give in. 

Leaning forward, you catch Jungkook’s lips in a real kiss. It’s slow at first. You catch him off guard but he’s quick to keep up, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth greedily. Dizziness makes your world spin. You press up against the center console, sliding your tongue gently against his. Jungkook reaches a hand up to your face, cradling you as he deepens the kiss. 

His mouth tastes like spearmint gum. Your skin is overheating, and you suddenly feel  stuffy and constricted in your jacket. Jungkook breaks the kiss, panting against your lips as he presses chaste kisses to the side of your mouth and lips. 

“Did you drink tequila?” he asks, voice husky. He starts kissing your jaw and your head lolls to the side, eyelids fluttering. “Tastes like it.”

“I was nervous,” you pant, almost moaning as his tongue flicks out to lick at your skin. “So I took a shot.”

“I make you that nervous?” His teeth pull at your earlobe. You sink further into the seat, starting to turn boneless. You feel like you’re melting at the joints, abruptly unable to string together a sentence under the attention of his greedy, warm mouth. “Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re supposed to take me to dinner.”

“Oh, I am. And then we'll order ice cream, and then we’re going home.” 

“Oh?” 

“My home. I have necklaces to show you.”

“Fuck.” 

Reluctantly, Jungkook pulls away. His lips are wet and a little dark from kissing you, his eyes wild. You watch him from where you’re sunken in the seat, a little wrecked from just kissing. You realize that Jungkook has the potential to ruin you. To crack you open and devour you.

And you let him. 

Reaching across the car, you cradle his face, thumb pulling at his bottom lip, damp with your lip gloss and spit. “Pretty,” you murmur. His tongue darts out, laving across your thumb. You grin. “Dangerous.” 

“Not with you.” 

“I’ve heard that before.”

“Well, I mean it.”

“We barely know each other.”

He shrugs. “I don’t care. I have a sense for these things.”

“Mmm.” You drop your hand from his face. “Dinner, then. And ice cream. And then home.” 

-

Jungkook’s first lie is that he’s not dangerous with you. He nearly kills you several times on the way to dinner, leaning over at almost every stoplight to bring your mouth to his again. His mouth is addictive, each kiss intense and intended to make you fall further and further into this waking dream you’re in. 

By the time the valet opens your door to a private entrance at the restaurant and helps you out, you think you might be entirely drunk on Jungkook’s kisses alone. He laces his fingers with yours, pulling you close as you walk up toward the back of the restaurant.

Inside is a dark hall, barely lit by fixtures in the ceiling casting gold light. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust as Jungkook gives the host his name. To your right is a curtain with the soft hush of diners and piano music. To your left is another curtain with no sound coming through. 

“Thank you for choosing us, Mr. Jeon. Right this way.”

The host bows his head slightly, guiding you to the left curtain. He pulls it open and gestures for you to enter. You step through after Jungkook, raising your brows when you realize it’s a private dining room. It looks reserved for events and parties perhaps, but the room is furnished with a single table and rich, mahogany chairs. 

Velvet drapery covers the walls and a large, crystal chandelier hangs over the table. The heels of your boots click on the hardwood floors as Jungkook leads you to your seat, letting go of your hand to pull out the chair. You flash him a smile, sitting as he helps you scoot in. 

He sits across from you, adjusting his shirt sleeves. Your eyes momentarily get sidetracked when you realize he has on the layered necklaces you ask for, and you grin before averting your attention to the host who instructs that the chef and the sommelier will be with you momentarily to talk about your dining options for the evening.

When he leaves, it’s just you and Jungkook with the soft sound of piano trailing from somewhere distant. You level your gaze on him, watching him watch you. The setting feels intimate, leaving you a little overwhelmed but in a good way. You’ve gone on dates, but not like this. 

“What?” he questions gently. “You have a look on your face.”

“I’m just impressed, is all.”

“It only gets better from here. I have so many ideas for dates.” 

“Oh? Plural?”

“Mhmm.” He leans back in his seat, tonguing his cheek. “If all goes well, anyway.” 

“So far so good.” 

The sommelier and the chef arrive together, hands tucked behind their backs. It’s hard to pay them much mind. Jungkook is distracting, even as he gives them his full attention, nodding along and answering their questions. He looks to you for input, but you feel a little useless, barely listening to what they’re saying. 

“Trust me enough to order?” he asks, leaning over the table conspiratorially. 

“Well, you’re with me, so you must have good taste. I trust you.” 

His foot nudges your ankle under the table playfully. He orders a round of appetizers and wine. When the sommelier asks you to sample it, you follow Jungkook's lead, inhaling the dark red lightly. It smells strongly of cherries and something sweet, making your mouth water. The taste is lush and wonderful, pleasing to the palate. 

The sommelier bows and leaves the two of you alone, vanishing behind the curtain. Jungkook lifts his wine glass to you, smiling. “Here’s to our first date and many more.” 

“Cheers.” 

After a sip, you set your glass down and look at Jungkook from across the table. “Was it absolutely painful, waiting for today?”

“I hardly survived, to be honest. All day yesterday I lay in bed dreaming of today.”

“Hmm. Is that all you dream about?”

His gaze darkens. “Careful, Mozart. I dream very vividly.”

Jungkook does impress you. With his knowledge about a wide variety of topics, with the charming expressions he uses as he speaks, with… him overall. He’s multifaceted in a way you rarely get to see with others, and you feel giddy as you listen to him.

Though you have a similar experience getting into music, it’s nice to hear Jungkook’s story. You keep it light, avoiding the darker parts of going through trainee programs and how competitive and hard it was to be a kid, growing up while working. 

He asks you about music. Not just the music you work on, but the music you grew up listening to, your favorite genres, and the technical aspects of making music. Jungkook is intelligent and familiar with the mechanics of making records. He asks questions and nods along, interested and curious in learning. 

You can’t remember the last time you had a conversation go this well, even outside of dates. When you urged Jungkook to take you on a date, you weren’t sure you’d end up liking him. Now though, as he lets you take the last stuffed mushroom because you can have whatever you want, you realize that you like him. 

It is such a dangerous game to play, especially with the rumors you hear about him. 

Instead of thinking about it, you enjoy dinner. You both finish the bottle of wine and he orders another. You’re feeling loose and warm, laughing more often and giving him lazy smiles. Even without the wine, you want to drag him to the bathroom and get on your knees. Now with a few glasses in, you’re thinking about it more and more. 

Dinner sobers you up a little, but it doesn’t remove the heat between your legs and the growing desire to kiss him again. You think about the way his mouth moved against yours, tongue gentle and talented. Your mind wanders into places less innocent, especially after dinner comes to an end and ice cream is brought out, as promised.

Jungkook carves the spoon through the dessert, leaning forward with it held out. You smirk, leaning to meet him halfway to let him slide the ice cream into your mouth. Cold vanilla melts on your tongue. It’s good and creamy, but you hardly pay attention to the taste, eyes fastened to Jungkook’s. 

“Good?” His voice is deep, soft. “I want to taste.”

You pick up your spoon, picking up a small scoop. You hold it out to him and he repeats your motion, bending to meet you. His eyes don’t leave yours as he eats it, tongue running over the bottom of his lip after to catch any extra. 

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, getting up abruptly. He holds his hand out to you and you place yours in his. He hoists you up and surprises you by pulling you into his chest. “We’re going.” 

You lean up on your toes, stealing his lips with yours. They taste like the wine you’ve been drinking. Your mouth tingles as you kiss him and your thoughts are cottony and slow, only focused on the way he hums, leaning forward to swipe his tongue eagerly into your mouth.

The kiss turns a little messy. You’re woozy, letting him bend you backward as he steals the breath from your lungs. Jungkook is intoxicating, your hand dropping his to wrap around his neck. You thread your fingers through the waves at the nape of his neck. They’re silky soft, sliding between your fingers. You tug a little, pulling a groan low in his throat.

“Careful or I will fuck you here,” he pants, spit-slicked mouth moving against yours. You run your tongue along his bottom lip, tasting more wine. “Devil.” 

“What’s stopping you?” 

Jungkook pulls away from you, holding you at arm's length. You stare up at him, eyes heavy. You feel arousal pool in your stomach with the way he looks at you, his mouth wine-stained. 

“That’s how you want it?” His tone is threatening. Laced with something carnal. Your stomach flutters as you nod. You’re not thinking about anything but him, not worried about anything. “Fuck.”

Without hesitation, he grabs you by the hand and pulls you across the floor. You follow him eagerly, heart hammering as Jungkook all but kicks the private bathroom door open. He yanks you inside and spins you, pushing you toward an elegant sink.

The bathroom is dark. The walls are painted black and the gold-fixtured lighting is dim. It would be romantic if Jungkook wasn’t flicking the lock behind him and advancing on you. Just as he reaches for you, you surprise him, dropping to your knees and looking up through your lashes. 

He raises his brows, looking down at you, heat behind his eyes. You lift your hand to the zipper of his pants, slowly pulling it down, pausing for permission.

“Go ahead, baby,” he murmurs, nodding. “Take what you want.”

Licking your lips, you do exactly that. Your fingers are nimble as you undo the button at the top of his pants. You pull them down a little, just enough to get them out of your way. You eye the hardening outline of his cock against his briefs, breath catching. 

You look up at him. “You have a huge cock, don’t you?”

He sticks out his tongue between his teeth. “Why don’t you find out, hmm?”

Leaning high up on your knees, you lick the outline of his cock, watching as he shivers. You run your tongue to the tip of his cock, stopping to mouth at it. He curses, hips twitching as you soak the fabric with your mouth, placing your hands on his thighs.

Muscles twitch under your palms. You dig your nails in and scratch upward, the fabric hissing underneath your fingers. Reaching the waistband of his briefs, you pull down agonizingly slow. Jungkook’s fingers twitch at his sides, but he lets you do what you want, breathing heavily through parted lips. 

Jungkook’s cock springs out. You feel your mouth water at his thick length, already hard from the barest stimulation. Pearly beads of precum decorate the dark tip. You hum, contented as you stick your tongue out and give a quick kitten lick to the base of his shaft. 

He hisses, hips twitching forward. Teasing him, you trace your tongue along a vein on the underside of his cock until you reach the tip, circling the swollen head with your tongue generously. Jungkook closes his eyes, his head falling backward.

You grip him firmly, gathering saliva in your mouth before spitting on his cock. He moans out loud and you grin, pumping him slowly while ducking under your hand to lave your tongue across his balls. He curses and a hand shoots to your head, not pushing you, but fingers pressed tight against your skull.

“Fuck, you like being a little slut?” he growls. 

“Mhmm,” you answer back, pulling his cockhead into your mouth. His salty precum melts on your tongue. 

Jungkook fills your mouth. You feel the stretch on the sides of your lips as you take him in properly. You let spit pool on your tongue as you slide down his cock, slurping gently as you do. It’s messy and wet and a little clumsy, the wine making you uncoordinated. 

It doesn’t matter. His fingers press into your hair as you set a rhythm, bobbing your head and sucking gently while your hand pumps what you can’t fit in your mouth. Jungkook pants above you, his soft moans echoing off the tile. 

The sounds he makes spur you further. Drool runs down your chin as he succumbs. You watch him through misty eyes, the crown of his cock kissing the back of your throat as you try to take him further than you can manage. You feel your throat constrict, coughing a bit as you pull off of him, twisting your wrist as you work him and gasp for air.

Spit and precum connect your lips to his cock in a thick string. It breaks when you cough, eyes stinging. 

“Yeah?” he asks, gritting his teeth. “Like choking on that fucking cock?”

You run the flat of your tongue over his frenulum, making him wine. “Like hearing you moan,” you admit. The slick sound of your hand stroking him makes you squeeze your legs together. “It makes me so fucking wet.” 

“Show me.”

Jungkook’s hands go to yours. He pulls you up by the wrists. Your knees feel wobbly but he holds you steady, pressing you against the counter. He steals a searing kiss from you that is more tongue than lips, hands skimming up your arms and down your sides until he’s at the hem of your dress where he pauses. 

“This okay?” Your eyelids flutter open. His nose is pressed against yours, eyes steady. “We can stop whenever or if you’re too drunk.”

“I’m not.” It’s true, you’re a little drunk off the wine, but your head is clear. You know exactly what you want and your thoughts are concise. There are no hesitations and you don’t care that you’re in a bathroom, face wet with mixed fluids. “Want it.”

“Mmm.” 

Jungkook slips a hand under your dress, fingers brushing over your soft thighs. It feels good, his dragging touch enticing. Your head tilts back, allowing him to press hot, wet kisses on your throat. His fingers pick at the garter belt secured to your pantyhose, making him groan.

“I wanna see these later.”

“You will.”

He licks your neck. “Good.”

You close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his mouth sucking gently at your throat while his hand slides to your underwear. He presses the pads of his fingers over the silk, just enough to make your thighs close around his hand, gasping. 

“You are wet.” There’s a smile in his voice. He moves his fingers in a gentle circle, applying pressure to the damp spot on your underwear. “Sucking me off did that?” 

“And the ice cream.”

“Oh? Watching me eat ice cream, huh?”

“Sorry about it.”

“Don’t be.” He hooks a finger and pulls your panties to the side, touching your sticky folds properly. A moan slips out of your mouth. You can feel your heart slamming in your chest so hard you think you might have a cardiac episode. “You can watch me eat your pussy later.” 

Between the implication that there is a later and thereby more after this, and the way Jungkook’s fingers slip up and down your heat, you’re a goner. It feels so good, some of the pressure between your legs relieved as he teases your clit.

Spreading your legs wider, you lean hard into the bathroom counter. It hurts where it presses against your spine but you ignore it, content to let him push you until your head hits the mirror. 

Jungkook’s fingers tease your hole, leaving your cunt clenching. You whine, bringing your hands to his face to pull him off your neck and to your mouth, biting his lip playfully. 

“Fuck me,” you ask between kisses, mouths smacking loudly. “Wanna feel you stretch me out.”

“Can’t even wait until we’re home?”

“You can fuck me there too.”

He laughs darkly. “Demon.”

Jungkook removes his hand from between your legs and bends at the knee, grabbing you behind the thighs. You jump lightly and he lifts you, putting you on the counter. Your dress hikes up, baring your glistening cunt to him, underwear still pulled to the side. 

Balmy air kisses your skin. It’s hot in the bathroom as he cages you in, tattooed hand pumping his cock. You’re bent out of shape, spreading your legs and feeling the strain of the straps on your garner belt as you stretch them. 

Reaching between your legs, you pull your underwear farther to the side, ensuring they won’t be in the way. He shakes his head, eying your heat hungrily as he runs the tip of his dick up and down your messy folds. It feels good but it’s not enough, making you squirm and whine audibly. 

He tuts at you, sliding his hand up to press the head of his cock into your dripping hole. Your eyes roll back, feeling the pressure of him splitting you open as he sinks in. The stretch of him aches in pleasure-pain, your pussy opening up for every inch that he feeds you.

“Shit you’re tight,” he gasps, falling forward to rest his head on your shoulder. His back muscles strain against his shirt as he pushes in the rest of the way, bottoming out until you’re stuffed full, walls fluttering around him. “God, I could come just like this.”

“Pussy whipped?” 

“Fuck, I’m gonna be.”

One of your hands goes around his neck, nails pressing into his skin. He sucks in air sharply. Your other hand drifts to his ass, grabbing him and squeezing. “Please make me come. I need it.” 

Instead of answering verbally, he starts to fuck into you. It’s not a slow build or something passionate. It’s needy and heady and desperate. He sets a brutal pace and you can’t help but let out a loud moan, the shape of his name escaping you.

The feeling is addicting. You cling to him, jostling against the sink as he fucks you. The wet sound of your cunt around him is loud and lewd, backtracked by your breathy moans getting louder and higher-pitched. You feel yourself shaking, fingers digging into him as he grabs your hips, holding you down to the counter.

Jungkook’s breath fans your neck, his face buried there. He curses, occasionally biting your tender skin, making you squeal. You can feel the ghost of a smile against you, his tongue soothing your stinging flesh. 

Grabbing one of your thighs, he hikes your leg higher. You slide into the sink, nearly bent in half as he changes the angle. He hits your spot on the upstroke, almost sending you into an orgasm immediately. The tension in your stomach is so tight you think you’re going to unravel. 

Instead, it climbs higher and higher. You can barely breathe as he straightens to fuck you even harder. The faucet digs into your back. You don’t care, grabbing the counter as you cling to it for life, babbling. Nothing that comes out of your mouth makes any sense and just when you think you can’t take it anymore, you come. Hard. 

Everything in your body locks up. You spasm around him, squeezing his cock for everything it's worth. Your orgasm is swift and powerful, taking the breath from you for a long moment before you finally manage to gasp for air, sagging against the sink. 

With a few messy pumps, Jungkook comes with a loud curse, head tossed back, hips slamming yours. You can feel your release between the two of you, sticky and running down your thighs. His thrusts slow until he’s left softening inside of you.

Come leaks when he slowly pulls out. The drip is obscene but you’re too fucked out to care, looking up at him in a daze. It smells like sex in the bathroom and a light layer of sweat covers your skin. 

Carefully, Jungkook tucks himself back in his pants before ripping paper towels out of the dispenser to gently wipe at your thighs. You laugh and let him take care of you, grateful that he does. He swipes one greedy finger up your pussy and pops it into his mouth, making your jaw drop.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to eat you out later.”

You chew your lip as he finishes wiping the mess from your lower half. “So there is a later, still?”

He looks dubious. “I told you that you were coming home with me.”

“I know I just thought maybe…”

“That I was gonna fuck you in a bathroom and that would be what I wanted?” You nod. “I told you, I want more dates. Something about you, Mozart. Also, you letting me fold you in half in a bathroom makes me want to drop down on one knee.”

It pleases you to hear that more than you care to admit. 

With Jungkook’s help, you ease off the counter. At a glance in the mirror, you burst into hysterical laughter. Your mascara is smudged, your mouth is wet, and you look wrecked. He laughs too, caging you in and reaching around you to turn on the faucet, running the tips of his fingers underneath and bringing them up to gently wipe under your eyes.

You smile at him as he attempts to make the running makeup less noticeable. When he finishes, he turns off the faucet but remains pressed to your back, arms looped casually around you. He has a small smile, staring at you in the mirror.

“What?” you ask, laughing.

“This is going to sound stupid,” he prefaces. “But I just feel something here. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Post-nut clarity?”

He presses his pelvis into you. “No. It’s just like this really silly… I don’t know. Crush. But it just feels right.”

Surprisingly, you understand what he means. This spark you feel with him is new to you. There’s never been anyone else you feel so natural with, so immediately attracted to. Certainly not enough to throw inhibition to the wind and suck them off in a bathroom. 

Something about Jungkook lights you up, a candle catching fire and burning through the wick hot and fast. People might call it reckless and immature, but you don’t know how else to explain this innate desire to jump in head-first with him. 

“I feel it too.” 

He kisses the back of your head. “Come on. I’m not done with you yet.” 

-

You feel lost in the lights on the way home. Jungkook’s hand settles on your thigh, thumb brushing back and forth. He’s a little subdued, focusing on the road. You don’t distract him, content to adjust the air conditioning so that it cools you off, your skin on fire from the wine and Jungkook. 

The night certainly went in a direction you weren’t planning, but you don’t mind. Jungkook excites you. Perhaps it is a little rash and naive, but you don’t care, enamored by the layers of him. You want to peel back more, to dig to the core until he’s yours. 

Whatever the madness is, it appears to be equal. When Jungkook pulls into the luxury apartment building known for high-profile celebrities and government officials, he’s on you again, pulling you across the car to meld your mouths together. 

Dull pain blooms in your mouth, lips bruised from kissing him. You don’t care, eager to slot your tongue against his, brushing against the wet-rough feel of it. 

“Come on,” he whispers, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth. “Let’s go upstairs.”

It should not surprise you when Jungkook swipes a key fob and selects the penthouse apartment, but it does. It shocks you even more when the elevator opens into a four-level home. Your mouth drops open a little as you enter, Jungkook’s fingers laced with yours. 

Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch the entire four-story home. From where you stand in the entryway, you can see multiple open-concept rooms, each ornately decorated with a modern style and neutral tones. Nothing about what you can see screams Jungkook, suggesting that his label has put him here - has the money to put him here.

The thought itself is staggering, momentarily reminding you who you just let fuck you senseless in the bathroom at an upscale restaurant. Letting Jungkook’s hand go, you wander into the main room of the apartment, stepping down into the sunken living room with large, curved couches surrounding a coffee table.

Above you, a massive glass artwork of floating lights hovers. They’re turned off, but it looks like a sculpture project most likely commissioned by a wildly expensive artist. Jungkook joins you in front of the towering windows overlooking a wide terrace. The sheer curtains do nothing to hide the twinkling lights of the city. 

It gives the illusion that you’re among the stars. Jungkook leans over and presses a button on the remote. The curtains quietly begin to roll open, revealing the view in full. It is breathtaking, much more magnificent than the view from Hoseok’s apartment. 

“They really pulled out all the stops for you,” you murmur, turning to look at him. He toes the carpet, twisting his mouth as he blushes. “This is insane.”

“It’s too much.”

“A little bit. But it’s cool.”

He smiles and reaches a hand out. “Let me show you the rest tomorrow after breakfast.”

You take his hand and let him pull you along toward the winding staircase. “I want waffles.” 

“And in the morning, I’m making waffles!”

You both dissolve into laughter at the Shrek reference. Jungkook pulls you up the steps until you’re on the top floor, which is made up of a spacious bedroom with windows that overlook the city, an ornate bathroom you can only see the door to, what you assume is a walk-in closet, and an additional terrace with an infinity pool, firepit area, and bar. 

The bedroom is more of Jungkook’s style. It’s not nearly as pristine, the sheets and blankets rumpled, all dark grey tones. There are shoes by the closet door and a shelf in the far corner with action figures and collectibles that you don’t recognize. 

In the middle of the room stretches an impossibly large bed with modern sconces on either side. Medication, a glass of water, and a watch are on the nightstand next to the bed. And no signs of other suitors, you notice, but you push the thought out of your mind as Jungkook pulls you backward toward his bed, smiling.

This time you’re slower. He sits on the bed, pulling you by the waist to straddle him. Your knees sink feather-soft into the mattress on either side of him, settling yourself on his thighs as you draw him in for a kiss. You hold him gently by the jaw, fingers spread and pressing warm into his skin. 

Jungkook’s hands skate around your hips to your ass, squeezing gently as your tongues dance together. Your buzz from the wine is gone now, replaced with desire burning through you, hot as a torch. It doesn’t feel needy and crazed now, but a little softer. More intimate. 

Carefully, Jungkook leans backward, taking you with him. You squeal into his mouth as you land on top of him, arms giving out. You crash into his chest, though not too hard. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. He places his hands on your waist and precariously rolls over, managing not to knock heads and limbs as he places you under him. His knee slots between your legs, hands leaving your waist to bracket your head. “God damn, you are beautiful.”

It’s strange. You feel beautiful - or at least, you feel desired under him. Perhaps it is not the same thing, but the way Jungkook looks at you with swollen lips and starry eyes, you feel powerful. Godly, even. 

He dips back down, pressing a kiss to your mouth and one to your jaw. He leaves a wake of heat, stealing your breath away. Leaning back, you give him access to map the tender flesh of your throat and collarbones, threading your fingers through his hair. 

Eyes closed, you let the world spin. His mouth is the finest delicacy, pressing kisses that are butterfly-soft all over your heated skin as he pulls the straps of your dress. You help him by slipping your arms out. He gathers the fabric and pulls down, sitting up as he does so.

Silk rolls against your skin. It’s cool in his bedroom, making you shiver as he reveals your lacy bra and matching garter. He tosses the dress, sitting high up on his knees as you lay splayed out for him. 

“You know,” he ventures. “Normally I don’t like lingerie.” His fingers trace the swells of your breasts. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, goosebumps breaking out on your skin from the tantalizing touch. “But I could get used to it on you.”

“I only wear it on special occasions.” 

Jungkook lowers himself, planting a wet kiss on the top of your right breast. “What’s the occasion?” 

“I needed something to hold up my pantyhose.”

His laugh cools the fresh trail of spit he leaves on your skin, earning a violent shiver from you. He notices, eyes flicking up to look at you. They’re endless pools of dark, watching your every move as he slow-drags a finger up your stomach to the top of your bra. He hooks his finger over the top of the cup and pulls gently, the fabric scraping your over-sensitive nipple. 

Everything he does feels overwhelmingly erotic. You watch, hypnotized and out of breath as he sticks out his tongue, circling your nipple lazily but not giving it attention directly. You let out a wavering moan, voice gone. 

Oh so slowly, Jungkook flicks his tongue over the hardened peak of your nipple. You bow up into him, wanting more. He tsks at you and you go flat on the bed, fisting the sheets tightly to ground yourself as he grins, delighted. 

“You listen well, huh?” You nod, head heavy. You can’t think of any words, thoughts bleeding together like liquid spilled across a watercolor canvas. “Is that how you like it? Being told what to do like a good girl?”

“Yes.” You suck in a sharp breath as Jungkook scrapes his teeth generously over your nipple. 

“You weren’t a very good girl when you got on your knees and swallowed my cock whole in the bathroom.” He flicks his tongue back and forth, sending your eyes to the back of your head as you squirm underneath him. “You were quite the dirty girl, huh?”

“Both.”

Instead of answering you, Jungkook envelops your bud fully, sucking gently. Pleasure rolls through you, your pussy beginning to slow ache with arousal. Your head falls to the side, and you’re only able to pant and dig your nails into his sides where you grab him, either to hold him to you or push him away; you’re not sure.

Jungkook’s mouth is wicked, lavishing your tits. He sucks greedily, noisy as he slides his tongue from one breast to the other. When you look at him, you see sin. Your chest shines in the glowing light of the city with the evidence of his oral fixation, turning you on even more. 

Your underwear sticks to you uncomfortably and your toes curl. It feels so good but you need so much more, dripping in a way that is maddening as he starts to trail his mouth downward. He is so so slow, tasting your skin, hands skimming your sides, scraping blunt nails across your sensitive flesh. 

He’s hardly done anything and yet you’re shaking underneath him, more sensitive and turned on than you’ve ever been. You cannot recall ever being this close to falling apart from just having someone touch you and play with your tits.

But it’s the way Jungkook looks at you. The movements of his hands on your skin. The way every single brush of his tongue and every drag of his teeth scraping over you seems perfectly timed. Attuned. 

It feels like Jungkook already knows every part of your body, and something about that both terrifies and excites you, kicking your adrenaline into high gear, heart rattling, pulse beating in your neck. 

With hooded eyes, you watch Jungkook unclasp the garter belt. He is gentle and methodical, pulling every layer of clothing off with a touch so reverent that it can only be holy. He is solely focused on his task, tasting your skin when his mouth draws near enough to feel you. 

When he has you naked and shaking, he sinks to the floor in front of the bed, hands pressing your thighs open. You feel how much of a mess you are, slick and cold as the air hits you. You whimper, pussy aching to the point of madness. 

Jungkook chuckles. “Yeah? Does it ache, baby?”

“Uh-huh.”

He blows cool air right onto your pussy. The sensation is a pleasure-sting, making you twist in his hands, trying to angle away from him to escape the cold. He laughs again, pinning your hips firmly to the bed while he presses hot-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs. 

“Eyes on me,” he murmurs into your skin. “I told you that you were going to watch me eat this pussy.” 

With effort, you lean up on your elbows, watching with your mouth parted as Jungkook tilts forward agonizingly slow to run the flat of his tongue up your cunt. Your fingers squeeze the sheets, thighs flexing under his firm hands. It feels so good but it looks even better. 

He smirks, dipping down again to slow-lick you from top to bottom. You’re hypnotized, feeling your stomach lurch violently at how good it feels and how good he looks sliding his tongue through your wetness. 

“Taste just as sweet as that ice cream,” he murmurs, sliding his hands closer to the apex of your thighs to hold you open. He catches your clit with his lips, sucking softly. Your head falls back as sparks explode under your skin. “Mmm. Like this so much better though.” 

“Feels so good,” you rasp, lifting your head to fixate your eyes on him again. “Fuck, Jungkook.” 

His tongue dips into your hole, tasting you further, drinking you in. “How do you like it?” he asks, tongue slowly zigzagging upward to circle your bundle of nerves. You’re trembling under him, fingers going numb with how tight you hold the sheets. “Slow? Fast? Messy?”

“Messy.”

He hums and brings his entire mouth to you, sucking greedily, tongue laving back and forth. You fall backward, unable to support yourself as he complies with your request. You bring a hand up to cover your face, trying to catch your breath. 

“Shit,” you gasp. 

Jungkook presses his face into your cunt, licking and slurping at you. The sounds are pornographic and you don’t care, your other hand going down between your legs to card through his hair, pulling gently. He grunts in appreciation, fucking his tongue into you, wiggling expertly. 

You feel thoroughly fucked. Your limbs are heavy, the world spinning as he devours you. He lets your hips cant against his face, encouraging you with soft little hums, mouth smacking against you. 

“This fucking pussy,” Jungkook swears, sucking harshly at your folds. “Fuck.”

“Wanna taste,” you beg, thoughts sticky. “Lemme.”

“Fuck.”

Jungkook’s tongue slides through your folds before he stands up, leaning over you. You turn to look at him - his eyes are blown, the bottom half of his face shining with your juice. You whine and open your mouth, sticking your tongue out eagerly. He follows your lead, grabbing your jaw and squeezing as he gathers your slick and his spit in his mouth before letting it drip into yours. 

You can barely taste yourself but you fold your tongue in anyway, closing your mouth to swallow. He seems dazed, pupils dilated and wild as he crashes his mouth to yours. Your teeth click together and you lick into his mouth, tasting yourself properly for a moment before he breaks away and drops back down, attaching his mouth to your pussy.

This time, Jungkook is vicious. He pulls you to the edge of insanity, your thighs closed around his head, his grip on your legs iron. He whips his head back and forth, tongue pressed hot and heavy against you. You climb climb climb climb -

You break. 

Everything in you seizes. You writhe in his hands, coming hard against his mouth. He doesn’t stop, mouthing you through your orgasm until you’re screaming and pushing at his forehead, the stimulation morphing from white-hot bliss to pleasure-laced pain. 

Jungkook lets you push him away only for him to climb up your body, ripping his shirt up as he goes. Your arms feel heavy and sluggish as you pull at his belt. Your fingers fumble, unable to work the button and the zipper, making him laugh.

“I got it,” he whispers, leaning forward to steal a brazen kiss. “You good?”

You nod, unable to form words. You are good, but you’re still dizzy from the orgasm. 

Still, seeing him strip off his shirt has you ready to go again. You lean forward, hand running up the flexing planes of his abs as he shuffles out of his pants. His body is beautiful - cut lines meeting soft skin, whorls of ink staining his arm and chest. His thighs are powerful, flexing as he kicks off his briefs, freeing his hard, heavy cock. 

You reach for him, grasping him in your hand and guiding him toward your messy heat. Jungkook groans as you run his swollen head up and down your folds, making his cock shine with your arousal. 

“Just like that,” he rasps, nodding his head. “Make it nice and fucking wet.”

After a few shallow thrusts, you take the tip and press down into your entrance. You feel a slight ache as he stretches you open despite having fucked you less than an hour ago. You pant through it, watching between your legs as he presses in until his hips are flush with yours. 

It is a tight fit. Full. But so, so good. Jungkook leans forward, placing his hands on either side of his head. You look up to see his necklaces dangling in your face, making you grin. You tug on them, bringing his mouth down to yours for a slow, gentle kiss. 

When he pulls away, he smiles. “Wore them just for you.” 

“Mmm good. Fuck me, please. Feels so full.” 

Jungkook’s left hand goes down, hiking your leg up around his waist. This time is different. He sets the pace slow, pulling all the way out and then gliding back in. You’re drenched enough to make the slide easy, your walls stretching around him the more he fucks you, setting a steady rhythm. 

Pleasure spreads from your cunt outward, unfurling like a blossom. The gentle drag of his cock is mind-numbing, your hands sliding up your stomach to cup your chest, squeezing your tits. He groans in appreciation, picking up his pace a little, the wet slap of skin against skin backtracked by your loud, heavy breathing. 

Sheets cling to your damp skin. You feel your chest heaving, Jungkook’s skin sliding against yours as he pulls you closer. You raise your hips, rolling into him, meeting his thrusts. Your hands slip on his arms, trying to find purchase on anything to ground you. 

“Fuck,” he gasps, trying to catch his breath. 

He pulls away and grabs both of your legs, making you slip. He’s careful not to pull out, pressing your legs together and hooking them side-by-side over his right shoulder, leaning in. The strain on your thighs feels good and the angle hits deep. 

You bring a hand to your mouth, biting into your knuckle. The pain is like a relief, an outlet to channel the pent-up orgasm building like an indestructible storm inside of you. 

Soft, deep moans drip from Jungkook’s mouth. Your feet flex, your body curling as the pleasure spreads. It’s like you can't sit still, every part of you exposed and raw, sparking with electricity as he drives his hips forward relentlessly. 

Your sweaty calf slips off of his shoulder. He slows and taps you on the leg. “Wanna ride me, baby?”

“Yeah. Wanna sit on it.”

“Good girl.”

You preen under the praise. He pulls out, leaving a wet trail of fluid as he does. You’re both a little fuck-drunk and uncoordinated, switching places as he tosses himself on his back, reaching up to grab pillows and stuff them under his shoulders and head.

Facing the windows, you throw a leg over his hips, surprising him by turning your back to him. He growls and slaps a hand on your ass, the sound loud in the room. You moan, spurred by the sting as you shift down to his hips. 

Grabbing his wet cock, you hover over the tip, carefully sinking down his shaft. This angle makes him so much deeper - you swear you feel him in your stomach. Speared to capacity, you take a moment to breathe, overwhelmed and overheated. Jungkook doesn’t mind, content to knead your ass and hips, fingers pressing into muscle and relieving tension. 

“That feels so nice,” you sigh, head rolling to the side. You close your eyes, pussy twitching and stuff full. 

“Yeah? I’ll give you a massage this week.”

“You’re promising me so many things.”

“Have to keep you on the hook.”

“And on your cock?”

He squeezes the globes of your ass. “Definitely on my cock. Feel so good wrapped around me.” 

Leaning forward, you put your hands on his shins, using him as leverage to slowly lift yourself. The drag feels delicious, and when you drop back down, it feels like the air is punched from your lungs. You fuck yourself on him at your own pace, listening to the sound of him falling apart, occasionally his hands cracking your cheeks. 

Biting your lip, you drive yourself to the edge of madness, shaking as your head falls forward between your arms, his name dropping from your mouth. Jungkook slides his hands under you, adding his assistance as he lifts you up and down his cock, helping you bounce. It’s wet and nasty and you don’t care, enjoying every second of it.

“Can I play with this pretty little asshole?” he asks, voice rough. 

“Uh-huh.”

Wet fingers slide between your cheeks. Jungkook presses a finger to your tight rim, not enough to breach but just enough to give mind-melting stimulation. You grind yourself in his lap, focusing on the way it feels every time you roll your hips. Jungkook’s finger circles your asshole in time, making you nearly sob as you work yourself to an orgasm, so fucking close to coming for the third time that night. 

He encourages you softly, come on, baby, and yeah just like that, get yourself off dripping from his lips. It’s like honey to your ears, sweet and syrupy. You work him faster, fingers going tight in the sheets as you hit your stride, arching up toward another release. 

It builds and builds until you’re right on the edge, so so so close that you’re nearly screaming, eyes squeezed shut, breath held, legs shaking. 

You fall over the edge, barely able to keep your rhythm. You feel your pussy flood around him. You’re gulping down air, hips still moving, broken cries interrupted by mindless babble. 

When you start to slow, Jungkook sits up. He nearly knocks you over but he catches you, carefully laying you flat on your stomach. You go boneless, barely there, and floating. Your last orgasm makes everything watery and opaque, Jungkook’s voice is like syrup when he speaks.

“You okay?” You nod vigorously, sticking your ass up a little bit. You’re a little bit useless, but you want him to come, want him to use you. He notices, laughing as he spreads your legs a little, mess running down your folds. “Such a good girl for me, giving me this swollen cunt to use. Fuck, you’re perfect.” 

Tired and spent, you roll your head to the side, closing your eyes, just content to breathe as Jungkook starts to fuck you with abandon. It still feels good, making you tremble underneath him, bordering overstimulation. You toe that line of electricity, fingers twisted in the blanket, breath hissing. 

Jungkook chases his orgasm, bending down to press a hot kiss onto your shoulder as he comes, tongue licking over the sweat and salt of your skin. 

Time moves differently then - at least it feels like it. You don’t know how much passes between Jungkook’s orgasm and him pulling out, or him finally getting up and waking you up. You’re dizzy when you look at him, head cottony and full of almost-sleep. 

Wordlessly, he takes you to the bathroom. You don’t have the mind to look at your surroundings or pay attention to what anything looks like, content to let him pull you into the shower and turn on the hot water. You’re barely there, lost between exhaustion and a post-bliss aura that makes you soft. 

When Jungkook kisses you in the shower, it’s not with the intent to start something else, but it does wake you up. You become a little more lucid, kissing him sweetly, innocent. Afterward, Jungkook wraps you in a fluffy towel and guides you through his bedroom to another room in the house, too tired to change his sheets.

You crash down in the bed together, heavy-limbed and sated. Jungkook pulls you close, already half asleep, eyes shut and mouth parted. You curl into him, realizing you fit perfectly into the curve of his body. Like you were made for him. 

Quickly you fall asleep, your last thought being that perhaps Jungkook is made for you.

-

Morning comes with a brush of a gentle mouth against your shoulder. You hum, turning your head toward the source of the touch. Jungkook’s lips press against yours, morning-slow, tired-soft. You’re sore everywhere - most notably between your legs - but you let him drag you into a lazy makeout session.

Neither of you are really awake. The sun has not come up yet, the world awash in dark grey. Warm blankets wrap around you, heat trapping between your body. Jungkook’s hand slides down your waist and dips between your legs. You part them, sighing as he swipes his fingers through you and groans when they come away wet.

No words are spoken. Only butterfly-soft breaths and gentle gasps of air as he sinks two fingers into your heat from behind. You open yourself up to him, falling into the feel-good stimulation of his touch as it brushes your G-spot.

It doesn’t matter that you’re tired and sore. You want more of Jungkook - cannot get enough of him. Already you’re thinking about the next time you can have him. Even as he lines his cock up with your entrance, pushing in slowly until he’s snug to your core, you’re thinking about how many more times you can take him. How many more ways you want to. 

You’ve barely started and you’re addicted. Craving him. Reaching a hand around behind you to cradle his head to the back of yours, feeling his warm breath fan your ear as he fucks you slowly. Delicate. Far too intimate for the two of you, almost strangers. 

If someone had told you two days ago that your night would start with locking eyes with Jungkook, a world-renowned artist, and end with securing a date that led to this moment, trembling in his arms as he makes you come again, you’d have thought they were crazy. 

Now, you can’t imagine it turning out any other way. Can’t imagine not feeling him shift his hand around to play with your clit, bringing you swiftly to another cresting orgasm, leaving you shaking and broken and near weeping in his arms, coming down from your high as he finishes himself off, cock twitching inside of you. 

Jungkook’s hand leaves your pussy, sliding up your stomach until he reaches the underside of your jaw. He grabs you, turning your face to his, stealing your mouth in a sloppy, searing kiss. 

“Mine,” he mumbles against your mouth between kisses. “Mine.” 

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Ask | Lights Playlist | Previous Episode | Tag Lists | Next Episode

[feyhunter78]

Split Lips and Busted Knuckles - Nerd!Miguel

Description: A chance meeting with Miguel's half-brother Kron leads to you seeing a different side of Miguel.

Nerd!Miguel masterlist here!!

Seriously you hate men, maybe not all of them, obviously not Miguel, but a lot if not most of them, and you really fucking hate Kron. Tall, blond, an extremely punchable face and an attitude that screamed “I waste my daddy’s money on cocaine.” He was a complete and utter rich asshole. One who seemed to be intent on talking to you.

You had a Mid-18th Century History class together, and he always tried to catch you after class. Luckily, you had a few sisters in your class as well, and you could hide within the pack to avoid him. Then he tried to catch you before class, but your professor called you over, safe again. But now here in the courtyard, an open space filled with frat boys you stupidly decided to wander through on your way to meet Miguel, there was nowhere to hide.

“Y/N, hey y/n, wait up.” Kron calls, waving wildly to get your attention.

You stop and press your lips together, before putting on a fake smile. He was the social chair for KA, and you know some of your sisters have been dying to be invited to their parties. “Hey Kron, what’s up?”

He gives you a smile, one that you think is supposed to be friendly, even nonthreatening, but it gives you the creeps. “Not much, just wanted to ask you about something I heard from a few people.”

“Oh?” You rack your brain trying to come up with some semblance of an idea about what he’s talking about but come up empty.

“Yeah, I heard you’ve been hanging out with my brother.” He says, his blue eyes hold you fast, like a butterfly pinned to a board.

“Your brother? I didn’t know you had a brother.” You say, brow furrowing as you try to remember meeting someone who looks like Kron but isn’t actually Kron.

“Well, he’s my half-brother, my dad is the ultimate stud, so you know, things happen and then Miguel just showed up.” He explains, not even seeming fazed or upset that his dad had an affair.

You blink owlishly, his words echoing in your brain as you try to put two and two together. “Miguel, as is Miguel O’Hara?”

He nods, “that’s the one, weird ass nerd, he refused to join KA with me, even though I told him that’s the only way he’ll make friends.”

“He’s not weird.” You bristle, crossing your arms over your chest.

Kron holds up his hands in surrender. “Whoa, whoa, chill, I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, okay, so I’ve been hanging out with him, who cares?” You glance at your watch; you’re going to be late.

There’s a very real and slightly concerning pain in your chest at the thought of Miguel sitting alone in the student center, waiting for you like a lost puppy, thinking you abandoned him.

Kron rests a hand on your shoulder, and you fight the urge to shrug it off. “Look Miguel, he’s my half-brother and yeah, he’s fucking annoying, and a try-hard, but he’s a nice guy, too nice. Don’t waste your time with him, it’s social suicide. He’s a nobody, a fucking loser who cares more about Legos and fucking science or whatever than getting laid.”

“I really don’t care about social suicide, but thanks, I think I can make my own decisions.” You tell Kron, giving him that same, perfectly crafted customer service smile.

“Y/N, you don’t get it, I’m trying to help you. He’s a loser, back in high school, no girls gave him a chance, he’s a total virgin okay, and you need a real man.”

And there it is, the real reason Kron doesn’t want you hanging with Miguel.

“A real man, huh? Well, you know what Kron, why don’t you let me know when you’ve found one and then get back to me.” You pat his hand that’s still on your shoulder.

His face goes red, then the color drains and his eyes harden. “I’m trying to help you, bitch.”

“Appreciate it, don’t need it, thanks though.” You walk off, head held high, hands shaking in anger as you shove them in your jacket pockets.

Miguel is sitting at your normal table, the one tucked in the corner secluded and shaded by large hedges, his head in a book, his glasses slipping down his nose.

You set your stuff down and push them up, smiling at his startled look. “Hey, sorry about the wait.”

He shakes his head, pink tinting his cheeks. “No worries, I was reading up on next week’s lecture for my genetics class.

You slide into the seat across from him. “Oh yeah? Anything interesting?”

You can’t believe he’s a virgin, he’s so…hot. Your mind starts to wonder for a second, imagining what it would be like, how he’d sound, how he’d feel, the flustered look on his face when you straddle him.

He nods, and begins to explain, talking wildly with his hands, pulling you from your lewd thoughts, then he freezes, his shoulders tensing, his hands deathly still.

“Miguel? Everything alright?” You ask, casting a glance over your shoulder in the direction of his gaze.

Fucking Kron.

When Kron gets closer you yell out, “so what are you like a stalker now or something?”

He laughs, it’s that specific laugh that reeks of arrogance and an inability to see women as people. “You wish.”

“I really don’t.” You grumble, turning back to look at Miguel.

His knuckles are white, his jaw clenched, his back ramrod straight, his shoulders set back, the expanse of his chest on display as if he’s trying to make himself look bigger than he already is, which is a feat in itself. There’s a look in his eyes that sends a shiver of something akin to fear down your spine. You’ve never seen Miguel look this way, ever, it’s like you’re looking at a whole different person.

“Migs, how you doing, bro?” Kron asks, standing between you and Miguel, who both remain seated, resting his hands on the table.

“Kron.” Miguel says curtly, turning that ice-cold gaze fully onto his half-brother.

Kron rolls his shoulders back and glances at you. “I thought I told you there’s nothing to be gained from hanging with this loser.”

Your eyes flicker back to Miguel, who’s giving Kron a harsh look you can’t quite decipher, then to Kron. “And I thought I told you I can make my own decisions.”

Kron clicks his tongue. “What’s he gonna do for you, he’s a fucking virgin. Just gonna try to make you cum by explaining science facts to you? Build you a dildo out of Legos?”

You nearly choke on your own spit. “What the fuck is wrong with you?

“If you’re that desperate for dick, you can always swing by the house, I’d be more than happy—” Kron hits the ground with a strangled yelp.

Miguel is on him in seconds, fist cocked back, his back muscle rippling as he brings his fist down, again and again and again. “Di esa mierda otra vez. Dilo de nuevo, te reto a la mierda.” Trsl: Say that shit again. Say it again, I fucking dare you.

Kron manages to get one arm free and tries to grab Miguel’s face, shirt, arm, anything he can reach. “You’re fucking crazy, you and your sorority slut.” Kron lands a solid hit, and you wince at the sight of Miguel’s head turning—even if it’s ever so slightly—with the force, Kron’s smug laugh ringing through the air once more.

“You never know when to shut up, huh?” Miguel snarls, forcing Kron’s arm down with his free hand, the other connecting with Kron’s nose, a sickening crack filling the air.

The sound prompts you into action, and you ignore the way your stomach flips at Miguel’s tone, at the way he moves, like a panther, powerful, stalking its prey, delivering that fatal blow.

Be so for real y/n, you cannot be turned on right now, that’s so embarrassing.

You grab Miguel’s shoulders and try to pull him away, it’s useless, but you try anyways. “Stop, stop, you have to stop, fuck come on Miguel—if they catch you fighting on campus you could lose your scholarship.”

“Shit, okay, I yield, I’m sorry.” Kron coughs out, blood gushing from his nose as his voice joins yours.

But Miguel doesn’t stop, he’s cursing under his breath, and at Kron in Spanish, his hand bloody, Kron’s flailing helplessly in his vice grip.

You try to grab Miguel’s bicep, fear flooding your system. “Miguel, stop, please, you’re freaking me out.”

That catches his attention.

Miguel mutters something to Kron then gets up, shoving his stuff in his bag and walking away, his shoulders tense.

In shock, you grab a bunch of napkins and your things, before chasing after him.

Why is this still kinda hot? You wonder, before mentally smacking yourself upside the head.

Miguel’s legs are much longer than yours, his steps bigger, faster, and you grab onto the front pocket of his backpack, his name spilling from your lips. “Miguel, hey, wait up.”

He stops, and you drag him into a nearby alcove with a bench pressed flush against the stone wall.

You both sit and Miguel refuses to look at you, his hand and lip bloodied.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” You ask, taking his hand in yours and dabbing it with a napkin, trying to clean him up the best you can.

“I’m sorry.” Miguel says quietly, eyes downcast.

“Why?” You turn his hand over and start cleaning his palm.

“I scared you, and I—I let my anger get the best of me, I should’ve just walked away.” His eyes meet yours for a brief moment when you gently dab at his lip.

“You didn’t scare me, I mean yeah that was a little intense, but…” You trail off when you realize he’s trembling. “Hey, I’m not afraid of you, you’re Miguel, my sweet boy, who can apparently throw one hell of a punch.”

He laughs at that, albeit weakly, but it’s still a laugh.

“And Kron is an idiot, don’t listen to him.” You continue, spending maybe a bit too long cleaning Miguel’s split lip, mesmerized by him.

“I don’t care what he says about me, he’s been a jerk since we were kids, but…he can’t just—you don’t deserve that.”

You exhale forcefully out of your nose, a small, contained laugh. “He’s just a dumbass saying dumbass stuff, like really, who would build a dildo out of Legos? That would hurt like a bitch.”

“And you don’t—you’re not weirded out by what he said?” Miguel asks carefully, you can feel the embarrassed heat radiating off him.

You set the napkin down and grab his chin with one hand turning his face side to side, inspecting him. You know what he means, not the Legos, or the science facts, the virgin part. It’s such a dumb thing to make fun of someone about something you’ve always been against. Why shame someone for such a personal choice? It’s their body, they can do what they want.

Plus, it’s kinda hot, being the first one to have him? The first one who gets to hear him, see him like that? Fuck, you wish that was you. Maybe you should offer? No, no, y/n, seriously, keep it in your pants.

Once you’re done with your inspection, you turn him to face you. “No, I’m not, who cares if you have or haven’t slept with someone, it’s not a big deal. Though I am surprised, a smart, handsome, sweet guy like you? I thought you’d have tons of girls under your belt. Bunch of math and science prodigies following you around like groupies, fighting to get in your pants.”

Because that’s who Miguel deserves someone smart, someone who can keep up with him—shit pull back, you’re making yourself insecure.

Miguel ducks his head, nuzzling into your palm as a result of the movement. “Thank you, for cleaning me up, and...you know.”

You smile, heart fluttering as Miguel leans into your touch. “No problem.”

You’re in wayyyy too deep.

Virgin Miguel bitchesssss

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer

[dairy-farmer]

So like, Tim has definitely helped Jason by being arm candy to some Gotham underground event, right?

Like, gang leaders and crime lords would have to meet up sometimes to negotiate and prevent all out wars. Black market weapons deals, auctions, gambling dens. There’s places where the leaders of crime would meet and socialize. And you can’t not have a date to some of these. It’s a status thing, having a pretty young thing hanging off your arm.

And Jason’s a good guy and wouldn’t make one of his minions be subjected to all the objectifying talk that would no doubt be flying around. And he would not sexually harass his employees and his arm candy would have to be touched and kissed to make it look real.

Cass can’t do it- one, shes too scary and isn’t great at looking meek and harmless, and doesn’t like to lie. Jason and Cass both love it when he brings her places where he needs a scary hot bodyguard, cause someone always tries to fuck around, underestimating her, but playing arm candy? No.

Steph is out after the second time she broke character and broke a creep’s nose for talking about her chest. It was in metropolis, thankfully, so it was more funny than anything, but Jason can’t risk it at other events. He loves Steph, but that woman has no chill.

Dick can do it in a pinch- he’s not too bulky to be able to look harmless, but Jason doesn’t love doing it unless it’s an emergency. He knows that while Dick doesn’t mind people appreciating his body, some of the comments about Nightwing’s ass veer towards too objectifying for him sometimes.

Kori is too obviously alien and Roy doesn’t like being around drugs. Biz is out for obvious reasons, and Artemis is too intimidating. Damian’s a baby and like hell could Bruce be his arm candy. Ew.

Tim though.

Tim can do it. Tim is is good at it. He’s small and cute and fits perfectly under Jason’s arms or on his lap. He’s like a chameleon and can look like as many different people as he needs to. He’s freaky great at compartmentalizing and sliding into characters, so lewd comments and offers just slide off, or are met with a grin and a flirt. He’s observant and can watch Jason’s back, even when sitting on Hood’s lap with a hand running up and down his thighs.

Sometimes though, to avoid suspicion, things go a little far. More than once, Hood has had Tim panting and squirming on his lap, Hood idly fingering him while talking about a weapons deal or cocaine shipments. Tim’s been on his knees tucked tight between Hood’s legs, so they could get details about a human trafficking ring. He’s even been splayed out naked on a table, getting fucked in front of strangers.

Tim’s not usually as good at paying attention to his surroundings when those things happen, but that’s alright. Jason keeps them both safe.

Luckily, Hood has a reputation of being possessive of his things, and Tim’s various personas always count as Hood’s thing, so he doesn’t need to be shared.

If sometimes Jason gets a little…handsier with Tim than strictly required for that op without talking about it beforehand, well, that’s his business. And if Tim keeps agreeing to be Hood’s arm candy even though the last 10 events found Hood’s fingers, cock, or both, getting pressed inside Tim even though all he actually needed to do to blend in was to be there looking pretty, that’s his business too.

😍😍😍 this is so good!!!! the way that whenever jason needs a partner for crime lord meanings he doesn't even ask for volunteers anymore he straight up just goes to tim now because yeah they work well together but also because jason is crossing his fingers that he and tim will get to fuck again. sure the whole mission is nerve wracking because of the incredibly high stakes and risk of getting set up or shot at but also- jason might get his dick sucked or get to finger fuck tim's tight little cunt. and for one whole night he'll have a lap full of tim drake grinding and rubbing against him while kissing his neck- it's a pretty good trade off all things considered

[purpurussy]

what is all of this like for post-hiatus phannies?

I've been trying to figure out how to phrase this for a minute. The most obvious comparison would be that it's like starting a TV show 10 seasons in, but that doesn't come remotely close to the amount of required reading necessary to understand even 5% of the references. This has not been a problem for me, as I love nothing more than a good all-consuming hyperfixation rabbit hole, but something I'm realizing is that you really just had to be there to fully Understand.

I got into d&p properly in December of 2023, when gamingmas appealed to my emotionally curious nature and then gave me some kind of irreversible brain damage which I'm still trying to process. Since then I've been consuming their back catalogue as though it's laced with cocaine, and obsessively lurking on phannie tumblr until I finally made this blog a few weeks ago.

-

I actually watched Dan's videos for a little while back in roughly 2013/2014, but something about his content back then just wasn't working for me like it does now (I have such a clear memory of watching Reasons Why Dan’s A Fail and thinking "aw man why does this cute little twink hate himself so much 😔" and then going back to watching Jenna Marbles lmao. Funnily enough it did make me change my negative self-talk a little bit). I was very much a brief casual viewer who went off them pretty much after watching a few videos, and after that I was sort of vaguely aware of them as the cultural icons of the 2010s that they were, but I wasn't keeping up with them at all. 

I don't even remember BIG coming out, which is insane because I've always been extremely chronically online and it definitely broke containment as a cultural moment (although I think I was trying to minimize my social media use at that point in my life, so maybe that's why it went over my head). I feel like I must have heard something about it at the time, though, because I knew they were gay when I started watching them last year. What's really strange is that a lot of this stuff is kinda timeless to me. I don't remember it happening 5, 10 or 15 years ago - I just witnessed it very recently. For a lot of you guys, BIG happened 5 years ago, but I just watched it for the first time a few months ago. At the same time, in my mind they've just always been gay, since I wasn't in the trenches of the unhinged online culture surrounding them in the early/mid 2010s. It's so confusing to balance my weird temporal perception of these events with the impressions that I get from you guys. Oftentimes I have to judge roughly when something would have happened based on their appearances - it's not actually a *memory* for me, like it is for you. I absolutely love the dynamic and branding they have now, and the deep dives into their past are more of a curious exploration of how they got here, rather than actually nostalgic (or, I suppose, mildly traumatic) for me. It’s still very interesting and compelling to me, but because I love the current iteration of Dan and Phil, not because I’m emotionally invested in who they used to be. 

Sometimes I’ll be aware that an event happened, but I won’t realize how monumental it was until I see people talking about it (I hate to say it but I genuinely don't fully understand why the BONCAs thing was so earth-shattering, but like I said, I've always lived in a post-BIG universe, and I think you just had to be there). There are also plenty of references to stuff that's just been lost to time, which I have to piece together with context clues, as well as the more unhinged demonic stuff that I just don't have any interest in exploring whatsoever (I think I might have watched the v-day video if I'd been there when it leaked and I was a stupid teenager, but at this point, I don't even feel any kind of morbid curiosity for it. I just feel really bad for them that it got leaked. Plus, unfortunately, I think I've learned all I need to know about it through internet osmosis here). I feel like a lot of these events have a real emotional meaning for you guys, when to me, they're just interesting/funny/insane anecdotes which give some context to everything. Some of the shit that you guys lived through back then is absolutely wild, and I love and appreciate all of you for meticulously archiving and documenting everything and for being so willing to answer the same questions over and over again! Otherwise I feel like I wouldn't be able to really be part of this community, and posting my silly little memes on this blog is so fucking fun. So thank you all for that.

It seems like this is one of the most ride-or-die fanbases I've ever seen. The fact that they could invent the concept of YouTubers doing world tours, successfully execute that multiple times, branch out into several other ventures, come out as gay not fully knowing how that would affect their careers, disappear for several years and then come back knowing that there would be a solid audience waiting for them even after their virality had died down, drop merch every 3 seconds - I don't know who else can really get away with that, for almost 15 years, in the extremely "live fast die young" culture of internet fame. And I think it's in no small part because you all have chronic "unconditionally supporting dan and phil" disease. (While we’re on the topic, I feel very lucky to have missed the hiatus era. There's kind of a compression in the timeline for me between the gaming channel going dark and Dan starting his WAD tour, where it's like that time just doesn't exist in the Dan and Phil cinematic universe for me. It took me a while to realize how insane it must have been when they came back in full force, I can't even imagine how that must have felt.)

Of course, there's a caveat in that I'm saying this only really knowing about the tip of the demon iceberg. I’m aware of people engaging in behaviours such as doxxing them, outing them and stalking their families, which is horrifying in and of itself, but I don’t know how long it went on for or how many people were involved. I think people are generally pretty well-behaved at this point, and most of the drama seems to be between different schools of thought within the fanbase itself. I assume a big part of the reason for that is people's varying degrees of involvement in (and remaining notion of guilt for) the boundary-crossing behaviour from the old days. Living with the spectre of this insanity is kind of strange - it makes me feel nervous sometimes that I’m gonna accidentally say something that hits a nerve, or cross a line I didn’t know existed, because there’s all this history that I don’t fully understand, beyond just the normal unwritten rules for interacting with fan spaces online. 

-

The topic that got me writing this in the first place was the orange heart incident, and everyone’s subsequent meltdown. For me, the excitement in them soft/hard/semi launching is more about me just getting excited about any open, proud expression of queer joy - it heals something inside me every time I hear a man referring to his husband or a woman referring to her wife (excuse the gendered terms, ykwim. gay shit). It's just that sentiment, combined with the fact that I'm parasocially invested in them: I'd love to see that energy from my fave little guys who live inside my computer. I am basically rooting for them to become more comfortable with just talking about gay stuff more openly and candidly, and I guess that would require a bit of a hard launch, although I can understand that they don't want to potentially open the door to excessive questioning regarding their relationship. I feel like it ✨hits different✨ for people who watched them for years before they came out. Like, you guys are rooting for people who you watched in real time struggling with their identities and internalized homophobia for years and years, while to me, they’re just some guys who I’m a fan of. Sometimes I get caught up in the emotional frenzy of their hard-launch breadcrumbs even though I don’t feel quite as insane about it as you guys (I said in some tags a few days ago that it’s like the base instinct to turn around and start running if you see a crowd of people running towards you and screaming in terror, even if you have no idea what’s going on). Anyway, I would love to see them being more gooey with each other, and I am gobbling up the breadcrumbs they're feeding us atm, because I love seeing gay people expressing gay love with no shame 🧡 

I think my perception of them as a couple, or of their sexualities independently, is just kind of an extension of everything Dan said in BIG. I really have no doubt that they're a couple, and I don't feel any kind of weird Catholic guilt in saying that, since I neither witnessed nor participated in the insanity back then. I interpreted (I'm paraphrasing) "obviously we were more than friends, but it was more than just romantic, we're like, actual soulmates" followed by "as for the situation now? we're private people and we'd like to keep that part of our lives private" as him essentially saying that obviously they're a couple, but that their relationship is not part of the Dan And Phil™ Brand. The brand is 2 guys who have great chemistry doing comedy together (5 feet apart even though clearly they are gay and in love). And I think that's a completely healthy decision to make, even irrespective of their history. I think a hard launch would be subtle, and it wouldn’t realistically change the nature of their content that much. 

With that being said, to me, it seems slightly wild for people to adamantly insist they're not a couple, or that it’s “invasive” to assume that they are one (not that that really applies to anyone here, but elsewhere on the internet). If they were a straight man and a straight woman, and there wasn't a huge chunk of people on the internet struggling with this oddly conditioned aversion to seeing them as a couple, then nobody on earth would be insisting that it's weird to assume they're together. Dan confirmed that they became romantically involved around the time they met, and building a forever home with your ex is crazy, that's all there is to it.

-

This is kind of a messy stream of thoughts (it ended up sort of becoming 2 essays for the price of 1) and I don't really know where I was going with it. In conclusion I think that day 1 phannies are braver than any US marine and you have all suffered more than Jesus on the cross, and I'm extremely thankful that I get to reap the rewards of your labour now without having lived through the dark ages myself. I also think some of you are holding onto a bit of unnecessary guilt for dumb shit you said on the internet when you were a kid. And Dan and Phil are gay and I love them and I reeeeaaaallllyyy want them to do a podcast so bad because this is all conjecture and I would parasocially love to hear their actual thoughts on it

[ghostlykeyes]

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

HEARTSTEEL KAYN: HEADCANONS ♡ TW : Drug mentions/Usage ♡ TW: Food mentions ♡ No pairings/ not reader-insert

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

KAYN 

Ever since joining Heartsteel, Kayn's 'Rhaast' outbursts have lessened in frequency and severity. Of course, his alter-ego makes regular appearances, but being with a group that encourages and accepts him rather than holds him back and tries to get him under control has made it so that Kayn feels less need to express his feelings in such an explosive, reckless way. Of course, he'll never admit that his newfound friends are the reason for his recent (very, VERY slight) stability.

Kayn is extremely choosy with his jewelry. He fronts like he doesn't want to wear "cheap, lame shit"—but actually, he just reacts to most metals. If he doesn't check to make sure his earrings are hypoallergenic, he ends up with a massive rash. Why the excuse? He is NOT about to admit he has sensitive skin.

Probably not a surprise, but Kayn breaks his phone CONSTANTLY. With all his reckless antics, it's rare for a new phone to last him more than a few months. The silver lining is that he at least has his emergency contacts (the Heartsteel members, of course) memorized from entering them into his contacts list so often.

Kayn also has a burner phone he uses for Rhaast.

Maybe you'd expect Kayn to have an enormous rager for his birthday, but the truth is, he doesn't actually like that many people. Instead he invites a handful of his actual friends to the shared Heartsteel apartment for a joint Halloween/birthday party. Costumes mandatory, noise complaints expected. Kayn will tell you to your face if he thinks your costume is stupid.

Kayn's got a lucky guitar pick. Somehow, he’s never lost it.

Wherever Kayn goes, property damage often follows. For Heartsteel's sake, he's cleaned up his act a tiny bit, mostly because he's scared of respects Yone, who gets pissed whenever Kayn breaks too much shit. But come on, you can't deny a man all of life's simple pleasures—you gotta let him graffiti the side of a water tower every once in awhile, or blow up the occasional car.

Notorious for social media rampages, Kayn's been banned from using the Heartsteel twitter. (The last straw was him using the account to threaten a member of his old band. Apparently, Alune didn't think "I'LL FUKKIN DOXX U LOL" an appropriate use of the official twitter account.) He's still semi-active on his personal accounts, but only in sporadic bursts.

Kayn knows how to tie a knot in a cherry stem with his tongue.

Like most rockstars, Kayn dabbles in cocaine. His drug use is pretty limited, though, mostly because he doesn't really need drugs to be high-energy and unhinged. When clips of his erratic behavior surface or Kayn goes on a twitter rampage, newer fans often speculate about Kayn being on drugs. Veteran Heartbeats know that he’s just Like That, though. 

Kayn says he doesn't have a favorite bandmate. (He does. It's Ezreal.)

A lot of the time, Kayn has to be reminded to eat. When he's busy writing songs or hanging out with the band, stopping for a bite never crosses his mind. Thankfully, Sett's on top of his meal schedule (gotta hit those macros!) so he'll remind Kayn that lunch is a Thing That Exists.

Kayn spends a ridiculous amount of time on his nails. Cuticles? Trimmed. Polish? Immaculate, and always black or burgundy. Topcoat? Applied and glass-smooth. Of course he'll deny that his nail routine is so precise because it doesn't fit his devil-may-care image, but come on. Chipped OPI and hangnails? Couldn't be him.

Kayn hates nothing more than the passenger seat. Let him drive! Yes, he knows that he's gotten two speeding tickets in the past three months. Yes, he's completely aware that K'sante got violently carsick the last time Kayn drove everyone to Taco Bell. He does not care. He will NEVER care. Driving is fun and driving recklessly is really fun.

You won't catch Kayn in a salon. He dyes and cuts his own hair in his bathroom. (How is it still so perfect?!)

Kayn is way too eager to help Aphelios pull pranks on people. Unfortunately, he can dish it out, but he can't take it. A prank on Kayn has a 50/50 chance of putting him in a sour, bitchy mood for the next hour.

Of all the band members, Kayn's the one that spends the most time alone. He doesn't have many friends outside Heartsteel. And, even though he knows his band has his back and he appreciates them, he needs frequent social breaks.

Kayn's the ultimate night owl. It's rare for him to go to bed before 4 AM. Despite this, he's always up before ten. Maybe it's Yone's rigorous recording schedule that gets him up. Maybe he's so high-energy, his body can't stand staying still for more than six hours. Maybe, though, it's just all the Monster energy drinks.

Consider it a sign that he likes you if Kayn spam-texts you. If he doesn't, he won't even bother responding. (But, if he suddenly stops texting you out of the blue? Don't worry. He probably broke his phone. Again.)

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #52 — The DJD Once Again Prove to Be an HR Nightmare

Ratchet and Drift, looking fresh as hell in their matching paint jobs, stand on the cliff they made their cool entrance on last issue, as they snipe at each other over whether or not Drift personally knows the DJD. Considering how Tarn and Friends had a space-cocaine induced freakout over seeing Drift on the quantum duplicate Lost Light, they may want to talk a little quieter, especially with the face Helex is making.

You better watch out, Ratchet— this man's going to do Sakamoto-got-all-the-way-to-pencils shit to you!

The Pet takes the opportunity presented by our recently returned newlyweds being too busy flirting to pay attention to the fight at hand, leaping to chew on Ratchet's head. Luckily, Ten is an ally, even when he’s been beat to shit, and punches the shitty little Pomeranian into the air. Kaon, card-carrying freak and dog dad, takes this abject display of animal abuse about as well as he can.

Ratchet, having his gun eaten by the mouth pervert, is beginning to worry that he, his rich boytoy, and a mostly out of commission Ten might be sliiiiiiiiightly outnumbered against a dozen Decepticons, two of whom belong to the Super Murder Death Squad. Drift, after a bit of needling, heelies a dude’s face off, jumps into the air, does a bunch of sick flips, blocks a laser with a sword in such a way that it looks like he got shot in the dick, and then lands, like, 70 feet away to scoop up the Pet and threaten to chop its head off if Helex doesn’t stop trying to vore his boyfriend.

Kaon, #1 dog dad, orders everyone to fall back. Helex, who has Ratchet like 70% inside his smelting chamber by this point, can’t believe that Kaon’s ruining the fun. Helex releases Ratchet, letting him crowd onto Drama Point with Drift and most of Ten, as the Decepticons circle them. Drift, unfortunately, didn’t think past doing sweet flips to show off after his sabbatical from the comic run, and they’re back in the same situation they arrived to, but now one of them is holding a crusty little dog.

Then a platform descends from the sky, and we see what Ravage has been up to.

Grand theft auto!

Yes, it turns out that this cat can drive, and well enough to get the boys up and out of danger, though Ten’s size means that the lovebirds have to dangle off of his remaining arm. Drift still hasn’t put down the Pet. Sure hope that thing’s been socialized to cats.

Oh, who am I kidding? Kaon wouldn’t have bothered.

Speaking of Kaon, he looks like he’s about to cry, because someone’s kidnapped his princess baby angel, and Helex doesn’t even CARE, the heartless bastard, as he orders the other Decepticons to fire on the shuttle. They, of course, hit it, as there’s at least ten of these guys firing, and they’re all decently tall. The shuttle begins to lose altitude, and Ravage, who does not have traditional hands and is currently using his tail to man the control stick, attempts to crash as close to the “fortress” as possible.

Meanwhile, over at Megatron’s plinth, we get back to that whole thing where he surrendered himself to Tarn. Tarn, feeling an excuse to monologue coming on, says that he’s well aware of Megatron’s new schtick, and he’s not a huge fan of it. Megatron clarifies that he wishes to give himself up so that the rest of the Lost Light crew stranded on this planet might live, because this is his fault to begin with. Tarn agrees, reminding him that he paid for Tarn’s plastic surgery. Megatron states that he only brought Tarn to his side to hurt “someone”.

Three guesses who Megatron could have possibly hurting by bringing Tarn over to the Decepticons, and the first two don’t count.

Megatron thinks that by bumming around space on a borderline vacation, he’s returned to who he used to be (maybe he got his teaching license, who knows) and that the war was a waste of time. Tarn gets kind of intense here, because if Megatron wasted his life, what does that make Tarn? Tarn, who has decorated his home with nothing but Decepticon symbols? Tarn, who has had corpses nailed to his wall for the last couple million years? Tarn, who wears a fuckoff stupid mask every single day of his life, even while eating and trying to kill himself with space meth cut with time travel and gas station dick pills? Also, what about all the other guys who died trying to realize Megatron's ideals? What about the little guys, the cogs that made the machine run? What about Steve from accounting, whose husband left him, because he was too busy trying to balance the budget on Megatron's body remodels and Optimus Prime punching bags that also doubled as body pillows to come home? What about Steve, huh?

Megatron basically regrets everything he’s ever done, not that Tarn cares. Megatron then reveals that whole thing where Rewind tried to retroactively kill him as an infant, and how he sort of wished it had worked.

Tarn starts beating the shit out of Megatron before the guy can start going on about how his parents are Brainstorm and Whirl, though Tarn promises that this is just a healthy dose of tough love, as surely the wimp before him isn’t actually who Megatron is. Megatron doesn’t fight back, instead just staring sadly at the Autobot badge Tarn slapped off of him. This is really starting to piss Tarn off, as he was really hoping to beat some of the fire back into his former mentor and idol. This is when he starts trying to choke Megatron, even though their species doesn’t breathe. Still, I’m sure Tarn’s stiletto nails hurt something fierce.

Megatron then recalls his conversation with Velocity, and states that if the fool’s energon DID alter his personality, it was probably for the best, and he wouldn’t want to go back. Tarn, who has based his entire selfhood on the thing that Megatron threw away to live out his probation on a cruise ship, takes this statement with all the tact and level-headedness we’ve come to know him for.

Tarn is just one more double fusion cannon blast to the chest away from smiting Megatron utterly, and he’s fully committed to doing so. However, he gets distracted by the sound of Elton John’s “The Bitch is Back” coming from across the field.

WHO LET THIS MOTHERFUCKER OUT OF HELL

Anyway, it looks like Ravage can, in fact, drive pretty well, as the shuttle did crash pretty close to the “fortress”. Swerve, who still really wants to make up for his shitty boss behaviors and also accidentally dragging Ten into a microcosm of hell, lets Ten know that they saw his floor graffiti, and that it might actually work. Magnus, who still has his arm off, does his best to not kick Swerve across the room as he scurries underfoot, as he drags Ten inside the building.

Skids intercepts Ratchet to welcome him back, and also ask how the hell he knew to come to Necroworld. Apparently he and Drift had received a call from the handy dandy phone that he had given First Aid, who First Aid had then regifted to Velocity, just in case some bullshit happened. Velocity’s introduction to Ratchet is rough, as she manages to call him grumpy, old, and stubborn as a mule in the span of about fifteen seconds. Ratchet is mostly concerned with the fact that the Lost Light replaced him so soon after his return. Nobody tell him about Velocity’s track record with the medical exams, he might just shoot off into space to beat First Aid to a pulp for leaving her by herself.

Over in what might be a closet, Rodimus runs across Drift sitting in the dark and sharpening one of his swords. Drift seems to have used his exile to remember that he does, in fact, have some semblance of self-respect, as he doesn’t immediately forgive Rodimus for throwing him off the ship that he paid for, only to have given himself up as the real culprit behind the Overlordening, like, a week later, thus negating Drift’s sacrifice, and then never coming to find him, despite the fact that they’re supposedly friends, and, again, the ship is in Drift’s name, as was the crew’s allowance money. How the Lost Light has survived financially without Drift is unknown.

Rodimus knows that he sucks and is the worst, but he was really worried that Drift wouldn’t like him anymore, so he’d sort of been kicking the issue of “finding my ex-TIC to tell him he got publicly humiliated for nothing” down the road, to the point where Ratchet had gotten sick of it and went to solve the problem himself.

Of course, the meta reason for Drift not being found was so that Shane McCarthy could have his OC back, as well as Ratchet, for the miniseries Transformers: Drift— Empire of Stone, well known for being sort of silly and introducing the phrase “be shoosh” to Drift’s lexicon. In it, Ratchet found Drift traipsing around the edge of the galaxy being a neutral (in terms of war) hero to organic species affected by Decepticon aggressions, before crashing on a planet where Drift, back when he was “Deadlock”, had found a mystical stone army, one that Gigatron (a dude who totally isn’t anime Megatron) wanted to harness the power of, so that the Decepticons might claim victory over their enemies. Hellbat, Gigatron’s second in command, had gone mad doing nothing but killing over millions of years, and had been modifying the stone army in secret to do his bidding so he could "kill everything". Then the stone army woke up, Hellbat died, Gigatron died, and Ratchet went to take Drift to get detailed, because he looked like he'd been ridden hard and put away wet.

Also, if you think about it, having two former high-ranking Decepticons turning to the Autobot side being on the Lost Light’s high command might have been too many redundancies to make Megatron’s arc stand out. Perhaps, had Megatron not been added to MTMTE’s roster so late in the game, Rodimus WOULD have gone looking for Drift, finding him just in time for the DJD to catch wind that they hadn’t actually super nightmare death murdered Deadlock after all.

Drift, who can’t say no to Rodimus's puppydog face, lets Rodimus sit with him on the floor, as he apologizes for the fact that by coming here, Drift and Ratchet have unwittingly signed up for Tarn’s Political Theory and Dismemberment Slam Poetry Night, but he mega-promises that they’ll come up with something together to get through this. Drift appreciates the sentiment, but knows that Rodimus is just saying this to make him feel better.

Back at the worst fan club meetup in the galaxy, Tarn elbows Overlord in the throat and tells him to fuck off. Overlord tells him that he knows Tarn never finished his degree and only acts like an academic for the aesthetic. Tarn transforms to shoot him while reminding Overlord that at least Megatron’s spoken to him in the last few thousand years. The two duke it out with their tank modes, Overlord KRUMPing all over Tarn, before the theatre kid kicks him off and questions why exactly Overlord is even alive, given that he chainsawed his head off last year. No word on if he’s bothered to ask this same question about 75% of the people he’s here to super murder.

Overlord simply states that someone found him floating out in space and fixed him up, because it turns out that they both wanted to go after Megatron and kill his ass dead, because Overlord is sort of sick of not getting the attention he so obviously deserves. When Tarn, ever the opportunist, attempts to make a team up deal, Overlord tells him to shut up.

And then they realize they lost the old man they were fighting over.

Great work, fellas.

Over with the Autobots (and Cyclonus), Rewind’s outside, looking at that memorial to the disappeared and trying to figure out why the Necrobot laid out the names in the way that he did. He’s currently near the top, where you can see most of Roller’s name, someone whose name ends in “gator”, and Dreamwave Production’s smoldering corpse, which makes me wonder if Alex Milne ever did get all the money he was owed from his work with them. Rewind, who last dealt with the DJD not even a year ago, is trying really, really hard to not think about how many needles they’re going to jam into Chromedome’s eyes this go around.

Of course, Nautica, who has come out to find Rewind, doesn’t give a shit about Rewind’s PTSD. She wants relationship advice! She’d ask Chromedome, but apparently he’s taking a nap, still worn out from stabbing Tailgate in the brain after he rainbow-exploded all over the ship. Which happened months ago.

You know, at the rate he’s been going, Chromedome probably wouldn’t have lived too far past sunset anyhow.

Anyway, Nautica wants to know if, on Cybertron, you have to be besties before you can get hitched, because that’s how it works on some of the other colonies. She specifies that this ISN'T how it works on Caminus, which is good, given how problematic that would be, considering you need to be best friends with someone by the time you're five weeks old, and there's no telling if they're cool with platonic polyamory. Rewind informs her that it’s either one or the other on Cybertron, no double-dipping, and god help you if it’s a situationship. Nautica is asking this because she’s realized that she can’t waffle about on committing anymore, seeing as she’s probably going to die in the next hour or so, and she’d rather use that time to enter a queer-platonic partnership than get her face fixed.

Back at the Peaceful Tyranny, Tarn has, in fact, managed to bring Overlord to reason, much to Deathsaurus’s confusion and derision, if his squiggle face is anything to go by. Overlord, smug as fuck, informs Deathsaurus that in exchange for his compliance, Tarn has agreed to let him personally murder Megatron while everyone watches, because surely Tarn couldn’t actually kill his idealogical idol, because he’s a pussy. Tarn is being very brave about this, only letting the spot blacking on his linework show on his face, as his fists shake with rage.

Then Kaon shows up, begging they pull back their forces until the Pet has been returned, and the spot blacking gets a little heavier.

Tarn, who has had a very long day of tactical meetings, phone calls, facing his fallen idol, having a very unsatisfying beatdown with said idol, and dealing with known freak Overlord, handles Kaon’s inability to be a big boy about misplacing his shitty little dog with all of the tact and decorum we’ve come to know him for— he gives Kaon a big, beefy hug, acknowledges just how much Kaon loves that shitty little dog, and then makes sure that Kaon never has to worry about a thing ever again.

That’s a series wrap on Kaon! Let’s give him a hand, folks!

Tarn, who has had just about enough of Overlord in the last half hour, smashes Kaon’s head onto Overlord’s tits, covering him in viscera, as he demands he be treated with respect, because this is HIS house, where HE’S paying the bills and calling the shots, so help him god. Nickel is very displeased that Tarn’s killed one of the Twinksome Twosome. No word on how Deathsaurus feels about this, considering that a big reason he’s working with Tarn is because he refused to kill the rest of the DJD when demanded to do so, thus showing his dedication to his men. Also no word on how the rest of the DJD are going to handle Tarn decapitating their weed man.

Tarn tells everyone to pony up, as they’re about to go over and handle all the silly little bastards hiding out in the Necrobot’s “fortress”.

Speaking of which, it looks like Megatron made it home, despite Tarn blowing his tits clean off with that cannon blast. Rodimus and Ratchet carry him inside, as Magnus is probably too busy not getting his arm put back on to help, and Megatron is using the last of his energy to hold the Autobot badge Tarn slapped off his chest earlier.

Sure hope Ratchet didn’t forget to tell Drift about his old boss being co-captain of the ship, or else this is going to be a very nasty surprise for both of them— we've already seen that Drift loves to freak out and kill sick people.

[finelinevogue]

these are angsty times, so i feel like a good angsty blurb about h never making time for you is one idea. but since these are angsty times, then maybe it also calls for fluff so maybe h likes to do one thing different in any of his songs for you every show? kind of like sabrina carpenter’s nonsense outro? so like maybe during keep driving, he always sings something different to you or about you?

pls tell me i’m making sense, i can’t talk i’m too excited

okay hello. of course my first blurb back would be requested at the hands of our very own nova (this is especially for you);

(this is part of the harryshouse!universe too)

It was a known thing that Harry was very much in love with you.

If anything, the poor man was so in love with you he got teased for it. Even the fans were in on some of the jokes. You being a well known Youtuber and social media influencer meant that Harrys doting love was often well publicised.

Actions such as him buying you flowers, him making you dinner or taking you out for a fancy dinner would be shown on your Instagram for fans, and everyone else, to see. However, simple things like stolen kisses, hand-written love notes and 3AM ice-cream runs for you were actions that you kept secret and close to your heart.

Those actions were yours and Harrys alone.

There were some actions, however that were made overtly public so even people that didn't have Instagram or follow you would hear of.

Some of Harrys love declarations made National news headlines.

Specifically the changing of lyrics at his concerts.

Like stated, it was no surprise that the love Harry had for you would cause him to do some crazy things, but Harry changing his lyrics on stage would always be on of the greater, funnier, gestures for you. What's more, is they were as public as they came.

It started with 'Keep Driving'. In New York, night 3.

Nobody was expecting the show to be any different musically to the night before, except for when he changed the lyrics to 'Keep Driving'. At first the fans thought he was singing a different song, but afterwards, through re-watching videos, they came to learn the new lyrics he'd made.

"Cocain, Y/N's boob. I choke her, with a sea view."

When you had come to realise what he had sung you had gone red in the face.

"Harry!"

He knew he was in trouble just from the fact you used his full and proper name, rather than he loving nicknames you used for one another.

"In the kitchen, love." He answered back, swivelling on the barstool chair to face the door you would come through.

When he saw you, you were red in the face and were shaking your head with a sarcastic grin. Harry smiled as he watched you walk over to him, dressed in one of his tour jumpers and a pair of joggers.

You stopped in front of him and he immediately brought you closer, sliding his warm hands underneath the jumper and running them up and down your back.

"What's with the pout, hm?" He asked.

"You know." You challenged him, wanting to see whether he did or did not in fact know.

"If it's about the fact I bought you Galaxy instead of Cadbury's chocolate, again, i've already apologised five times." He groaned.

"It's not about that actually," You shook your head, "But you should know that no amount of apologies will fix that problem."

Harry smiled and shook his head at you. "Then what, baby?"

You turned your phone around and showed him a video of the previous night on stage, singing the new version of ‘Keep Driving’. He nodded his head along to the music and you noticed no sense of regret or guilt to what he had done.

You looked expectantly at him once you’d finished showing it to him.

“Well?” 

“Well what?”

“What the fuck was that? You basically outed the fact that I am a very kinky lady.”

Harry snorted a laugh. “Baby, you’re not a lady if you let me choke you.”

“So you both admit and are okay with how you sang that verse.”

“Uh everyone knew the song was about you anyways, love. It’s not that hard to figure it out, since I’ve only ever been in love with you.” He counter argued, making very good points.

“Well now they’re starting a fan project to sing that line instead of the original version.” You grumbled. “So they’re collectively singing about my boobs and you choking me.”

He didn’t day anything but just smiled.

You pushed away from him but he was quick to grab your hand and pull you even closer back to his chest.

“At the end of the day, I’m only choking you.” 

And at that, he had pretty much won the argument - later proving his last remark to you. 

Since that ‘Keep Driving’ impromptu lyric change, Harry has been clever in building them into the rest of the set. He doesn’t make the lyric changes every night on stage, even if the fans do sing the new version, but sometimes he’ll be spontaneous and create a new one. 

“If I was a bluebird, I would fly to you. Y/Ns the spoon, dip them in honey so I could be sticking to youu.”

There was even one show where he saw you standing with a tub of ice-cream and he came over to sing to you:

“Is that ice-cream edible, ‘Cause my stomach’s not that full. Can I have a little taste? Just a taste?” 

Before he leant down to taste the ice-cream and screamed ‘oh yeah’ afterwards whilst he continued to dance. 

Never was there quite someone who showed their love for their partner, the way that Harry did for you. 

[dex0s]

𝘖𝘮𝘭 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘰𝘵

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘢 𝘠𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 (𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘨𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘵𝘸)

NOT PROOF READ (update it’s proof read)

One if your the sibling to miles (older or younger) AND their over protective… man all I have to said is good fucking luck because that thing you call freedom. Yeah that said bye bye too it because that shit will be gone before you can take your first breath

If you’re the child of Aaron (the uncle). You have freedom but it’s slowly going to rot away into nothing.

If you date anyone like ANYONE girl, boy, nonbinary their ass is getting there background check. Up,down, sideways, vertical, horizontal, and double take no word is going to be missed and oh if they found out your partner had something to do with the crime or just a red flag. Sadly that next day they got charged for that crime (or they made some shit up)

Grades… there’s two ways this can go

You’re miles sibling. Oh all I can say is pray to the lord above. They are on your ASS when it comes to grade. Just because your the young sibling (old sibling, too you’re a role model for miles) doesn’t mean you can just sit your pretty ass and slack off. Sure maybe that will let you off with a B or two but anything lower or more then two B’s. Your electronic devices anything that can go on social media and things you can watch TVs shows or movies, or anything else are all gone. There’s no more. Until you get your grades up.

Oh but if you Aaron’s kid. Heaven that all I can said. Sure he may ask why do you have the grade you got. But most of the time he doesn’t care. Your ass can have a Z (i dont know how but yea) and all he would do is ask why that grade and if you give a good answer why. He would just excuse the grade. But if your answer is not really that good like for example, saying you just didn’t want to do it, you’ll be a little bit disappointed in you, but end up not caring because he wants you to have fun in life and not you stuck studying and stressing over some test.

Friendships hmm again back with the miles sibling thing. Just like with the partner that background check is going to be looked at like when a crackhead looks at drugs. Sniffing out all the shit this ONE person did. And that would be for anyone your friends with. And with Aaron he doesn’t really doesn’t care who you’re friends with as long as you’re making good choices and not going out there sniffing cocaine and doing dumb shit.

You definitely have that parent lock thing on your phone or your parents put a time when you can be on your phone and then your phone locks and you can’t get in unless you have the password. You definitely have that and then weekly phone check ups to go through your messages, calls, pictures, your social media’s, everything.

 𝘖𝘬𝘢𝘺 𝘐’𝘮 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘸

[nessihow]

Heartbeat. 1.- Ice, ice, baby.

Jessica remembers how she and Wade met. She ends up unconscious, and probably on her way to a Romanian human trafficking. We tell you about it, after the commercials.

She went through her dominoes again looking for the one she needed. She hated dominoes, she had never played until Al taught her. She didn't have any tiles that had a number two on them, she would have to take one from the pile. She sighed as Al used one of her dominoes, she suspected the older woman was cheating. It wasn't possible that they had played six games and she had lost five."Al, tell me again how the fuck you see the tiles if you're blind. With all due respect," she smiled as she snapped one of her checkers into the row on the table. She had three chips left, the old lady had one fucking chip left."I can feel the roughness of the chips girl, didn't they teach you in that white school that Braille exists," she threw her chip on the board and laughed in the girl's face, she had won again, she was the fucking master."Fuck you, you and I both know you have no fucking idea how to read Braille," she rolled her eyes before pronouncing herself with that mocking tone. -Another beer? -the woman just nodded her head. Jessica got up and headed for the kitchen as she thought about how surreal the situation she found herself in was. Playing board games with an elderly blind cocaine addicted woman while waiting for her mutant friends to return from sowing evil (cleaning up trash for TVA). She had no complaints either, she liked the lady, she was kind of like a bad influence grandma. She met Al the same day she met Wade. Wade had opened the door to his apartment after 20 minutes of trying to get the key in, he was so stoned. Normally, his body's regeneration factor eliminated substances in mere minutes, and even though it had been almost a quarter of an hour since he snorted his last drag. He could still feel the tingling in his throat, he was still on the peak. Adding to his intoxication was his excitement, or lust, call it what you will. He had taken that pretty girl home from the skating rink, an absolute victory. He had seen her from afar at the ice rink, it was Christmas and all the families in the neighborhood were getting together to skate. Wade didn't even have enough money to skate, he was just going for chocolate, they sold them at those stands and they were much cheaper than at the supermarket. He had been sad all week and missing Vanessa, he needed sugar, chocolate, gluten and a lot of calories that would hopefully give him another cancer. Most people were teenagers and didn't know how to skate, so she stuck out like a sore thumb. She moved fluidly, with balance, making pretty shapes and moving her legs like she was dancing tangos on ice. Wade swallowed hard, let's be blunt, the first thing he noticed wasn't her eyes, or her hair, or the discipline she must have had to skate like that. The first thing he noticed was that she was hot. She was really hot, dark hair and green eyes with that figure that showed all the strength she had in her legs. Wade was a slut, he was one of those guys they called "simps" on social media. 

He lost sight of her as he waited for the line to move forward, HOW LONG DID IT TAKE TO MAKE A FUCKING CHOCOLATE? He could entertain himself watching that girl, though he felt like a dirty old man, times of need created men in need.  He looked for her with his eyes, but he had missed her completely, well, he turned his attention back to the tail and as if it were a game of terror, she appeared there. His breath caught in his throat from shock, he watched her stand in front of him. Excuse me? Had a teenage girl just cut in front of him in the chocolate line? Yes, he wasn't allowing it."Excuse me, pretty girl, can you get in the fucking line?" He grabbed the woman's forearm so she would turn around to look at him, Jessica was immediately startled, she was wearing her ice skates in her backpack, her shoes untied and her cheeks flushed from exertion and the cold. She was going to apologize quickly, she hadn't meant to steal anyone's spot, she just hadn't seen Wade. Before she could utter herself, a blond man with a grim-faced face stepped in her way."Jessica, I've been calling you all fucking week, what are you doing here?" the man shouted at her in an aggressive tone, his eyes red, almost bulging out of their sockets, he was also gesticulating a lot. It took him a while to become aware of Wade's presence. " Who is this guy, are you such a whore that you're already with someone else?" at that moment things got serious. The strange man grabbed the shoulder opposite to the one Wade was grabbing, Jessica was paralyzed, unable to do anything, she just stammered.

"ALREADY? WE CUT OFF TWO YEARS AGO JOHN, LEAVE ME ALONE" the girl broke free from his grip as she moved closer to the stranger. John again made the pretense of physically confronting Jessica, but at that moment Wade stepped between them."Hey, hey, hey. Put the brakes on, my Aryan friend. I know people of your ideology like to hit girls, but it's not 1930's anymore." The blond boy's eye, flickering with anger, gritted his teeth before yelling again."Listen, I'm sure you're a respectable war veteran who lost his face to save some kitten," he said alluding to the burns on Wade's body, even though he was wearing the hair prosthesis, his face still looked haggard, "But Grandpa, let me talk to my girl."Jessica stood behind Wade, ready to tell him that she wasn't his girl and that if he didn't get away from her she was going to call the police. The older man stepped forward. " Well, I know you're hurting for losing a woman like her, but don't worry, size doesn't matter, you'll find another one that will accept you with that micropenis." Now, kid, let me have a chocolate with your ex girl" the mercenary's words went deep inside the boy. Not even five minutes passed when John connected his knuckles against his nose. It was a hard blow, John had been competing to enter the army, he was not a scrawny man, however, little did he know that he had a mutant in front of him. Wade wrinkled his nose before putting it back on with an unpleasant sound. It was his turn to hit him, but with only a punch to the temple, a punch that managed to knock him out in the middle of the crowd." T-thank you? I guess... How did you do that?" asked Jessica, amazed at the strength of her savior, who had knocked her ex down with a single punch."I throw good rights, don't I? Who is this Nazi anyway? I'm Wade, do you want a chocolate? "Wade rubbed his knuckles as he smiled at Jessica, maybe the man's interruption could even be useful."That was my ex, we broke up a year ago, but he still haunts me."-"It's completely normal, I wouldn't get over a girl as pretty as you either."Wade felt rusty himself, how embarrassing, he had spent so much time crying over Vanessa that he had forgotten how to conquer a woman. 

"Well, if you had a restraining order like him, you might think twice," Jessica laughed, a little flushed and uncomfortable at the same time. She wasn't used to men hitting on her. "Well, the laws are there for me to break them, by the way, I have to confess something, I'm diabetic, I was looking for chocolate to kill myself. But after seeing you, I think I can live another day, do you want a drink? " the girl scanned his whole face while he was talking, his scars could be seen very well up close. Just looking at them hurt. Jessica felt an impulse to run her fingers over the volume of them. They were strangely striking. She thought about his proposal, she had nothing to do, so why not? " Come on, I just hope you're not a hit man who acts without morals because of some kind of trauma and makes jokes about Nazis to cover up his insecurities."

...

They both sat up to rest their backs on the bed frame, Jessica cursed under her breath, that mattress was hard as fuck. She could feel the spring marks on her ribs as Wade pressed her against the bed. Still, it's not like she could focus on it much, she was exhausted, trying to catch her breath, failing pitifully. Wade seemed more serene, as if the sex had brought down the effect of the drugs."Sorry I snuck in the chocolate line"  joked the brunette before deciding to reach for her underwear. -Hey, hey, hey, hey, where are you going? What kind of fuck is this if you don't read me a story afterwards?" immediately jumped a very shocked Wade. He was coming across as a really weird guy, but Jessica liked him, the only thing that had shocked her was the collection of stuffed animals they had had to throw on the floor when they got to bed. "Do you have some kind of problem with your father? ""I just fucked a girl almost 20 years younger than me, are you seriously asking me? Of course I do " Jessica smiled at him as she watched him get dressed, her eyes widened when she saw his unicorn panties. She began to seriously ponder, maybe the few drinks she had had throughout the night had gotten her too drunk to see the dangerous situation she had gotten herself into. Was it worth risking her life by sneaking into a stranger's house for a little mind-blowing sex? Probably, her life had been pretty boring lately. 

"Shouldn't you have asked me my age before you took me to bed? " she said, already dressed and ready to go. Wade got out of bed still in his underwear, he might be completely burned, but the man was strong, you had to admit that. She followed him to the kitchen, where he handed her a glass of water while he drank his as well."I'll be cool as long as the FBI doesn't knock on my door," he rubbed his face tiredly, he really didn't want Jessica to leave, but he'd had enough luck getting her home, he couldn't risk it."I'm going to cancel you on Twitter for having a Leonardo Di Caprio complex" Wade snorted in disgust at the mention of the actor, he was probably Leonardo Di Caprio's biggest enemy, in that house they supported drug use, first degree murder and many more strange things.  But disrespect to Lady gaga was not tolerated. "WADE, THE NEIGHBOR ASSHOLES ARE FUCKING AGAIN. I'M GOING TO TELL THEM TO SHUT UP" an older black lady came out of another room with glasses on in the wee hours of the morning and a cane.  "No Al, uhmm, it's not the neighbors, this is Jessica. Jessica, this is my roommate Al the Blind" it was kind of cute to see him embarrassed, Jessica smiled at the shyness in his voice as he confessed. She herself felt terrible, she didn't know anyone would hear them, she thought she would live alone."Good evening Blind Al-, Al." She regretted almost using the lady's strange nickname, the lady was going to say something about it, but first of all Wade spoke."Before you complain, look what Santa Claus brought me," he held out a bag full of what the girl assumed was cocaine. She had seen Wade go to the bathroom four times and come back with bloodshot eyes. He hadn't said anything so as not to offend, but his jaw movements had made him look like a character in The Walking Dead. 

"Merry Christmas," was all the woman said before retiring to her room. How hard was the life of an addict. "Well, I think I'm going to get going..." Jessica walked slowly towards the door, with Wade following her with a pout. The woman walked through the door, and there was an awkward silence when she was in the hallway outside the apartment, not sure whether to run away or go back inside and lie down on the bed to sleep. "Wait, I know it's weird, but if you want to go another day for a chocolate" he said just before the girl ran out. "Sure, sure, yeah," Jessica stammered nervously, "Wait, weren't you a diabetic?" she asked in confusion as she watched Wade smile and close the door right after he laughed."Eeeeh Merry Christmas, doll."

...

"We're not playing any more games, I'm sick of you cheating," she said as she extended the third beer to Al. Then she took the TV remote control and zapped, Wade had to hire some streaming service, she was tired of watching the TV store. 

"What a generation of wimps, you can't stand anything..." she complained in a typical old woman's phrase. Jessica took a sip of beer, with no other topic of conversation to bring up.  A light bulb went off in her head. 

"Al, is it just me or have Wade and Logan been gone a long time," she frowned as she thought about it. Maybe she was drinking too much. 

"You're really hooked on those two, aren't you," Al teased her, Jessica wondered if behind those glasses their eyes were open or closed. If they were directed at her or not. Even if she couldn't see? Did she feel their presence somehow? 

"You know my relationship with Wade didn't come to anything, we only slept together a couple of times..." sighed the brunette taking the opportunity to pet Dogpool, who had crawled pathetically to her lap while his owner was away. Wade had that dog in his arms ALL DAY LONG. It could be considered animal harassment. 

"I'm not so much talking about the big mouth fucker, I meant Logan, I've been listening to you at fucking 4 in the morning laughing along with that deep annoying Canadian voice"

"So? You heard me laughing, not moaning. We're just friends, just like with Wade. " she said, opening her eyes, though she didn't know why, because his companion couldn't see me.

“Don't fuck with me, you don't talk to him like you talk to Wade's asshole.”

“It doesn't make any sense, you're using too much, I'm going to open the door, it's probably them." She warned that she was leaving so as not to leave the poor blind woman talking to herself, it wouldn't be the first time it happened. 

“Password? You're late for our movie night..." Jessica sang with false melancholy in her voice, opening the door just enough to show the left side of her face. However, who she found outside was neither Logan or Wade, two men dressed in jeans and black shirts pushed the door open with a bang. Hitting her head hard in the process. One of them took advantage of the woman's dumbfounded expression and kneed her in the forehead. 

After that, Jessica saw all black.