#that tag doesn’t seem taken? but call it whatever

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

he’s the adult supervision, he’s the voice of reason, he’s a cringefail king, it’s Captain Haddock! Quite a few people asked for a timeline post for Haddock after I posted one of Tintin.

I found the whole idea of the Haddock family curse to be very interesting, and the implications behind it to be pretty dark... cw for alcoholism and childhood abuse. Let me know if you need anything tagged.

To figure out the timeline the evidence for Haddock’s age I found was in an animated adaptation of Explorers on the Moon where Haddock mentions he has around forty years of sailing experience. I doubt he was running around on ships as a newborn so that places his age during the canon comics at around 60ish, give or take a few years, which in my timeline places his childhood during the late Victorian era!

Left to right, top to bottom:

Child - Archibald Haddock had a pretty rough childhood and family life. The legacy of the “Haddock family curse” weighs heavily on him, and so does the alcoholism that runs generationally. His father is often drunk, taking his anger and frustration out on Archibald. Fully believing the family curse, Archibald’s father drills the idea that he is destined for failure into his head. 

Archibald’s only respite is his grandfather, who tells him stories of Sir Francis Haddock and other tall tales from the sea. His grandfather also would take him out on fishing trips, the lochs and the sea being his refuge. 

Teenager - It’s the 1880s and Archibald is left aimless after his grandfather passes away, passing the time by hiding from his father and drinking during the day. He fully believes he has no real future and lets himself get swept up by whatever will come along next.

Young Adult - Archibald decides to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps and becomes a sailor, feeling at home at sea. He cleans up somewhat after befriending George Chester as the two train on the same merchant vessel. Chester drags a reluctant Archibald along into all kinds of crazy antics, with Archibald wanting to stay on the straight and narrow.

Archibald is drafted during the First World War, serving in the Grand Fleet. He is stationed at the Orkney and Shetland Islands with Chester.

Canon - After the war Archibald relapses on his addiction again, but is able to hold onto work in the merchant fleet. He eventually becomes a captain of a merchant vessel where his mental health issues are taken advantage of in the Crab with the Golden Claws. 

Seeing his crew mutiny, kidnap (and attempt to murder) a boy on his ship was a major wake up call - Haddock is now imbued with a sense of responsibility for Tintin (even if Tintin seems to handle things better than Haddock!). He doesn’t understand what Tintin sees in him but he’ll be damned if he proves him wrong. He’s not above calling him an idiot when the time is right though.

Post Canon - After Tintin loses his job Haddock does his best to support him.  He uses his wealth to further causes he believes in, donating money to artist collectives and scientific research that was repressed by fascist governments. Before Belgium even joins the Second World War he and the Marlinspike team proactively go out and foil various Nazi plots. Marlinspike Hall is firebombed by the Nazis in retaliation, but after the war Haddock funds various housing cooperative projects. Coming from a working class background he hasn’t forgotten the hardships a lot of people face.

Elderly - At this point Haddock is secure in his found family. He’s been living with his partner Ramo Nash, and has taken up various arts and crafts as hobbies. Looking back, he never expected to be a father, but is incredibly proud of Tintin. He never officially adopts him as a part of him still fears the family curse (plus they both agree “Haddock” as a name definitely does not suit Tintin)!

[honestsycrets]

enfócate ii: non-negotiable

❛ pairing | tutor!miguel x student!reader

❛ type | explicit

❛ summary | miguel has to choose his battles: insist on removing peter from your life or get what he wants.

❛ tags | schoolgirl au, spanish tutor!miguel, Miguel's jealousy, slight obsessive qualities, fuck buddies, fuck boy Miguel, mention of physical assault, hurt peter, mention of violence, breakups, non-penetrative smut, slightly unknowledgeable reader, silly playtime.

❛ sy's notes | masterlist here. please READ THE TAGS. on this fic particularly, i seem to encounter people who trigger themselves.

Miguel had many girls.

None gave a shit when it came down to it. They talked a good game over text messages and phone calls, tried their best to please him sexually, and snuck into their bed. They might even have lunch or dinner with him. Very rarely this.

He was doing his notes that Monday afternoon, scribbling away when his phone lit up. He flicked a look, realizing it was your photo that popped up. Not the many cum stained photos he had in his phone in your own folder. Those were not safe for any of his bosses to see, but one of those sweet photos that Peter’s taken.

Miguel isn’t stupid. He knows a love-sick puppy when he sees one. One look at Peter’s socials reveals many things: volunteering with a high school club to teach photography, stupid little flowers that he finds gorgeous, a number of subjects for his fine arts degrees, and on Sunday-- you. Sitting on a chunky rock in a beautiful dress in a stream, the sun bouncing off your strawberry-dusted cheeks. He has to do something about Peter.

“¿Qué pasó, Princesa? I’m finishing my notes.”

“I have something for you,” you answered. “Come outside.”

“For me?” Miguel tucks his phone between his ear and shoulder, closing his manilla folder that held a time-sensitive report. Miguel grabbed his keys and wallet, heading for the door. Everyone else was gone for the day, but Miguel did his homework in the lab.

“Sí,” you laughed. “¿Quién más?”

“Tch,”

At least those Spanish lessons are paying off. Miguel rushes down the three flights of stairs in record time and pops out the back door. You pushed past the archways into the beautiful gardens that usually obscure pedestrians from staring at scientists as they quickly woof down their food and bolt back inside to deal with whatever piteous work they had. Miguel slips on his dark sunglasses, turning his arms one over another. You have time to stop and appreciate nature, more than he could say about even himself.

“Princesa,” he hangs up the phone and takes a few steps to the tables where you were, twirling around the scent of fragrant orange blossoms. He bites back an amused smile, his voice picking up in a humored lilt. “What are you doing?”

“Dancing!” you hopped on one stone table, then the other.

“Don’t fall,” Miguel snatches you short of falling off the third table, setting your ass down with a mindful pull of your dark burgundy skirt over your thighs. “Why did you call?”

You supply him with a wicker picnic basket that was hooked over your elbow, pulling open the flap. The warm smell of meat and corn greeted his nose, finally shaking loose the smile that he had suppressed since you first called him.

“I brought you dinner.”

He blinks.

“Me?”

“You said you had to study for your test,” you looked up at the red brick building, “It’s better if you don’t get distracted by going out for food.”

He doesn’t have the heart to tell you that he usually brings his own food, regimented as he is. Miguel sets his hands on your hips and watches as you pull free whatever it was you made him. You set aside the basket and offer him the glass container and a bag of tamales, enveloped in their warm little husks.

“Menudo. And these are tamales con carne. My familia makes them every year. I brought them just for you.”

“You didn’t have to,” he murmured.

“But I wanted to.” You reached for the envelope collar of his lab coat, smoothing it down against his chest. “Besides, every one of my primas do it for their men. I can’t keep just bringing food home for Peter.”

It’s not that serious, he wants to say. There’s something soft about the way you recount it to him. He can’t stand to go against what you’re saying and instead sets the food back in its home, tucking your hair behind your ear. He traces the shell to your lobes, flicking his finger against the dripping earrings.

“Come upstairs.”

“No,” you answer quickly, leaning up to place a meager little kiss on his cheek. “You should be studying and if I go up there…”

He’d definitely get in trouble bringing his fuck buddy up to his office. Still, it might be worth it.

“I won’t get anything done,” he finishes. “Give me a real goodbye kiss.”

“You didn’t like that kiss?”

“It was a sad kiss.”

Peter was an essential part of your life.

He was closer than a friend if such things spaces between friendship and relationships existed. You supposed that in the absence of romantic relationships, friendships were the next best thing. Who else, but family, would support you? You nibbled on a hunk of toast with sweetened cream cheese and frozen berries ala Peter, whose head draped over your thigh. Your fingers combed through his thin brown hair, twirling bits around your index finger as he lay with a full belly and fuller thoughts.

“Sooo, how did it go?” Peter asked, staring at fluffy clouds that whirled by that perfectly cozy afternoon. “Did my super awesome plan go perfectly?”

You’re too shy to talk about it.

“Aw it did, didn’t it? I knew it!” Peter reached up, tickling his fingers through the ribbons of a pearl headband you wore that day. “Is he good? I hear all kinds of stuff about him.”

“Peter,” blood rushed to your face. “We haven’t…”

“Haven’t what?” he asked. “Ohhh. Oh. You haven’t fucked him? I thought…”

“We did-- just not that,” you patted his warm pink cardigan, flapping your hand down. “We haven’t you know--”

“Had sex?”

Peter could be too much sometimes. Today was one of those aggravating days. You settled down your hunk of toast, bobbing your head in a nod, eager to explain without making the words. “Just… oral. I couldn’t Peter, I’m not ready yet.”

“I know,” Peter’s tone goes soft. “But he can’t be happy about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every time Miguel has a new girl, he makes sure to fuck them as soon as possible. Keeps ‘em connected, or something, or that’s what Dana says.”

“Who’s Dana?” you chirped after him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You… looked so sad seeing him with someone else. I couldn’t… break your heart like that."

“You couldn’t tell me, but you could kiss me?”

“It was a nice kiss. Isn’t it about time for him to stomp past here?”

You wonder what Peter might mean by that. He slid his eyes shut, humming with one long leg thrown over the other. About time for his afternoon nap until you shook him awake because of your sore arms or back-- whichever came first. He slides his eyes shut, going to sleep under the feeling of your fingers twirling through his hair.

“You’re impossible, Peter.”

Peter was always right. You spotted your muscular man walking past the hedges, in a clean white shirt that obscured nothing about his muscles. You thought he would do what he usually did: wave, move on, talk to whatever whore of the day was on his arm.

He was walking with a girl who was tall and lithe. She made no moves to cling onto him as he slipped down the slight grassy slope where you sat with Peter, reviewing the intricacies of corrugated pottery before class. Your heart soared in your chest as he crouched down, a hand on his knee, scanning Peter’s face.

“I thought we talked about this.”

You didn’t expect those to be the first words out his lips, but lo, they were. He regarded Peter the same way he might an annoying animal with their favourite human, with blatant distaste and a passing hint of jealousy. You didn’t understand why.

“About…”

“Other men.”

“Peter isn’t another man. He’s non-negotiable.”

Miguel’s thick eyebrows pushed together as he processed the blatant line in the sand that you drew. You weren’t about to give up your dear friend, picnic dates at lunch, or photography shoots on the weekend for a man you sucked off. No matter how good he tasted and how thick his muscles were, crouched with those wild chocolate eyes.

“I’ll stay away from other men-- but not him. You take it or leave it.”

Miguel worked his jaw, clearly debating on the value of fighting you then and there. Miguel didn’t negotiate. It was never in his nature.

“Miggy,” called the woman on the sidewalk. She wore a dark bob, a streak of purple spiraling along her head. She has a terribly squeaky tone, one that is full of ire from having to say anything at all. “The samples.”

“This isn’t over, Princesa.”

He relented. Not because he wanted to, but because time was undoubtedly limited. You were pretty sure it was.

Miguel is breaking another rule. Not only does he glaze over Peter in your life, but he brings you to his apartment for tutoring. He’d deal with Peter after he secured you. You were proving one of the most difficult of his women to keep.

Come over, it'll be private, he claimed in a text message. It’s absolutely not to peel away your soft pale pink panties nestled up against your cunt, drag them down your hips, and onto the floor. He’ll keep those.

It’s not because the desk in the study room would do nothing to obscure his sinewy frame, shoving your legs apart and dragging you to the very edge of the seat.

“Take your vocabulary quiz.” You nibbled on your pencil as Miguel buried his head between your thighs, biting down on your thick thighs to encourage you to spread your legs wider. You breathed out an elongated hiss at another bite to your opposing thigh.

“Pero, Miguel-- how…” you murmured, making the mistake of looking between your legs. Miguel met your gaze, possessed with the smell of your body. You greet him with a choked-out groan of his name the second his mouth connected with your pussy. He knew you would taste sweet.

“It’s very simple. You start writing,” The quiz should be easy. A simple finish the sentences with the right word and vocabulary word box to boot. It was terribly easy-- if not for Miguel’s tongue suckling the juices that dripped from your core, you might have already finished it. It was hard-- too hard-- to focus on anything but Miguel’s warm tongue prodding your cunt, his fingers sliding within your hole. Miguel urges his finger around the rim. “Preferably something in Spanish.”

His tongue slid from your entrance to your clitoral hood. Another finger joins the first, twisting and pulling apart your impossibly tight hole. He just knew you would feel amazing. He suckled along your lips, suckling them wet as you struggled to read and make any sense of what was on the page. It wasn’t going to happen.

“Miguel, Miguel--” Your voice drew out, it had been so long since you had a partner. “Dame más.”

“There you go,” Miguel hummed, closing his mouth around your puffy clit in worship for the admittance. The pencil tumbled free from your fingers. Without thinking, your hand buried into Miguel’s silky dark brown hair, rolling your hips onto his face to pursue an orgasm. He suckled it fat and needy, his fingers curving in your body. With a soft sob, the pleasure caused you to gush messily all over his fingers. Your fingers knotted up in his hair, riding his face until you’re left with nothing but the cozy haze of your pleasure.

You don’t know how you’re going to pass this stupid language requirement now.

Miguel kisses you, soft and sweet, gentle and light. You taste yourself on his tongue and worry about the way you taste. Miguel doesn’t seem to have a single complaint. He grabs your hands, helping you to stand upright, even though your legs were as stable as a newborn giraffe’s. With your body against Miguel’s, you could feel the outline of his cock nice and hard, tenting his sweatpants.

“Should we take this to bed?”

“I…” you asked, shyly so. “I’m not ready for that. Is that… okay?”

Coño. It’s not the answer he hoped for, but Miguel can be patient. He dips his head down and resigns himself to a night of jerking himself off. He had been looking forward to today, fucking his new girl. He steeled himself from any reaction that may inch across his face and offered you his hand.

“Claro que sí, princesa,” Miguel finds himself saying. It’s not that you can’t retract the consent, but he knows that you have some shyness to do so. He rather honesty over concern for his ego. The session had at least been an hour-- with Miguel’s focus fading at the sight of your cute little pink dress. “We can stop here. You can take the test as homework. Have it done by next time.”

“But… you’re hard.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve jerked off,” Miguel shrugs off the thought. It wasn’t how he imagined today going, but it wasn’t-- Miguel dropped his gaze down to his waistband. Your fingers tingle over the white ties, pull them loose.

“I want to take care of you,” you shoved his sweats onto the floor, pooling around his slender feet. Miguel’s cock bobbed in the cool air, impossibly hard. You walked him back from his desk to his bed. He falls back on it, his big dick kissing his muscular stomach. “Lay back.”

He found himself eagerly complying. You snatched the lube he keeps on his desk, likely knowing that he kept it there for just this reason. Miguel likes to think that his sexual needs are usually met-- but sometimes, they aren’t. You shoved his legs apart and climbed onto the bed, gliding your hands up the inside of his thighs. A warmth filled his lower belly as you popped open the plastic bottle and drizzled it over his cock. The cool liquid made him flinch.

“It’s not that cold,” you asked, a tease on your lips.

“You find it funny? Let me pour some on you, then,” Miguel remarked, his gaze following your fingers. You gripped him, soothing your palms over the top of his cock and back down, milking him like with your soft hands. You spend particular time smoothing over his root, tracing his veins up to the tip. Your thumb massaged his slit, smoothing a soft bead of fluid that gathered there.

“Do you like it?” you asked.

“It’s nice.”

He hummed and lolled his head back onto his pillow. You met him where he was, your lips against his, exchanging a soft and wet kiss. A groan escaped his chest, clearly appreciating your affection. You want him to love it, need it, and crave it at the end of the day. Maybe you could not do all the things the other women could, but there was something about the way you looked and touched him that he knew he could not easily replicate.

“Miggy. How do I make it better?” You asked, more of a whine than anything.

"Better?" Miguel reached up, cupping your breast with one hand. He gives you a squeeze, urging your nipple to harden underneath the fabric. His hazy eyes turn to the other breast, repeating the treatment. You nodded as he worked-- and it's cute how much you want to make him happy.

“Let me fuck your tits. Get on your back, take the dress off,” Miguel looked toward the bottle of lube. He finally has you naked. Every inch you peeled away revealed a little more precious skin that he’s craved to see all week. You slipped off the dress, then your bra, laying back on the sheets. The lube is lukewarm, but when it hit your warm skin, it caused you to flinch too.

“Oh, now it’s cold,” Miguel teased. You smeared the wet lube over your breasts, pushing them together just right. Warmth bit your cheeks as Miguel mounted you, either muscular thigh on the side of your ribs. Between his large body cradling your breasts and his eyes on yours, he realized that you were terribly shy. He rubs the head of his cock against your nipples before sliding between your breasts. “You’re so shy.”

“I’m sorry,” you nodded. It becomes clear that as much as you trust him-- there is some barrier to complete trust. Miguel began to thrust, his hips cantering in the warm, wet lubricant. You could appreciate every day he spent at the gym, making a physique that other men could only aspire to. He was so thick-- so handsome. His breath came out in sharp little puffs as he worked, hands coming on top of yours for both stability and the opportunity to touch you. His fingers slid between the empty gaps of your own, eyes closed, face taut with pleasure.

You knew, as much as he knew, what he was thinking of. His cock wrecking your pussy for the first time because no matter how many times you jerked him off, sucked his cock, or let him fuck your tits, he’d always wonder. He was certain you wanted it too, wanted to feel what it would be like to be under him-- pounded pretty. Your head rose to watch his cockhead peep out between your breasts. Every sweeping motion was rewarded with a little lick, earning a hiss of your name. His measured features hardened.

“Coño,” Miguel cursed as the thick ropes of his cum coated your tits. He forced himself forward, cum pumped over your collarbone and neck, dripping into your hair. The grip on your breast was unrelenting, while the other jerked himself through the bolts of aftershock. To his surprise, you gathered his cum between your fingers and suckled it, tasting his warm salty fluid on your tongue. He watched you, enraptured, as you cleaned yourself-- then went after his softening dick, suckling the spent seed there.

“Beautiful,” he murmured as he pulled away. You followed, inching up his chest to kiss him. He tasted himself, finding that he liked how he tasted much more when it was on your tongue. “Stay the night.”

He never asked anyone to stay the night. It was a flagrant violation of another rule that all the others knew he had. Miguel was open to having another roommate. A pretty girl to fuck and keep. She just had to be the right kind of girl. He has a feeling you’re that girl, nestling between his arm and chest, holding him close.

He just had to fuck you first to find out.

The thing about having multiple girls is-- his interest wanes.

He never knows the exact cause. Only that he’s distracted with you. Perhaps it’s your resistance to letting him actually fuck you. Not eat you out, not have his dick sucked, not fuck your tits, but fuck you. He’s thought about how a hundred different ways. Against the museum, in his bed, in the library, his private office-- It encompasses much of his attention. You were at Peter’s art showing Friday night, which was how he ended up here with Dana, yet again.

She wants to see this stupidly romantic movie that no one else is really into from the looks of the empty seats. Miguel isn’t invested either, his mind is racing with thoughts of someone else. Her lips are wrapped around his dick in the dark movie theatre, he goes soft. Soft-- Miguel rarely goes soft, he’s looking for a hole to fuck into. Apparently, this one is no good. He eventually sighs, pushing on her head to remove her from his cock.

“What is it, Miggy?”

A balance of light and shadows highlight her face as she sits there, looking positively aggravated with her failed Friday night date. Miguel knows that he can’t perform like this. He glances down at the near-empty theatre and itches the back of his neck, tucking himself back into his jeans.

“I’m not horny,” he murmured, folding his arms one over the other. He’s surprised she can hear him over the beaming sound of the movie theatre. She does, shoving his shoulder in protest over his shitty performance.

“You’re usually horny,” she bites back.

“Then maybe it’s you.”

The impulse to take it out on Dana is out before he can control it. She flicks her head at him, her slight eyes popping wide open. She searches Miguel’s flat features for an apology, ruffling her fluffy purple bangs away from her eyes. He doesn’t give her one.

“Oh, now you don’t want me? Ever since you’ve started seeing that teashop bitch,” Miguel perked his brow up, “You don’t have time for me. What? Is she that good?”

Tea shop bitch. It’s been over a week of trying to get you to fuck him at multiple intervals. He hasn’t been able to. Not for a lack of trying, but your shy deflection and offers to do things like-- pick an orange off the trees by his building, walk around on a date, or just touch one another. He tried to understand: you weren’t a girl that ran out to date many men. In fact, he’s pretty sure that he is the outlier in your sex life.

“You’re right,” he says. “We should stop fucking.”

“What?”

“You’re too attached,” Miguel stood up, his hands forming tight balls in his pockets. “And I’m just not that interested.”

“When did that change? A month ago? Miguel?”

He doesn’t have time for her stupid possessiveness, her obsession with keeping her slot as his default bitch. Other women told him all about Dana-- how she tended to show up where they were, bumping into them, or the rumors she spread in the department. He jots down the stairs, ignoring her squealing call of his name. The issue with Dana was this: she loved him far too much and he loved her far too little. As with so many of his once-were fuckbuddies, it was better for Miguel to go on his way.

Or, it would have been. He received a concerning message the next day.

I don’t want to see you again.

It’s from your number. Any attempted calls go straight to voicemail. Logically, he should have been able to count it as a loss and move on with any of the other women he had in his life. Illogically, Miguel wants an explanation. If he can’t get one from you, he knows just who will give him one.

Jess already knows what it’s about from the look behind her yellowed sunglasses. Her arms are turned one over the other, clearly having some sort of reservation from this meeting alone. She seems pissed off at him too despite the fact that he has no idea what the fuck he did. He only knows that you’ve virtually disappeared from his life.

“Are you going to tell me?” Miguel asks.

The crispy bagel sits forgotten before him, alongside the coffee that plumes wisps of heat into the air. Jess flicks her eye down to the steam, then back to Miguel.

“I told you to leave that girl alone in the first place.”

“You also set us up. I should know why she left.”

Jess looked off to the wind wisping through the trees, then to everybody that walked on by. There was an undeniable truth to what he said, her involvement was obvious and disconcerting. Whatever had happened, he deserves an explanation. You weren’t going to make this easy to talk to you, but he was intent. So long as he knew the depth of your irritation with him.

“Someone burned Peter. Something about… what was it? Stealing her man?”

He hates that he doesn’t have to ask who.

"Is he hurt?"

"Bad enough," Jess answers. "Y'know how special he is to her."

He's not sure he does.

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen: The Hills

Plot: When Y/n doesn’t show up to a staff party, Jamie takes it upon himself to investigate why.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: language, mention of child neglect/abuse, one dirty joke

A/N: I did not expect to have this one done so soon after the last, but it came together super fast so I’m just running with it before I overthink it.

This chapter’s a bit more inside Jamie’s head, something that will happen more as we round the turn on the series. Richmond Hill is an actual place and it looks gorgeous and super peaceful. The perfect setting. Hope y’all enjoy, and let me know if you’d like to be tagged 🌈

—————

Every few months, the AFC Richmond staff had a cook-out. The entirety of Nelson Road was invited from star player to security guard. It was a great way to help facilitate the family atmosphere they prided themselves on. Like a lot of things, it had only been instituted after Ted arrived.

Most of the players were sat together, animatedly conversing over foldout tables and food definitely not permitted on their strict diets. Higgins and Beard were double teaming the grill. Ted, ever the social butterfly, was flitting from person to person, not satisfied till he’d made sure he’d greeted everybody. Keeley was absent, still not feeling up to a party in the wake of the video leak, but Rebecca had assured whoever asked after her that she was doing better.

Jamie was sat with Isaac and Dani, talking about the upcoming game that weekend. Every thirty seconds, like clockwork, he’d glance up at the entrance to the pitch, expecting to see someone walk through. Someone who should’ve been there by now.

He slipped his phone out of his pocket. No text. No missed call.

Jamie frowned, this wasn’t normal.

He got up from the table, knowing that if he showed any concern about where she was in front of his teammates, they wouldn’t hesitate to tease him. Ask questions. Why did he need to know? Why did it matter so much to him that Y/n hadn’t shown up? Jamie didn’t care to deal with any speculation, his mind was singularly focused on figuring out where she was.

As Ted was at one of the tables, filling a plate, Jamie grabbed an empty one and sidled up to him.

“Hey, Jamie,” Ted greeted.

“Hey,” he replied.

“Havin’ fun?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jamie muttered, “Couple people missin’.”

Ted glanced around as if he hadn’t noticed, “Yeah, Sam mentioned he needed to be at the restaurant tonight.”

Jamie looked back at their group, realizing Sam wasn’t there. Huh. He should have noticed that.

“Oh, yeah,” he nodded, moving with Ted down the line while not taking any food. He tried to sound as casual as he could, “Y/n ain’t here either.”

By now, Ted was fully aware that Jamie and Y/n were connected at the hip. He knew better than to comment on it, but he wasn’t at all surprised by Jamie’s clumsily concealed concern.

“Yeah, I knocked on her door before I left,” Ted explained, “See if she wanted to walk over together. She said she wasn’t feelin’ well.”

That only worried Jamie further. Not because he thought she was actually unwell, but because he’d just talked to her the night before. She’d been fine.

“Ah,” he said.

“I’m sure she’ll bounce back before the match,” Ted smiled, reassuring Jamie with a pat on the back.

Jamie stayed, twirling the empty plate in his hands. Y/n wouldn’t lie for no reason, something had to have been wrong. And he couldn’t ignore the tightening in his chest because of it.

——————

Y/n laid on her living room floor, her back against the rug and her feet resting on the couch. For whatever reason, the floor seemed like the best place to be when feeling miserable.

She knew she was letting people down by not being at the picnic. Lying to Ted, something she could do so easily a few months ago, had nearly made her wince when he knocked on her door an hour prior. But to explain why she wasn’t going would have taken much longer than simply calling on the anxiety-provoked stomach ache she had and claiming she wasn’t up to being social. She could spend the evening by herself and give herself a clean bill of health the next morning.

The first sound of something hitting her window she mistook for a very large bug and didn’t flinch.

The second one got her to lift an eyebrow, glancing over at the glass.

Another one and she dragged herself to her feet, pulling back the curtains to find the culprit. She felt stupid for not banking on the one person who surely would have figured her out.

Jamie rolled his remaining pebbles in his hand, waiting as Y/n unlocked and opened her window. He’d known if she was in a mood, she wouldn’t be answering her door.

“You’re not at the party,” she called down.

“You’re not sick,” Jamie squinted up at her.

“You don’t know that,” Y/n replied, she barely had the strength to argue with him but damn it if she didn’t try.

Jamie frowned at her, “Seemed fine last night.”

In her stupor, she’d forgotten that they’d been texting less than 24 hours before.

“Things…” Y/n shrugged, “Develop quickly.”

“Right,” Jamie sighed, somehow having her lie to his face was worse than not knowing where she was, “You tell me what’s goin’ on, or I start throwing rocks again.”

Y/n didn’t particularly want company, but Jamie was…Jamie. He wasn’t going anywhere.

She relented with an exhausted smile, walking away from the window. Jamie headed for the front door.

Y/n unlocked the door and trudged back up the stairs, Jamie entering just as she made it back up. She retook her place on the floor, they were long past the point in their friendship where she had to play hostess.

Jamie stood at the top of the stairs, unable to see Y/n. He stepped into the space further and peeked over the couch, spotting her hair.

He chuckled, “The fuck’re you on the floor for?”

“It’s my thinking spot,” Y/n replied, keeping her eyes closed.

“Hm,” Jamie smiled, trying not to laugh at her when something was clearly wrong, “Well, if you are dyin’, maybe tell me now. It’ll be a bitch tryin’ to replace ya. Keeley’ll have to start right away.”

Y/n sighed, “I’ll live.”

Jamie waited a few seconds to see if she’d explain further. When she didn’t, he crossed the distance between them and took a seat on the couch.

“So…” he pursed his lips, “You gonna tell me what’s goin’ on?”

Y/n’s vision blurred as she looked up at the ceiling. Since she’d woken up, any move she made felt thick, like trudging through mud.

“It’s my dad’s birthday.”

Jamie blinked a few times, the wash of concern morphing into understanding. Of course she’d lied, of course she was on the floor. Of course.

“And as much as I enjoy watching Beard and Higgins argue over the correct way to grill a steak,” Y/n sighed, “Didn’t exactly feel like being around people.”

She didn’t need to explain herself. Jamie and Y/n had seen each other through most of their terrible family anniversaries. They rarely mentioned them, either their time spent together conveniently fell on the dates or they invited the other one out for no particular reason. This was one of the first times Y/n had actually told Jamie what day it was, and that meant it was bad.

Thus, it had to be treated the same as the others.

Jamie exhaled deeply, “Where d’you keep your blankets?”

Y/n didn’t say anything, simply pointing down the hall where her linen closet was.

Jamie got off the couch, patting Y/n’s knee as he did and headed down the hallway. Per her excessive organizational skills, all the towels and blankets were meticulously folded.

“Got one you don’t mind getting dirty?” Jamie called.

Y/n grimaced, “There’s, like, ten different ways to take that question.”

“Not that, ya pervert,” Jamie said as he reached for the top shelf. He found a faded and stained blanket that fit the bill.

Y/n hadn’t moved an inch when Jamis came back. He gently hit her leg with the blanket, “Get up.”

Groaning, Y/n opened her eyes. “What?”

“Get up, get your shoes.”

“I’m not going to the picnic,” Y/n rubbed her eye.

“No, you’re not,” Jamie agreed, “We’re goin’ somewhere else.”

Y/n exasperatedly sighed, “Jamie-“

“If it doesn’t make you feel better, we’ll leave,” Jamie held his palms up, “Promise.”

There weren’t a lot of people Y/n would have listened to in that moment. Jamie was probably the only one, in fact. There was an unspoken trust between them.

Y/n pushed herself into a sitting position, giving him one more disgruntled glance, before standing up. Jamie pulled her the last bit before heading for the stairs.

Friday evening in Richmond was busy and Y/n and Jamie took purposeful, long strides to his car. The faster they moved, the less of a chance of someone recognizing Jamie.

“Okay,” Y/n sighed once she was in the passenger seat, “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” Jamie answered, backing out of his parking spot.

“You’re gonna drag me out of my house and not even tell me where you’re taking me?”

Jamie popped his lips, “Yep.”

Y/n shook her head in annoyance and looked out the window, watching as her home disappeared.

The silent drive lasted ten minutes, ending with Jamie pulling them into an older parking lot. Nothing but trees and grass sprawled out before them.

Jamie locked his car and set off towards the greenery, “Come on.”

Y/n followed, making her displeasure known on her face, if not her mouth.

Jamie led them down a path that quickly changed to an incline, growing steeper and steeper.

“Why is it every time you take me somewhere,” Y/n took a deep breath, “It involves exercise?”

Showing off, Jamie took the last few steps backwards. “Call it payback for training sessions,” he smirked.

It had a been a couple weeks since Roy had invited her, but Y/n was owed a fair share of crap.

“Welcome,” Jamie spread his arms out, “To Richmond Hill.”

Trying to catch her breath, Y/n stared out at the expanse. There were walking trails and thick oak trees spread everywhere. In the near distance, she could see gardens. The sky, beginning to turn all the pastels of a sunset palette, was blending with the forest green tops of the trees. It was beautiful.

“Wow,” Y/n whispered.

Jamie nudged her with his elbow, smiling, and unrolled the blanket. He spread it out across the grass and gestured for Y/n to sit down.

“So you went the whole ‘Fresh Air and Nature’ approach,” Y/n said, sinking down onto the blanket.

“Just needed to get you out of that sad lil’ flat,” Jamie took the spot next to her.

Y/n scoffed, “You picked that sad little flat.”

“Yeah, but,” Jamie stretched out and laid back, “It ain’t the flat’s fault its renter was bringing it down.”

He felt better when he was able to get a laugh, however meek, out of Y/n. It meant she wasn’t totally beyond his help.

“And now you’re gonna ask me if I want to talk about it,” Y/n said, fidgeting with her fingers. The habit had only been made worse by watching Jamie play with his hands so often.

“Nope,” Jamie shook his head.

Y/n hummed and nodded cooly. “Was the party fun before you left at least?”

“Yeah,” Jamie shrugged, “It was fine. When I was leaving, Coach was just startin’ to tell those dad jokes.”

Ted was a treasure trove of puns and some truly awful jokes. “What’s the one he loves?” Y/n tried to recall.

Jamie could recite it from memory, “‘What did the mama llama say to the baby llama as they prepared for a picnic?’”

They hit the punchline in sync, “‘Alpaca lunch,’” and descended into tired laughter.

“That got old the second or third time,” Y/n smiled down at her lap.

“Or the first,” Jamie replied.

Y/n sighed and stared down the hill, there were shockingly few people enjoying what surely was a busy place any other time.

“How’d you know about this place?”

“Come here every once in and a while,” Jamie answered, his hands folded behind his head, “Good for trainin’. Good for just…quiet.”

She had to agree. If one needed to do any contemplating, this would be the place to do it.

The silence was encouraging. “I haven’t spoken to my dad,” Y/n started, bitterly smiling at the air, “In a year, I think.”

While it wasn’t totally surprising in Y/n’s situation, the statement itself was. Jamie raised his brows, “Fuck.”

“It wasn’t even a holiday or anything,” Y/n continued, “They’d just found some old toys in the garage. Told me they’d pack ‘em up and send them.”

“Isn’t it a fuck ton of money to ship here from the States?” Jamie asked.

Y/n chortled and picked at a piece of grass, “Shows how badly they wanted to get my stuff out of their house.”

Jamie ran a hand over his face, he couldn’t relate. His mum had kept his childhood room exactly the way it had been when he moved out.

“When was the last time you spoke to your dad?” Y/n dared to ask, she wanted to feel a little less lonely.

“Haven’t,” Jamie answered plainly, “Not since Wembley.”

Y/n hugged her legs to her chest, “Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t. What about before then?”

“Before that,” he sighed, “Only when he wanted tickets or somethin’.”

Jamie tried not to think about his father, not unless it could be used as fuel to play. Proving his dad wrong was one of the things that had made him great, if not the thing. But even the great Jamie Tartt couldn’t banish the ever-persistant voice in his head telling him that he wasn’t good enough. That he was only good for what he good get out of him.

“If you could have a releationship with ‘em,” he ventured to ask, “With your mum…would you?”

Y/n looked over her shoulder to meet his gaze, but he had unfolded one arm to fiddle with his ring as he usually did during their more serious talks. “Like, if they wanted me?”

“If they wanted to talk,” Jamie added, “Wanted to be a part of your life.”

It was a loaded question. There was hurt in both potential answers. Y/n had found life on her own, a life she rather enjoyed. But the only reason that life had come to be was because she needed out of America, away from her parents. On the other hand, she felt like a child on special days like her dad’s birthday. She’d have given anything to fly home, hug her father and sing him ‘Happy Birthday’ alongside her mom and Caylee.

She lived in the nicest possible version of the worst outcome, but she’d have died for even the crappiest of the best one.

“I don’t know,” she answered, “Truthfully, I don’t think there’s any hope for us. Caylee’s off with her life, I have mine…” Y/n squinted into the distance, “And they have theirs. I think we’re past the point of no return.”

Jamie wasn’t trying to get her to come to any conclusion. He was just curious. He’d thrown his dad out of his life several times, but he’d always gotten back in somehow.

“What about you?” Y/n asked.

He blew out a gentle breath, there’d always be a part of Jamie that wanted a relationship with his dad. The version of the man he’d wished for as a child.

“Nah,” Jamie replied, “Don’t think so. Think we hit that point when I decked him.”

Y/n rested her chin on her knees, “That would do it. Do you regret it?”

“What? Hittin’ him?” Jamie waited until Y/n nodded, “Fuck no. I just…” He looked down at his ring again, “Just hate that I had to.”

The words were sour in Jamie’s mouth. They didn’t belong there. No child should ever be in the position to say they landed one on their parent. Worse, that they didn’t regret it.

“Do you ever regret leaving America?” Jamie asked, his eyes tracing Y/n’s profile, “Comin’ here?”

“No,” Y/n answered, feeling a few tears beginning to well. “I just hate that I had to.”

They sat in silence after that, letting the cool evening breeze hit their open wounds. Neither of them were good at being vulnerable, their friendship had forced them to become comfortable with it. But still, it hurt to hurt.

Eventually, when the sun began to melt into deeper shades of pinks and oranges, Y/n laid back on the blanket. Without looking, she reached between her and Jamie’s bodies and took his hand, weaving her fingers between his. Jamie didn’t hesitate to do the same.

“This is better than the floor,” she admitted softly.

Jamie smiled, shutting his eyes as he turned himself to stone. It was a moment he was afraid would end if he touched it. And he wanted to make it last as long as he could.

—————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @mentalistfan @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @mentalistfan @loveforaugust @jellycolors @actuallybarb @heletsmelovehim @lovinnscarletknight @imfalling-inlove @leslieiscrying @meg-ro @littlemisssunshine192 @beboldbebravethings @maydayfigment @spencerreidsbookclub @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @lemoonandlestars @im-a-weirdo-for-life @mindless-rock (tags cont. in comments ❤️)

[ofallthingsnasty]

pairing: sanji x f!reader tags: crack treated seriously, sanji being sanji, dental student!reader but written from sanji's pov so no medical knowledge needed, fat reader (especially in the belly and tits), suggestive, minors dni, law starring as the resident cockblock word count: 1.8k note: weeks ago I talked about how I parked my tits on the forehead of my patient while doing my first frontal filling years back and immediately got the worst possible idea for a little fic. dedicated to that very same young man. I'm still so sorry dude you were a real one 😶

Sanji feels like his pants are going to explode any moment now. When he got up this morning, he hadn’t expected to have the fingers of a woman down his throat - feeling, massaging and palpating. Admittedly, you’re a little rough with him because you’re untrained but that slight tickle of his gag reflex your fingers evoke is hotter than he thought it could be. He has half a mind not to chase them with his tongue, not wanting to scare you off.

Of course, your intentions are innocent. You’re trying to see something that is entirely beyond his scope but hey, he isn’t the professional here. (Or on the road to be a professional, considering that you’re still a student.) The last time he went to the dentist it had certainly been different - curt, clinical and without much frou-frou - but whatever it is they’re teaching the students nowadays, he finds himself very much agreeing to it. Maybe a bit too much, he thinks and tries to fight the half-chub with thoughts of his old man. 

It’s hard, pun intended. You are a dream in starched white directly in front of him, round face scrunched up in concentration. Clearly, you’re taking your task very seriously but that doesn’t help him much with staying composed when you’re clumsily whipping his head around by his teeth, the touch demanding and a little careless. You don’t seem to be the bossy type but there is something about sitting beneath a beam of cold, white light while getting thoroughly inspected by a soft-cheeked, lovely woman that makes his face traitorously warm. “Alright”, you say and pull your fingers out of his mouth, white nitrile shiny with his spit, your skin peeking through the stretched material.

He briefly wonders how they’d feel wrapped around his-

Shit.

“Mucosa looks healthy, gingiva is inflamed, though”, you say to your assisting student, as you turn away from him again - some skinny dude with a severe expression and a goatee. “Can you write that down?”

The guy just nods behind a paper file and Sanji can see it shake with the pressure of a pen against printed-on lines. There is a name tag clipped to his chest but Sanji is ignoring it on purpose. He doesn’t like him at all - he had given the blond nothing but filthy looks after Sanji had offered you his first name upon introduction, and even interrupted him when he was only trying to make (perfectly harmless) small talk. Something about time being of essence but Sanji is just not buying that.

Asshole.

They had battled it out via eye contact when Sanji had to gurgle that god-awful mouthwash for a solid minute and the only thing he won in those sixty seconds was the knowledge that Goatee has terrible manners.

Just his luck, he figures. The one chance he has to be meticulously pampered by a pair of cute dental students has to be ruined by some pierced killjoy. This situation could only have been worse if (by some miracle) Zoro turned out to be your assistance. But fortunately that man knows as much about teeth as he does about navigation: fuck all.

It had been Nami who had recommended the student program to him when he noticed a pesky, dark spot right between his incisors - and while she was intent on saving him money, he was more taken by the thought of being put into the care of aspiring dentists like you. Sanji had been sold. And he had been even more thrilled when he got that first call from you, your voice promising nothing but prowess, delicate hands in his mouth and a sweet face to stare at. (Okay, maybe your hands aren't so delicate after all - but one smile from behind your mask and all is forgiven.)

Too bad your sweet glory comes with a lanky, pierced guard dog. 

“Have you had any injections in the past?”, you ask and pull him out of his reverie, a syringe already in your dominant hand. “Ever had any troubles with them?”

He shakes his head no and tries to keep his breathing even when you duck down to him, hunched over as you push his upper lip towards his nose in one swift notion. “This is gonna sting a little. And you might feel a little pressure.” Indeed, it does - but it’s so miniscule that he can barely call it a pinch. Your concern for him is incredibly cute, though. Your hand is a little shaky as you press the liquid out of the needle but aside from the feeling of liquid pooling underneath sturdy skin, he feels nothing. He watches as you furrow your brow and let out a sigh of relief when the syringe is empty. You’re clearly nervous and he wants it to be because of him so, so badly but unfortunately, he knows better.

“It’ll be over soon, you’re doing so well”, you say after putting the needle away and take his upper lip between your index finger and thumb and slot the digit right into the fold that his mucosa forms, gently pulling and rubbing at the same time. “Just a little longer, can you do that for me?” Oh, he’d do much more than this for you, he thinks but the only thing that comes out of him is a weak gurgle.

Goatee scoffs next to him. 

“I think you didn't inject enough. You might want to re-apply some.”

“No, I gave him almost two milliliters, that should be enough”, you say and he can tell you’re pouting underneath the mask. Sanji swears the other man grins for a split second. “Bummer.”

“Alright, we’ll just do some prep while the anesthetic kicks in, okay?”, you ask and don’t even wait for an answer. He watches you while you flit around the tiny space, gathering things on the little tray that hovers above him, nods and smiles when you do your best to apply a clunky dental dam and lets you move the chair into the right position. When you’re done, the world is almost upside down, with his head tilted and you right in the center of it all, trying to adjust the light above you.

“Any moment this gets uncomfortable, you tell me immediately, alright?”, you say far above him and he’s grateful that Goatee is doing a great job at using that little saliva tube because he’d be drooling otherwise. 

Framed by a pair of thighs, your warmth just at the tip of his head, your breasts almost a shelf between him and your face. This is how he wants to die, he thinks. Just a whole lot of soft woman surrounding him. But it’s only just about to get better.

You take the drill into your hands and inch closer until he feels something solid, yet soft touching him. He realizes that it’s your belly at the same time your assistance does, because as his eyes go dinner-plate-wide, Goatee hisses your name through clenched teeth. “Posture.” Never has Sanji hated another man more than him in this very moment. “Oh, thanks”, you beam, so genuine it makes him want to cry. Unfair. Life is entirely unfair. He wallows in self-pity while you let the bur whir. It’s astounding that he really doesn’t feel anything but the pressure and the low vibration that makes his bones swing, too bad it’s exponentially less wonderful when he could have marveled at the feeling and that warm softness touching him. “You know”, you start the moment the instrument buries itself into his enamel, talking as if you’re both contemplating life over some wine. “Your gums are really inflamed. I can tell that you smoke a lot.” Not able to really answer because of the thin sheet of latex over his mouth, he simply hums in confirmation. He can tell that it bothers you - adorable, you’re worried for his health - because you had been downright shocked while going through a questionnaire with him earlier, shooting Goatee looks that only could be described as Are you hearing what I’m hearing? when he confessed to smoking a pack a day.

Well, old habits die hard. “You should really consider quitting or at least cutting down-”, you start and continue to list all the terrible consequences his nicotine addiction might bring, all the while you’re swinging around that little diamond bur like it’s a pen. And, still unable to answer, he hums. If he was able to, he’d probably tell you that he’d do anything for you as long as you let him live between your tits, preferably until the day he draws his last breath. Fuck. It’s definitely the wrong line of thought, especially because they’re so close in this position. He swears he can see the color of your bra peek through your scrubs - he’d almost be giving in to the next little daydream if it weren’t for the fact that you seem to hunch over ever so slightly while you work. Too lost in your thoughts, you seem to have forgotten about the warning you received earlier and let your body curl into itself to get a better view at his tooth. Closer, just a little closer, he thinks, almost going cross-eyed as you concentrate more and more on the task at hand and less on sitting straight. Not even Goatee seems to notice, too focused on helping you. God, are you wearing pink? The thought is enough to send a rush of blood back down to his crotch, his hands gripping the seat underneath him like his life depends on it. He’s desperately trying to think of a million unpleasant things at once - he’s not trying to spoil your efforts. You had been so eager on the phone, had told him that frontal fillings are hard to get. It’d be a shame to ruin that opportunity for you but- The very last few ounces leave his head when he can finally feel that heavenly touch of fabric-cupped fat right on his forehead, the slightest kiss of heaven underneath blessed sterile light. Angels are singing somewhere, he’s sure, and if his mouth wasn’t already open, he’d let out the most pained silent scream to ever exist. Your tits are heavy, they’re warm and they were made to rest on his face until he suffocates and by god, you just don’t back off. Sanji is nothing but a pathetic little prey animal caught between your soft belly and your breasts and he can do nothing but play dead in hope that he might come out of this alive, somehow. You shift your weight, probably reach for the tray in front of you, imaginary violins start playing and it’s officially over.

He slacks against your touch before he can even gurgle for attention (and really, does he want to? If he were to die right now, it would be an honor, a befitting end), the world around him growing quiet, a screen of white taking over. Wherever he is going to is warm and cozy and has a magnetic pull on him, so he follows.

The last thing he hears is you calling his name and Goatee barking orders - because of course he has to get the last word in. “I told you to keep your back straight, god fucking dammit-”

And if you learned one thing that day it was to get your milkers out of people’s faces lest they faint 😔

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 4 Prompt: Questionable Holiday Movies

Like many, I chose Gremlins.

Tags: Post Season 4, Everyone Lives, Movie Nights At The Harrington's House, Established Relationship

wc: 1225 | Rating: T

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

When Eddie pulls up at the Harrington house he’s come to frequent in recent months, the driveway is full of bikes. Those damn little shits, Eddie thinks, shaking his head as he parks the van on the curb in front of Steve’s house. The curb where said bikes should be instead of taking up prime parking real-estate for actual cars. He’s going to get ahold of one of his damn sheep and scold them for their carelessness. It’s one thing to leave them littering the lawn, but the driveway? Have some decency!

Moseying his way to the front door, Eddie makes it all of a few steps onto the bike cluttered driveway before he hears familiar voices shouting at each other. All the blood drains from his body in an instant. Mind raising through a hundred and one ways that something might be wrong.

He was a pessimist before, but his brief stint with the Upside Down has really taken a toll.

Double-timing it, Eddie bursts through the front door and down the hallway into the Harrington’s open living room. Thankfully, he doesn’t find any signs of blood, floating bodies, or otherwise distressed children. Instead, his eyes land on Dustin and Steve who are glaring at each other by the television set.

“You’re uncultured!” Dustin shouts.

“Shut up, Henderson,” Steve snaps, hands on his hips. “I am not uncultured. You’re uncultured!”

Dustin gasps, more offended than he should be. He takes a step closer to Steve, puffing out his chest to make himself look bigger. “You take that back.”

“No.”

As the heated argument morphs into a silent stare-down, Eddie takes a moment to assess the rest of the room. Robin, Max, and El are on the sofa, leisurely enjoying a bowl of popcorn. The rest of his Sheep are scattered around, attention focused on the mountain of Family Video rental tapes on the coffee table.

“What the hell did I walk into?” Eddie asks when he realizes no one is going to fill him in.

“Dingus and Dingus Jr. are arguing,” Robin supplies.

“S’nothing new,” Max agrees.

“We are not arguing,” Steve grumbles.

“That I can agree on,” Dustin says, nodding his head. “I am having a discussion with Steve and his lack of taste in Christmas movies.”

“First of all, Henderson, taste is subjective or whatever,” Steve says, hand abandoning his hips for a moment to flounder through the air. “Secondly, it’s not a discussion if you spend the entire time yelling at me for something you’re wrong about.”

“I’m not wrong! Dammit!”

There’s a part of Eddie that wants to see how this plays out. He’s no stranger to the epic Steve vs Dustin arguments conversations. There’s still a stain on the carpet in his own bedroom after an innocent debate over the best ice cream float combinations turned ugly. On the other hand, Eddie’s had a long day of getting yelled at my stupid customers, he could use some quiet.

“Gentleman,” Eddie says, clapping his hands. He moves between the two scowling men — well, man and teenager. Though, maybe Steve doesn’t deserve to be called a man right now either considering he’s arguing with Dustin in the first place. Whatever. He’s standing between them is all that matters. “What seems to be the issue today?”

“Why do you make it sound like we always have issues?” Steve asks at the same time Dustin snatches a VHS tape from the floor and practically shouts, “Steve says Gremlins isn’t a Christmas movie.”

“Because it’s not!”

“It takes place on Christmas Eve!”

“That doesn’t make it a Christmas movie!”

“Are you even listening to yourself, Steve? Of course that makes it a Christmas movie!”

“No, it doesn’t! It has nothing to do with Christmas!”

Eddie’s sandwiched between the two of them now, ears ringing from the volume their voices have reached. No one else seems to be interested in refereeing this particular argument and Eddie can’t really blame them. Maybe he should have let them hash it out themselves. Too late now.

“Alright, alright,” he sighs, nudging them both backward with his outstretched hands. “Valid points have been made on both sides.”

Eddie playing mediator does nothing to pull the scowls off Steve and Dustin’s faces. If anything, he thinks they might have deepened. He’s in too deep to stop now though, so he powers on.

“But unfortunately one of you is correct,” he says, clasping his hands together under his chin. He rocks on his feet, head swaying from side to side as he offers both Steve and Dustin apologetic gazes. “Stevie, sweetheart, I’m afraid Dustin is right on this one.”

“Ha!” Dustin shouts, throwing his hands up in victory. “I told you!”

Steve scoffs. “You’re a shithead, Henderson.”

“A shithead who is right!”

“You know what,” Steve says, trailing off.

Eddie catches the mischievous glint in his eyes. The same one he used to sport down the halls of Hawkins High with Carol and Tommy as they bitched about everything and anything. Eddie was never on the opposite end of Steve’s bitchy attitude, not important enough back then, but he certainly witnessed it more times than he can count.

Eddie’s willing to bet Steve gearing up for something that’s going to make Henderson retract his victory. Sure enough, he slinks up close to him and slings an arm around Eddie’s waist.

“Hey, baby,” Steve says, voice dripping in sweetness.

This isn’t going to be good for Eddie.

Steve's hand trails into Eddie’s back pocket and gives his boney ass a light tap before retreating.

“If you want more of this,” Steve says, slipping his hand into Eddie’s back pocket. He lets his hand hover there for a moment before he gives Eddie’s boney ass three lighthearted, teasing taps. “I suggest you join my side of this little discussion.”

A loud gasp escapes Eddie as Steve squeezes his ass cheek before withdrawing his hand completely. Glancing over, Eddie finds Steve staring at him with that same glint in his eyes and a cocky smirk on his face.

“No,” Dustin shouts, shaking his head. “No! That’s not fair. It’s illegal!”

“Sorry, Henderson,” Eddie says, genuinely apologetic in tone. He does think Gremlins is a Christmas movie, but the threat of not having Steve’s hands on him ever again? Well, that’s not worth defending Gizmo and the rest of those evil bastards. “I’ve had a change of thought. I don’t think it is a Christmas movie.”

“God dammit!” Dustin swears, stomping his foot. “See, this is why I didn’t want you two dating! You’re ruining my life!”

“Oh, quit being dramatic, Dustin,” Lucas says, rolling his eyes. “Let’s just pick something else.”

“Yeah! It’s just a movie, dude,” Mike chimes all.

“Screw all of you!”

As the room resumes its chaos in a different form — the boys arguing over what else they can watch seeing as Gremlins is out of the question. Eddie finds himself being ushered over to the recliner, where he’s promptly pulled into Steve’s lap.

“You know Henderson is right about that movie?” Eddie whispers, nuzzling into Steve’s chest.

Steve hums, closing his eyes for a moment as Eddie places a featherlight kiss to the two moles dotting his neck. “Don’t tell him, but I’ve actually never seen it.”

Eddie pulls away swiftly, nearly sending himself toppling off Steve’s lap. Thankfully, Steve’s reflexes are fast and he steadies Eddie with a firm around his torso. “You’re evil, Harrington,” he quietly chuckles, shaking his head.

“Gotta keep his ego in check somehow.”

[sxtaep]

ALL I WANT - JJK | five

after distancing yourself from jungkook because of the indirect confession you made, you never realised how much you’d miss him, and what better way to show him that than through the phone?

pairing — jungkook x female reader

genre — fluff, smut

word count — 10.5k

chapter warnings/tags — bestfriends2lovers!au, fuckboy!jk, textbooknerd!reader, dom!jk, sub!reader, joon is a drug dealer, tae is a junkie, vmin sideship, soft shower scene, indirect confession, lots of touching, jk is so oblivious, late night texting, jk loves your glasses, explicit content, sexting, mutual masturbation, exchanging of illicit photos, exchanging of illicit videos, teasing, male masturbation, female masturbation, fingering, dirty talk, praise, so much cum +more.

a/n: this is LONG overdue, but the loml loma @velvetwicebang should’ve been recognised earlier when posting this series for her everworking writing skills and input (especially for jungkook’s pov of things) so pls show her all the love 🥹 i swear she doesn’t bite ☹️🫶

also, apologies for the inactivity, your girl was dying in a&e with a cyst (it’s still there) and is now on indefinite sick leave from work 💀😭

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

Oh.

So maybe Jungkook didn’t have a valid reason to narrow his eyes once you left him alone after he’d mustered up the energy to sit up on the bed, pouting to himself after he was turned away in the midst of tossing his leg over the edge of the mattress, about to boldly follow your footsteps into the shower until he heard the lock click.

“Wha..” Confusion spilling from his doe eyes, he stopped dead in his tracks and ruffled the back of his fluffy bed hair, staring at the door with his brows slightly furrowed as he made out the sound of the shower from outside the connected bathroom, “Whatever, fuck you.” The man raised his voice to shout the following, already knowing that you wouldn’t be able to hear him, “Not like I also wanted to shower or anything!”

Jungkook was clearly pouting and he’d rather get a hundred carpet burns than let you see that side of him no matter how much it bothered him, so the man ‘brushed it off’ and scooted his bare ass further up the bed, stopping when his back met the wooden headboard behind him.

He figured this would be the perfect time to catch up on his texts, now that you decided to leave him completely alone. (It wasn’t even that big of a deal, honestly, yet the sulking man seemed awfully desperate to look for other ways to distract his brain from thinking about it, naturally tapping on his and the guys’ groupchat).

He always prepared himself for the most chaotic situations, just a few weeks ago the chat went crazy bickering over who would pay for Hoseok’s bail money after the latter got drunk off his ass, and funnily enough, the week before that one Hobi sent a long ass text declaring he decided to stop drinking.

Just like that, out of nowhere.

Of course, no one believed him.

Unlike those times, this morning’s topic of conversation seemed to be…normal, which was rare.

namjoon added ‘chim’ to the chat!

chim: hey guys! 👋

yoongi: holy fuck he’s alive

hoeseok: who💀 jimin or joon?

yoongi: damn both of em😭😭😭 just 30 mins alone w you can’t be easy

hoeseok: fuck u.

namjoon: we all know you want to dude, but he’s happily taken remember??

hoeseok: i’m gonna kick myself out this gc 😭

u guys need to chillllll

jin: just like how jungkook chilled w y/n in your bed last night 😏😏

yoongi: bro 💀💀💀💀

hoeseok: nah bc i’m actually still pissed that fucker offered to buy me a new bed set under 50 bucks????? what world does he live in

namjoon: 😑😑 okay wheres tae? he has to know where jungkook’s at

jin: he’s probably at y/n’s place but there’s also a possibility that he ran back to his dorm like a pussy

namjoon: taetae

TAEEEEEE

namjoon: tae answer or no more hard drugs for you to get addicted to 🙄 your choice

yoongi: dude shut up the guy’s probably still sleeping

jin: tae did you call a chick over after i dropped you off last night?

hoeseok: i wouldn’t blame him

he was babysitting joon most of the night, he had no chance to shoot his shot

tae: fuk no

i dropped dead on the couch as soon as i got home

yoongi: so jungkook didn’t come home last night?

Taehyung chewed on his bottom lip from his bedroom, hesitating on whether he should throw his best friend under the bus just to save himself from any more unsolicited revelations in front of new interest Jimin, or suck it up like a man.

tae: no, he’s still at y/n’s

jin: I FUCKING CALLED IT

jeon: DUDE

Jungkook was never gonna hear the end of it. The guys already teased the hell out of him because of you, and now that he actually fucked you, he would never live it down.

jeon: i’m never covering for ur ass again 🙄

yoongi: ….u guys are such best friends it’s disgusting

namjoon: mf have you been lurking all along

jin: he probably has 💀

hoeseok: PUSSY

jeon: oh fuck off hyung i get more play than you

Maybe that was a little too far, but Jungkook was sticky and sweaty and your bedroom was hot as shit. A nice shower would’ve sufficed.

jeon: respectfully. sorry. ily. pick out a new bed set xoxo.

yoongi: DAMN 💀💀

namjoon: ...

jin: 🙇‍♂️ me bowing bc i taught him well

hoeseok: make it a $100 bed set 😒

jeon: ur crazy if u think i have $100 on me

but deal 🤝

After that’d been set in stone, readying for his pockets to hurt, Jungkook carelessly tossed his phone aside and combed one hand through his oily hair, on his feet and on his way to invite himself into the shower with you.

You wouldn’t mind, right?

It’d only been 5 minutes since you stepped into the shower, just standing under the shower head and letting the steaming hot water run down your body.

What if he left?

No, he wouldn’t leave again.

But what if he did?

The thought left an unsettling feeling in your stomach and you had this sudden urge to hit pause on your shower and check he was still there, lying naked on your bed, but you held yourself back. Caring this much was not a good sign.

“Open up,” Jungkook annoyingly rattled on the doorknob with his forehead pressed against the door, unknowingly soothing your anxiety while acting like a needy child, not once stopping his tugging and turning on the metal knob. “Let me innnn!”

Alright, now he was fucking with you, grinning whilst waiting to meet you face to face.

The constant rattling of the doorknob startled you, but Jungkook’s whiny voice was one you could always recognise, even if he was faking it. At least he didn’t go home, so that was a win for you.

You stopped massaging your scalp, bits of bubbles following your every move as you stepped out of the shower, leaving the water to run. The bathrobe that was hanging behind the door was now draped over your body to cover your front, now holding onto the doorknob and fighting off the hopefulness in your eyes.

“God, I thought someone was breaking in,” you sigh, holding the bathrobe tightly to your chest. “What do you need, Kook?” You try to sound as unamused as you could spotting the stupidly attractive grin on his face, yet the sight of him from the neck down played as a distraction.

“What does it look like I need? A goddamn shower.”

Jungkook was right about a shower. Things got so messy and he was walking around the dorm with his dick out, he probably made more mess for you to clean up.

Pushing past your dumbfounded self, Jungkook didn’t question why you were covering yourself up after what you both just did, but he figured he’d get to see you naked soon enough if you were about to shower together.

Like regular friends did, of course.

“What are you waiting for?” The man turned to look over his shoulder after stepping under the lukewarm stream of water, staring at you past the wet hair that fell over his eyes, “Join me.”

You stared back at him, mouth slightly ajar as your eyes dipped a little too low and met with droplets of water rushing between every crevice of his abs. He had no right looking like a nude model right now

“Right…” you mentally rolled your eyes and let out a huff, pulling the bathrobe off your body, but you felt a little exposed; more focused on the fact that now neither of you were exactly ‘in the moment.’

The bathrobe pooled at your ankles and you parted ways from it, hesitantly climbing in and standing in front of the much larger male so you could also snag some of the water from the shower head. Jungkook had an advantage, being much bigger and taller, most of the water would land on his shoulders and just bounce off, ignoring your presence.

Being this close to him once again; your soaked back pressing against his built chest and practically sticking to him, you felt the urge to apologise because there was absolutely no way you were doing this on purpose. “Sorry, it’s a little tight in here,” you speak up, glancing back at him over your shoulder and making sure you weren’t making him uncomfortable, yet your apology was useless; you were still unknowingly, pressing up against him.

The part of Jungkook that didn’t always think with his dick found your newborn shyness awfully endearing.

‘It was a pattern,’ he’d noticed, ‘after we’re done fucking, she suddenly gets real shy, even avoids looking into my eyes as if she wasn’t just batting her eyelashes up at me minutes ago’.

Sometimes he wished to dive into your mind without any sort of heads up, just him as he came, pocketing a handful of your thoughts and knowledge for himself along the way (maybe then he’d actually know what went on in your head during moments like these, where all that spoke was the running water as it caressed his naked body and shunned yours).

“You don’t have to apologize, dummy,” Jungkook shook his head, although you couldn’t see him, taking a minute to expand his eyes down your unblemished back, not exclusively sexual, but heavily aware of how he was practically hogging the shower all to himself.

“Here,” with both hands clasped over your shoulders, Jungkook stepped back and let you take over his spot, brushing his wet hair away from his forehead and running a hand down his face to get rid of any water droplets.

Grabbing a bottle of soap he found on the side, Jeon thought about washing himself but changed his mind upon realising there was someone else that could do it for him.

You.

Maybe this would help you get over your timidness, and in all honesty, Jungkook felt a little out of place for being so casual and nonchalant about all of this..

“Yo, shower hogger,” the taller tapped your shoulder with his index finger, waiting until you turned around to raise his brows and glance down at his body expectantly, extending the bottle of soap out towards you, “I’m just so tired, help me wash?” He felt like he was quoting the beginning scene of a porno, and Jungkook knew that you knew that he was exaggerating.

You looked up at Jungkook with an ‘are you serious’ kind of expression, raising a brow at him as if he was crazy. “You’re tired? Please,” you shook your head. If anything, you should be the one that’s tired, especially after that mind-blowing head session you have him, but still, you gave into the big man, grabbing the bottle of berry scented soap from his grasp and squeezing a generous amount onto your palms.

“Since when did you need help taking showers? Last time I checked, babies needed that.” you lather the soap in your hands, rubbing them together to create more bubbles before taking a step back and looking the man up and down, deciding where the hell to even start. “You’re a big baby, aren’t you, Jeon?” you tease, finally deciding to set your palms flat on his chest as you kept your eyes trained on him, very much mocking him with just your eyes.

Jungkook was definitely not built like a big baby, but there were times where he’d do the most endearing things that made you wanna squeeze his cheeks and gauge out his doe eyes. Like, when you’d upset him over little things, he’d sit around pretending he wasn’t upset but you would clearly see the pout on his face, with the added crossing his arms over his chest (exactly like a child).

You grabbed onto his bicep, pulling his body closer to yours a little and snaking his arm around your waist just to keep a secure hold on you so you both could catch some of the water running up above. You wondered about your next move. It seemed a little unusual, massaging his chest under the shower, but then again, you’d already done far from appropriate things; including sweaty bodies, someone’s tears, and a shitload of cum.

Despite all that, you gently caressed the damp skin of his chest, awfully slow and counting each tiny little bubble bursting against him. “Like this?” you prompt, gliding your fingers across his chest and the action itself left your own chest tingling.

This was next level intimate.

Jungkook hadn’t said anything else after childishly puffing out a, ‘I’m not a baby’ with a comical roll of his smiling eyes, studying your face and changing expressions in comfortable silence whilst you roamed your hands over his soapy chest, the arm that curled around the you holding you securely with one palm pressed flat over the small of your back.

Fuck, Jungkook hoped you couldn’t make out how fast his wild little heart was beating even behind all those bubbles. You couldn’t… right? It would quite literally kill the man to try and explain himself out of that one because— he didn’t fucking know why his heart was running laps either!

He already worried enough that he made himself look dumb in front of his super smart best friend; he wanted you to think he had the brains of goddamn Einstein, like yourself, and looking for the right words to explain himself wasn’t going to do him any justice.

Either way, Jungkook just knew it was nice having someone else wash him up… like a servant.

A pretty servant with great tits, at that.

“Yeah..” Jeon finally breathed out another word, unaware that he was inching in towards your face quietly enough that you didn’t catch on and stop your scrubbing, “Just like that.”

He had to uncomfortably tip his neck down a little to reach you, but when his parted lips were merely inches away from yours, Jungkook didn’t waste any time and trapped you in a surprisingly slow moving kiss, raising one hand to cup the side of your face as his thumb traced over your cheekbones.

‘He kissed me first!’ was all you could think about right now. And the kiss easily held a deeper meaning behind it, one that didn’t scream ‘we’re kissing because of sex’. Unless Jungkook thought exactly that..

Then that would be a lot of damage.

Were you hearing yourself right now? You felt pitiful; falling for him after fucking him and now you were head-over-heels for the man just because he kissed you first.

What were the chances of him deciding to settle down? And would Jungkook settle down with you? It was a question you never wanted to answer, or hear the answer to, because there were very high chances the answers to both those questions wouldn’t benefit you. You did hold a tiny bit of hope, only the tiniest, that maybe, just maybe, Jungkook could be feeling the same way. His heart literally on the verge of bursting against your palm struck up a couple questions in your mind, but you easily dismissed them, using the water as an excuse to cover for him.

Yet, with all those doubts, you didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. God knows you wanted to kiss him and he was merely doing you a favour by getting Jungkook to make the first move. It was unexpected, but that’s what made it all the best.

When he did finally pull away after a full minute of tasting your soft lips, his tongue cheekily swiped over his bottom lip while still cupping your face in his big hands, looking into your eyes with that endearing smile that made your heart jump.

You stopped moving your hand, leaving it to rest again his chest whilst your free hand made home on top of his, your fingertips briefly brushing over your cheek as you intertwined your fingers, pulling his hand down to your chest.

Right over your beating heart.

“You don’t realise it, but you have my heart running laps,” you whisper softly, squeezing Jungkook’s hand and suddenly releasing him from your hold, doing your best to turn your back on him and bask under the warm water raining above.

Good idea, leave him confused with words.

Jungkook wasn’t that stupid though, he was perceptive only when it seemed advantageous to him, which was something you picked up on over the years. He’d be able to crack this one. Surely.

You groaned quietly to yourself, lulling your head back a little to have the water slip down your front, but you were too distracted by the warmth to notice your head falling back against his chest, your body relaxing as you released a soft breath.

Nothing outright witty or smart-assy slipped out his mouth during the shared, tender moment between you both; Jungkook acknowledged your words within his own mind, quietly, digesting whatever it was that that had the back of his neck and tips of his ears drowning red.

The man thought about your— ‘you have my heart running laps’ —for quite a while now, a week to be exact, and sometimes it’d pop in his head at the most random times, it was lowkey starting to freak him out.

Wherever Jungkook was, so were you. Figuratively.

In his mind that was usually blank, you were there, present as always while prompting his heart to beat recklessly and his lungs to stutter whilst they filled with air, often catching him off guard.

Truthfully, Jeon had been too busy battling it out with noobs on Call of Duty, to really question what you meant that day. You weren’t making it easy for him to talk to you either. You completely shut him out after the shower ‘incident’ (which was approximately 2 days ago) and used the excuse of ‘I need to catch up on my assignments’, to avoid him.

Obviously he didn’t know that, but he wasn’t suspicious either. It was normal for you to go radio silent for a couple days to focus on your studies, and Jungkook respected that. Normally he’d bug you, but not this time around.

Which was weird.

Even Taehyung found it odd, coming back home and finding Jungkook still playing his game. He was high as hell, but he knew something weird when he saw it.

Slumping against the empty space beside Jungkook, Taehyung carelessly throws his arm around the younger’s muscly shoulders. “What’ve you been up to, then? You been sitting on your ass this whole time?” he asks, eyeing the TV screen and seeing that he was currently in the game lobby, waiting to start a new match. “No girls over tonight? Not even Y/N?”

Even though he was high, a part of him wanted things to set sail between you and his roommate.

“Were you too shy to call her? Or did she just reject you when you tried?” Taehyung’s assumptions weren’t impossible. He’d been around long enough to watch Jungkook’s countless invitations to hang out or get something to eat, get straight up rejected by you because you were too busy studying.

“Ah, Y/N?” No use in brushing it off now.

Two days without seeing you or talking to you, felt like an eternity, but Jungkook was determined to stay quiet. Ever since you both hooked up for the first time, he’s mostly been the one to text or call to ask if he could come over and y’know what, that is if Jeon excluded the times he’d just show up at your doorstep unannounced.

Point was.. he was waiting for you to need him, not the other way around like it often was.

Now, Jungkook wasn’t expecting you to text him and blatantly say how much you needed him to come over and fuck you so good you’d forget about everything you studied (even if that would make him harder than anything else in the world), but even just an ‘i miss you’ or ‘i’m done studying, come over’ would make him drop anything and everything for you.

It was a new and weird feeling, thinking like this. He never waited around for a girl, even if he had a line of them waiting to get dicked down by him.

“I’m not shy, we’ve just been busy doing our own thing.” He huffed out at Tae’s assumption, not daring to make any eye contact since being best friends with Taehyung since middle school meant the latter knew when he was bullshitting, always. It was weird as hell and even more impressive when Tae could point it out when he wasn’t sober..

Jungkook was looking straight at Tae now with big eyes and his teeth busy nibbling at his lip, like he was caught red handed and it was too obvious that that’s been something that’d been on his mind for a while.

With a low groan, the younger ran both hands down his face and slid down the couch, muscly legs lazily spread as he leaned his head back on the headrest and remained silent. Until he didn’t; Taehyung had a way of getting information out of him without barely saying a word. Something about his deadpan gaze…

“I know she’s not the type, but a text saying that she needs me- if you know what I mean, and not the other way around? I’d give her my kid, man.”

That was a complete reach and even if Jungkook did chuckle a little at that, his feelings and everything else he said were true. The younger shrugged and played off those strong feelings, “It’s whatever, though. You probably felt the same way about a girl you hooked up with at some point in time, right?”

All Taehyung could think about was ‘who the fuck possessed his roommate?’ No, even better question; ‘why is a girl making his best friend feel like this?’ In all the years Taehyung knew Jungkook, never had he ever seen the younger male care so much about a girl he fucked.

But… there was a difference. You weren’t just any girl he fucked. You were Jungkook’s only girl friend that he fucked.

Given the history between you two, things obviously felt more fragile and more… intimate? At least that’s what Taehyung thought. He wasn’t even part of the relationship, but because of the younger being so new to experiencing such feelings, it was almost second nature for him to feel the same way (out of sympathy). “I don’t know, dude… I’ve never felt like that, but you sound like you’re having withdrawal symptoms being without her for so long,” he shrugs, eyeing the male who looked like he was so far down the ‘I’m in love with her, but i’m gonna act like I don’t care’ hole.

Taehyung could’ve easily lied and told Jungkook that it was normal for him to feel so attached to his girl friend, but who was he kidding? It wasn’t normal to feel so attached unless you were deeply in love.

“You sure you’re not… in love with her, dude?” he teases, ruffling Jungkook’s hair in the most brotherly way possible. He was only trying to scare the im younger male and make him overthink a little. “I’m kidding! Just stop being a pussy and go to her. Tell her what you want. Like, straight up. I’m tellin’ you, girls dig that. There’s nothing girls want more than a guy being straight to the point.”

Jeon Jungkook was most definitely, most surely not in love with you. What even was love? He could think of a few examples..

His dad cutting off the crusts in his mom’s sandwiches, Hoseok babysitting Namjoon, Mrs. Kim working hard to make sure her small, country-boy Tae went off to a nice college (and got away from his ego-filled dad. Jungkook met him a few times and he was an A class asshole).

Either way, the younger never really saw that kind of love for him. It all seemed unattainable and whatever Jungkook was feeling towards you, it couldn’t have been love. Maybe lust, just in his own special way..

“I’m not in love with her, are you crazy?” Jeon sighed out loud and considered taking Taehyung’s advice for real, just maybe not at 12:30 in the morning.. “Okay, fine, but,” Jungkook turned his body to chuckle at the irony in his roommate’s words, “When have you ever been straight up with a girl, Tae? Was it when you asked her to give you that fresh hickey on your neck tonight?”

It was huge and Jungkook had been eyeing the red bruise just underneath Taehyung’s jaw for a few moments prior. “Was this before or after you went to meet up with Jimin because damn,” the younger was laughing now, inching to take a closer look at possibly the biggest hickey he’d ever seen, unaware it was Jimin who left those very marks.

As if he couldn’t be any more skeptical than he already was, Taehyung’s palm was quick to smack against his neck, making himself wince in the process as he discreetly rubbed the bruised area and avoided all eye contact with Jungkook. His jaw tensed as he tried to stop himself from blushing. Remnants of tonight’s events were running through his mind, and he had to stop before his dick got hard again. But that seemed impossible. Jimin was just this ultra, superior, ethereal being with the superpowers to keep his dick hard and heart fluttering for days on end. “Hey!” Taehyung scowls, smacking Jungkook’s head (not too hard) and pulling away from his susceptive gaze.

“Firstly, mind your own, secondly, I got bitten by a mosquito.” That was the lamest excuse in the book, but once again, this is where Jeon’s cluelessness played at his advantage. “Jimin lives in this whole other area, like expensive apartments and neighbourhoods and shit. There’s palm trees everywhere, too so there were a lot of flies,” Taehyung explained; sounding as brief and unbothered as possible. In case Jungkook didn’t believe him, he added, “Seriously, It felt like I was in another country when I arrived.”

Hopefully he played it off well. The man was pretty good at acting, especially when it came to promising girls he’d spend another night with them. It never happened.

“Whatever, man, turn the game off. I need the couch,” he yawns dramatically whilst stretching his arms above his head. “I can’t feel my legs.” It was a natural occurrence for Taehyung to sleep on the couch after a night of non-stop drugs. He would quite commonly complain about not being able to feel his legs because they’d be so numb, thus deeming him immobile until sober the next morning.

Taehyung executed the lame excuse perfectly, Jungkook completely brushed it off.. right after he finished tending to the minor concussion from his roommate.

Annoyed but kind, he ran off to the kitchen and paired an Ibuprofen with a tall glass of water to sit on the coffee table at an arm’s reach for the other male to quench his fleeting sobriety with, taking his earned title of ‘best friend’ extra seriously while throwing a spare blanket over Tae’s limp body on the couch, turning off the TV seconds later and going into his room.

Throwing himself to lie on his bed, the sudden urge to send you a text loomed over. He knew, he knew… he was supposed to let you reach out to him, but maybe you were just busy and forgot about him. Plus, waiting around was boring and nowhere near as exhilarating as—

jungkook: you haven’t forgotten about me yet? 🤓

Was it super obvious you was avoiding Jungkook?

Maybe.

What’s the best way to avoid someone?

Drown yourself in your studies.

It was probably advantageous to you now, since studying was always the excuse you used to get yourself out of unwanted situations. And this wouldn’t be a surprise to Jungkook. He had the shorter end of of the stick when it came to wanting to hang out, you would always reject his pleas.

This past week, you needed to ‘get back on your grind’ and all this faffing about with Jungkook left a lasting impact on your daily routine.

Every time you sat on your couch (which was often) you’re reminded of the very first night you both laid hands on each other. How could you forget? There was probably remnants of that night still burnt into your couch. Every time you’re sat at your desk, you’re reminded of the little note Jungkook left the following morning, apologising for leaving so early.

Hard to believe, your poor self displayed the note at the corner of your desk, right in front of your old textbooks. It seemed cringe, but you found it cute and got some sort of serotonin looking at it while you were studying. Every night when you go to bed, you mindlessly stare at the empty space next to you for at least an hour before falling asleep, thinking how it would’ve been Jungkook next to you.

And the shower… where you indirectly confessed to him, but instead, only confused yourself, and you had no doubt you confused him too (he wasn’t any smarter than you were).

In all honesty, you were waiting for Jungkook to approach you first, which was too much to ask for since he always texted first. But, you were hoping he’d say something about your last interaction. Was the “you got my heart running laps” not enough for him? Or was he really that clueless?

Whatever it was, you didn’t dwell on it, almost jumping out of the comfy seat at her desk and lungeing to reach your phone off the bed. Your heart was doing that annoying racing thing and your fingers were twiddling at your screen.

you: y’know what?

i completely forgot you existed for a sec

what was your name again?

john?

Damn. Jeon was torn between laughing or having a go at you for that line as he laid out sprawled over his bed thinking of what to make of it, a tight lipped smile settled things and pushed through Jungkook’s efforts to take small offense to what you said.

“Pfft, John?”

However, that sly grin always appeared whenever you were confident and smart-assy with him. With shame lesser than -10000, Jungkook could easily admit he found it hot. He could stupidly stand in the middle of a street with both arms outstretched and yell, ‘I find it really hot when Lee Y/N gives me a taste of my own medicine, so what?! She’s very hot to me!’

Obviously that wasn’t going to happen, but trust that he would if it came down to it.

jungkook: john huh? who’s that, textbook #1? 😕

but uh. how’s jerry doing?? yknow. textbook #3 😉

It was the highlight of his night; Jungkook hadn’t even realized his cheeks were turning sore from smiling so big. If any of the guys walked in they’d think he won the lottery and then some, but no, it was just you.

It always seemed to be about you— is what the guys would say, surely. No one else.

jungkook: and i doubt you forgot about my existence, you like me too much

hell, you probably even missed me, i know i missed you

Anyone could bet you were forcing yourself not to break out into a fit of giggles (resulting in you just writhing in your seat) because there was no way a man was suddenly making you laugh this hard. Jungkook was making you laugh so hard.

It took you a couple seconds to regain your composure before tapping at your keyboard again.

you: john and jerry are doing good

they’ve been keeping me company and treating me well

i wouldn’t have it any other way 😩

Having Jungkook keep you company would obviously be better, but you can’t always get what you want.

You didn’t catch the next couple messages he sent, instead opening your camera and snapping a quick photo of the mess of scrap papers and opened textbooks lying on your desk, not even realising the note Jungkook left you a couple nights ago was peeking out in the corner of the frame.

You attach the photo to your next message;

you: this sums up my week

you know the drill

As you waited for the attachment to deliver, you scrolled down to finally see the recent message he sent, and you swore your heart skipped a beat.

Jungkook missed you?

A faint hint of pink drowned your cheeks as you contemplated on how to respond?

Do you reciprocate, or just be passive and ignore him? The second option seemed pretty appropriate, because if he missed you so much, why didn’t he do anything about it?

That option however, would just open up a whole other can of worms and would probably end up with the pair bickering until the early hours of dawn.

You missed him so much this week, you didn’t want this interaction to go to waste.

you: i think YOU like me too much since you missed me so bad

are you obsessed with me?

it’s okay if you are, but you’ll have to wait in line for your turn

That joke was no longer valid ever since you guys fucked.

you: if it makes you feel better, i guess i missed you too

Unlike you and your adorable stickling for structure, it was a shock Jungkook waited until all the blurbs of texts were done coming through considering how restlessness was naturally wired in his veins, but he preferred to indulge in each individual bubble once they disappeared from the bottom of his screen.

He didn’t want to take the risk of saying something stupid and fucking everything up, not after so long (2 days), so for you, he’d learn to be patient— even if that sounded difficult to actually go through.

Almost immediately his eyes widened at the amount of individual texts that finished pouring in (he always had a way of knowing if you were mad at him. If you sent him no more than three individual texts at a time, that meant he needed to hide).

But more than taken aback, Jungkook had an idea of what that meant on a deeper, more obvious level. It was so clear that you missed him and if his heart didn’t pound enough at the idea of it, the beating organ nearly jumped out of Jeon’s chest when his eye accidentally skipped down the list and landed on the last text, confirming that what he thought was true.

Now he had the urge to giggle.

The male didn’t know what the fuck was going on or why he felt this way towards simple texts that were meant to come off as light teasing and nothing more. All he knew was that if he kept this up, his head would swell because of all the confusion going on inside it..

jungkook: jesus nerd, how you’re still breathing surrounded by all that paper is beyond me

smh don’t get too ahead of yourself tho 😒 i like you a very small amount

and that joke is no longer valid ever since we fucked

Jungkook was still thinking about the fact that you also missed him and for that reason, he failed to catch his little note in the corner of your attached photo, for now.

His mind was just… focused on something else.

You missed him!

jungkook: that does make me feel better, god what would i do without you? 😫

but truth is… i won’t really believe it unless you go into detail, miss lee. tell me, what did you miss about me?

OH! and i know that there’s a long list so take your time

Seriously, Jeon Jungkook never took a break from feeding his ego. You sat there wondering how you managed to put up with him all these years. He had a cute face back then, for sure, but now he looked like a hot hunk of goodness and everything nice, unfortunately.

you: for starters, i missed you blowing up my phone with hundreds of texts

surprised i didn’t even get ONE annoying text from you

It was almost tradition for Jungkook to spam your phone with nonsense texts and silly pictures of himself whilst you were studying. It only became a problem when he started spamming you with tiktoks, distracting you from your studies because after you’d watch them, you’d end up scrolling on the app far longer than anticipated.

you: i guess i missed your stupid face too 🙄

and the way you’d come over and inhale all the food in my fridge

and how you’d mark your territory on my couch

i also really miss our movie nights, it was the only thing that relieved my stress 😔

and, believe it or not, i miss arguing with you

i could say so much more, but i don’t think it’s appropriate unless you wanna hear?

You paused for a second, seeing that your list had taken up the entire screen.

Damn, you really missed him, huh?

you: why did we stop talking?

you know my door is always open for you, jeon 😕

Whether it be to pester you, hang out, or fuck, Jungkook was always welcome.

you: but enough about you, stink

what did you miss about me? 🥰

It’d been eating him up inside long before this special moment, gnawing away at his core and causing Jungkook’s blush to deepen in color and expand vastly over the smooth canvas of his cheeks that were puppeted by two strings pulling hard at the apples of his cheeks whenever his heart went crazy drumming to its own, particular beat. It was a type of drumming that was so rare, he worried it was an actual heart attack at its beginning stages…

jungkook: you’re making me and my “stupid face” blush, lee 😵‍💫

But he never dropped down to the ground dead—it was worse— Jungkook was left with the continuous stinging in his chest and a conscious mind full of consuming thoughts.

Jeon Jungkook never skipped out on an opportunity to feed his massive ego, but you never missed the cue as his ‘special best friend’ to always give in and singlehandedly create an even cockier version of the man; just for the moment you were together, be it over text or in person.

Truth? Jungkook would rather hear you say these things to his face, then he’d be able to show a more genuine reaction to how they made him feel— a kiss spoke volumes, for example. He was never the best at saying things the way he wanted to say them— but on the bright side, Jungkook was glad you couldn’t see him and his flushed being.

That seemed to be his thing; go big or go home.

jungkook: that’s a hell of a long list for a girl that said she forgot about my existence 👀

sure you weren’t thinking about me everyday, pretty?

He liked to think he was in control; he enjoyed being in control, but when his skin was lit up because of a few sweet words from you, confidence didn’t come as easily and smoothly as it usually did. So, Jungkook settled for playing a front over text.

Not like you had any way of seeing him.

jungkook: but hmm, what did i miss about you? 🤔 well for starters, i like it when you let me raid your fridge and let me mark my territory on your couch ;)

how you call me “stink” or “idiot” with a smile on your face after i say something stupid because deep inside you find it endearing 👀

your random fuckin GORY murder cases that always stick with me. a man is scarred

when you’re super concentrated while studying and quietly mumble to yourself under your breath. it’s cute

you in glasses. that’s it

our movie nights, especially when you let me pick ironman for the 100th time

i also miss arguing with you and proving your ass wrong

your ass.

sleeping with you in the way that you keep me warm during the night and you rest your head on my chest. i like feeling like i’m keeping you safe

and sleeping with you in the way that i can make you feel really good, help you relieve stress. feeling closer to you is being inside you

Fuck, did he go overboard?

Jungkook was only trying to match you in terms of quality, but now looking back at all the sent messages, he couldn’t help but cringe at himself for saying all that.

He should’ve taken quality over quantity more seriously..

“Damn,” He ran a hand through his hair and quickly got back to typing so that you wouldn’t sit on the last part for too long.

jungkook: and wdym “when did we stop talking” 💀💀 y/n, it’s only been two days 🙄

im coming over tomorrow tho, can’t have you missing me anymore 😉

For a brief second, you thought you were reading texts from the boyfriend you never had. It was worse since you were going overboard with the blushing, but how could you control that? His string of texts were like… a confession.

Could he possibly be in love with you? Never.

Jeon Jungkook was incapable of feeling such things, and having said that out loud, all your hope had disintegrated. Jungkook was too clueless, he probably couldn’t even remember what you said in the shower.

you: i’m starting to think you missed me more than i missed you

You stayed giggling quietly to yourself, reading on each line one by one and feeling the butterflies in the pit of your stomach erupt. If Jungkook were here right now, he’d probably tease the hell out of you, use it as a way to boost his inflated ego.

you: my fridge has been restocked for you, so you won’t have to bring over half-eaten pizza like last time 💀

ALSO

IM ALWAYS RIGHT! you have never ever proved me wrong in your life

you argue with bs, i argue with FACTS 😌

What’s something that would make the Jeon Jungkook fold?

A selfie.

But not just any odd selfie.

It was a blessing in disguise that you had your glasses on right now. A little selfie wouldn’t hurt anyone (but deep down you wanted to gauge a reaction out of him, for your own satisfaction) so you opened your camera and angled your phone up in front of you, your eyes peeking up from behind your lenses, unknowingly pulling off the whole ‘innocent, but not-so-innocent nerd’ look paired with a small pout.

The raised view might be familiar to him.

You were satisfied with the first picture you took so you sent it through to him, with another message following right after;

you: my glasses miss your face 😔

they’re tired of looking down at textbooks all day

When did Jeon become so totally and utterly fascinated with the casual sight of your dorky frames sitting high up on your cute nose, framing your face and making you seem even smarter and a bigger nerd than you already were?

He had no fuckin’ idea.

Glasses never looked as good on anyone else than they did on you— something about how your smartness aligned with the vivid image in his head of a sexy, intelligent librarian just did it for him without any misses.

Was it a fantasy or just simp behaviour?

Whatever it was, you had the brains and the looks; Jungkook honestly thought you were extremely cool and he could only dream to be as smart and dedicated to learning as you were.

Jungkook saved the picture to his camera roll after staring at it for a few moments in silence, lured in by everything from your puckered lips to deer-like eyes as they drove him wild in a manner he was way too familiar with.

“Fuck,” Jeon tipped his head to the side to take a look at the expected erection in his sweats, the bulge pitching a big tent against the bare material of his pants since Jungkook rarely wore anything underneath whenever he was alone.

None of this was fair.

Deciding to play your game his own way, he tapped on the camera and angled it towards his growing erection after pressing record, shamelessly zooming in on his bulge whilst breathing out a low, “This isn’t fair, y’know. Rubbing one out at 12am wasn’t on my list of plans for the night.”

Jungkook sent the video without another thought and added a provocative text to go along with it, his bottom lip close to going numb from biting down on it so hard.

jungkook: instead of looking down, how bout you look up at me? i think you’ll find that more fun

This was much more than the reaction you expected from Jungkook. You expected a little “you look pretty” or a “you look like a nerd” type of text from him, one that could stem as serious or just playful teasing, but watching the short clip and being met with his inane bulge, an overwhelming sense of pride took over.

You had awoken the beast with just a mere selfie?

No physical touch, no overly suggestive text message?

You had every right to believe you were capable of more. Maybe not right now since you had the clip on loop to bask in his ragged, deep voice, which gave you the most uncalled-for flashbacks to those nights where he’d praise you for taking him so good.

You quickly saved the video (for your own pleasure) and got to typing with your sweaty thumbs and clenching thighs.

you: life isn’t fair, sorry about that

Reading his last text message, your poor self had fallen into daydream mode. All the endless possibilities of you being on your knees and staring up at the man, doing God knows what. But you knew exactly what he meant, and you were not against it…

But you could always play dumb.

you: but why would i do that, koo?

enlighten a dumb girl like myself, would you?

Jungkook was this close to giving up on the sexual bantering over text and get up from his bed, go out his front door, hop on his motorcycle and drive the short minutes to your apartment just to show you what he meant— even if it was clear enough that you were only playing games with him.

jungkook: does acting clueless help you ignore the fact that you want me rn? bc let me know how that works out for you ;)

Before Jungkook could even acknowledge it, one hand extended downwards to grope his own cock, the firm contact pressuring a deep grunt to exit past his parted mouth and into the privacy of his bedroom where the darkness failed to conceal the slight twitch of his dark brows, the screen of his phone highlighting every minor gesture on his face as a response to him touching himself. His palm smoothed over his bulge time after time again as his heavy eyes stayed set on the picture before him— your selfie, breathing becoming just as unsteady.

Needy for something else, Jungkook eagerly slipped his fingers past the waistband of his sweats and pulled out his cock in one go, coming face to face with its angry tip that oozed precum moments before bucking his hips into his fisted hand, clearer groans and deeper moans making themselves known as he messily pumped his cock within his tight, slippery grip.

“Fuu-fuck.. shit,” for the first time, he looked down at the way his latched hand moved seamlessly down his girth instead of your picture, allowing his mind to run wild and imagine his slick fist was you, the tightness making him dizzy. His hips impulsively used the mattress as drive to thrust themselves upwards and fuck into his hand, his tip coming out the top drenched in more precum after each plunge.

Deciding it’d be selfish of him to keep you in the dark whilst he got off because of you, Jungkook opened his eyes and despite the minor shakiness, angled the phone above his face and started recording.

All he allowed you to see was his slack face, moderately sweaty and flushed at the cheeks, a glint of shine peeking past his hooded eyes and kissable lips split as his ragged breathing was heard. His messy hair fell over his forehead and brows just right, clenched jaw locked in place whilst his nostrils flared, the phone in his deadly grip shaking even more now that Jeon grew restless and pumped himself even faster— his arm was aching.

Finally, the man spoke, smirking lazily at the camera. “Does a dumb girl like yourself know what’s goin’ on right now? Don’t play stupid, hnghh— doesn’t benefit anyone, baby.”

Being the tease Jungkook was known for, he flipped the camera but didn’t show his cock by covering the lens with his fingers, hovering the device close to his dick for you to be able to clearly hear the wet sounds of his built-up precum sliding up and down his lathered shaft as he went crazy pumping himself to the sticky base, his grunts playing in the background.

He was so close, but all that was left was a push from you, and so Jeon sent the video straight away, going easy on himself for the time being.

You had never clicked on a video so fast in your life, and God, did Jungkook serve. The phone had been brought even closer to your face, as if trying to hide from anyone that could see (you still needed to get used to living alone) and the moment your ears picked up on his heavy breaths and flushed state, only a child would guess wrong about what he was doing right now.

Your eyes stayed glued to Jungkook’s face, admiring the sharp slate along his jaw and his parted lips, imagining just how soft they would be if you had the chance to kiss him again.

The ongoing ache between your legs remained steady (with a lot of self control) but you were crumbling by the second.

“Fuck’s sake,” you curse under your breath, forming a tight line with your lips as you watched on, suddenly having little time to process that his face was no longer in the frame. The video was still going on and you sat there with your knees up to your chest, putting the volume up to the max to hear just how sinful and erotic his actions were playing out to be.

So much for self control, you failed to keep your body temperature at a norm along with your blushing cheeks (which felt like they were on literal fire) hearing such dirty sounds.

You could make out the image in your head; Jeon sprawled out on his bed, sweating with one muscular arm between his legs and his cock vigorously pumping between his fist.

It should’ve been your fist getting him off, but the circumstances deemed that to be difficult.

Was it possible to want to suck someone off more than just sit down and study?

you: fuck you, jeon

The throbbing between your legs was beginning to grow unbearable, so you did what you were best at.

Repaying him in the most unexpected way possible.

With your phone clutched in your hand and legs brought down to dangle off your seat, you opened up your camera, switching to video and hugging the phone close to your chest, with the lens facing up towards your chin. You made sure the lower half of your face came into view before pressing record.

You didn’t say a word; simply letting your actions speak for themselves as you slipped your middle and ring finger past your plump lips and letting your tongue rest flat along the base, trying to slick them up a little before wrapping your lips around your digits completely.

This was totally out of character for you, but Jungkook wasn’t making it easy. The thought of him shoving his fingers down your throat edged you to push your own digits a little farther and then pulling back in a constant motion. Each time your fingers would come into view again, they’d be ten times more soaked than before, and just to spite the man, you would zoom in on your glistening digits and force him to watch on, slowing down the pace of your fingers so he could really cherish the sight of your fingers disappearing past your lips.

“Bet you wish that was you, huh?” you whisper softly, pulling your fingers out ever-so-slowly and then adjusting the angle of your phone, pulling it away to give him a view of the oversized shirt you were wearing which he left a couple nights ago.

You set your phone down to lean on the pile of textbooks on your desk, wasting no time in setting the heels of your feet on the edge of your seat and lifting the hem of his shirt over your stomach to reveal the lack of attire underneath.

Just a pair of simple lilac coloured underwear.

You gave the camera one last look before following Jungkook’s train of movement, slipping your glistening digits past the band of your panties, and as much as you wanted to touch yourself right now, you paused.

You weren’t giving in that easily, so you reached over for her phone with a teasing grin on your face, making sure only your face was in the shot before your fingers lightly feathered across your untouched core, eyes fluttering shut and back now resting slack against the chair.

“Koo..” Shit, you’d barely done anything.. It took you a moment to regain your composure and you stopped the video, free hand still sat between your legs and digits seamlessly running up and down your slit as you rushed to send him the video.

That should do it.

And that fucking did.

He should've known, he should’ve known that you would one-up him at his own playing field because— when did you not constantly surprise him with whatever skills you kept in your pockets, only choosing to show them off at the right time?

Your head game? Fucking awesome. Handjob? He swore he saw a goddamn angel last time. The best pancakes in the world? Only at your place.

Everything you did was irresistible and for someone like Jungkook, nothing in the world beat not ever knowing what to expect, that was partly why he slept around a lot. But you… you were a total freak.

Which is why Jeon should’ve busted right then and there after watching the video all the way through, he almost did, but instead of shooting his cum into the air, now he was angry at himself for even tempting such a mouthwatering, captivating response out of you while being stuck where he was. Not being able to actually do anything about it, he groaned to himself and wished it was his fingers that dipped past the warmth of your mouth, collecting your saliva to use as a lube to relentlessly finger you until your legs shook..

“Fuckin’ shit..!” Jeon threw his head back whilst his wrist flicked around the base of his cock, dragging his palm upwards to do the same to his red tip. Once those long drags began to lose their heavy momentum, that was when he used his other hand to text you back, his lower stomach muscles flexing as a sign that Jeon was extremely close.

jungkook: dirty girl getting her fingers dirty for me

looking so pretty in my shirt too? fuck you’re so good, wanna fuck you

gonna come a shit ton bc of that video. sucks it won’t be inside that pussy fuuck

Throwing his phone aside for the time being, Jungkook focused on getting himself off with the image of you fresh in his mind, his buff arm cramping up but he persisted nonetheless, abusing his twitching cock with all his strength until long ropes of white erupted from his tip and onto his sweats, his hand, his stomach, the sheets—his fucking foot?

“A-ahh..hmpph-hmm.. ah.. ah, fuck,” just when he thought he was done, his cock twitched and added on to the pool of creamy white on his sweatpants, “Shit..”

The man took the messy opportunity to snap a quick photo of the mess that was his stomach and sheets, ensuring his dick was in the frame this time before sending it to you with a cheeky—

jungkook: this could’ve been all yours baby

You continued your miscreants against your aching cunt, sliding your middle finger in completely and exhaling softly at the familiar feeling. Many of your nights were spent alone, mindlessly fucking yourself for relief (though it barely helped since you could never finish alone) but now masturbating seemed so… out of the ordinary.

You never felt the need to touch yourself since you and Jungkook started whatever this whole situation was. In all honesty, you were ashamed to admit you could no longer please yourself without your best friend by your side, whether it be him guiding you with words, or straight up doing the job for you. It sounded wrong on so many levels, but you couldn’t help what your body yearned for.

The thought only frustrated you since you were alone and nowhere near close to relief, but you continued to tease and toy with yourself, occasionally pinching your sensitive bud and then breaking out into short, fast-paced rubs where your fingers would slip past your entrance and knock the air out of her lungs.

Jungkook’s texts were coming through one by one, and each one forced you to pick up the pace of your wrists, now thrusting your fingers between your soft walls at a vigorous pace. Oh, the things you would do for him to leave a hot mess inside of you.. it was pissing you off and it was obvious you were taking out your frustrations on yourself.

If his texts weren’t enough to drive you insane, the picture he attached with the blatant mess of white surrounding him and knowing it was all your doing, sparked a different kind of light within you.

you: fuck you for being at home right now

you: i can’t do this

To be more clear, you snapped a quick video of yourself, camera facing down in front of you to give Jungkook the perfect view of your slick coated digits fucking into you, paired with your shallow breaths and your signature whines, “Should’ve been you, Koo.. you know I can’t do this on my own.” Your voice was unsteady as you spoke, and you were close to breaking down horny and unsatisfied, but you kept yourself together.

No matter how embarrassing it was, you still sent him the video, typing away at your screen with your free hand and pulling the other out from between your legs with a huff.

you: im holding myself back to come on your cock next time

and i’ll make sure none of it goes to waste

Sexting with you at the asscrack of night wasn’t exactly on Jungkook’s to-do list, but just as a wise woman once texted— plans inevitably change and hell if he wasn’t content with the turnout. Not to mention it served as closure that he wasn’t being shut out on purpose and a quick release all in one, although the new texts and dirty video of a quick peek inside her panties made him question if it was worth the extra cramping in his hand and even messier sheets..

The man grimaced slightly at the warm stickiness on his stomach and fingers; he’ll jerk off to that one another day.

Truth be told, Jeon was extremely exhausted and he had a real reason to be… now. Before he had the balls to hit you up and resume where you left off, all the latter did while his roommate was gone was play video games, sulk about why why you weren’t taking initiative and worrying that Tae had gotten ran over by a car, and then another— and another.

Like always, you were the highlight of his night and day plus every moment in between.

jungkook: “fuck me” for being at home rn?? ha you wish 😗🥴

and sure you’ll wait for me baby, you’re my good girl

just know i’m coming over tomorrow and picking up where we left off. missed u too much i doubt id be able to keep my hands to myself 🤤

Jeon didn’t realize he was grinning— the kind of grinning that formed those crinkles around his eyes— until he caught sight of his reflection through the screen, simultaneously noticing how tired his smiling eyes looked and, in a very adult way, he took that as a sign to call it a night. There was always tomorrow, and there will be a tomorrow.

A very eventful one— he’ll make sure of it.

A loud yawn easily slipped past his agape mouth and Jungkook used his clean hand to start typing again, doe eyes blinking repeatedly to try and stay awake just so he could send you a goodnight text and manage to at least change out of his clothes.

jungkook: i’m heading to bed now, no workout ever tires me out like you do 💪

night, hope my shirt keeps you warm 😏

you: night, jeon

try not to dream about me tonight 😴

And just like that, Jungkook set his phone aside and sighed to himself after standing up and taking a closer look at the mess he’d made— was that amount of cum… healthy?

You were honestly messing with his head but.. Jungkook kind of liked it.

You got out of your seat and went straight to the bathroom, leaving your phone behind to wash up.

What an eventful night.

Jungkook’s ‘i’m coming over tomorrow and picking up where we left off’ stayed lingering in your mind as you thoroughly washed your hands. You were finally going to see Jungkook after 2 days (felt like a month) and you didn’t know how you’d react the moment you open the door for him.

Would you jump him because you missed him so much? Slap him because he didn’t bother to talk to you these last two days? Kiss him without thinking because you missed his lips?

Fuck, you really wanted to kiss him.

Maybe you would just stand there and let the man welcome himself in since he had a lot of experience doing that anyway the last couple years.

Either way, you were completely and utterly fucked for caring so much.

Whatever though, Jungkook was still clueless and that was something you could dwell on another time, but for now, you felt like you needed 6 months worth of sleep for the 9857265 hours you spent studying to keep your mind off Jungkook.

aiw taglist: @here4btsfics @zealouslightcookiebasketball @ninablue @petalsofink @jjksnoonamess @nadzzzblog @jossabelle88 @mwitsmejk @janedukiesworld @chl8e @bts-ruu @hollyweird0 @sharingcoolstuff @starbtslove @taeboludo @karinahwang @newdeobi @callmejimmeo @hrts4kook perm taglist: @aliceaflor5-blog @kookiecrumb @jjkeverlast @prettyghost @kooliv @koobsessed @gimmethatagustd @pb-n-juju @aslias17 @ririlovesangst @kootonins @taehyungseggs @dewamused @jungshook7 @jiminsneckkisses @moonfaery @fragmentof-indifference

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[therealdogsinmymind]

✩ Turnabout ✩

18+ MDNI

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AO3 Link | Word Count: 5,206 | Chapters 1/1

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Synopsis: Jinwoo comes home injured and you’re brimming with excitement at the idea of being able to tend to his wounds like the good old days, however things get a bit carried away…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo/Male Reader, Sung Jinwoo/You

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Tags: Reader POV, Male Reader, S-Rank Jin-Woo, Minor Injuries, Domestic Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Communication, Established Relationship, Cock Tease, Face-Fucking, Hand Jobs, Premature Ejaculation, Dacryphilia,

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Picture from @oo0mika0oo ‘s icon edits

It’s not often that S-Rank hunter Sung Jinwoo suffers defeat these days. Frankly it just doesn’t seem to happen anymore, and you’d never admit it to anyone but you wish just a smidgen that sometimes he would come home bloodied and bruised like he used to when he was an E-rank hunter. You miss taking care of him; kissing his wounds better and knowing that you serve a purpose in his life. You’re not really sure what your purpose is these days; you mostly cook for Jinah and wait for Jinwoo to come home from fighting whatever big bad he’s facing. Not that he does most days.

You’re not expecting today to be the day he comes home, uncharacteristically beaten down. You find yourself brimming with delight when he appears from nothingness behind you, smelling of dirt and blood. It’s fucking gross, but the point is that he’s disheveled and that’s a rare sight. You don’t turn around, you can’t, he’s taken to slumping over your back; however you can see him in the reflection of the window, his face is busted up.

”Tough fight?” you hum the question, internally vibrating with joy that he’s come home to you seeking comfort.

”No. Just unnecessarily long,” he sighs into your hair. You want so badly to turn around and look at the full damage but he has you trapped under his weight. You’re sure he wants to wallow in his displeasure at having been injured so you’ll have to make do. You reach back and card your fingers through his hair, it’s lightly coated in dirt but not too bad. He sighs softly at your touch, leaning into it. You wonder what he got up to while he was gone. You missed him so much it almost doesn’t feel like he’s really here but the warmth seeping into your back is solid proof.

“You’ve been gone for a week, y’know?” There’s a slight melancholy air to your tone that you can’t disguise. He tenses up and you can’t help but feel bad for kicking him when he’s down like this. “It’s fine, I know you’re busy. I just wish you’d call.” Jinwoo tightens his hold on you as if you’ll wither away at any moment.

”I was inside a system gate, I’m sorry my love, I didn’t intend to be away for so long.” The stupid fucking system, sometimes you hate it, you know it saved Jinwoo’s life but sometimes it feels like it’s also trying to take everything he has. It’s taken large chunks of his emotions, he’s had to fight to regain some sense of some of them. It’s taken his time away from his family, his normal life, and one day you fear it’ll take him away from you entirely. It’s just some kind of game after all.

You pull yourself away from that line of thought. ”Like I said s’fine. I used your black card, so we’re even… sorta.” You pause for a moment, before explaining further, “It’s a gift from both of us to my mother, her birthday is next week.”

He sighs into your hair before kissing your head, “My love, you can use that for whatever you want. I don't care. I would actually prefer you do.”

”Yeah well…” The thing is, you still flinch when pulling it out, the concept of spending money scares you. After spending so many years where you and Jinwoo’s family barely scraped by, it's a hard feeling to shake. “Anyway that’s not important, you seem tired. Why don’t we sit, hm?” He doesn’t fight you, seemingly content to let you guide him to the couch. Once in a while he doesn’t argue when you try to get him to sit down for two seconds and it’s a fucking blessing but you don’t suspect it’ll last long. 

Sitting him down on the couch you take a step back to assess the damage while he leans his head back and closes his eyes. His legs are spread wide and his arms are sprawled across the back of the couch, he seems exhausted. He’s notably tired and visibly frustrated, you assume he’s annoyed with having been injured. There seems to be blood on his shirt, you wonder if it’s his, but hope not. Most glaringly his face is busted to shit. His nose seems to have some dried blood under it, he clearly scraped his cheek and it looks like he has a black eye forming. Not to mention he’s absolutely filthy, but otherwise okay. Smiling crookedly you step between his open knees, placing one hand on the back of the couch for balance as you lean over him and place a whisper of a kiss on the corner of his mouth. You miss intentionally to get his attention then start to pull away in tease.

“Mm, do it right.” He snakes a hand behind your head and brings you back in. Pulling you into a soft kiss that clearly resonates ‘I’m home, sorry I was gone, I’m here now.’ It’s an I love you in its own right. 

You kiss him softly for a few moments before pulling away just enough to whisper, “Let's take a shower.”

He huffs a laugh against your lips, “That bad?” 

“Well you’re covered in blood for one... But I’ll wash your back so don’t worry about it m’kay?”

”You don’t have to do that,” Jinwoo says, gently tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. 

“Yeah but I want to… Are you saying you don’t want to see me naked?” You reach up and your hand captures his mid-air. You press it to your cheek and he strokes your skin with his thumb.

Jinwoo shakes his head in defeat, ”Hard bargain.”

”I’m known for those,” you grin.

He pulls you in for another kiss, this one heavier than the last but still airing on the soft side. It’s wet and hot but slow, no real sense of urgency behind it. When you part he bumps his nose against yours, “You’ll let me cook after?”

”You’re injured so that’s gonna be a no, but you can cook tomorrow. Make me breakfast in bed or something.”

”I can do that,” he says with absolute seriousness. 

”That was a joke.”

”No, you’ve put the idea in my head now, I’ll think of it as a quest.”

”Oh shut up.” You’re laughing regardless, maybe the system is good for something once in a while. You offer him a hand and you swear to yourself that you’re fully prepared to pull him off the couch but you know you aren’t that strong, he’s deceptively heavy. Your hand stays offered anyway and he takes it mostly just for the sake of touching you, getting up entirely of his own right. He holds it for a few seconds, squeezing it gently once, and then lets go before striding towards the bathroom. You note that he walks away with far too much grace and ease for an injured man. For fuck’s sake the guy could at least pretend to be phased. It seems like he took his two seconds on the couch and now he’s good. Shaking your head you follow him, pulling your sweater and shirt off in one movement behind his back; maybe you can at least surprise him a little. You slip your shorts and underwear off much the same way, struggling a little to not make noise or stumble in your walking as you do so. All that’s left is your stupid little over the knee socks because your legs get unbearably cold but pants were the devil's invention. You have no way to take those off easily but that's okay, you suspect he won’t mind. 

You say nothing, letting him flick the light on to the dressing room and turn back to you on his own. Jinwoo’s about to say something but as he sees you he pauses hard, completely short circuiting for a moment. You have to hold it together at the slack-jawed look on his face. 

“Hi,” he says stupidly, fully acting as if he’s never seen you naked before. You lose your battle, as his response makes you bust out in a fit of giggles. 

“Hi, baby- You good?” 

“Yeah…” Jinwoo says, dazed, “I just forget how lucky I am.”

”Alright smooth talker…” you roll your eyes, you really don’t think you’re all that special; especially not when he has celebrities and S-rank hunters with their eyes on him. He seems to know what you’re thinking so he grabs your hand, dragging you further into the dressing room. You toss your clothes near the washing machine and let him pull you along. He pushes you against the sink and boxes you in. You don’t even have to meet his eyes to know he’s looking at you with that intensity that you fell in love with. 

He seems to struggle with his words for a moment, you know he’s not always the best at fully expressing himself these days, it’s okay you can wait. Eventually Jinwoo lets out a soft breath and says, “I love you.”

You blink at him, wide eyed. He doesn’t say that much, he shows it in other ways, but he rarely says it. You smile softly, reaching up to caress his cheek for a moment, “I love you too.” 

He captures your lips as soon as the words are out of your mouth; this kiss is different from your last. It’s wetter, harder, Jinwoo slips his tongue into your mouth quickly. He slides an arm behind your back and pulls your hips flush, your bare cock rubbing against his pants, it forces a moan out of you. The sound seems to get lost in between your lips but the way his grip tightens means he heard it just fine. His other hand grabs your thigh and hikes it up so you’re left resting in his hands lest you want to balance one leg alone. You know he’s insanely strong but it always makes your cock throb when he lifts your full weight like it’s nothing. Then as if hearing your thoughts he uses his grip on your back and thigh to lift you onto your toes so you truly have to rely on his strength alone, unable to support yourself in any meaningful way. His injuries are momentarily forgotten by you as you’re too busy whining into his mouth and gripping tightly at his shirt. 

Thankfully things shift and it’s his turn to moan when his hand adjusts itself on your thigh and comes in contact with your stocking. You can’t help the small bit of laughter that bubbles from your lips, forcing you to pull away from the kiss.

Surprisingly, Jinwoo speaks before you can, “Remind me to get you more of these…” He plays with the hem of your stockings, they begin to slip down past your knee a bit and his breath catches ever-so-slightly. “They’re good.”

”You’re so ridiculous.”

”I’m a simple man.” 

“Yeah baby, I’ve noticed.”

Jinwoo doesn’t bother with a retort, opting to kiss you instead. You let him kiss you breathless for a few minutes until you pull away and mumble against his lips, “You’re wearing far too many clothes.”

”I can fix that,” he mumbles back. He seems loath to pull away from your lips, kissing you again and grinding his hips against your bare cock, almost certainly just to hear you moan.

He pulls away, setting your leg down gently and gives you a second to find your balance before he steps away, pulling his shirt over his head as he moves. You usually try not to boost his ego too much but you find your eyes raking down his chest regardless. He smirks and you roll your eyes, caught red handed you guess. He does seem to have a blossoming bruise on his ribs but no blood so that’s good at least; it must not have been his. Jinwoo shucks off the rest of his clothes and you pointedly don’t watch just to avoid giving him the satisfaction.

When he’s done he moves back into your space and you hum, thinking about what you want to do; this is supposed to be about him after all. If you give this man an inch he’ll take a mile. You can’t let him take control, he'll aggravate his injuries for certain. Instead of letting him pin you to the counter again you take his hips gently and spin the two of you around. When you push him against the counter he raises his eyebrow, curious enough to let you do as you will. 

It’s then that you sink to your knees, glad for your socks, you’re sure your legs would be freezing otherwise. You hear Jinwoo suck in a sharp breath and you hold back a smile. Instead you lick your hand, letting a dollop of spit fall out of your mouth into your palm before you take a hold of Jinwoo’s cock. He hisses as you begin to stroke him slowly, twisting your wrist every so often, bringing him to full hardness. Occasionally you swipe your thumb over the head but largely you stay away from any movement that could really bring him to the edge. Instead you choose to pepper his hips and thighs with kisses. 

He whines a little, “You- hah- you're being mean…”

“Oh?” you hum, your tone lifting in a way that makes Jinwoo stiffen.

“No- You're not mean. You're not mean I didn't-”

“Baby if you want me to be mean-” your hand lightly squeezes the base of his cock right before you lean forward and give the head a small kiss. His hips jerk a little but it's a miniscule reaction in comparison to the moan that's torn from his chest moments later when you properly wrap your lips around his cock. 

“Please, please-”

You pay him no mind, instead taking care to suck slowly and softly at the head of his cock. Sounds of distressed pleasure spill from Jinwoo’s lips as he contorts over you. You pull off of him with a pop and sigh in mock disappointment.

”Baby you’re going to hurt yourself. You’re injured!”

“I can fix that! Will you stop fucking with me please and thank you-“

You bite him unkindly high up on his inner thigh to which he jerks again. “You want me to take care of you! You came slumping back to me after you got your ass beat so sit there and be good! Stop bitching and maybe I’ll be nice to you, fucking hell.” You know that’s not true but sometimes being mean to him is the only way to get him to shut the fuck up.

”Yes, dear.” He drags a hand down his face, acting resigned to his fate as if he’s not about to get his dick sucked. 

You eye him dubiously, usually you love his spirited nature, but right now you’d much rather he just relax, he never does that these days.

You wrap a loose hand over his cock and stroke it gently, the barely there pressure a tease of a touch more than anything. “Jinwoo…” you coo softly, your fingertips running up his cock lightly, “Will you let me take care of you? Pretty please?” you ask nicer this time, trying to soften him up to the idea of not pushing himself for fucking once.

Jinwoo sighs in that way he always does when he’s about to tell you no, so you lean forward lick a stripe up his cock before taking the head in your mouth and swirling your tongue over the tip. He takes a shuddering breath and seems to pause in his answering so you pull off and plead again, “Please, baby? I like taking care of you, you know I do. Let me?” You don’t waste time before putting your mouth back on his cock, he hasn’t even answered yet but you need to keep him in your good graces. Is this a little manipulative? Definitely, but god forbid this man be kind to himself so maybe you need to take drastic measures. 

“Okay- okay, you win-” he concedes, voice a little strained, hands gripping tightly at the counter. That was actually easier than you thought it would be. You wonder if he’s wound up after a whole week in a system dungeon, doesn’t time pass differently there? You can’t remember. Regardless, you'll do what you can to help. 

  You hum around his cock, delighted due to his obedience, happily taking him deeper into your mouth in turn. The weight of his cock on your tongue feels good almost too much so. Sometimes you wonder if you’re a little too far gone for this man. Sitting with half of him in your mouth for a moment, the rest of his cock in your hand, you wonder what kind of face he’s making. Is he finally being patient? He’s stopped bitching at least. All that you hear from him is heavy pants as you begin to bob your head. He whines a little as you rub circles into his hip with your thumb, a silent plea for him to not buck his hips. When you’re pretty sure you’ve gotten the message across you take his cock down to the base. It invades your throat and you struggle with its size, trying desperately to accommodate and not pull off entirely. Jinwoo gives a choked moan and pride surges through you despite your current struggle.

You must accidentally dig your nails into Jinwoo’s hip as suddenly there’s a hand on the back of your head holding you there. “Shh, it’s okay you’re doing amazing,” he says, panting slightly, “When you pull back breathe through your nose. You know how to do this, you’re almost there, just relax.” You squirm under his hold a little, not because you want him to let go, it’s the opposite really. His sweet words flood heat to your stomach and you’re reminded very quickly that you’re not wearing any clothes when your cock throbs. You manage to further relax your throat, but you get to a point where you absolutely need to breathe so you tap his leg and he lets go of your head. You pull back slightly, making sure to keep half of him in your mouth while you take a breath, before taking him back into your throat. You gag around him a bit, drool sliding down your chin faster than before. 

“Can I grab your hair- please-“ he begs, voice strained. 

You take a moment to suck on the tip of his cock before pulling off entirely, “Mhm, go for it. You can move my head around if it would help you feel good, I know it’s been a while since I’ve done this…” Not that that’s your fault, he never fucking lets you, always too determined to fuck you within an inch of your life. 

“I- You’re doing perfect I just…” you raise an eyebrow at him, Jinwoo never gets this embarrassed you wonder what it could be. 

“If there’s anything-?” You want him to feel good. 

“Can… I cum on your face?” You hum in faux contemplation, you’re going to say yes but it feels good to see him stare at you longingly, eyes blown wide, red splotching his cheeks. 

“You wanna mark me? That it?” You stroke his cock slowly, it twitches in your hand, how delightful. 

“Yeah,” he says, nearly choking on the word. 

“Mm, sounds nice. Go ahead baby, take what you need.” You say sweetly, taking a steadying breath before you take the tip of his cock into his mouth. Barely a moment later he grabs a fistful of your hair and shoves your head down onto his cock entirely, forcing himself into your throat. You gag harshly and a loud moan escapes him, echoing through the room. With one hand on his hip to steady yourself, your other hand sneaks down to your own cock, finally granting yourself some relief. You fist your cock and tug at it harshly, now that you’re finally touching yourself you’re unwilling to build up slowly; you’ve been waiting long enough. Jinwoo uses your mouth not aggressively but it’s forceful enough to make you gag on every thrust, tears streaming down your face.

“F-fuck, you’re so pretty when you cry…” he chokes out, tightening his grip on your hair before he pulls you off for a second. “Breathe.” You take a few harsh gasping breaths, then he guides it back into your mouth and quickly shoves your head down; breaching your throat once again. This time he doesn’t pull your head off, he keeps you there, squirming. You dig your nails into his hip and tug rapidly at your own cock, twisting your wrist on every stroke, getting more desperate as Jinwoo uses you. You can’t even see him anymore, tears flowing too openly. You fear you must look like a mess. With spit pouring down your chin onto your chest, cheeks soaked with tears, cock spilling precum over your hand; truly this man knows how to reduce you to nothing. You’re glad that Jinwoo seems to be enjoying the show at least. More than enough proof coming in the form of him panting, whines escaping him whenever your throat constricts around him.

Eventually he yanks your head back, tugging at his cock quickly, your spit making his hand slide across his skin with a quick slick sound. You kneel at his feet gasping harshly, your own pleasure paused momentarily. You close your eyes and the sound of his broken moans mingle with your gasping breaths. It fills the air and for a second it’s all you know.

“I-” he starts, just slightly too late, cumming on your face without any real warning. You whine quietly, you love him so much. You wish you could see the blissed out look on his face but you know he wants to look at what he’s done to you for a minute. 

Unable to help it, your tongue pokes out and licks a drop of his cum off your lip, it’s terrible, truly. You don’t mind if it’s him though. Especially because he moans a little at the sight. 

“There’s ah, hold on.” Water runs for a moment and then a warm wet cloth gently dabs at your face, notably your eyelids, he must not have wanted you to get anything in your eye. “You can open your eyes now.”

You blink your eyes open a few times even as he continues to wipe softly at your face, cleaning tears off your cheeks and saliva off your chin. He looks at you intently as he cleans you up, determined to do a good job, he’s too sweet sometimes.

“You didn’t cum,” he says, matter of fact.

Shrugging, “I was more focused on you, I’m not concerned.” You’re hoping he drops it but you suspect he won’t. You will your boner to magically fucking disappear.

“I am,” he insists and you don’t have time to stop him before he moves and drops to his knees beside you.

“You’re injured-ah!” Your protests about his health are cut off when he takes your cock into his hand. He strokes it twice before running his thumb over the tip and you give a choked whimper, bucking your hips. 

Grasping for his wrist you try desperately to pull his arm away as he strokes your cock but you feel weak all over. “You- I can’t- Jinwoo!” As you call his name you fold over, spilling cum over his hand. You sob broken syllables that sound like a mantra of pleas as he continues to jerk at your cock until tears are streaming down your face again. 

When you bat weakly at him he finally lets go of your cock and you lean against him, panting. He presses a kiss to the side of your head and you whine, if he says a single fucking thing about this you swear to god; you'll have to kill him.

“That was faster than usual,” he comments idly, as if talking about the weather. 

“A week! You were gone for a week!” You smack him tiredly, you know it doesn’t phase him at all but it’s the thought that counts. This is why you didn’t want him to touch you, you were entirely too wound up, you knew if he put his hands on you at all you’d embarrass yourself. He sighs and kisses the side of your head again, mumbling an apology into your hair. You sigh in return and nod against him despite the pit it sets in your stomach. You wish he wouldn’t do that now, you hate apology sex, that’s not what this was supposed to be. 

You try to push yourself off the floor only to find your legs weak, man fuck Jinwoo, you hate that guy. Your face goes red as you mumble, “Help me up…” you tack on just for good measure, “And if you laugh I’ll kill you.” 

“Of course, of course.” He stands with a grace that you envy and proceeds to not help you up but instead sweep you up into his arms. You make some vague noises of protest that he ignores and he laughs quietly. He sets you on the counter and kneels to slip your socks off, he really is acting like he’s not hurt at all. You didn’t do much to help, did you? 

You sigh, disappointment filling you, so much for caring for him, things really have changed. He’s going so many places you can’t reach; what are you supposed to do with that knowledge? What will you do the day he doesn’t need you anymore? It feels like that day has already gone and passed and you’re not sure why he keeps coming home to you. 

“You’re getting in your head,” he says from where he’s knelt before you. 

You hum and give a noncommittal shrug, unsure where to even start. Hopping off the counter you softly mumble, “I’m going to shower.” When you shuffle past him you enter the bathroom and make a point to gently close the door behind you, despite the original intention of a shared shower. It’s a quiet sign that you want to be alone. Despite this, he enters a few moments later, once you’ve turned the water on. You sigh, he’s terrible at reading signals, or maybe he just prefers to ignore them. 

”Hey,” Jinwoo starts as he wraps his arms around you from behind, flattening himself against your back. “Did I hurt you?”

There’s no point in hiding it, ”No… yes… it’s not you, I just miss meaning something to you.” He makes a wounded sound that you can hear clearly over the water. It’s surely warm enough by now but his arms tighten around you and you’re unable to step under it, trapped in his hold. 

Resting his chin on the top of your head he asks quietly, “Why would you ever think you don’t?”

You sigh restlessly and pull yourself from his arms, “You know how I used to have a purpose? You would come home beat to shit after a raid and I would take care of you? That doesn’t happen anymore! I even had one job today and I fucked it up! I barely did anything for you! I didn’t even tend to your wounds…” You find yourself breathing heavy, tears beginning to spill from your eyes. You sniffle hard, wiping at them aggressively. Digging the heels of your palms into your eyes you wail your biggest fear, “ I don’t have any use to you anymore!”

He tugs one on one of your wrists, pulling on it gently and persistently, until you let it fall away and look at him. ”You don’t need a use, dumbass. You’re not a tool. You’re the love of my life,” he says it so straight faced you physically reel back, accidentally stepping directly into the shower stream and scaring the crap out of yourself. You jump out of your skin when the water touches you suddenly. Jinwoo has to use his hold on your wrist to pull you into his chest, keeping you from falling. 

Your tears freeze up out of shock, “You don’t have to be mean about it!” You cry, shrilly, “I’m wallowing!” You push off his chest and scrub any remaining tears off your face.

”You’re being stupid!”

”Ouch!” The mood feels worlds lighter, Was that it? Did you really think of yourself only as a tool? You feel like this insecurity won’t go away overnight but at the moment you feel less like you’re drowning so there’s that. Regardless of your lighter mood you sigh, “I still think you should get beat up more often, I like taking care of you.” It’s mostly a joke but there’s a crumb of truth to it, maybe you guys can compromise somewhere. Perhaps he could come home for dinner more often or something, you’ll talk to him about it later.

”That’s…” he pauses for a while before he sighs and goes on, “I didn’t get beat up.” He rubs the back of his head, a nervous tick he’s never quite kicked. “I tripped leaving the system gate. Busted my face on a pile of rocks if you can believe it…” He can’t meet your eyes, looking anywhere else as his face goes quickly red.

You blink at him, wide-eyed, “No fucking way…”

He groans as if he’s dying, ”Do you think I would make that up for fun?”

You can’t help it, laughter bubbles out of your throat and escapes you in uncontrollable bursts. You can’t breathe, you’re going to die, holy shit there’s no way. Oh man, you shouldn’t be laughing at him like this but it’s just so human. 

You have tears in your eyes as you tell him, “I love you so much- you are so uncool.”

Jinwoo’s head whips towards you, cheeks still red, “Says the guy who-” 

You nearly choke on your words trying to get them out faster than he can, “Do not finish that sentence!”

He holds up his hands in surrender before scratching at his chin, “You know… I thought it was kinda cute.”

You turn away quickly, padding over to mess with the water temperature, “What was that? I can’t hear you over the water!” 

Jinwoo silently comes up behind you, which shouldn’t even be possible with the wet floor, bullying you up against the wall. He boxes you in from behind and speaks into your ear, “If you’re that pent up… How many orgasms do you think I can wring out of you?” You shudder against him and open your mouth to speak but only a whine comes out when he places a loose hand on your throat. Not to choke, just resting there and feeling your pulse more than anything. “Let me take care of you this time, hm?”

“Hah- Jinwoo-” you whine. This man fights dirtier than anyone you’ve ever met. Maybe you can’t say anything, you did the same shit earlier, turnabout is fair play and all. 

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Confessional Feelings

Alec Hardy x GN!Reader

Summary: You find your feelings for Alec exposed after running into him after his date.

CW: serious pining, angst, eventual fluff tho

Broadchurch tag list: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

You shouldn’t be out here, you know. You know this. Alec had requested that everyone take safety measures when there’d been yet another predator marked as on the loose and actively looking for crimes to commit. And yet here you were.

Alec was on a date. You’d thought that maybe if you were great at your job and made yourself available to him for whatever he needed, he might get a clue and ask you out. That would be nice. You’d had feelings for him since he’d arrived in Broadchurch. You’d seen right through his irritable surface to the soft gooey centre. Not that you’d told him that you’d taken to calling him a Mars Bar or anything. You don’t think he’d care for that. 

But he was on a date tonight, and you just needed to go for a walk to clear your head about the whole thing. You had to at least try and get him off your mind. For a few hours, anyway, until you saw him at work in the morning. At least he wasn’t the chatty type. You weren’t sure if you would have been able to handle hearing him talk about his date all day. 

Turning the corner, you walk right smack back into someone coming the other way. You yelp, and the person shouts. Though it sounds distinctly familiar. Pressing your hand to your chest, you blink a few times to try and wash the shock away. When your vision clears, you see none other than the object of your feelings and the reason for your very late stroll standing before you. 

“Jesus, what’re you doin’ out here so late?” Alec asks shortly, still getting over the shock himself. He looks angry, but you think that’s just because you’ve scared each other half to death. “Och, what have I said? There’s a- a killer!” 

Your mouth gapes open and shut a couple of times, trying to find the words. 

“Going for a walk,” you settle, waving your arms as if that was obvious. Alec blinks, and before he can open his mouth, you blurt, “how was the date? I- uh, your date, I mean. That you were just on. That you’re coming from.” 

“Fine,” is his response. “It was fine, yep- good.” 

You cock a brow in silent question. Alec sighs and pinches his nose. 

“Just, not- Oh, I don’t know. Y’ken what I mean,” he attempted. A flush was creeping up his cheeks. You shook your head, no. “Oh, look, we just didn’t click.” 

“Right,” you trailed off slowly, a blush creeping up your own cheeks now. That meant there was still a chance. Possibly. Of course, for there to be a chance, Alec had to be interested. 

Alec chewed on his lip awkwardly for a moment. 

“Can I walk you home, then?” 

You nodded without hesitation. Alec gestured for you to lead the way. You turned around to go back the way you came. Maybe this was your chance to confess how you felt. 

“So, why didn’t you click?” You asked. “With your date.” 

Alec sighs, shoving his hands in his pants pockets. It’s something he does when he’s nervous, you’ve noticed. 

“I dunno,” he replies at first, as though thinking about what to say. “Sounds horrible to say, but, she just didn’t interest me.” Alec seemed to be growing more anxious by the second. 

“I get that,” you comfort quietly, kicking at a pebble on the path. The cool night air makes you shiver, and Alec shrugs out of his jacket to place around your shoulders. He averts your gaze when you pull it around yourself tighter. It doesn’t fit the whole way around, what with him being a complete beanpole, but the warmth seeping through the coat into your skin was heavenly nonetheless. 

You snuggle tighter into the coat. You swear Alec smiles to himself, but when you look to check it’s gone. Almost like he’s hiding it from you. 

You walk in silence for a couple more minutes, hands almost brushing as you do so. He’s straying closer to you than usual. Maybe it’s the cold, maybe he’s subconsciously moving closer for warmth now you’ve unintentionally stolen his coat. But the way his forefinger brushes against the back of your hand tells you otherwise. Oh, this might be your time to shine. 

“Can I-” 

“Look, I-” 

You both speak over each other, and you purse your lips shut, forcing yourself to stay quiet and let him go first. 

“Sorry, erm- do you mind if I?” 

You gesture to go ahead. The pace slows as you get closer to your house, only a few numbers up. Alec looks like he’s fidgeting on the spot, nervous energy fizzling out of him like a shaken soda. 

“So, this date, erm-” the man rubs at his cheeks as if trying to give himself strength. “It didn’t work because, well…” 

You’re trying to dissect him with your eyes, whole being hinged on the hope that he’s about to say. He stumbles over his words for a few more moments before you put him out of his misery. 

“I- are you trying to say you have… feelings for me?” You’re almost too terrified to hear the answer, your heart feels like it's lodged in your throat, chest swelling like a balloon. 

Alec looks at you, looks away and then chews on his bottom lip for a moment. 

“S’pose that’s what I’m tryin’ t’say, yes.” 

You cannot help the splitting grin that spreads its way across your cheeks. Alec looks embarrassed as he rubs the back of his neck. You haven’t been as overjoyed as you are at this moment for a very long time. 

“Are you joshing me right now?” That would not be cool. 

“I-no, sorry- I shouldn’t have said that.” 

“No,” you say, holding a hand up to stop him right there. “I-I’m glad you did. I, uh,” a nervous giggle bubbles out. “Have feelings for you too.” 

“Oh, y’do? Wasn’t expecting that,” a small smile is spreading over his face too now. A pretty thing. 

You stop in front of the gateway to your house. Alec hovers as if not sure what to say. 

“I do,” you reiterate, blush flushing up your skin. “And I’d really like to, um, kiss you. If you wanted?” 

Alec doesn’t waste any time, surging in to press his lips to yours. One hand raises to brush against your cheek, the other to hold you by the back of the neck, keeping you locked together in your embrace. You melt into him, lips moving back against his own. 

The coat falls from your shoulders and Alec breaks away with a smile. A real, genuine smile. He reaches down to pick the coat back up. 

“Would you, uh- wow- I can’t believe that just happened,” you giggle uncontrollably. “Would you like to come in? Just for a cup of tea? Oh, please say yes.” 

“Oh, I’d love to. Come quick now, let's get you in out of the cold, eh?” 

You nod agreeably, bounding up the steps and unlocking the door. Alec follows, folding the coat over his arm. 

You get about halfway through making that cup of tea before the both of you are making out in the kitchen, Alec having you pressed up against the counter. After months of pining, you really can’t believe this was happening. 

It really made you wish you’d cleaned your bedroom this morning. Not that Alec seemed to mind, given that both of your clothes ended up all over the floor anyway by the time midnight rolled around. 

[fenricken]

You Keep Slipping From My Grasp 4/7

AO3

Ship: Spirit Halloween

first

prev

The rain fell heavily, washing the blood on the ground away as he stepped toward the woman. She was hunched over, sobbing, clutching her dead son to her chest. She glanced up at him as he approached, mouthing silent prayers.

“What happened here?” he asked, carefully ignoring the dead bodies around.

“They came… for a box my family has guarded for a long time. They killed my husband and my son, and they’ve taken my Catherine… They’ll torture her to make her speak its secrets. Please! Please, help her!”

She reached out a hand to him, imploringly. He crouched down to take it.

“I will.”

————

Danny stood before Clockwork, adjusting his new cowboy hat. Maddie and Jack stood behind Clockwork tinkering on the Fenton Omega Siphoner, and arguing over the aesthetics of the machine.

“I have already sent Dani out to help the Justice League locate Batman’s cape. Hopefully we should receive word on her success soon.” Clockwork began, “In the meantime, we do still need someone to make sure Batman doesn’t rush forward too quickly, lest he build up too much energy before we can stop him. Are you ready?”

“Always ready for bat-sitting duty. I’d hope he’s doing something  a bit calmer this time, but I suppose there’s no chance of that happening.” Danny responded, pointing to his hat.

Clockwork just gave his usual cryptic smile before opening a portal for Danny to step through.

————

“Roooooobin. Rooooooooobin.”

Tim whirled around, searching for the source of the noise.

“Oooh, new fit?” Poltergeist asked, stepping out of the shadows. “Ugly cowl, but I like the rest of it.”

Tim lowered his bo staff at her, readying himself for whatever chaotic ‘game’ she tried to rope him into this time.

“Your city’s on fire. You bats trying out some new defense mechanism or something? Like, you think no rogue would want to take over Gotham if it’s a pile of rubble and ash?” She turned in a circle, surveying the chaos Gotham was under.

“What do you want, Poltergeist?”

“Well, so like, Batman’s stuck in time, right? And-”

“How do you know that?!” Red Robin cut in. He had been struggling to convince everyone that Batman was still alive ever since he found those paintings on the walls of the Batcave. Suddenly, here was Poltergeist who seemed to know something about it, but he couldn’t trust her. She was unpredictable, and running into her could mean leaving with anything as benign yet uncomfortable as soaked socks or as irritating and hindering as being cursed to only speak dead languages for the next 3 days.

And things only got worse if she was tagging along with Klarion. Fortunately, he wasn’t in sight, so it's unlikely he was here with her.

“What do you want?”

She smiled slightly at him. “Oh! I want to get Batman back where he belongs before he dies or explodes everything.”

Explodes everything?

“I mean, Gotham’s got a grumpy quota and since you’re his mini-me I figured you’d start trying to take it on and that’d be so boring.” She raised her pointer fingers to the side of her head, imitating Batman’s cowl and adopted a nasally voice. “I don’t have time to play, Poltergeist. Gotham needs me. I have to go stalk Penguin, and then I need to go brood on my favorite gargoyle.”

“So you want to help me find Batman so that I will… be able to play with you?”

“Well, that, but also if he makes his way to the present day on his own, he’ll have built up enough of something called Omega Energy to make all of reality go ka-blooey, and I actually really like this universe. Top 10, easily.”

Tim held up his hand to stop the oncoming ramble while he compartmentalized.

First, Poltergeist knew Bruce was lost in the time stream and seemed to want to help.

Second, Bruce was making his way back to the present, and by doing so was becoming a living bomb

Third, Poltergeist is a multiversal being???

That last one can probably be ignored for now.

“If I were to let you help me find Batman, where do you suggest we start? I’ve been tracking down artifacts I think he’s left behind  to try and convince the Justice League to help us-”

“Psh. Justice League Shmustice League. My dad and my Nana and Pops are already working on it. We just need to find the cape he was sent back in time with for them. Besides, I can probably convince Wonder Woman to help us get the Justice Dorks to help out once we get the cape if we really need to.”

What.

“What?”

“My grandparents are building a thingy-thing to suck all the Omega Energy out of Batman so he’s not a bomb. My dad’s hanging out with him to keep him from dying or something, and we’re supposed to find his cape so we can safely yoink him out of the time stream.”

“I didn’t know you had parents??? What do they do while you’re here breaking things???”

Poltergeist shrugged “King things I guess. And I only have a dad.”

“King things???”

She rolled her eyes, “Anyway, Dad said he last saw Batman’s cape in the Batcave.”

“You didn’t answer my question, and I’m not taking you to the Batcave.”

Poltergeist landed on her feet, and stared at him with wide eyes. He stared back, caught in her gaze for what felt like an eternity, as he felt invisible fingers trickle up his spine. Whispers started low in his ears, building to a crescendo. It was getting too much to bear, until he broke eye contact and looked away. All of a sudden, it stopped. Tim heaved a big sigh.

“I’m… kinda fighting with the current Batman, so we’ll have to sneak in.”

She punched both arms into the air, “YES!”

Tim turned, flicking his cape and walking off, not waiting to see if she’d follow.

“Poltergeist, when this is over you are going to be answering my questions.”

He heard her blow a raspberry at his back, but kept walking.

————

He followed their trail easily enough, the rain trailing after him. As he reached his destination, men came out to fight him, readying pistols, but he made short work of them easily enough.

With his memory having returned in bits and pieces, it had been easy to fashion metal into bat shapes aerodynamic enough to hit true when thrown, and it was these he’d used to disarm the men.

These memories were useful. The ones of children with blurry faces less so, haunting him as they stayed just out of his complete grasp. A constant reminder of how lost and alone he was.

He steadily made his way to the headquarters, where he figured they were keeping Catherine. He whirled around, sensing someone approaching from behind. It was the man with white hair, again.

“Seems you’ve got this well enough in hand, but I hope you don’t mind if I’d tag along all the same.”

“Why?”

The white haired man smiled slightly. “Will you not believe that I just want to help you?”

He stared, unblinking and quiet. Memories from before had proven this a good method to get more information.

His target stared back, also quiet and unblinking. It wasn’t long before he started shifting, and not much longer before he finally spoke again. Under his breath, almost too quiet to hear, he muttered “Just like Dani, I swear…”

Louder, the man said, “I’ve not known you to be the kind of man to ever be on the wrong side of a cause. Whatever you’re up to, I just want to help.”

He squinted at the man, trying to find any evidence of a lie, but the man just appeared open and honest.

“No guns,” he says, before turning back around and leading the white haired man on towards the headquarters.

As they got closer, they noticed two men standing guard. He deployed smoke bombs to cover their approach, sneaking closer with his companion close behind. They were spotted, but the smoke did its work, scaring the two guards and allowing him and his companion to disappear from view again.

“How you gonna tell me there’s no such things as ghosts now???” One of them whimpered, apparently to his white-haired friend’s delight, as he broke out in giggles.

As the smoke continued to grow, he and his friend snuck around the two, tricking them into fighting each other.

He broke through into the offices in the back. They were unfortunately empty.

“Already gone!” He said, slamming a hand on the desk. His companion stood at the window.

“Not long though, look!”

When he spotted their carriage speeding away through the window, he knew he had to act quickly. He launched himself out of the window, and onto the tarp covering the wagon.

An explosion sounded behind him, but he focused on the task ahead of him. His friend always seemed to find his way back, so he’d have to trust he’d do it again.

The ensuing fight was nothing pretty, little more than mad scrambling as he fought to hold his balance, dodge bullets, and wrestle the men actually in the cart so he could get away with the Catherine and her family’s box.

Looking ahead, he saw they were quickly approaching the dock, and a man who was walking down it. Thinking quickly, he swung his body-weight around, tipping the wagon over and sending everyone sprawling. 

The man who had been at the dock had acted quickly, grabbing the young woman and holding her protectively behind him. He stood up, adding to the obstacles that stood protecting Catherine from her kidnappers. Only 3 men remained. From the snippets he heard as two of them fought, he figures the two fighting must’ve been the masterminds behind the plot and the third still in the distance was a gun-for-hire. Taking out his weapons of choice, he quickly dispatched the two men.

Catherine tugged on his cloak. He turned to face her, seeing that she had opened up the box, and was showing him what was inside.

It was Jack Valor’s journal.

He wanted to reach out–to see what Jack had added since they parted, but the gun-for-hire had caught up to them by then.

“My employers may have been dealt with, but I still have a reputation to uphold. Draw.”

He stood up straight, reaching for more of his weapon of choice. Over the shoulder of the gun-for-hire, he saw another man approaching quickly, white-haired. His friend.

A loud bang echoed, and he felt pain in his side. He stumbled, too close to the edge of the dock, and as he fell over he heard one last cry of ‘BAT–’.

And everything went dark.

————

Shit.

Shit. Shit. SHIT.

As if Batman stumbling towards the present through who-knows-when wasn’t bad enough, now he’s SHOT???

Danny quickly ripped a portal back to Clockwork’s lair.

“Please tell me you’ve almost got the machine ready.” Danny said after confirming his parents were in the room.

“Almost! Just one problem, sweetie…” His mom said, looking over at her husband so he’d finish.

“Batman needs to die. Or at least be very close to death!” Jack said, ending with a laugh.

“Basically, we can get this machine to suck out the Omega Energy, but it’s tightly bonded with Batman’s life energy, so it’s extremely risky unless we can find a way to diminish his life energy.”

Danny groaned, putting his face in his hands. “It’s just one thing after another! He’s just been shot. Would that bring him close enough?”

His dad tilted his head back and forth, considering. “Likely not, unless he was in a pretty bad way. In any case, we asked Sam and Tucker to take a look into it!”

“We’ve already found something, actually.” Sam said, having entered the room. Tucker followed behind her.

“There’s an herb that I was able to locate, which should slow his heart down to extreme levels, to the point his heartbeat would be pretty undetectable. Only problem is that his heart would have to be jump-started afterward by a great shock.”

“Clockwork let me take a closer look at his monitors into Batman’s original time and place, and I was able to determine that they have defibrillator technology that can administer an electrical shock needed to get his heart pumping again, as well as adrenaline injections in case we’d need the extra boost.” Tucker continued.

Maddie clapped her hands together. “Excellent! If we can get the Justice League to set up the anchor point on the Watchtower, we can pull Batman to that point and perform everything there! It’d probably work best to do it in his original time as well, to avoid any potential effects that could crop up from being in the wrong time when we remove the Omega Energy and try to stabilize his system.”

“Great, some good news.” Danny said, tension leaving his body. He turned to Clockwork, who had been quiet thus far. “How’s Dani’s work coming along? Will we be ready to proceed soon?”

“Dani and Red Robin have recovered Batman’s cape, and have moved it to the Watchtower. I believe Dani was able to recruit Wonder Woman’s help into getting the rest of the Justice League in line to receive Batman.”

 ————

“Red Robin! Did you seriously bring Poltergeist into the cave??? What were you thinking?”

Before Tim could reply, Poltergeist raised a hand to point at Dick-as-Batman.

“AAH! It’s the cops! Run!”

Poltergeist placed her hand on Tim’s shoulder, pulling him and the cape through the ceiling of the batcave and up in the open air of Gotham. As Tim caught sight of Wayne Manor his head whipped towards Poltergeist, hoping she wouldn’t make any connections.

She was staring at him, lips pressed together, looking a bit like a frog.

He was quiet, waiting for her to say something.

She blew a breath of air out, letting her lips buzz.

“Listen, you keep my secret, and I won’t tell anyone Batman’s secret id is some rich fruitloop.”

“...What secret?”

She pivoted them somewhere Southeast.

“That sometimes I can be responsible. Let’s go see Wonder Woman.”

AN:

It's definitely been longer than I had planned since the last update, rip.

Not going to lie, this is like my second ever fic and I definitely thought it'd be a bit easier to get back into the habit of writing. Thought I was making it easier on my self by strongly sticking to the plot of an existing story, but I think that's been an obstacle in and of itself.

Always a little worried that the language is a bit stuffy or things aren't being clear.

[ugh-yoongi]

Hi Jewel. Congrats on the milestone! Can I request for a drabble for Seokjin with a brother’s best friend trope? Thank you

thank you so much! i am not well-versed in this trope, but i am the no. 1 trope inversion stan so i hope i did it justice and that you enjoy it nonetheless!

i'm still slowly working my way through my milestone drabbles btw! i didn't forget about them. :')

got me all messed up

pairing: seokjin x f. reader genre: brother's best friend, fwb au; smut warnings: i have tagged this as smut but it's not super explicit/detailed. still: swearing, oral sex (m. receiving), reader is kind of a brat, seokjin is both flustered as hell and bossy, a little dirty talk, unedited. rating: explicit. minors do not interact. wordcount: 1.1k

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

You roll your eyes, shimmying your shorts down and off. “You say that every time, Seokjin.”

He sputters, torn between the nonchalance in your response and the sight of you nearly bare, down to just your underwear and a flimsy tank top. “Yah, that’s because it’s true every time.”

Of all your brother’s friends, Seokjin is probably the worst one you could’ve picked for something like this for a multitude of reasons. First, he’s got a horrible laugh. It’s not the sexy kind of half-chuckle that some guys have—it’s honking and loud and mortifying when you’re in tight quarters. Second, he’s got something of a conscience. Something in the sense that he’s still going to meet up with you for sex, but he makes a whole thing out of it.

You’re his best friend’s sister. He’s taking advantage of you. Blah, blah, blah.

“It’s getting a little annoying, is what I’m saying.”

Seokjin’s got protests and excuses for days, but he always seems to shut up whenever you drop to your knees in front of him. And, to his credit, there is a lot of him, which almost cancels out all the talking he does about your brother, who is not a person you want to be thinking or talking about when you’ve got a very nice, very capable cock halfway down your throat.

“So-sorry—oh my god.”

Whatever you want to call it, the thing between you and Seokjin has been going on long enough that you know what he likes, know how he wants it. Know when he starts doing those breathy, staccato whines, rolling his hips, that you’re treading along a very dangerous path.

The temperature in your apartment can barely be considered habitable, and you know he’s not long for this world between the sight of your hardened nipples poking at the fabric of your top and the attention you’re lavishing on the head of his cock. So you pull back, jerk him slow, make a show of rolling your eyes again. “You know all that who does this pussy belong to shit is just dirty talk, right? My brother doesn’t own me.”

Another reason why Seokjin wasn’t really built for this: he’s so easy to embarrass. Flushes red, red, red at the mere mention of sex despite having had a lot of it. “I don’t—”

“I’m an entire adult, Seokjin.”

A high-pitched keen erupts from him when you sink back down his length and he nudges at the back of your throat. “I know.”

“I can fuck my brother’s friend if I want to.”

“I know.”

“My brother’s friend can fuck me, if he wants to.”

“Can you do that thing again—”

“Only if you shut up about my brother.” A pained noise. Something between a whine and an frustrated groan, because he doesn’t agree but tries to guide your mouth back to him anyway. “Seokjin.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, “it’s just…”

Entirely fed up, you pull away entirely. Seokjin looks stricken, a child whose favorite toy has been taken from him, and you ignore it long enough to find his jeans and retrieve his phone from the back pocket. “What are you—” he starts to ask, expression morphing into full-blown panic, and the line rings once, twice, before—

“Hey, hyung,” comes your brother’s voice.

Above you, Seokjin is flailing. Tries to grab the phone. Assumes some kind of prayer position. Whisper-yells please, please, please while you just stare. Looks like he wants to sink through the floor and die when you don’t budge. Moves on to bargaining: he’ll tell your brother himself, please just give him time. Two weeks at the most. No? How about a week? Come on, please, don’t do this. Three days? Fine—just hang up and he’ll call him back himself, tell him right now.

“Hyung? Hello?”

It’s honestly impressive how long you’re able to stonewall him, because Seokjin eventually sighs, sags against the wall in defeat. “Fine,” he acquiesces. Runs a hand through his hair and waves you off. “Go ahead, ruin my life.”

“Did you butt-dial me again?”

“No, it’s me.”

“Huh? Why do you have Seokjin-hyung’s phone?”

“Because we’re hooking up.”

There’s a scream from the other end of the line. Seokjin tries to disappear further into the wall. “What? Like, right now?”

You can spare him the embarrassment of this, at least. “No, in general. Just thought you should know.”

“I did not need to know that, thanks. Please never call me again.”

“Fine by me.”

You end the call, tossing Seokjin’s phone back towards his pants. And it’s not his expression that shocks you, stuck somewhere between relief and pure terror. It’s the fact that Seokjin, the mildly-reformed king of all things vanilla himself, is still rock hard.

“Are you still—”

“Don’t,” is all he says, flush nearly creeping to the middle of his chest. “You’re turning me into a freak.”

“Didn’t know being honest was some weird kink, but all right.”

“It wasn’t being honest,” he argues, “it was you being all authoritative and hot.”

You snort. Say, “I would barely consider that being authoritative, but we can definitely explore this now that I’ve cleared your conscience and you’re able to fuck me guilt-free,” even though it’s not a surprise that Seokjin is into that sort of thing—being ignored, almost purposely disobeyed. Knowing exactly what he wants and giving him the opposite.

You expect an agreement. Maybe a repeat of that time you’d gotten him so riled up he’d dragged you into the bathroom and fucked you against the sink, not a care in the world that your brother was fifty feet away. You expect blush-dusted cheeks and that aw shucks expression he loves to wear as he scratches at the back of his neck and agrees that yeah, he can fuck you guilt-free now.

But there’s none of that.

There’s still Seokjin slumped against the wall, breath heaving as he fists mindlessly at his cock. There’s you, still on your knees in front of him, spit lingering in the corners of your mouth, pooling on your tongue. For the first time, it’s awkward, and you wonder if you’ve overstepped. Made a mess of something Seokjin wanted to keep neat and tidy.

An apology is halfway out of your mouth when the atmosphere shifts. You feel it, and you know Seokjin knows you feel it because he quirks an eyebrow, barely taunting. Stands at full height, looks down at you like an inconvenience, like you’re another one of his unruly dongsaengs that he needs to wrangle into compliance.

You test it. A cheeky, “Can I help you?” that makes his jaw clench.

“You can.”

“Yeah? You got any suggestions, or have you not thought that far ahead?”

“Get on the bed,” he instructs, glaring, like he’s never had a sense of humor a day in his life.

You’re not the type to be easily wrangled, but this version of Seokjin is really working for you. Shy, bumbling Seokjin is nowhere to be found, and if this is what it means to turn him into a freak, you’ll gladly reap the benefits.

[agaypanic]

First off your username is a whole ass mood, also, could I request a fic with Klaus Baudelaire? Their on the Qeequeg and reader gets jealous of Fiona and her flirting with klaus. I’m a whore for Klaus Baudelaire

Guess (Klaus Baudelaire X GN!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Y/n has been with the Baudelaires since they showed up on Monty’s doorstep. When they board the Queequeg, Y/n can’t help the jealousy overcome when Fiona gets a little too close to Klaus.

A/N: I can’t remember the exact plot of the grim grotto, so in this they’re all just kinda hanging out on the Queequeg ig lol

***

If you had asked Y/n L/n where they saw themself in a few months, they wouldn’t have guessed all the unfortunate events they and the Baudelaires had experienced. Bouncing from guardian to guardian, only tagging along with the Baudelaires because the late Dr. Montgomery Montgomery, their own guardian, was tragically murdered and coincidentally wanted Y/n to be taken care of by the also late Josephine Anwhistle. Being chased down by a homicidal, overgrown theater kid after the Baudelaire fortune. 

They also wouldn’t have guessed their current predicament, being stuck in a submarine captained by a teenager. Her name was Fiona Widdershins. She had become captain of the Queeqeug ever since her stepfather got a distress call from a manatee. She was looking for a sugar bowl, the same one that the Baudelaire’s former guardian Esme Squalor was after. 

She was also very captivating, especially to a certain Baudelaire. And it pissed Y/n off.

Klaus wasn’t theirs; they knew that. Y/n was constantly reminded of that. But watching as he and Fiona worked closely together to locate the sugar bowl, flirty remarks from her every now and then, Y/n couldn’t stop the jealousy from overcoming them.

“He doesn’t even know her,” Y/n muttered as she watched the two laugh at a joke from afar. 

“You know,” Y/n was startled by Violet’s sudden presence beside them, “You could tell him how you feel. It would be better than moping around, watching the two of them.”

“Absolutely not.” Y/n shook the ridiculous idea away. “That would end in disaster.”

“How so?”

“When Klaus rejects me-”

“He won’t.”

“Fine. If he rejects me, we’ll still be stuck together in a submarine until God knows when. And the situation’s awkwardness would be so suffocating that I would jump out into the sea to escape it.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.” Violet laughed at the visual of Y/n’s words. “Klaus won’t reject you, Y/n. I know it.”

“Then why is he flirting with Fiona right in front of us like that?”

“He probably doesn’t see it as flirting, just regular conversation. Klaus may be book smart, but he’s not exactly versed in things like relationships.”

Y/n knew this was true. They had known the Baudelaires long enough to know that they weren’t very experienced when it came to romantic feelings. Most of the experience they did have was from the people they had encountered when their unfortunate events had first started to occur.

“Whatever, I’m still not gonna tell him.”

“Tell who what?” Y/n was again startled by another Baudelaire sibling, Klaus. It seemed that Fiona had gone to steer the submarine in the needed direction, because she was out of the room. 

“Actually, we were talking about-” Y/n put their hand over Violet’s mouth to stop her from exposing them.

“Nothing!” Y/n had said that louder than they intended to. They cleared their throat. “We weren’t talking about anything.”

Klaus gave Violet a look. Y/n couldn’t decipher what the look meant, he looked confused, but there was some kind of message in his eyes. Violet apparently knew the message because she made up some excuse to leave.

“I’ll go check on Sunny.” She left quickly, leaving Klaus and Y/n alone in the room.

“Shouldn’t you go back to Fiona?” Y/n immediately hit themself mentally for the question. Why did they feel the need to bring Fiona up now that she and Klaus had finally taken a break from flirting with each other?

“Why would I go back to Fiona?” Klaus looked even more confused. Y/n couldn’t help rolling their eyes.

“Why wouldn’t you? You two were flirting and close together so much that I’m half surprised you didn’t start kissing right there.” Why was Y/n digging themself into an even deeper hole?

Klaus laughed.

Why the hell was he laughing?

“Y/n, are you jealous?” He asked, looking intently at them. They averted their eyes, knowing that looking at him would reveal everything. They didn’t feel like jumping out of the submarine right now.

“That’s absurd.” They scoffed. “Public displays of affection are just disgusting, that’s all.” Klaus laughed again.

“Disgusting? Really?” He took Y/n’s hands in his, making them look at him. “Y/n, there was nothing affectionate about my conversations with Fiona.”

“Maybe not on your side, but she seemed to think differently.”

“Why do you care so much?”

“I don’t want to see some girl flirting with the guy I like. Is that such a crime?” Y/n started punching themself on the inside again. Klaus looked pleasantly surprised.

“Last time I checked, it’s not.” Y/n couldn’t understand why he was being so cheeky. “If it makes you feel any better, though, I have it on good authority that the guy you like isn’t interested in Fiona.”

Oh. 

“Oh, um… Is the guy I like interested in anyone?” Y/n asked. They had a feeling where this was going, but you could never be too sure about these kinds of things. Klaus nodded.

“Yes, he seems to like a particular someone.”

“And that is?”

Klaus moved closer to Y/n, leaning down. Their lips were so close to touching yet so far.

“Guess.”

[lucienarcheron]

Spirit Meets the Bones - V

Genre: Angst/Romance Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse. ​​

shoutout to my darling @abruisedmuse for keeping me sane while writing. ily!

Tagging: @vanserrass | @climb-the-mountian | @positivewitch | @helion-ism | @sarions | @readthelastpaage | @zenkindoflove | @animezinglife | @eastofatlanta | @carolynmezzosoprano | @carnythian | @runningwiththeoceans | @secret-third-thing | @readychilledwine | @clockwork-ashes | @goldenmagnolias | @mali22 | @maidr-00 | @electromagnetic-waves | @thedarkinmansfield | @theeternalstruggle | @devilsfoodcake22 | @the-midnightwriter | @moonfawnx | @spinachtz | @elizab3th-grace | @ladystarrynight | @highlady-fireheart | @krem-does-stuff | @that-golden-lyre | @lovedbyth3sun | @illyrianshadowhunter | @foxybananaaaz | @weesablackbeak | @ladywhilemia | @moobell55 | @alohaangels | @bibliophiliaxvignette | @easchies | @this-is-rochelle | @thelovelymadone |

Find it all here.

“So, tell me wife,” Eris began. “Other than piano and the urge to stab, what else are you interested in?”

Iris rolled her eyes. “Is this your question for a question?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

Eris had taken one look at her expression this morning as they stepped out in the hall and knew the tour could wait until later. After a very quiet departure where they slipped out unnoticed by all, they were finally out in a quiet field, letting their horses leisurely stroll side by side as they explored alone. 

They had ridden in silence for the first few moments and if Eris had to sit quietly for another moment without asking her something he would lose his mind. 

Iris’s lips went into a thin line as her eyes drank in the sight of the open field around her. There wasn’t a single soul around them. It was a sense of peace she hadn’t expected to be feeling the morning after her wedding. 

“I think…” she began and glanced at him, “If given the chance, I would’ve liked to properly study the art of healing.” 

Eris hummed in thought, his eyes on her for a moment then back at the road ahead. “A healer?” he asked. “That seems like a noble choice. Why would your father be opposed to it?”

Iris grimaced. “My father...didn’t like the idea of me knowing too many useful things,” she replied, gently running a hand through her horse’s mane. “If I became useful, I wouldn’t need him. If I didn’t need him, I could defy him. And if I could defy him? Well then...I’d be a much bigger problem.”

“You seem to have done that anyway. It doesn’t seem to have stopped you from getting away with quite a lot,” he said quietly. 

Iris shook her head and glanced at him. “I was...very limited in what I could do. Kept on a very tight leash. I can socialize but only when he allows it with the specific people he wants. I could have hobbies but only if he deemed them appropriate and he had the power to take them away whatever he wanted, at any point in time.” she said and her voice lowered to a mumble. “It was his favorite thing to do, and everything came at a price.”

She frowned and Eris tilted his head, saying nothing as he watched her, hoping she would continue. It surprised him that he wanted to know more. He needed to know more.

After a few moments of silence, Iris seemed to remember she had more to say.

“Everything I really cared about doing, or rather everything I tried to do, had to be done in secret. I never learned how to properly defend myself because I had to sneak to do it. The same applies to healing. I had to be very careful how I approached my instructors with questions. If I seemed too eager or began excelling too quickly, it would be taken away. The piano was allowed because he used it as a selling point.” she said with a snort. “I was his so-called poor sickly daughter who couldn’t be out and about for too long and whose only joy was her little piano. I annoyed him enough that he let some things slide but after a while, he got sick of it and... what’s another bruise?”

The nonchalance shrug made Eris’s jaw clench and he shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. Too similar. They were much too similar. 

“Did you try healing yourself?”

Iris looked away, towards the open field once more. “I did. But it had to be gradual. If I did it too quickly, he would notice.” she replied. “I liked it best when he didn’t notice me.”

Eris watched her silently for a moment, watched the longing in her eyes at the open field and space. A bitterness clawed its way into his chest. He knew all too well how trapped a person can feel.

“You can ride out if you’d like,” he said, forcing his tone to be as gentle as possible. “The edge of the border takes you to the sea, about an hour’s ride.”

“And leave you all alone, little lord?” she said with a scoff. “Wouldn’t want you to start crying.”

Eris smirked. “Aw, wife. Just say you can’t bear a moment without me by your side. I understand, I’m very dashing.”

Without looking at him, Iris flipped him off. “I won’t run off, you know.”

“I know," he confirmed. "So, if you’d like to ride, go for it. It’s just us here.”

She glanced at him and then again looked around. “Is that why you didn’t take me on a tour inside first?”

“One look at your face told me you’d rather not stay inside for too long. I figured seeing the land was a good start,” he replied, his fingers tightening on the reins briefly. “Was I wrong?”

Iris didn’t want to acknowledge it but gods, he was right. The idea of taking a tour where people were going to stare at her and wonder how she was still standing after a night with their stupid lordling made her want to vomit. “No,” she said quietly. “I don’t exactly look forward to being gawked at when we return.”

The corner of Eris’s mouth lifted. “They won’t,” he said. “The bride and groom have the blessing to avoid other human interactions for a week at least. It’s why you won’t see any of our housekeeping and I’m relieved of my duties this week. They’ll leave us alone for now to enjoy each other’s company.”

“Is this a custom I have never heard of?”

“It is when you’re the son of a high lord,” he replied, and Iris snorted but her curiosity was piqued. 

“So, we will have our own housekeeping staff then?”

“Of course. I personally went through the process of vetting them.”

She nodded and stole a glance at him to find him watching her as curiously as she watched him. “You also have your own guard, right?”

“Yes. I pick them myself. I need to know I can trust them.”

Trust. Such an important thing between him and his men. It would be an important thing between the two of them as well. If Eris would allow it to grow. If Iris would accept it.

Glancing ahead, fingers still tight on the reins, she asked, “And what do your duties include?”

“Helping my father run this court,” he said, his eyes drifting to the fields around them. “I have handled all the trades and business with our farming lands since the unfortunate incident with Jesminda. I also meet with and handle any citizen concerns as well as oversee the security measures around our border. Sometimes I’ll help train new soldiers. A few things here and there.”

Iris blinked rapidly. “A few?” she snorted. “If you do all this, what does your father do?”

Eris scoffed, his expression souring slightly. “Sit on his throne and drink wine.”

Iris’s eyebrows rose but she bit her lip, holding back a snicker. “What about your brothers?”

“Fucking their way through the city and spending my money,” he replied with a snort and this time, Iris didn’t hold back her small smile.

“It almost seems like you’re the only responsible one here, dearest husband.” 

“I am, dearest wife. You lucked out.”

Iris rolled her eyes but then paused, hands gently brushing the mane of her horse again, her eyes locked on him. “It also seems like you don’t like your family members much,” she asked carefully.

Eris knew the question she was asking and though they were in a wide field all alone, not a soul to listen to their conversation as he had intended, he hesitated. She didn’t need to know the depth of his disgust with how his family lived just yet. 

“I cannot live a day without them,” he said dully. “They bring me happiness every day.”

“Even your father?” she asked, her lips twitching. 

“Especially my father. He is the spark of joy in my heart.” Eris added in the driest of tones and Iris chuckled, bringing a small smile to his face.

“You’re an excellent liar,” she said with a shake of her head. “I thought you said it was just us. And that our question for a question would remain honest?”

Eris eyed her carefully. He wasn’t a foolish male, he knew when he could trust people and when he couldn’t. And yet.

“My relationship with my family is complicated,” he answered slowly. “I am sure you’ll understand more as you get to know them.” 

She hummed in thought then scrunched up her nose. “Do I have to get to know anyone besides your mother?”

“I’d personally prefer not but there’s no escaping my father,” he said with a sigh. “My brothers...can be ignored until otherwise noted.” 

Iris pursed her lips. She had even more questions now but clearly, his family was a touchy subject. Which was fair; just the mere mention of her father made her blood boil and she openly hated him.

“Now that I know you’re a very busy male, husband,” she began. “What exactly am I supposed to do with my time if I’ll never see you once this week is up?”

“Sitting in our bedroom looking delicious and happily waiting for me,” he replied immediately and smirked at the glare she shot him.

“Seriously, Eris.” she huffed. “What am I supposed to do? I — I don’t want to be sitting around uselessly.” 

“How did you spend your time before?” he asked, and Iris scowled.

“Doing anything I could get my hands on,” she said, and Eris watched as her eyes cataloged every detail around them, avoiding his gaze. “I read a lot of books. Painted. Sketched. Sculpted with clay. I even played with pottery...The results were terrible as I do not have an artist's hand and mostly made a mess.”

Eris fought the chuckle rising in him. 

“I dabbled in writing, which was also terrible. I even tried my hand at gardening but it…did not go well. Our gardener hated me.” she added with a snort. “I baked, I cooked, I even learned embroidery —which was a terrible waste of time as all I did was stab myself repeatedly.” 

“Ah, so that’s where your stabbing fetish comes from.” 

“I even tried weaving with an actual loom.” she continued, ignoring him completely and Eris watched her rant with barely hidden mirth. “All of this ended with me bothering the house staff as much as possible because I was so bored.”

“Sounds like you’re an absolute menace. I’m thrilled,” he said his lips twitching and Iris rolled her eyes, flipping him off with both hands.

“What about you then? I’m sure you’ve been an angel. What are you interested in?”

“Murder.” he deadpanned.

“Right up my alley then.”

He finally gave in to his amusement and laughed softly. “It sounds like you kept yourself very busy.”

“Uselessly busy.” she snapped and frowned at him. “I don’t want that to continue. I don’t want to be useless.” 

Eris pulled on the reins of his horse gently to halt it, gesturing for her to do the same. Iris’s frown deepened but she stopped as well, turning her horse to face his.

“What would you like to do?” he asked.

And it was the shift in his tone that had Iris sitting up. She thought quietly for a moment and Eris watched her mind working. 

She opened her mouth a moment later, but he held up a finger with a small smile.

“I’ve already factored in training for the two of us, time for you to practice your music skills, and time for the two of us outside of the house considering I can’t really show you everything I want to in a week,” he said, and Iris blinked. 

“You already thought of all that? When?”

“I am to be a high lord, my mind has to work very quickly,” he said with a smug smile. “What else would you like?”

Iris blinked once more. He...was being strangely thoughtful. It made her nervous. She narrowed her eyes at him.  

He quirked a brow, waiting. 

“To be with you when you’re hearing people’s concerns.” she blurted out. “I want you to teach me the court rules. I want to study healing again and take up the practice.”

She wanted so much. All she could think about was how much she wanted to do things and be present and have a say, but would he let her? What would he ask in return? Would he —

“More time together then?” he asked with a smirk. “You better pace yourself wife, I think my charm is starting to win you over.” 

Iris tried not to squirm as he watched her, but it didn’t stop the slight blush that bloomed on her cheeks. “I don’t exactly have anyone else to hang out with. You’re as good as it’ll get,” she mumbled, and Eris scoffed.

“I’m so flattered you’re this excited to spend time with me,” he said, and he hated that it bothered him. “Don’t you have friends you can visit? Or visit you? You can have those, you know. No one will stop them from visiting you.”

He watched her expression fall for a split second before her face neutralized again and she fretted with her braid instead. “I — I don’t have friends,” she said quietly. “Friends notice things.”

Silence fell between them and without saying a word to one another, their horses began moving again. Eris stole glances at her, feeling the embarrassment radiating off her and his mouth went into a thin line. As if she had anything to be embarrassed about. She had no idea how similar they were.

He pursed his lips then softly said, “Aside from Lucien and Elain...neither do I. And that’s been a long process. A very long process...I still don’t trust anyone and it’s hard to make friends when you don’t know who will stab you in the back.” 

Her shoulders relaxed as Iris let out a breath, her face still a little flushed. She stole another glance at him. 

“You can’t build any kind of relationship without trust,” she said, and the weight of the statement sat between them.

A heartbeat passed as Eris considered her across from him, a partner now shackled to him.

“No. You can’t.” was all he could think to say.

And Iris wondered just how much she could trust him and just how much he could trust her. It seemed like he had so much more to lose than she did. Then again…

She looked at him once more as they rode on. “So.”

Eris gave her an amused look. “So.”

“Are you and your brother closer now than before?”

Eris nodded slowly then smirked. “He won’t admit it but I’m his best friend.”

“That seems like a lie.”

“It is not. I’m his favorite person,” he said with a snort. “But I like Elain more than him anyway. She’s nicer to me.”

It was Iris’s turn to snort. “I’m sure he loves that.”

“He’s very jealous of Elain and I’s relationship.” 

Iris rolled her eyes. “You sound like a child,” she said, and Eris sniggered. “She’s nice then — Elain?”

“Are you worried about my relationship with your sister-in-law?” Eris teased. “Don’t worry, wife. I will always put you first.”

Iris’s expression flattened. “Just like you to make a question not about you, about you.” 

Eris chuckled. “Yes, Elain is very nice,” he answered. “She’s a character. I think the two of you will get along just fine.”

“And you’d want that?” she asked curiously. “For us to get along?”

“Of course,” Eris replied and Iris noted the sincerity in his expression. “Aside from my mother, they’re the only family I care about. They’re the only ones who matter.”

"Your other brothers aren't high on the list, huh?" she asked and Eris pursed his lips.

"It's...complicated," he answered with a diplomatic smile.

Iris’s eyebrows rose at his statement but she sat quietly, digesting it. He didn’t seem too ready for her to engage with his family in this court but was open to her having a relationship with the ones who didn’t live here…which was interesting.

She could have a friend in Elain at least, if Eris liked her so much. And — and a friend in Lucien too. His other brothers...Iris would have to see about that. She snuck a glance at her husband and found him watching her curiously. 

She could also find a friend in him as well, she supposed. 

“Are my other requests reasonable?” she asked quietly, and Eris gave her a small smile, feeling that faint sense of approval from him again.

“I think our court would benefit from a healer on a throne,” he said quietly. “It would be good for you to be involved. I will make it all work smoothly into my schedule.”

Iris gave him an amused look, biting back a smile at his statement. “Organized, are you?”

His grip tightened on the reins before he loosened his grip again. “I like things to be in a certain order so I will make sure it all works well and is accounted for with our combined schedules.”

Iris watched him curiously. He liked control then. Which was...not surprising. It made so much sense. Iris saw all his inappropriate comments in a whole new light now. 

She let a moment of silence pass between them before finally saying, “Wow.”

“Hm?”

“You really let me ask for things with no requests for kisses in return? Or for me to sit in your lap? Or do any of the other filthy things I know you’re constantly thinking of?” she said with a scoff and Eris grinned. “Dare I say in a matter of hours, growth?”

“Oh no, I’m saving it for later,” he said with a lazy smile then slowly gave her a thoughtful look. “Though I have never taken someone astride a horse before. Do you think Axel will mind if we ride each other while riding him?”

Iris shook her head, sighing. “Spoke so soon,” she mumbled, and Eris chuckled. Ignoring how his chuckle seemed to dance across her skin, Iris asked, “Where are we exactly? Near the Spring Court?”

“No, that’s more south. We are in the east forest, towards the Mortal realm with the sea between us,” he replied and moved his horse closer to hers. 

Iris pursed her lips for a moment and gave him an almost pleading look, but Eris only jerked his chin again. “Go on.” he only said.

And she hesitated for a breath until Eris blinked, and then she was off, riding in the wind. 

He knew he wasn’t doing her any favors and shouldn’t feel too proud of himself for it, but the wide smile on her face as she rode ahead brought a small one to his own. Eris followed her at a slower pace, letting her ride ahead, to give her some time to herself while he watched her. 

One night and it had changed...something for him. It had been a night and day of marriage and suddenly, with every conversation they had…he had started caring. Which would be problematic. His father alone would make it a big problem and he desperately needed Iris to be aware of that. 

But as he neared her slowly and she turned to him with that wide grin on her face, Eris felt his wretched heart skip a beat and any concern of his father quickly slipped his mind. 

“The view is wonderful.” she quickly gushed. “And the fresh air! And the sound of the waves!”

His brows slowly went up as an amused smile came onto his face. “You’ve never been near the sea, I’m assuming?”

“No,” she said, and her smile dimmed slightly. “But — but we can go, right? Will you take me? Can we go now?”

And the hopeful expression on her face made his heart clench. He couldn’t afford this. He couldn’t afford to care about another person for his father to use against him. But the way she was looking at him…

“Not today but we can plan another visit,” he promised, and the wide smile returned on her face. “I’d rather have the area secured first and bring a hound or two of mine with us for extra measures. We don’t venture out this way often and I’d rather be prepared.”

Iris immediately sat up straighter on her horse. “Those famous hounds of yours?”

He gave her an amused smirk. “Famous, are they?”

“You know they are! They’re rare as it is and rumor has it you have twelve of them,” she said, almost accusingly and Eris truly had to fight back a smile. “Is it true?”

Eris blinked at her with what he hoped seemed like an innocent enough expression but couldn’t stop the chuckle when she gave him a pointed look.

“Well?”

“I do. They’re my prized possessions.”

“They are not possessions!” she immediately said with a scoff. “They are companions, and you should view them as such.”

His level of amusement was rising by the moment. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this entertained. 

“Are you a fan of animals then?” he asked dryly. 

“Yes. I’ve always wanted a pet of my own,” she said then pointed at him threateningly. “You will take me to meet them. I would like to pet them all.”

“They are lethally trained smokehounds bred to fight and protect,” he said with a snort. “Not some house pets you can cuddle.”

“I’ll bet you anything they’ll let me cuddle them.” she challenged.

Eris wondered what her reaction would be if she found out how much he actually cuddled with his hounds. Some days they were the only things anchoring him. 

He flashed her a smirk instead and teasingly said, “You’ll bet me anything?”

Iris immediately narrowed her eyes and pointed one deadly finger at him again. “One more word and I’ll kick you right off your horse.”

He snickered then shook his head. “Regardless of your betting, it takes them a while to warm up to strangers.”

“We shall see,” she said, with her nose in the air. “I still want to meet them. Will you let me?”

Another request in a matter of minutes. Either she was getting too comfortable, too bold, or she really didn’t take him seriously. He wasn’t sure which of those options should bother him. 

But then again, wasn’t that what he wanted? For her to be comfortable with him...for him to show her kindness?

“We shall see,” he repeated back to her, and her lips formed into a slight pout that seemed to have the sole purpose of testing whatever will he had to live. 

“I object to that unclear decision.”

“Well, you’ll just have to deal with it, wife.”

She huffed, tugging the reins slightly so the horses turned to face the direction of home. “What are the plans for the rest of the day?”

“I thought I would give you the grand tour and then we can have lunch. We can decide what to do in the evening together.”

Iris nodded slowly and bit her lip before carefully asking her question. “Will your mother be having dinner at the house?”

Eris tilted his head slightly. “Likely. She usually has her own meetings with court ladies,” he said. “Why?”

“I know you said I can join her for breakfast but...I was wondering if she was free, we can have dinner with her?” Iris asked softly, a light blush creeping on her cheeks. “I want to thank her for her kindness with the clothing and we can spend some time with her. If that’s alright?”

Eris blinked and tried to stop the small smile on his lips. “Of course. I can ask her when we get back.”

“Alright,” Iris said with a small smile and the two observed each other then, quietly. 

The open space around them. The sounds of nature. Not quite knowing what to make of one another yet drawn to know more.

Feeling self-conscious as her husband stared intensely at her, Iris straightened on her horse.

“I’ll race you back to the stables?” she challenged, a playful glint in her eyes and Eris gave her a smirk.

“Think you’ll beat me?” 

“If I win, you have to take me to the hounds immediately,” she demanded, and he chuckled.

“And if I win, little gazelle?” he asked and before he could say one of the many filthy things he loved to scandalize her with, Iris held a hand up.

“If you win, maybe you’ll get that kiss you’ve been craving from me.”

Eris quirked a brow. “There you go again with that maybe of yours.”

“Maybe is as good as it’s going to get.

Eris eyed her, giving her a small smirk. “Alright then, wife,” he said. “I’ll take my chances.” 

With an obnoxious wink and no other warning, he sprinted off leaving a very outraged Iris scrambling behind him.

[charmercharm3r]

Minsung using you to unleash all their frustrations and basically treating you like a stress relief toy, barely a person. You're their property, their doll, and your only purpose is to keep them content.

On my dark minsung hours everyone

-Lyra😈

minsung tag team for suuuuure. they play the good cop bad cop until one of them has their dick out and then, say goodbye to your freedom and the ability to walk for a while cus they’re horny and wants everyone to know! as in, they’ll make you cry and beg and edge you for hours just cus they don’t think you deserve the relief just yet. but in return they’re also edging themselves, and that just makes them almost insufferable. you have a safe word, of course, though it’s unlikely you’ll ever have to use it.

jisung likes to play the good cop with his words, but the way he treats you is an entirely different story. he’s got a thing for seeing all your holes filled at the same time, even if that means gagging you with a dildo, or sharing you with someone other than minho. he also entertains the idea of calling you their personal glory hole. but he says it so sweetly that you might not have taken him seriously if he didn’t drape curtains from your ceiling above your bed that one time to hide your upper half away and pretend you really were just a hole.

minho is shameless, doesn’t even hide the fact that he turns off his brain completely and lets his raw lust take over all of his senses. minho goes along with whatever jisung wants most of the time, filling the bad cop role because he has no filter in the bedroom. but on the occasion he does confess to something he wants, the atmosphere shifts and even jisung can’t seem to find the courage to disobey him. particularly, his favorite thing is dollification. minho likes to see you dressed in pretty pastels, a cute outfit, and sitting politely in the middle of the bed with that blank stare in your eyes. truth be told, he could just buy a real doll instead of humiliating you like this, but he knows you love it just as much. oh, and remember, pretty dolls don’t speak!

if you’re not covered in cum by the end of the night, were they even really there?

[idolatrybarbie]

odd couple

pairing: established francisco "frankie" morales x reader

word count: 2.5k

rating & summary: explicit, mdni! | frankie can't cook, to put it lightly.

tags: no trigger warnings needed for this one, porn with (little) plot, rated e like woah, frankie needs a win, very unedited as of initial posting, stubborn!frankie, premature ejaculation, handjobs, cumplay, overstimulation, sub!frankie moments, multiple orgasms, spit kink/drooling, #petnames4frankie, praise kink, slight dacryphilia, reader calls frankie "wet" in this idk that might not be your thing i guess. look man it's been a hard week.

notes: it's not wednesday and i am struggling a lil' bit (might make a personal life update soon idk ?) but i am being such a brave little toaster about it! writing this definitely made me feel better. when it comes to music, this weezer song is a little generic within their discography but whatever, i like it. hope you enjoy! also everyone go read @wannab-urs sub!max phillips fic because i say so and it's awesome.

You listen to Frankie move around the kitchen from your spot on the couch, trying your very best to ignore the occasional clang and clattering noise that flows out from the distant doorway. Tonight, he has taken on the task of making the two of you dinner. Or trying to, anyway. You don’t cook much either. Your job, like his, doesn’t lend much time to it. Takeout is more than often what’s on the menu—Burger King, of all things, is his favourite.

You know how to cook though. Every once in a while you have the spare time to whip together something truly delicious; slow-roasted pork belly, or maybe a nice pasta with garnish. Frankie doesn’t seem to know his ass from the oven.

The two of you have had this conversation hundreds of times. You stating that he can’t cook, and him pushing back, insisting that he can. Or he could, before the service stuck him with single meal MREs for a number of years and he lost most of the culinary knowledge given to him by various tías, his abuela, and of course Mrs. Morales herself.

His stubbornness spurs the occasional urge to throttle him. It’s fine you can’t cook, you always tell him. Not like he can’t still learn. Still, he insists, and insists on insisting on top of that.

Honestly, you couldn’t be more of opposites. Even excluding skills of domestic labour, he and you are a bit of an odd couple. Frankie’s an early mornings guy, always, while you enjoy a sleepy Sunday—or just about any day that ends in Y. He hates the horror movies you fawn over, while you can’t stand the nature documentaries and sappy celebrity biopics that he eats up year over year. Frankie is highly detail-oriented, the engineer instinct in him always angling towards rigid preparedness; you’re a bit more goal-focused, letting any plan morph and adjust according to the situation.

Another such cooking conversation had taken place on the drive home after declining Frankie’s offer of McDonald’s for the fourth night this week, and now here you are: listening to the man curse under his breath, muttering complaints from the kitchen as he tries his hand at homemade spaghetti.

The kitchen is silent for a moment. You go back to channel surfing, clicking past reruns of Golden Girls and M*A*S*H*. Stopping at a channel playing the cinematic masterpiece Grease 2, you focus your attention on the open doorway behind you again. It feels almost too quiet…

A string of hushed, panicked curses from Frankie confirms your suspicions. Getting off the couch, you use the soft overhead light to guide you through the dark apartment. Frankie is standing over the stove when you see him, quickly moving away and towards the sink. Water splashes into it, surely scalding as steam rises into the air. Or maybe that’s coming from his ears?

You clear your throat in the kitchen doorway, and Frankie turns to you. His face is slightly red, a silver pot held in his grip by the towel-covered handle.

“Is everything okay?” You already know the answer to that question—aggravation rolls off of him in waves, permeating the space between the two of you like a mirage in the Mojave Desert.

Frankie opens his mouth to respond, but the words never come. He does this a few times, wracking his brain for the proper way to put it as he parts and pleats his lips, living up to his call sign.

Eventually, he settles on, “No.”

He heaves a deep sigh, tossing the pot onto the counter. Getting a closer look at it, you see the charred spaghetti noodles stuck to the shiny bottom.

“Don’t, okay?” Frankie says before you look up again.

“What?”

“I know what you’re gonna say. I told you so, blah blah blah. I know. You’re right. I can’t fuckin’ cook.” The words are rushed, like he’s half-embarrassed to even say it.

You frown, reaching an open palm out to him as you shake your head. “That’s not what I was going to say.” You motion for him to come closer and he does, slipping into your arms as you hug at his tense shoulders. “It’s okay. You can take a class, or we can work on it together. I think that’d be kind of fun,” you say.

Picturing making something with Frankie—maybe bowties and broccoli, something simple—has you smiling into his shoulder. For his birthday last year you made red velvet cupcakes with sour cream frosting. The recipe is a little more complicated, but baking them with him this time is a pleasant idea. You already know he’s the type of person to lick the batter off the beater.

“I don’t want to do that to you,” he says.

You pull back from the hug to look at him, those big brown eyes of his crinkled at the far edges. “You’re not doing anything to me,” you say. “At least, not right now.”

A small smile comes to his face then, creeping and dopey before Frankie gives you a soft kiss at the tip of your nose.

“They should really give you a Netflix special or something,” he says.

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all night,” you muse.

Still in your arms, Frankie glances over at the pot of blackened, noodle-shaped mush. “What are we gonna do for dinner?”

Right now, he’s in the closest proximity to you that he’s been all week. At least, while you’ve both been conscious. Work has you staying later and later at the office these days, while his shifts handling flight operations have him drained, in bed and fast asleep well before you even get home. Tonight is special even if it hasn’t gone the way either of you planned.

You hum, dipping your head to nose at the patchy beard along his jaw. “I’m thinking we skip dinner.”

“Come on, seriously,” Frankie says.

“I am serious.” Leaving a wet kiss on his cheek, you whisper, “Don’t you want your dessert, Francisco?”

A hum rumbles low in his chest. “Of course, but—”

“But nothing.” You move your left hand to cradle the side of his face, his skin smooth under your touch. He leans into its warmth. “I’m hungry.”

You know that he is too. At your words, Frankie practically jumps you, a kiss pressed to your lips hard before your brain can catch up with what’s happening. He holds you in his arms tight, like if he loosens his grip even a bit, you’ll float away. The pair of you move out of the kitchen and back into the living room, the horrible 80’s movie still dancing across the pixels of the TV.

Frankie falls onto his back, bouncing against the couch cushions. The remote is underneath him, the mute button conveniently hit upon his landing. The cheesy show tunes cut out immediately. You move to straddle him as he lays horizontal. Frankie cranes his neck a bit to watch you as you settle over the crotch of his sweatpants. He’s half hard under the fabric already.

Frankie pulls you down into another bruising kiss. You hunch over to meet his lips, his hands circling around your waist. You’ve decided to take the Frankie approach to tonight’s activities; cool and calculated in your plans and decisions on how this is going to go. Grinding your hips down, you watch his face carefully. He huffs out a breath, soft and peppery like the cinnamon gum he keeps in his car.

You reach between your bodies to feel him in his pants. Frankie kisses at your face, quick and sporadic as you palm at him. He moves to lift your shirt off your body and you let him, raising your arms to help him. He tosses the thing to the floor and lets his hands rove over your skin. Continuing your ministrations, you slip your hand beneath the elastic waistband of the grey sweats. Frankie has no underwear on, a pleasant surprise.

“Fuck,” he groans, nosing at your neck.

“What’s wrong, honey bun? Doesn’t that feel good?” you ask, slowly pulling your hand away.

“Yes, please. Do it again?” His voice strains deliciously, the muscles in his arms held taut.

Frankie relaxes only slightly when you return your palm to where he’s hot and achy, cock wet at the tip. You run your thumb along the head of his dick as he pushes his hips up into your touch. You slide the pad of your finger along his shaft, spreading the dampness.

“Aw baby, you’re already a little wet. Isn’t that sweet?”

You start to stroke him in earnest, the tight circle of your hand moving up and down his cock. The movement is a little dry, your skin dragging against the sensitive velvet of him. You push his shirt up his belly, pulling his pants to his knees easily. Then you spit into your palm, jerking him off easier this time.

“Fuck baby. Just like that,” Frankie pants. He’s moving his hips with your hand now, fucking up into it on every down stroke. With your free hand, you prod at the small dip at his hip, feeling the muscle tense beneath the skin.

“Bet you feel so good, baby. Nice and easy for me,” you coo.

“Don’t stop,” he whispers.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, honey.”

You twist your hand at the end of every movement upwards, fingers rubbing over Frankie’s tip as he leaks steadily onto himself. The glide is easy now, lubed with your saliva and his precum. The squelch makes your mouth water as you watch his cock disappear and reappear in the shadow of your fingers.

He puts one of his hands over yours, urging you to go faster. Your hands move together over Frankie’s dick, picking up the pace as the sticky noise turns into a slap with every thrust of his hips.

Frankie breaks pace, stuttering on a caught breath before he spills over your hand and onto his belly. You pause to watch his chest tense and then loosen, his eyes shut tight as he comes down. Raising your hand to your lips, you lick a bit of his cum from the edge of your fingers. It’s the first thing Frankie sees when he opens his eyes again, making him groan. The noise sounds almost painful.

“That was—”

“Amazing?” you supply.

Frankie wheezes a laugh. “Something like that.”

“What about a second helping?”

He furrows his brow, then looks down at his dick. It lays limp and spent on his stomach. “I don’t—”

“Please,” you implore oh-so-sweetly. Frankie sees big eyes batting at him, a twinkle of adoration. The intent behind it is a little more Kubrick, but he doesn’t know that yet.

He can’t say no to you, doesn’t want to anyway. Frankie nods, mumbling a yes at you. His cock twitches with interest when you drag a finger through the pool of cum on his belly and pop it in your mouth. You smile at Frankie as you take him in your hand, strokes slow as he hardens again.

Leaning into his body, you flick your tongue against the shell of his ear. “So, so wet honey. This all for me?”

“Yeah, shit—I can’t,” he mumbles.

“But it feels so good,” you say. “Wish you could see your cute little face. I love seeing you like this.”

Frankie’s face waivers between tightly wound and relaxed in pleasure. You’re using his own cum as lube now, hand practically sloshing across his cock. He tries to keep his eyes open, watching your movements as you sit patiently in his lap, jerking him off.

Your underwear is ruined, the cotton soaked through as you discreetly rock yourself against the rough seam of your pants. You’ll take care of yourself later. Right now, all of your attention is on Frankie. This reward is his punishment. It’s the slightest bit petty, but you can’t let his stubborn behaviour go quite yet. You aren’t an I told you so type of person, but this? This is perfect.

You stroke at him on autopilot, watching the middle distance between the fine thatch of hair at Frankie’s pelvis and his skin coated milky white. He comes with a flinch before you even realize, still moving as he hisses. He’s still hard when he’s done, solid under your touch, so you continue.

“You’re doing so good for me,” you say softly.

“Oh god,” he whines, eyes rolling back.

“Does it hurt baby?”

Frankie doesn’t speak, can’t, nodding frantically up at you.

“You want me to stop? All you have to do is tell me.”

He doesn’t—not with words or the shake of his head. He likes this, and both of you know it. Frankie gets off on the pain, a pleasure so hot that it burns; water blazing to the point that the sensation runs cold, delicate skin held close over a candle flame.

Frankie starts to squirm. You hold him down by the shoulder with your free hand, fingers spread over his overheated skin with a firm press. His whole body is sweaty, soaking a runway down the front top half of his t-shirt.

“Please, please, please.”

He breathes your name, barely getting the syllables past his lips. You never find out what he’s begging for. He probably doesn’t quite know either.

His dick and his mind can’t seem to agree on what they want. You watch this war play out, a losing battle. Every few seconds he presses his hips to the couch, trying to stay out of your reach. Then he slots his hips forward again, seeking out your hand directly.

Finally, Frankie seems to find his words. “Fuck, please. I can’t, I can’t. I’ve got no more, baby, please.”

“One more, honey. You can do that, can’t you? Just one.”

“Mm, shit. It’s—it hurts. It hurts,” he says.

“I know, baby. You’re so sweet for me, so good. I know you can do it,” you assure him.

Leaning down, you position your mouth over him. You let the spit sitting in your mouth pour past your lips, drooling onto his throbbing cock. The saliva slides down his length slowly as Frankie moans at the sensation.

The added slick makes everything wetter, truly soaking as you jerk him off faster. Frankie starts to babble nonsense between short, tripping moans. A split-second decision, you breathe hot air over the head of his dick. The slightest change in contact pulls his third orgasm of the night from him. Frankie cries, groaning loud as fat, wet tears roll down his cheeks. You hunch over him to give his face a kitten lick, collecting them with your tongue.

You let him go when he finishes coming, letting his dick flop against the plush of his tummy. Dragging your own shirt off the floor, you wipe at his skin and clean up your hands before tossing it back down.

Frankie finds the strength to tuck himself back into his sweatpants. He pulls at your elbow, sending you crashing gently into his side on the couch. It isn’t really big enough for the both of you to lay down. You squish yourself against his chest and shoulder, feeling his arm rest over the length of your back.

“How was that?” you ask after a while.

“A five course meal and then some,” he says. Frankie scoffs at himself, like he can’t believe what just happened. “Jesus Christ.”

You kiss his chest through his shirt, his body warm and solid against your cheek. “Nope, just me.”

[lostdreamr-blog1]

Outrun the Future - G.Cleven

New fic is here! Updates to come. Let me know what you think! Tag list and inbox are always open for you :)

Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4

CH 1

Major John “Bucky” Egan was called into Col. Chick Harding’s office for a meeting that was being held far too early in the morning. It wasn’t news to anyone that if they didn’t have a mission to fly the next day the entire 100th bomb group was out drinking late into the night. Which is why Bucky was sporting a pretty nice hangover, trying his hardest to make it seem like he was paying attention.

“I don’t know if you are aware of the air raids that have been happening across England, but a few airfields have taken a hit.” Bucky heard the words coming out of his CO’s mouth but wasn’t understanding why he needed to hear them. Until he said, “One of the bases nearby was hit hard, forcing the fighter pilots to retreat and regroup. Our base is big enough to house some of them and their planes until that base or another is back up and running. I expect nothing but welcoming from you all when they get in this afternoon. We may fly different planes, but we all have the same goal. Am I understood?”

The Major nodded his head and was dismissed shortly after. With news like this he needed to let his boys know. It wasn’t every day that fighter pilots and bombers would be bunkmates. Looking at his watch, he knew most of the guys would be down at the mess hall eating breakfast, getting ready for whatever the day might bring.

He was soon proved right as he walked in and saw his best friend Major Gale “Buck” Cleven sitting with a group of pilots. “You will never guess what I was just told?” Bucky sat down in between Buck and Biddick, catching the attention from the table.

“The war is over, and we get to go home?” Biddick smirked as DeMarco scoffed. “I haven’t flown enough missions for this war to be over. How am I supposed to have ladies fallin’ all over me when I bring back zero medals or scars?” A few chuckles were thrown his way as Bucky shook his head. “I wish it was that easy. No, apparently an air raid took out a fighter base nearby and now our B-17’s gets to share a runway with P-51’s. I was told to play nice.” One of the guys asked when they would be here. “Sometime today. Harding wasn’t specific with the time.”

Buck chuckled, “Wasn’t specific or you weren’t listening?” The brunette waved a hand, “Doesn’t matter.”  

***

Afternoon roll around and the boys couldn’t keep the smiles off their faces as the P-51’s started landing. While they heard stories of the work they do and see them every now and then on missions providing air support, this was a new experience. Many felt like kids seeing a new toy for the first time.

The group wasn’t a large one, about ten pilots altogether, but they looked fierce as a group. The base was able to accommodate some of the fighters, but the original group had to be split up between different bases, only to meet back together for missions. It was the quickest solution the higher ups could come up with.

The two Major’s drove up to the runway as the last of the planes landed. “We know anything about them?” Buck asked his friend as he assessed the different pilots getting out.

“Nah. Probably cocky sons of bitches though. You know how fighter pilots can get.” Buck chuckled, “Cockier than you?”

Bucky shook his head and smirked, “They only wish.” His attention was pulled back to the runway as he heard someone ask if one of the pilots was a girl. Clearly, he had to be seeing things as one of the pilots was walking his way, dark brown hair pulled back into a braid. Since when did the US Military let women fly planes into the most dangerous area on the planet?

Buck let out a low whistle, “Wasn’t expecting that.” Neither of them could take their eyes off the girl as she was joking with one of her fellow fighter pilots. It wasn’t until Bucky heard her laugh that his blood ran cold. “I’m going to fucking kill her.”

Buck whipped his head over to his friend as he heard those words. “Easy now. You don’t even know her.” Concern was quickly replaced with confusion as he saw how tense the brown-haired Major was.

“Oh, I can do whatever the hell I want. Because that pilot right there is my damn sister.” Buck was frozen in place as John Egan stormed off towards the girl, putting him a few steps behind. Many thoughts were running through his head, but one pushed its way to the front. If his sister was anything like him, a fight was surely about to breakout.

Captain Marlene “Marley” Egan knew who resided at this base, making her nerves spike as soon as she landed. You see, she never liked being left out or left behind growing up. Being a few years younger than John, she always found herself chasing after him in order to be included with whatever he was doing. This unfortunate trait led her to enlist and slowly breakdown barriers in order to become a pilot like her older brother. Egan’s don’t back down from a fight which is how she forced her way into this war.

All the confidence went out the window as she saw her brother heading right for her. “Do me a favor and make sure you send my stuff back home to Ma. But let her know it wasn’t the war that killed me.” Captain James “Sparks” Sutton was walking next to her and knew exactly what she was referring to. They were warned ahead of time that the air exec. of Thorpe Abbotts was no other than Major Egan who had zero idea his little sister followed him into the war. She thought surprising him was the best way about it.

“What in god’s name are you doing here, Marlene?” If steam could physically come out of people’s ears, Marley knew her brother would have it.

The words, “I heard Europe was beautiful this time of year” slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it and knew it was the farthest thing she should’ve said. Sparks tried to cover up a laugh with a cough but was unsuccessful and earned an elbow to the side from the female pilot.

Bucky opened his mouth just to close it, as he figured out what to say. At this moment he was struggling with being a Major or big brother, thus causing a delay in his response. Buck, on the other hand, was finding the whole situation amusing. It was clear as day that the two pilots were siblings from their looks all the way to the witty remarks. He knew his friend was going to be arguing with a younger version of himself. And he couldn’t wait to see it.

“You have five seconds to think of a better answer before I pull whatever strings I need to in order to get you sent back home.” His words were calm, but Marley knew if she didn’t comply that he would lose it on her in the middle of an air strip. At least this way there would be witnesses.

“You didn’t think you could leave me behind, could you? Your letters made it seem like you were going to be making a difference in this war and I wanted to be a part of that. And here I thought you would be happy to see me.” She looked down as she said the last part, knowing what heartstrings to pull on. John Egan may act like the big bad brother, but his one weakness was standing in front of him.

Which is why it didn’t take long for him to fold. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “I am glad to see you, but this is a damn war zone, Mar. This isn’t some game. What the hell am I supposed to tell Ma if something happens to you?” He didn’t miss the slight wince at the mention of the two’s mother.

“Ma knows you’re here, right?” Marley bit her bottom lip as she contemplated how to answer. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know her daughter was aiding in the war. Just the job title might be different.

“Yeah, she knows I’m here.” It didn’t take a genius to know there was more to that. Bucky squinted at her, trying to understand. “What does she think you’re doing?” He knew he asked the right question as she turned her head to focus on the planes.

“She might think I’m a nurse.” Bucky let out a sigh and surprised his sister as he pulled her in for a hug.

“It’s damn good to see you, Mar. But you know she’s going to pissed at us both.” They pulled apart and Marley nodded her head with a smile, “It was always more fun dragging you into trouble with me.” Her brother lightly pushed her shoulder, causing her to bump into the other fighter pilot.

“Now that all of that is out of the way, this is Sparky. He went through flight school with me. Sparks this is my brother John.” The fighter pilot held out a hand for the brother. “Captain James Sutton. May I be the first to say that your sister is a damn handful. Never knew someone to stir up as much trouble as this one.”

Bucky chuckled, “Looks like nothing has changed then.” He looked over his shoulder and motioned for his best friend. “This is Buck. Started it all together in the beginning and hasn’t been able to shake me since. Buck this is my baby sister Marlene.”

Buck held out his hand for the girl and she gladly took it. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.” Her face pulled into a look of disgust. “Marley is fine. No need with that ma’am shit.” A small smile formed on his face as. “My mistake, Marley.”

He watched as her head tilted to the side, looking like she was trying to think of something. Her fingers snapped as she got it and said, “You know, he looks an awful like our friend Buck back in Wisconsin.” This time he laughed. The two Egan siblings in one place was going to be nothing short of trouble.

A/N: Thoughts? Likes or dislikes? Thank you for reading!

[elfqueen006]

The Lifeguard part 3

Sunny Day Jack x Reader

---

Tags/CW: summer camp au, camp counselor au, horror, slasher, rivals to lovers. Angst. Humor. Murder. Graphic violence.

Minors DNI

“The new food isn’t bad, but I really don’t get the appeal of changing a brand that’s been fine on its own for decades,” Jack said, twisting one of his fries between his thumb and forefinger.

You put a massive glob of ketchup on your burger, “You really can’t chalk it up to anything other than making money,” You said. You take a big bite out of your burger, excess grease and condiment remaining on your lips as you messily chew and swallow before wiping your mouth, “Speaking’ of which… how much do I owe you for the meal?”

Jack waved you off, “No charge.”

“Don’t gimme that – I’ve got more than enough-”

“I don’t need it.”

You stare at him a moment before shrugging, “Whatever. I’m fuckin’ starving.”

“Don’t exaggerate,” Jack said.

“No really,” You replied, taking another bite of your burger, “I skipped breakfast.”

“Why would you do that?”

You shrug, “Couldn’t eat. I texted Skylar all last night and I still haven’t heard back,” The warmth drains from Jack’s cheeks and the feeling of lead weighs on his chest. 

He wets his suddenly dry lips, “Really?”

“Really,” You then scowled,” I know the bitch sees my texts though because she leaves me on ‘read’.”

Bile rises in the mascots’ throat. And he doesn’t know if it’s because of how casually you can call someone you deemed a friend a ‘bitch’. Or if it’s because he’s the reason you’re feeling so bitterly. Skylar wasn’t the one who left you on read, he did. Why did he have to go through her phone?! But in hindsight he supposed that this wasn’t entirely a bad thing. This gave you the impression Skylar was alive and well. Though he didn’t know how well someone could be after being found out you screwed someone else's boyfriend, but hey, he could probably assume if she were alive, she’d feel very guilty.

But Jack knows he’s being too quiet and asks to appear inconspicuous, “Have you heard from Ian at least?”

You shake your head, your frown deepening, “He isn’t even reading his texts…”

“You have any idea where they went? Or where they would go?”

“Nope.”

He sighs, letting disappointment seep into his features. Some of it is real. He’s disappointed this all had happened. It doesn’t even seem real, this past week. He’s hoping by tomorrow, he’ll wake up and Skylar will be smiling at him as she leads the kids on a trail to the ziplines, or that Ian will be trying his best to rangle his group in until you come in and his face turns red at the sight of you in the lifeguard’s leotard…

You’re swirling a fry in a pool of ketchup when you say, “I hope they’re dead…”

Jack choked on his drink, “What? ”

“You heard me.”

Jack ran a hand down his face, “No… no you don’t, Y/N.”

You hum, “Kind of,”

“No."

After a moment of silence you spoke, “I still can't believe it. Ian… you know we went to elementary school together. Since then we’ve been inseparable. And he’s never lied to me!” You slumped back in your chair, looking up at the fluorescent lights in the ceiling. “When he and Skylar met at that…fancy acting school I felt something in my gut telling me it wasn’t right but I just chalked it up as petty jealousy… How could he do that to me?”

Suddenly Jack feels as if he's the one who’d been cheated on. All this time he thought he had a chance with Skylar, but she had her eyes on someone else. Someone taken no less. He lets out a forlorn sigh. You shake your head and lean on the table, “Sorry. I know you liked Skylar so… this probably makes you feel pretty shit too.” You said.

“It’s fine,” Jack replied, smiling softly, “It’s not your fault.”

—

On your way to the campsite, little to no words were exchanged. You leaned over, resting your arm on the side door. You watched the buildings and civilization pass you by. It was like leaving your world behind, never having been much of an outdoorsy person.

Jack advised you to strap in, but of course, you hadn't listened.

“It isn’t that long a drive,” You said. “And the car doesn't even have a roof so I don’t know how much safer we’d be in seatbelts…”

As you said that, the car hits a hump in the road. You jolt in your seat and catch yourself on Jack’s forearm. “You were saying?” He said.

“Heh…”

You pushed yourself upright, but a hand lingered on Jack’s arm. It was surprisingly firm and toned. With a decent amount of hair. They always looked so plush from afar, especially with all the hugging he’d do. He was a big teddy bear to everyone he met. Well, everyone except you. 

“Y/N…”

You blinked out of your thoughts, his arm flexed as you subconsciously squeezed it. You retracted your hand, “My bad, you've got a lot of muscle for a mascot.” You said, chuckling slightly. 

Jack gave you a look. You put your hands up in defense, "Not trying to sound weird! It's just that, I dunno… I didn't expect a guy of your…position… to work out like that or anything…"

He turned his attention to the road once more, thumping his fingers on the steering we'll. 

"...I did some jobs back in the city before this." He said.

"What kind of jobs?" You asked.

"Moving. Heavy lifting. That sort of thing…"

You simply hum in reply before looking back out at the fields. Crossing a certain point in the road you spot the shed and point at a familiar figure, "Hey, isn't that Bill?"

Jack's head just about snaps off his neck as he spots the head counselor looking around the shed. Bill spots you two in the Moke and beckons the driver over. Instead, Jack speeds up and continues towards the campsite.

You brace yourself in your seat, "H-Hey! What's your rush?"

"I'm just trying to get you to camp safely." Jack replied. His eyes were erratic.

"I appreciate that, but didn't Bill need you or something? It could've been important!"

"Just let me do this very quickly!"

Soon enough, you made it to the campsite; Jack making a hasty pull over as you stumbled out of the cart.

"Um, thanks. For the free food and everything." You said. Jack grunts a reply and speeds off in a cloud of dust. You sigh. That guy is truly a piece of work.

Jack's stomach churns when he drives back to the shed. He pulls up on the grass. He hops out of the vehicle and strides up to Bill with a practiced and fight smile. The old man has his arms folded with a stern look on his face.

"Just what was that earlier? I know you saw me!" Bill scolded.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, an easygoing yet guilty look on his face, "Sorry, sir. But it was so late out now that I wanted to make sure Y/N got back safe." He said.

Bill's brows raised in surprise, "You were out with Y/N ?" He asked.

"Just for a bite to eat," Jack replied, "She didn't like what the cafeteria had and it turns out she skipped breakfast so…" He shrugged, doing his best to seem like the well meaning boy scout persona he built up for the past five years.

Bill however, didn't seem so convinced. A subtle smirk in his features. The implications made Jack a bit sick.

"You watch yourself now, Jack," He said, "the girl is taken after all."

Was.

Jack waved his hands defensively, "I-it's not like that at all sir! I was just doing a favor. It's not good for the counselors to go unfed as well as the kids!"

"Mmmhm. What'd I say? She's growing on you!"

Jack rolled his eyes. "What was it you wanted to see me about..?"

Bill snapped his fingers, "Ah," He led the young man back around the shed. He gestured to a long mound of dirt. Jack's palms sweat inside his gloves.

"W-what is it?" Jack asked.

"No idea… it certainly wasn't here before," Bill replied, "I came up here to put away the last of supplies." 

"How'd you find it..?"

“I remembered I sent Ian and Sky up here. They didn’t show after that. I thought if I looked around here I’d find something they left or…” His voice trails off and he shrugs. Jack stares intently at the mound. Almost hoping that if he stared hard enough, he could will it away, or maybe cover it in grass with his mind. Of course no such thing happened.

Bill toed at the dirt with his shoes. The dirt easily moving made Jack’s heart skip. “Do you have any idea where they might’ve gone?” Jack shook his head unblinkingly.

The old man simply hummed. Then he knelt down and dug his hand in the soil. Jack’s eyes widened, grabbing him by the shoulder. “Bill, I really don’t think you should do that! What if it’s an anthill or a nest of some sort?”

“I’ve been working here for twenty years and I’ve never seen a nest like this, Jack. Someone put something here…”

“Sir-”

“Go on and get me a shovel, boy.”

The words glued Jack to the spot. He couldn’t get his legs to move, because he was sure if they did, they’d take him down the road and away from the camp. Away from his life. Bill raised a brow, “Can ya hear? Go on then.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat and shook his head. Tears stung the corners of his eyes.

Bill narrowed his eyes. He got up himself and brought the shovel from the shed. He dug the blade in the soil and chucked it over his shoulder. He then dug into another chunk. And another. Until he hit something solid. Jack’s blood ran cold. He couldn’t breathe.

Bill moved the excess dirt away until he saw the familiar yellow fabric of the counselor uniform shirt.

"Wha-"

He was taken down in a blur of blue, the shovel falling out of his hands. He wrestled against Jack's strong frame, attempting to buck out of his grip. Jack's arms came up around Bill's neck in an attempt to choke him.  The old man managed to maneuver his arm just a bit over his face and bit into his bicep. 

Jack yelled in pain, kicking Bill off, who fell into the arms reach of the shovel. Bill looked between the weapon and his assaulter before scrambling over to it. Soft fabric took hold of his ankle in a tight grip before pulling him back and Jack crawled over to grab it. 

Stumbling to their feet, Bill lunged at Jack, managing to grab ahold of the shovel neck. He attempted to wrestle the object from the larger man's grip, who never broke eye contact, his eyes bloodshot and wet with tears. Finally, with a hefty pull and shoving the old man with nothing but pure force, Jack was the one with the weapon and prepped for a swing, holding it over his shoulder. 

Bill's eyes widened, "Joseph, don't-"

Jack swung and Bill's head snapped backwards with a sickening crack. He stumbled backwards, his hand grasping aimlessly for anything to keep him upright before tripping over the dirt and falling onto his back.

The former head counselors head lolled to the side. His pale blue eyes stared up at the night sky, mouth hung open; forever in a state of shock of how he ended up where he was.

Jack’s hands clenched on the shovel, trembling with irritation, fear and everything in between. He sucked in a breath and yelled at the body. He wanted to say "I warned you not to look" "I'm sorry" or "fuck you". But all that came out was a broken wail.

He kicks at its leg repeatedly, screaming. He stomps the torso. He whacks the head with the shovel, inciting another gruesome noise, likely from bones breaking and flesh ripping.

It's only until the body is contorted in a such a manner - splayed out as if there wasn't a single bone in its body - that Jack relaxes. The damage has been done. And he gets to digging, taking care to make sure the hole is deeper.