#though it was funny both with and without context

[cedyat]

Naps and the gang once PETA comes knocking

[envyenvys]

I have this fear that my The Nutcracker parallels for loreliese only hold up with the Barbie version. I’m avoiding doing any research on the ballet bc like. what am I supposed to do if it doesn’t work out

(This is a trick question I will simply do it anyway and be mad about it)

[cheolsbitch]

“Three’s Not A Crowd”PT.2

-Continuation- Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3

go to Pt.1 if you haven’t read it yet

Summary:

You’re just roommates—best friends, nothing more. But when you admit no man has ever made you cum, Minho and Jisung take it as a challenge. What starts as teasing turns into denial, control, and desperation as they make you beg for every touch—except the one thing you want most.

Content Warning:

Explicit sexual content, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, orgasm denial, edging, overstimulation, spanking, light humiliation, power dynamics, dominance/submission themes, possessiveness, psychological play, polyamory (m/m/f), bxb content, emotional manipulation in a sexual context, and intense teasing. All acts are fully consensual but heavily rooted in delayed gratification and power control.

Back to readers POV

You’re halfway through getting dressed when you hear it.

A faint sound.

Sharp. Muffled.

Something that makes your body pause mid-movement, one leg halfway in your shorts, heart thumping out of rhythm.

It’s probably nothing, you tell yourself.

Maybe the TV. Maybe your imagination.

Your brain’s just in overdrive after last night. The teasing, the touching, the way both of them practically draped themselves over you without ever doing anything explicit.

But then it happens again.

This time louder.

This time… unmistakable.

A moan.

High, broken, desperate.

Your breath catches.

No.

No way.

But your legs move before your brain can stop them — stepping out of your shorts and back toward your bed, where you sit on the edge like someone just pulled the floor out from under you.

It’s quiet for a second. Too quiet.

And then

Another moan.

Louder.

This time choked. Raw.

Jisung.

There’s no mistaking it now.

Not when his voice breaks like that. Not when you hear what sounds like the slap of skin on skin and the faintest grunt — lower, deeper — that can only be Minho.

Your throat goes dry.

Your pulse roars in your ears.

They’re in the bathroom.

Not even ten feet away.

The door is cracked. Not fully closed. And through that sliver of space, they’re—

Fuck.

You clench your thighs together, instinctively, trying to do something, feel something, not feel the way your body is suddenly betraying you.

Because you’re hot.

Burning.

Turned on in a way that’s so sharp it almost hurts.

You want to look away — want to turn up music, cover your ears, pretend you didn’t hear what you just heard.

But you don’t.

You stay frozen.

Listening.

One hand still gripping the edge of the bed, the other twitching slightly at your side.

Because you’re not delusional.

You weren’t imagining it.

And now?

You can’t deny it.

You’re soaking through your panties.

And it’s because of them.

————————————————————————

The mall is loud — kids yelling, music playing overhead, shoes squeaking against polished tile — but somehow, your heartbeat is still louder.

You’re walking between them.

Jisung to your left, Minho to your right.

Like always.

And like always, they’re too close.

Minho’s arm brushes yours every few steps, his fingers brushing your lower back when he wants to steer you toward a store. Jisung keeps leaning in to whisper things in your ear — dumb things, funny things, anything — but his hand never leaves your waist.

You’re trying to play it cool.

Trying to act like you didn’t spend the entire morning staring at the floor, sweating through your sheets, haunted by the memory of what you heard last night.

Jisung moaning Minho’s name.

Minho groaning.

Thrusts.

Slaps.

The wet sound of desperate bodies.

You can’t un-hear it.

And you definitely can’t un-see the faint red mark trailing down Jisung’s throat, or the light bruising on Minho’s collarbone fingerprints you didn’t leave, but definitely noticed the second they took their shirts off this morning like it was no big deal.

“Cute top,” Jisung had said. “Doesn’t cover anything, though.”

“Good,” Minho added, tugging it lower. “She should know how it feels to be teased.”

Now, in the middle of a Nike store, Jisung’s behind you holding two pairs of joggers.

“Which color makes my ass look better?” he asks, holding both up, clearly aware people are staring.

“Neither,” you mutter, taking a step forward.

Minho leans in with a smirk. “So you’ve looked.”

Your cheeks heat. “Shut up.”

But they don’t.

They keep pressing in close. Whispering. Brushing hands along your sides. Tugging on your sleeves like kids in need of attention.

And everyone is noticing.

Two girls walk past and whisper something not-so-quietly — “God, they’re gorgeous.”

A passing guy does a double take.

And someone behind you actually says out loud:

“Damn, that’s the hottest poly couple I’ve ever seen.”

Your breath catches.

You don’t correct them.

Because what would you even say?

No, I’m not with them. I’m just living with two guys who moan each other’s names while I sit alone in my bed trying not to touch myself about it?

Yeah. No thanks.

You pretend not to notice the stares.

Pretend not to feel Minho’s hand curl gently around your wrist, pulling you toward the mirror to “check the fit” when Jisung tries on a hoodie.

Pretend not to notice Jisung sliding up behind you and resting his chin on your shoulder like it’s instinct like he always belongs on you.

You’re not delusional anymore.

But now?

You’re just trying to survive it.

—

You should’ve known something would go wrong the moment Jisung got too excited about the drink menu.

“I’m telling you,” he’d said, practically vibrating as he held his cup, “lychee jelly is elite—”

And then someone bumped into him.

And he bumped into you.

And the entire large milk tea exploded down the front of your shirt and all over your shorts.

Cold. Sticky. Immediate.

“Shit—!” you gasped, stepping back and frantically trying to brush it off.

Jisung stared at you with wide eyes, hands frozen mid-apology. “Oh my god, I swear I didn’t mean—Minho, help her—!”

Minho didn’t laugh. But he looked like he wanted to.

He handed you a stack of napkins with that infuriating smirk. “Guess it’s shopping time.”

You groaned, sticky and embarrassed. “I literally just put this on.”

“I’ll pay,” Jisung offered immediately, grabbing your wrist. “You’re going to change anyway. Come on, pick something. Something hot. Something you like.”

“Something we like,” Minho added.

You glared. But you let them drag you into the next clothing store.

Now you’re standing in front of the dressing room mirror, still damp and annoyed… and a little flushed.

Because what you picked — or maybe what they picked — is barely clothes.

A black cropped tank top that clings to your chest and stops just under your ribs. Thin straps. Tight fit. Bare skin.

And low-rise, distressed shorts that hug your hips and thighs, the hem riding up dangerously high.

Your thigh tattoo is completely visible now — the black bow on the back of your leg a dead giveaway.

And your back tattoo peeks out from under the cropped fabric, the ink trailing up your spine and disappearing behind your neck.

You look hot.

You know it.

And the boys?

They definitely know it.

The second you step out of the dressing room, Jisung almost drops his phone.

“Holy—”

Minho doesn’t speak. Just stares — eyes dragging slowly from your bare thighs to your inked back to your chest and collarbones, jaw flexing once.

You cross your arms. “You said pick something.”

“This isn’t something,” Jisung says, voice low. “This is everything.”

Minho’s voice is even lower. “Turn around.”

You raise a brow, but you turn.

Slowly.

And behind you, you can practically hear both of them aching.

Minho exhales hard. “Fuck.”

Jisung steps in behind you like he’s about to say something, but stops short — so close you feel his breath at your shoulder.

You’re not even sure they’re aware of the people walking past anymore.

Of the stares.

Of the way you keep squeezing your thighs together, subtly shifting your weight just to feel something.

Minho’s hand brushes the small of your back — casual, maybe. But his fingers linger right at the edge of the tattoo.

“You’re buying this,” he says, voice low and final.

You glance at them both in the mirror.

And you see it.

The control slipping.

The restraint cracking.

They’re aching.

And now?

You’re starting to wonder how much longer they’ll wait before they finally break.

“Say it”

The front door clicks shut behind you.

The apartment feels too quiet — too still — like the air itself is waiting for something to happen.

You toss your bag near the hallway, your head still spinning from the car ride. From Minho’s hand on your thigh. From Jisung’s voice in your ear.

They move around the kitchen like nothing happened.

Minho grabs water bottles.

Jisung leans against the counter, digging into the small bag of snacks you picked up from the mall.

And then, like instinct, they collapse onto the couch — side by side — arms pressed together, thighs touching.

You stay standing for a beat too long.

Then you sit across from them.

And that’s when it starts.

Minho drapes his arm over the back of the couch, letting his fingers rest way too low behind Jisung’s shoulder.

Jisung’s legs spread, lazy and open, his knee bumping Minho’s with every shift.

They’re talking about nothing at first — dumb comments, jokes about people at the mall, teasing each other now like you’re not even there.

And it’s… too much.

Watching them lean into each other.

Watching Minho casually touch Jisung’s thigh.

Watching Jisung curl his fingers around Minho’s wrist.

Watching them smile at each other like you’re not sitting there burning alive.

You squirm in your seat.

Cross your legs.

Uncross them.

Then try to sit still.

You’re sweating.

And they notice.

Jisung glances at you first, cocking his head. “You okay over there?”

You blink fast. “Fine.”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “You look flushed.”

“Hot in here,” you mutter.

And that’s when Jisung — smiling, eyes glittering with that boyish mischief — says, “So… we never circled back to the whole ‘no guy’s ever made me cum’ thing.”

You freeze.

Your mouth opens. Then closes.

“I’m just saying,” he continues, stretching his arms behind his head, “it’s kinda sad.”

Minho hums. “Honestly disrespectful. A waste.”

You stare at them. “Can we not—”

“No, no,” Minho interrupts, voice smooth as ever. “I want to get this right. Because if I remember correctly… we made every woman we’ve ever been with cum. Multiple times.”

“Begged for more,” Jisung adds.

“Clawed at us.”

“Cried, even.”

You roll your eyes hard. “You two are so full of shit.”

Minho smiles.

Jisung leans forward. “You sure?”

You glare. “You’re just saying that to sound cool.”

“You don’t believe us?”

You snort. “I know you’re lying. You’re like… delusional sex gods in your own heads.”

Minho sits up straighter now, tone calmer, sharper.

“You really think we’d lie about that?”

“I think,” you snap, “you’re both cocky as hell and obsessed with teasing me because you know I haven’t gotten off in months and it’s a fun little power trip for you.”

Silence.

Then Jisung laughs softly. “You’re not wrong.”

“But you are,” Minho says, eyes locked on yours, “if you think we can’t make you cum.”

You feel it — the shift.

The change in tone.

The way the air goes quiet, then thick.

Your stomach twists.

Your thighs clench again.

You’re so tired of pretending.

And before you can stop yourself—

“Prove it.”

The words hang in the air.

Louder than they should be.

Raw. Exposed.

You don’t take them back.

You can’t.

Minho’s mouth twitches.

Jisung’s eyes go wide. Then dark.

Minho leans in slowly, elbows on his knees.

“Say that again.”

You swallow. Breath shaky. Face burning.

“Prove it.”

Jisung grins like he’s just been handed a gift. “Fuck, I thought you’d never ask.”

Minho stands up.

And walks toward you.

Minho stops in front of you.

Not touching.

Just looking.

Like he’s reading your mind. Like he’s planning a hundred things you won’t be able to handle.

Jisung stands behind him, slower to move, lips parted slightly, like even he wasn’t expecting you to finally give in. But his eyes are dark now. Hungry.

“Prove it,” you had said.

And now?

Minho leans down, face level with yours, his voice calm and low.

“No, baby. You don’t get to drop that and go silent.”

He reaches forward, runs his fingers gently—dangerously—along the hem of your shorts.

“You’re gonna tell us exactly what you want.”

Your breath hitches. “You already know.”

Jisung steps closer, circling to your side, tone playful but firm. “That’s not how this works.”

Minho’s thumb dips just beneath the waistband. “Who do you want first?”

You clench your jaw.

Say nothing.

“Where do you want us?”

Still nothing.

“How bad do you need it?” Jisung whispers at your ear, lips barely brushing your skin.

You cross your arms over your chest. “You two are so dramatic.”

Minho hums. “Brat mode activated.”

You lift your chin. “I’m not giving you a fucking checklist.”

Jisung laughs softly, the sound breathless. “She’s fighting it. Still pretending.”

Minho’s fingers trail up your bare thigh — slow, hot, deliberate — until his hand rests firmly between your legs, palm pressing just enough to make you suck in a quiet breath.

“You’re already wet,” he murmurs, eyes gleaming. “And we haven’t even touched you properly.”

You try not to react.

But your hips twitch.

Minho grins.

Jisung crouches next to you now, fingertips brushing your bare arm. “C’mon, princess. Just say it. You want one of us between your thighs, or both?”

Minho squeezes your thigh again. “You want a mouth or fingers first?”

You hiss through your teeth. “Fuck both of you.”

Jisung smirks. “Kinda the plan.”

Minho leans in closer — so close your noses nearly touch.

“Last chance,” he whispers. “Tell us who, where, and how bad. Or we stop.”

You bite your lip.

Your body is screaming.

But your voice still comes out bratty, defiant, full of heat.

“Fine.”

You look at Jisung first. “I want your mouth.”

Then Minho. “Your fingers.”

You sit back, legs spreading slightly. Your smirk is full of challenge now.

“Right here. Right now. And if you can’t make me cum—don’t ever talk shit again.”

Minho’s eyes flash.

Jisung exhales like he’s starving.

And they both move at once.

They don’t pounce.

They don’t tear your clothes off or fall into chaos like some porno fantasy.

They move with purpose.

Minho steps in first, crowding your legs open with his knees as he reaches for the button of your shorts. He doesn’t ask permission this time—just pops it open, slow, and drags the zipper down with maddening ease.

Jisung’s hands curl around your hips from behind, warm and firm, helping you lift just enough for Minho to peel your shorts down your thighs and toss them to the floor like they were never needed.

The room feels colder without them.

Or maybe it’s just you—burning up from the inside out.

You’re left in your tank top and panties, legs bare, body thrumming with need, sprawled on the couch like they already own you.

But they haven’t even touched you yet.

Minho’s eyes drag slowly across your skin—up your thighs, your hips, the ink peeking out from your lower back, your stomach rising and falling too fast.

He doesn’t move.

Jisung settles beside you on the couch, just close enough to let his thigh brush yours.

Still, nothing.

“Why’d you stop?” you breathe.

Minho tilts his head. “We’re waiting.”

You blink. “For what?”

Jisung’s voice is softer this time. “For you to ask nicely.”

You scoff. “I already said what I want.”

Minho leans down, his mouth a whisper at your ear. “Yeah. And it was hot. But now we want you to beg.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re fucking ridiculous—”

“You’re still trying to act like you’re in control,” Minho interrupts, smile sharp. “Even now. Legs spread. Soaking through your panties.”

You try to clench your thighs together.

Minho’s hand is there first.

“You’re not hiding anything, baby.”

Jisung leans over, kisses your jaw lightly. “You asked us to prove it, remember?”

Minho drags his fingers up your inner thigh—barely brushing, but enough to make you jolt.

“Then say it right,” he murmurs.

Silence.

You clench your fists into the couch cushions. Your pride’s already in shreds. Your body’s screaming for relief.

So when your voice comes out, it’s smaller.

But still defiant.

“Please.”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “Please what?”

You grit your teeth. “Please—touch me.”

“Who?” Jisung asks, eyes hungry now.

You look at him first.

“Jisung. I want your mouth.”

Then at Minho.

“And your fingers.”

They exchange one glance.

And then they move.

Minho reaches for your waistband.

Jisung slides off the couch to the floor between your legs.

And you already know—

You’re not walking tomorrow.

Minho hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties and drags them down slowly — dragging the fabric between your legs with enough friction to make your breath catch.

He tosses them aside, exposing you completely.

You feel the cool air hit first.

Then their eyes.

Jisung’s settled between your thighs now, shoulders slotted comfortably against your inner legs, his hands resting on your hips like he’s done this a hundred times. Like he’s home.

His eyes flick up once — dark, full of heat — before he leans in and kisses the inside of your thigh. Not where you want him. Just above your tattoo. Slow. Wet. Messy.

Your hips twitch.

And Minho catches it.

“Stay still, sweetheart,” he murmurs as he kneels behind you on the couch, his chest pressed to your back now, hands sliding up to cradle your ribs beneath your tank top. “You asked for this. Let us do it right.”

Jisung’s mouth trails higher, his lips brushing closer, closer — and then finally, his tongue licks a single stripe through your folds.

You let out a quiet, broken sound.

“Fuck—”

He doesn’t speak.

Just moans softly into you and goes back in — tongue stroking in slow, steady passes, building pressure with every lap. He’s taking his time. He’s savoring you.

And you feel everything.

Then Minho’s hand drifts down between your legs.

His fingers slide through the wetness Jisung’s coaxed out of you, and then he presses one inside.

Deep.

Smooth.

Deliberate.

You cry out, hips jerking again.

“Minho—”

“I said stay still,” he breathes against your ear, pressing a second finger in now. “Or I’ll stop.”

You whimper.

Jisung sucks your clit at the same time Minho curls his fingers inside you. The pleasure hits like lightning — quick, sharp, right behind your eyes.

But it’s not enough.

It’s perfect.

But it’s not enough.

They keep going — slowly. Coordinated. Cruel.

Minho’s fingers move in a steady rhythm, stroking your walls, curving with precision.

Jisung alternates between long, hot strokes of his tongue and gentle sucking that makes your legs shake.

You’re close.

Already.

It’s too much and not enough at the same time, and your body doesn’t know how to cope with it.

Your breathing gets erratic.

Your hands claw at the cushions.

And just when you feel yourself tip forward—right there—

They stop.

Minho pulls his fingers out.

Jisung lifts his mouth from you, lips shining.

You stare down at him in shock. “What the—?”

Minho hums against your shoulder. “Not yet.”

“Are you—?” You gasp. “You said—”

“We said we’d prove it,” Minho interrupts smoothly. “We didn’t say we’d make it easy.”

Jisung grins. “Beg.”

You grit your teeth.

“No.”

Minho slides his fingers back through your folds—barely dipping in. Enough to make your entire body ache for more.

“Then you’re not cumming.”

You groan, forehead falling forward.

Minho waits.

Jisung kisses your thigh again.

“Say it,” he murmurs. “Come on, baby. Say please.”

Your whole body is trembling now.

And this time, your voice comes out broken. Raw.

“Please.”

Minho presses his fingers back inside you, slow and deep.

“Again.”

“Please… Minho…”

Jisung flattens his tongue against your clit.

Your back arches.

“Please, Jisung… I wanna cum—fuck, I need it—please, please—”

That’s when they devour you.

Jisung’s mouth never leaves your clit now — licking, sucking, feasting on you with sounds that make your toes curl.

Minho’s fingers thrust deep, curling perfectly, his palm grinding against your folds with every motion, his lips brushing your ear as he murmurs filth.

“Good girl.”

“Sound so pretty when you beg.”

“You’re gonna cum so hard for us.”

And you do.

Your body explodes — back arching, thighs shaking, mouth dropping open in a silent scream as wave after wave crashes through you. You’re not even sure where you are anymore, only that you’re dripping, twitching, gasping through it.

And they don’t stop.

They ride it out with you.

Dragging you through every aftershock, every twitch, every cry.

You fall apart in their hands.

Exactly like they promised.

You’re still breathing hard, still twitching from the aftershocks, lips parted, thighs soaked, eyes fluttering as your body sinks deep into the couch cushions.

And they’re both just watching you.

Jisung swipes his thumb along his bottom lip like he just finished dessert.

Minho’s still got his fingers glistening with your slick, eyes fixed on your heaving chest.

“Look at her,” Jisung says, voice low and warm. “Already fucked out.”

Minho grins, smug and steady. “One orgasm, and she’s shaking.”

You blink up at them, lips parted. “I—shut up…”

Minho leans closer, his breath brushing your cheek. “But you said to prove it.”

He pulls back again, standing tall now, eyes gleaming like he’s just getting started.

“And baby, we’ve got so much more to prove.”

Then he reaches for you.

Effortlessly.

Scoops your body off the couch like you weigh nothing, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he lifts you.

You let out a breathy gasp, already melting into his hold.

“Minho—”

“Shhh,” he murmurs. “You’ll thank me later.”

He carries you down the hall.

Jisung follows, quiet, hungry, amused.

And then you’re in Minho’s room — cool sheets, dark lighting, the soft click of the door shutting behind them.

You’re laid out on the bed like an offering. Your tank top is bunched, your thighs still twitching from the last orgasm, your voice soft as you whisper—

“Can I have a kiss now?”

Minho leans over you, lips so close they ghost yours. His hand cradles your cheek.

You lift your chin, lips parting—

But he pulls away.

And kisses Jisung instead.

Your breath stutters.

Their mouths move together with ease — Minho’s hand gripping Jisung’s jaw, Jisung’s tongue flicking between Minho’s lips. It’s messy. Deep. Intimate.

And it’s not for you.

Your stomach twists. Heat pulses between your legs again.

“Please,” you whisper. “Just one…”

Jisung glances down at you, lips swollen, eyes gleaming.

“Oh? You want one too?”

You nod quickly. “Yes—please—just—”

He leans down.

So close.

So close you can feel the warmth of his mouth, the mint on his breath.

And then he smiles.

And kisses Minho again instead.

You make a soft, helpless sound — some combination of a whimper and a broken plea.

Minho pulls back from Jisung, dragging a thumb across his lip as he looks at you with wicked satisfaction.

“She’s so needy now.”

“She asked for this,” Jisung says, laughing softly.

Minho crawls onto the bed next to you, trailing a hand down your stomach, over your hip. “Thought you said we were full of shit.”

You gasp as Jisung climbs in on your other side, both of them touching you now — soft, slow, just enough to make your body spark all over again.

“Thought we couldn’t make you beg.”

You glare, eyes glassy. “I am begging.”

Minho leans in, lips near your jaw.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

And then?

They kiss each other again.

Lips pressed deep. Tongues sliding. Hands gripping.

While you lay there, desperate and trembling between them, begging for a taste that never comes.

And this?

This is just the beginning.

You’re on your back, flushed and ruined already, lips swollen from begging, thighs slick and twitching where they lay spread open across Minho’s sheets.

Minho sits at the edge of the bed, watching you like a predator with time to kill, while Jisung hovers above you — lips still wet from his earlier work, pupils blown wide with hunger.

Minho’s voice cuts through the tension, low and firm.

“All right, sweetheart. Who do you want first?”

Your breath catches.

You turn your head, eyes glassy as you look at Minho. “I—I want—”

But before you can finish, Minho lifts his hand. “No. Actually—never mind.”

You blink. “What—?”

“She gets you first,” he says, nodding at Jisung with a smirk. “You’ve been patient.”

Jisung lights up instantly, eyes sharp with delight as he leans in, gripping your hips like he’s about to devour you.

“Fuck yes,” he whispers, dragging his lips along your neck. “I’ve been dying to fuck you.”

Your stomach flips.

He lines himself up, slow and deliberate, one hand slipping under your thigh to hold it open, the other stroking gently over your waist.

“Jisung—” you breathe.

“Shhh, baby. I got you.”

And then he pushes in.

The stretch makes your mouth drop open instantly, back arching from the bed.

It’s not rushed — it’s slow, deep, thick and perfect. He slides in to the hilt with one long, smooth thrust that has you gasping for air.

He groans—loud, needy—his head dropping against your shoulder. “Holy fuck—feels so good, you feel so good—”

You cry out when he pulls back and thrusts in again, harder this time, hips snapping forward with more force.

He sets a steady pace — not rough, not too fast — but full. Filling you up completely with every stroke, every grind of his hips dragging against your clit just enough to make you moan louder each time.

“Fuck, baby,” he whimpers. “Tell me it feels good—please—I need to hear it—”

Your hands fly to his back, nails digging in as your body clenches around him.

“So good, Jisung—so deep—feels perfect—”

He moans, louder this time, like your words set him off.

“I could stay inside you forever,” he gasps, hips hitting harder now, rhythm starting to stutter.

You look up at him, dazed, lips parted. “Kiss me—please—just once—”

He hesitates.

His lips hover over yours, breath mingling, so close it makes your whole chest ache.

But then he groans and turns his head — buries his face in your neck instead, kissing the skin there as he fucks into you harder.

“Can’t,” he pants. “Minho said not to—fuck—don’t make me break that.”

You whine, eyes squeezing shut as your body trembles around him.

He keeps going — faster now, deeper — holding you down, chasing your next orgasm like he’s chasing his own sanity.

“Say my name,” he begs, breathless. “Say it again—please—tell me you want it—tell me I’m good—”

You’re gasping now, back arching under him.

“Jisung—please—I want it—I want you—I’m so close—”

“Say I’m good,” he whimpers.

“You’re so good—fuck—you’re making me cum—”

And you do.

You break under him, shaking, pulsing, crying out his name as he fucks you through it, moaning into your throat like he’s addicted to your sounds.

But he still doesn’t kiss you.

And that’s the worst part.

You’re still catching your breath.

Your body is limp, barely able to move, the sheets under you wrinkled and wet with sweat and slick. Jisung’s panting against your shoulder, still inside you, still twitching from how tight you got around him when you came.

And yet—

The ache in your chest burns.

Because he didn’t kiss you.

You tilt your head, voice hoarse, still trembling. “Please… just one…”

Jisung lifts his face slowly, flushed and wild-looking, lips swollen and so close.

“Hyung,” he gasps, looking past you now. “Can I? Just once please—let me kiss her—” panting.

Minho’s voice cuts in, smooth and cruel.

“No.”

Jisung freezes.

Your eyes flutter open, wide with disbelief. “What—why—?”

Minho’s smirk is pure sin as he slowly crawls up the bed, towering over you both.

“You begged for proof, baby. You didn’t beg for affection.”

He leans in — so close you can see every lash, every glint of sweat at his temples.

“You don’t get that yet.”

His hand slides to your jaw, thumb brushing your lower lip.

You part your lips automatically — aching, breathless — and he just chuckles.

Then he turns.

And kisses Jisung.

Hard.

It’s slow but filthy, all tongue and heat, Minho’s hand gripping the back of Jisung’s neck while Jisung groans into it, hips still lightly pressed into yours as the kiss devours the space between them.

You’re frozen beneath them.

Dripping.

Hungry.

Jealous.

Minho finally pulls back, lips wet, eyes glowing with control.

And then he looks down at you — hair messy, chest heaving, still begging with your eyes.

“You still want a kiss?”

You nod, desperate. “Yes—please—”

He smiles.

“Too bad.”

And just like that, he shifts lower—settling between your thighs—like he’s already decided what happens next.

Not a kiss.

Not even eye contact.

Just—

“Open up for me,” he murmurs, gripping your thighs. “You’re not done yet.”

Minho sinks into you with one long, thick thrust — slow, deliberate, so deep it punches the air out of your lungs.

Your mouth drops open in a moan.

His hands grip your hips like he owns them, anchoring you beneath him, his rhythm unhurried but devastating.

Deep.

Precise.

Every thrust grinding right into that spot that makes your toes curl.

You reach up, breathless, fingers brushing his jaw. “Minho—kiss me—please—”

He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head with one hand.

“No.”

“Please—”

“You’re still begging?” he laughs softly, pace never faltering. “You haven’t earned that yet.”

Your throat tightens.

The pressure in your gut is building again — slow and overwhelming — but the denial, the ache of not being kissed, not being wanted that way, only makes it worse.

You glare up at him, voice sharp through a moan. “You’re a fucking asshole—”

His hips stop moving.

You instantly regret it.

He stares down at you, chest heaving, cock buried to the hilt inside you.

“What was that?” he asks, voice calm — too calm.

You bite your lip, squirming under him.

“Say it again.”

You don’t.

He pulls out completely.

You gasp — wrecked and empty and furious.

Then he grabs your waist and flips you over effortlessly, shoving your face into the sheets and hauling your ass up in one swift motion. You’re on your knees now, arms weak, hair a mess, slick dripping between your thighs.

And then—

Thrust.

He’s back inside.

Deep and slow and brutal.

You cry out.

“That’s better,” he mutters, one hand pressing down on your lower back while the other wraps around your throat from behind — holding you there.

“Such a brat,” he growls against your ear. “Look at you. Pathetic. Still begging.”

You let out a broken whimper.

“Look up,” he commands.

You lift your head — dazed, lips parted.

And your eyes land on Jisung.

Sitting against the headboard.

Red-faced. Sweaty.

Hard again.

So hard it looks painful.

Minho chuckles low in your ear, hips grinding deep as he keeps fucking you slow and steady.

“See what you’re doing to him?”

You moan.

Minho tightens his grip on your throat. “He’s hard again. All because of you.”

Jisung groans softly, palming himself through his sweats now, lips parted as he watches your body bounce from every thrust.

“You gonna be a good girl?” Minho whispers. “Gonna do something about it while I fuck you like this?”

You nod — desperate, dizzy.

“Then show him,” Minho says, dragging his cock out just enough before slamming back in. “Be useful.”

You’re on your knees, arms trembling, Minho still fucking you from behind with slow, devastating thrusts. Every inch of him stretches you open and slams into your most sensitive spot like he knows exactly where to hit — because he does.

And in front of you now is Jisung.

He moves closer, standing at the edge of the bed, his cock flushed and dripping, throbbing just inches from your lips.

But instead of shoving it in your mouth like you expect — like you need — he stops.

He kneels down, one hand cradling your cheek, thumb brushing your lower lip.

You look up at him, eyes wide, desperate.

“Ji,” you whimper. “Please. Just a kiss. I need—please—”

He looks heartbroken.

His thumb keeps brushing your mouth, breathing shaky, lips parted like he’s about to give in. “Fuck—I want to—I really do—”

He looks over you. Past you.

At Minho.

Still behind you. Still buried inside you. Still in charge.

“Hyung…”

Minho doesn’t stop thrusting — hips rolling slow, deep, filthy — but his voice is sharp.

“No.”

Jisung flinches. Your breath catches.

Minho’s pace doesn’t slow.

“You can fuck her mouth,” he says. “You can make her cry. But you don’t kiss her.”

Jisung swallows hard.

And then nods.

You let out a needy sound — a whimper half-buried in frustration and hunger.

But then Jisung stands up again, wraps his fingers into your hair, and gently guides your mouth to his cock.

“You’ll get something else, baby,” he whispers. “Be good for me.”

You open your mouth, lips wrapping around him as your eyes flutter shut.

And fuck, he tastes so good.

The moment your tongue touches him, he moans — head falling back, hips rocking forward slow and steady as you start to suck, lips sliding down his shaft, throat tightening around him.

And behind you—

Minho slams into you harder.

You cry out around Jisung’s cock, your moans vibrating along his length as Minho grabs your hips and sets a deeper rhythm, each thrust timed with the movement of your mouth.

The stimulation is insane.

You’re full at both ends. Fucked, used, throbbing.

Minho leans down, hand sliding over your back, guiding the arch of your spine.

Then—

SMACK.

His palm lands hard on your ass.

You jolt, moaning louder around Jisung.

Jisung whines above you, his hand tightening in your hair. “F-fuck—she’s perfect, hyung—her mouth is so warm—”

Then you hear it.

Kissing.

Wet, filthy, tongue-heavy kissing.

Right above you.

You glance up with glassy eyes, and see it:

Minho and Jisung.

Kissing each other over your back.

Gripping each other.

Moaning into each other’s mouths.

And you?

Still denied.

You let out a whine around Jisung’s cock — soft, muffled, needy — and Minho laughs.

“She hears it,” he says, still thrusting deep. “Poor baby wants it so bad.”

Jisung groans, breaking the kiss for a second to look down at you, cock twitching between your lips.

“She’s fucking drooling,” he pants. “I think she’s gonna cum just from this.”

Minho slaps your ass again, and your body jolts.

“She better.”

You’re already whimpering around Jisung’s cock when it hits.

That sharp, wild burst of heat behind your eyes.

Your body tensing so tight it aches.

Minho’s cock grinding deep, slow, full—right against that spot that breaks you completely.

You cum.

Hard.

Your thighs quake. Your moan is swallowed around Jisung’s length, making him gasp and jerk his hips. Your fingers dig into the sheets, back arching despite being on your knees, body trembling between them like you’re being shattered.

Minho groans behind you, hips grinding once more before he finally pulls out—slow, dragging, ruthless—leaving you twitching, dripping, and still empty.

Still no kiss.

Still denied.

Jisung pulls back from your mouth with shaky breath, hand gently wiping at the trail of spit and cum slicking your chin.

“You’re fucking insane,” he pants, eyes still wild. “You came so hard…”

Minho says nothing.

Just grabs your waist.

And flips you onto your back.

You let out a little sound — weak, surprised, your body too sensitive to move on its own now.

Minho crawls up over you slowly. Deliberately.

And he starts kissing you.

Not your lips.

Your body.

His mouth presses to your neck.

Your collarbone.

Your chest.

Your stomach.

Open-mouthed, wet, slow.

Worship.

“Still didn’t get your kiss,” he murmurs between licks, between trails of heat across your skin. “But you’re taking everything else like such a good girl.”

You gasp when his hands slide under your top.

He doesn’t ask.

He just lifts.

The tank top peels away from your body, and with one practiced flick behind your back, your bra follows.

Your tits spill out—soft, flushed, full.

Jisung lets out an honest-to-God groan.

“Fuck me—”

Minho hums against your chest as he cups them in both hands. His thumbs brush over your nipples, watching them pebble instantly.

Then—

He leans down.

And sucks one into his mouth.

You cry out.

His other hand squeezes the other, his tongue flicking and swirling, lips dragging heat across your skin.

Jisung’s hand is back in his lap, palming his cock slowly, eyes fixed on the way your back arches.

“She’s unreal,” he mumbles. “Minho, she’s—fuck—look at her—”

You’re panting now. Whimpering.

Tears gathering in your eyes from the overstimulation.

And your lips?

Still untouched.

You’re laid out on your back, tits bare, chest heaving, skin flushed and still trembling from the orgasm that tore through you moments ago. Your body’s soft, pliant, begging to be touched again — and Minho is right there.

Hovering over you.

His mouth brushes against your cheekbone.

Your temple.

The corner of your jaw.

Then lower.

Just beside your lips.

So close it steals your breath.

Your lips part, trembling. “Please—Minho—just one—please—”

He tilts his head like he’s considering it.

Then?

He doesn’t.

Instead, his mouth ghosts across the edge of your top lip — not quite touching — and then he pulls away completely.

You let out a cracked sob, hand flying up to grab his wrist. “Why—?”

But he’s already turning around.

He walks over to Jisung, who’s still sitting shirtless against the headboard, cock rock-hard and twitching, hand still slowly stroking himself from watching you unravel.

Minho climbs onto the bed—toward him.

He presses a hand to Jisung’s chest, pushing him flat to the mattress. Then leans in.

And kisses him.

Full.

Deep.

Hot.

Jisung moans into it, his hands flying to Minho’s waist as their mouths move together like muscle memory—messy, filthy, perfect.

You blink up at them, heart hammering in your chest.

Still no kiss for you.

Only the sound of them making out over your still-spread body.

Minho finally pulls back from Jisung, thumb brushing his lip.

“You were very, very good,” he murmurs. “Didn’t disobey once.”

Jisung nods quickly, breathless. “Tried so hard—”

“And good boys,” Minho says smoothly, “get rewards.”

He climbs over Jisung now, one hand wrapping around his cock, guiding it between Jisung’s thighs.

You gasp—sitting up slightly, dazed and wide-eyed as you watch Minho sink into him.

Jisung arches with a strangled moan, head rolling back, mouth open in a silent scream as Minho pushes in slow, thick, deep.

“Fuck, yes—hyung—please—”

Minho groans above him. “You take it so well.”

You stare.

Hot.

Soaked.

Throbbing.

You should look away.

But you don’t.

You can’t.

You reach between your legs with one shaking hand, fingers sliding through the mess they’ve already made of you, your body burning as you start to rub your clit in slow, desperate circles.

Watching.

Listening.

Jisung’s moans are beautiful.

High-pitched. Raw. Needy.

Minho’s pace is slow and deep — just like he gave you — hips grinding into Jisung while he whispers things you can’t hear, one hand wrapped around the back of Jisung’s neck, their foreheads pressed together.

You whimper.

Your fingers move faster.

And you realize—

You’re gonna cum again.

Just from watching.

Your fingers move faster between your thighs, slick sounds mixing with the low, filthy noises filling the room.

Minho’s fucking Jisung deep and slow on top of him, sweat slicking both their skin. Their mouths kiss between every moan and gasp, Minho’s hand firm on Jisung’s throat or hip, controlling everything.

And you?

You’re on the edge again.

Panting. Trembling. Staring with wide, glassy eyes while your fingers work your clit.

You can’t stop.

Can’t look away.

Especially when Minho suddenly shifts—pulling out of Jisung with one hand clenching his waist, the other guiding him around like he’s just a toy in his grip.

He flips him over.

Manhandles him.

Just like he did to you.

Pushes him to all fours, ass in the air, face flushed and dazed as Minho slides back in from behind.

And the sound Jisung makes?

Unholy.

High and wrecked and begging.

Minho grabs his hair, yanks him back, makes him face you.

“Eyes on her,” he growls, snapping his hips hard.

Jisung moans again, his whole body jerking forward with each thrust.

“Let her see how pretty you look like this.”

And you’re losing it.

Your fingers are flying over your clit now, thighs shaking, mouth open in gasping breaths, because the view—Minho fucking Jisung while Jisung moans your name between sobs—is too much.

You’re right there.

So close—

And then—

Smack.

Minho’s hand slaps yours away from between your legs.

You choke on a sob of frustration, jerking in place, your orgasm ripped away just seconds before it hits.

You look up, offended, your face flushed with fury and desperation. “Minho—what the fuck—”

He glares down at you, hips still pounding into Jisung with no mercy, cock disappearing inside him with every wet slap of skin.

“I didn’t tell you to touch yourself.”

You blink, chest heaving. “I—I thought—”

He leans forward over Jisung, voice a low growl. “You don’t think. You listen.”

Your lips tremble, breath catching.

“You watch,” he says. “You watch me give him everything.”

And then—

He grabs Jisung by the neck.

Not hard. Not hurting.

Just enough to own him.

He pulls him upright, makes him arch back into his chest — his cock still buried deep, still pounding into him — and kisses him.

Hard.

Open-mouthed. Messy. Tongue and teeth and praise.

And Jisung melts into it, moaning into Minho’s mouth like he’s made of need.

You’re still kneeling across from them, thighs clenched, cunt soaked, lips trembling with need and jealousy and aching want.

And all you can do is whimper.

Minho finishes with a low, sharp groan — his hips slamming deep into Jisung one final time before he spills inside him, his hand still tight around Jisung’s neck, the kiss between them slowing as they both ride out the high together.

You’re panting from where you kneel across from them, legs trembling, body coated in sweat and slick and denial.

Minho finally pulls out of Jisung and lays him down gently on the pillows, brushing damp hair off his flushed forehead.

Then he turns to you.

Brows raised.

“You tired?”

You blink at him.

He tilts his head. “Wanna stop?”

Your jaw tightens.

And your answer cuts through the thick, humid air.

“No.”

Minho’s brows lift slightly.

“I want to prove I deserve that kiss.”

He stares at you.

Then he leans back on the bed — arms spread behind him, chest glistening, legs open.

“You think riding me will do it?”

You nod.

He chuckles, deep and smug. “Then show me.”

You crawl into his lap without hesitation.

Straddle his hips.

Grip his cock and sink down onto it with a broken, gasping moan. He fills you so deep, stretching your already-overstimulated cunt to its limits, but it feels right.

Like this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

Minho doesn’t move.

Just watches you.

Watches.

And it ruins you.

His jaw is tight.

His eyes are hooded.

His lips — those fucking lips — are parted just barely, glistening from kissing Jisung, so close, and you can’t stop staring at them.

You start to move.

Rolling your hips slowly. Letting him feel all of you.

Letting yourself get drunk on the drag, the stretch, the fullness.

But your eyes?

Never leave his mouth.

Minho notices.

Of course he does.

He smirks — slow, knowing — like he sees right through your skin, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“You gonna ride me like that and still pretend you’re not thinking about my mouth?”

You say nothing.

Just grind down harder, desperate, dizzy.

But your rhythm starts to falter.

Your thighs are shaking.

Your pace slows.

And Minho?

Smacks your ass — hard enough to sting, sharp enough to make your hips jolt.

“Don’t slack now, baby,” he murmurs. “You’re the one who said you could prove it.”

You whimper, hips snapping back into motion — riding him faster now, harder, trying not to fall apart all over again.

But it’s so much.

The way he’s watching you.

The way your body clenches with every bounce.

The way his lips stay right there, untouched, perfect.

So you lean forward.

Wrap your arms around his neck.

And sink your mouth into his.

Not his lips.

But his neck.

Your tongue drags over his soft spot — the one just beneath his ear, where his jaw meets his throat — and when you suck, hard and slow, you feel him twitch deep inside you.

Minho groans, head tilting back slightly, his grip on your waist tightening.

“That—fuck—that’s not fair.”

You keep going, licking and sucking, your hips grinding hard down into his lap now.

“I wanna kiss you,” you pant against his throat.

He growls.

Jisung, still sprawled on the bed beside you, groans as he watches.

“She’s gonna kill us,” he mutters, breathless. “You see her fucking move?”

Minho doesn’t answer.

Because right now?

He’s too busy trying not to kiss you.

You ride him hard now — hips rolling, body trembling, nails digging into his shoulders as you take every deep, perfect thrust Minho gives you from beneath.

He’s meeting you halfway, thrusting up into you now with deliberate force, making your whole body jerk each time your hips slap together. The sound is obscene. Wet. Endless.

“Fuck, baby,” he pants, eyes burning into yours. “You feel so fucking good.”

You whimper, legs shaking. “Minho—please—”

He grabs your waist tighter, his thrusts growing rougher, deeper, driving into your spot so perfectly that your vision blurs.

You can barely hold yourself up.

You lean forward.

Desperate.

Needing.

Your lips part, hovering just above his. So close now. So fucking close.

Just one kiss.

Just one.

And then—

He turns his head.

Your mouth brushes his cheek instead.

You break.

A soft, wet sound escapes you — part sob, part moan.

“Why?” you whisper, voice cracked and raw. “Why won’t you kiss me?”

Minho stills for just a moment.

Just long enough for you to think he might say sorry.

He looks up at you, eyes softer for a second.

Then—his voice drops.

“Because you still don’t deserve it.”

He slams his hips up into you.

You cry out, the force of it knocking the breath from your lungs, your body folding slightly as the pleasure shoots up your spine.

“Don’t stop now,” he growls. “You want that kiss so bad? Work for it.”

You start riding harder again, tears streaking down your cheeks, mouth trembling from being so close and still denied.

He watches your face. Your lips. Your desperation.

And then his hand slides between your legs.

Two fingers find your clit instantly—slick, swollen, desperate for friction.

He rubs tight, fast circles as he fucks up into you harder now, gritting his teeth, muscles tight beneath you.

“Cum for me,” he growls. “Cum on my cock again. Show me how bad you want it.”

Your eyes roll back.

The pressure snaps.

You scream his name as your orgasm crashes through you — harder, hotter, more overwhelming than anything before. Your walls clench tight around him, your thighs twitching, voice breaking as your whole body shakes.

Minho groans beneath you, hips stuttering. “F-fuck—gonna cum—shit—”

One more thrust—

And he cums deep.

You feel him spill inside you, warm and thick and endless, his hand still working your clit, dragging out every spasm, every wave until you’re falling limp against his chest, completely wrecked.

But his lips?

Still untouched.

———————————————————————-

The room is quiet now.

The air’s still thick with sweat and heat, but the chaos has faded. The only sound is the soft hum of the shower down the hall — Minho, finally cleaning up.

You’re curled up in bed, body warm and heavy under the weight of everything.

Minho’s shirt hangs off your frame — oversized, soft, smelling like his cologne and sweat and something undeniably him. Your skin’s clean-ish, sticky in places, but your bones feel like melted sugar.

Beside you, Jisung lies on his side in nothing but his boxers, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting lazily across your stomach.

You trace his tattoos with your fingertip.

Slow.

Thoughtless.

First the delicate lines curling under his ribs.

Then the words etched into his side.

Then the little one on his hip that always makes you smile.

Jisung lets you touch without a word, chest rising and falling steady beneath your fingers.

And finally—

“Ji?”

He hums, eyes fluttering open a little. “Yeah?”

Your voice is soft. Barely a whisper.

“Can I… kiss you?”

His breath catches.

You see it happen — the way his chest pauses, the way his fingers twitch against your side.

You swallow.

“I know Minho said no but… he’s not here right now.”

You look up at him, blinking slowly, face still flushed and lips swollen.

“I just… I need to know what it feels like.”

Jisung stares at you for a long moment — eyes wide and soft and aching.

He’s so close. So warm. His mouth already parted.

He wants to.

God, he wants to.

But then he hesitates.

“Minho’ll kill me.”

You give him a tiny, sad smile. “You could just blame it on me.”

He lets out a breath — torn between fear and need — and then lifts his hand to your face.

Fingertips on your jaw.

His thumb brushes your lip.

And then—

(TO BE CONTINUED) …

[03den]

bfhamzah headcanons - part 2 ( gnreader )

a.n: my god i was not expecting allat on my first post, thank uuu sm have some more fun w my rambling (slightly suggestive & reader is referred to as gf/wife)

part 1

in part one i briefly talked about how hamzah texts you a lot, and i stand my ground on that. he def spams you with the most random things. if he encounters a funny thing on the street, he immediately takes his phone out and sends you a photo. wait, did hamzah just thought about a really bad joke that is not funny in the slightest? he's proudly texting you it with no context at all. sometimes you're sitting in the same room, both on your silent phone time, and he's just repeatedly sending you brainrot reels, laughing to himself. oh, and you better watch them and the tiktoks he sends you, because he will reference them later and be dramatic about it if you don't understand it. "hi im ol- ol- oliver" "what?" "you don't know what i'm talking about? babe, no. i literally sent you the og tiktok!" ohh he's going to be salty about it.

onto that, i don't think he's the biggest pet name user. i think he prefers to call you by a nickname only he has for you—he thinks it makes him more special. once, martin tried to call you by that same nickname during a video, and hamzah just side eyed him and went "dude, no. stop.” occasionally, he will call you babe or baby in situations where he's attention seeking, half-asleep, high, trying to win your affection back after pestering you for too long... but that's also what he calls you during those moments, when his mind is foggy with different thoughts, and constant stimulation steal his ability to self-control. anything other than babe or baby, i can see it lowkey making him cringe

something corny that def doesn't make him cringe though is matching clothes—oh, this man loves it. and i don't mean subtle matching. yk those iconic t-shirts hamzah and martin constantly wear? the ones he buys to match with you are like that—white t-shirt with black letters saying 'i think they're hot' with an arrow each pointing to different sides. he for sure has asked you to wear that shirt with him for a youtube video, and made you sit so the arrow on his shirt pointed to you, and yours to him. has bought himself the ‘i love my gf’ black hoodie and wears the ‘i don't need an encyclopedia my wife knows it all’ t-shirt more often now that you're dating. don’t worry tho he let's you choose normal matching clothes as well

he can be a very silly bf, specially in public where he feels too exposed to be vulnerable, however, deep down he’s so so sweet, so caring. mumbled confessions against your neck late at night, hamzah tells you things weighted with such love it puts you under some daze. it’s not so easy for him to be in such vulnerable state, his words come out messy and shy, but the fact he tries nonetheless gives his voice a certain rawness—there’s no room for you to doubt his words

his heartfelt ‘i love you’s are always heard during these moments. repeated over and over, in between kisses, one no more genuine than the other. hamzah feels every word in ‘i love you’, and so do you, so they’re more reserved for times like these. that doesn't mean you ever separate ways without a quick "love you" with a peck though, that's an essential for him.

you are so important to hamzah, like actually so important it’s in everything he does. it’s in the way he does his groceries thinking about what you’d want, in case you come over; it’s in the way every other concern is pushed aside the moment he sees you; it’s in the way his house is covered in evidence of your presence; and in how he cannot stop posting you—be it on tiktok, youtube, or wtv

something else the fans noticed during a video is how he keeps a polaroid of you two on his phone case—a selfie of you next to each other, camera too close to your faces but that still managed to capture your laughing fit and his grin. it’s cute, and even tho it was a moment between js the two of you, the picture clearly conveys the love you have for each other.

after some time dating, youtube gets flooded with compilations of your relationship. ‘hamzah annoying name for 15 minutes straight’. ‘every clip of Hamzah being absolutely in love WARNING: long video.’ ‘moments where name and hamzah openly flirted in front of the camera.’

extras!

literally had no idea on what to put on the brainrot line.. i havent been keeping up w brainrot also im so obsessed with every photo of him included in this post

[misshugs]

₂The Cameragirl² || snc

After an eventful night in the haunted asylum, you and the guys began looking at the footage, only for you to start making cocky remarks that might've set a spark you weren't expecting.

contains: just fluff and reader trying to be funny (but failing miserably), cheeky comments from reader, cursing, slight flirting? idk i suck at it

a/n: "part 2" of The Cameragirl, no need to read the first part though! but for context: you got choked by a ghost and you almost died but colby saved you by giving you mouth to mouth

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

word count: 2.3k

[u n e d i t e d]

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

You don't exactly remember when you fell asleep, you're just sure that right after you fell on your bed you were knocked out.

It wasn't something that happened often, but boy you were tired due to last nights events. Beause of that and because of your commonly terrible sleeping habits, Sam and Colby didn't even want to bother you much.

They did however check on you after they woke up hours later, making sure you were still breathing. The experience has somewhat made them paranoid about what could happen to you.

Although they cleansed you before returning, they'd much prefer to be one hundred percent sure you were alright.

The problem was, you were a light sleeper. After they finished checking up on you, your eyes opened up slightly. Groaning a bit from the ache in your body from the fall you had a couple of hours prior. You stretched yourself nonetheless.

Yawning, you sat down and rubbed your eyes. Taking your phone from your nightstand, you looked at the hour. 01:17 PM. Sighing softly, you stood up and fixed yourself up before walking out of the room.

Looking around, you heard mumbling from the other room. It was the office. You walked inside and saw them both looking back at the footage.

You furrowed your brows. Usually, you were a part of this process. Why did they begin without you?

Since they haven't noticed you yet, you started walking closer without making any sounds. As quiet as you possibly could, you basically stood behind them, watching the footage.

"What're you doing?" You asked, gaining a scream from Sam and a jump from Colby, almost falling off the chair. A smile grew wide on your face after that reaction.

"Fuck! You scared me!" Sam exclaimed, putting his hand on his chest.

"Oh my god, my heart." Colby said, hiding his face in his hands.

"That's for beginning without me." You said, crossing your arms on your chest.

"You were sleeping so soundly after all that happened, we didn't want to disturb you. And... we were curious... sorry." Colby admitted. You sighed.

"It's alright, I guess. What's this part?"

"We just started watching the part where... it happened." Sam said, looking at you.

"Ooh, okay. Then go back, my head's a little fuzzy, I can't remember clearly what happened, I want to know." As you said that, they nodded and ran back the video.

You didn't miss much anyways. They rewined right when they began arguing about it not being a good idea and whatnot. They haven't seen the whole night or anything, they just skipped right to the end.

After the arguing and the preparation for everyone to go into their respective corridors, the challenge began.

They paused the video. "Even though it made sense, it was still strange for you to be so persistent about it, was it not?" Colby said, looking at you. "Also, can you please sit down? There's a chair right there. You're stressing me out."

"No." You quickly answered.

"Why?" He asked.

"I don't want to, it's my fight or flight mode. It's easier to run while standing up." You giggled softly, which gave them both a sense of peace that you couldn't even imagine.

You were their everything, and thinking that their everything could've ended up like that made them so overprotective that they would've absolutely slept with you that night... to keep you protected, of course.

"Also, my legs feel numb, I don't want to cut the circulation again, it felt weird last time." You admitted.

Sam quickly stood up, concerned. "Are you okay? Do you need an oxygen mask again or something?? Water?"

"Wha- no. Calm down. Jeez." You said, grabbing his shoulder and making him sit back down. "Anyways, about the video. Um... I do remember having this urge to do it. I don't think it might've been anything bad, but I did have this... feeling, I guess."

"Maybe it wasn't you?" Colby said, raising a brow. "Maybe something was making you feel that way, just so that you were left alone... like it happened." You thought about it.

"I... guess it's an option." You shrugged.

"It could've also been a possession. It is said that people tend to quickly switch emotions when one is possessed." Sam continued. "Or... it could've also been the fact that you were so indifferent about it all."

"I'm just used to it, it's not like I don't believe."

"Yeah, but since we were making our reactions so... extra in comparison, maybe the spirits were trying to target you?" Colby added.

"...yeah, it does add up. Well, continue. Let's see what truly happened. I genuinely can't remember." They nodded and the video rewined.

As you began walking through the corridor, you began to speak on the video, it was almost automatic when you heard your voice that you started whining. "Oh, fuck no. Nevermind. This is so cringe. I remember this."

They started laughing and kept on watching although you pleaded for them to skip it. You tried to stop it yourself but Sam quickly held you back, hugging you and your arms, unable to move.

You didn't have the strength at the moment to try and get out of his grasp, but you tried anyways.

Not like it mattered. Not like you minded, actually. In the way he was holding you back, he basically let you sit on his lap while watching.

You didn't mind at all.

"You guys know I suck at youtube, I was trying to be funny, it didn't work." You laughed a little bit while your voice also seemed on the edge of breaking, mainly fake crying.

"What do you mean? You did great." Colby said, hiding his smile underneath his hand. Listening to your cute attempts on making jokes. It melted him.

"I can see you trying not to laugh, Colby." You fake cried again.

"Whaaat? I would never." He said. Sam didn't hide anything. His smile only giving away how much he was actually enjoying this version of you. If only you were open enough for them to be able to record and replay more of this.

A couple of minutes into the video, you started panting, heavy breathing could be heard. It was when you began to explain that you could barely breathe. "It feels... hard to breathe." You said in the video, your lips visibly shaking.

As you began walking faster, you could see through the video that you stopped on you tracks. Blinking your eyes as you looked at, what you remembered to be, a figure.

You tried to breathe.

"Holy shit. Holy shit! Did you see that?" Sam said, letting you go and pausing the video and quickly going back a couple of seconds. You stood up from his lap to let him search quickly.

"What?" Colby asked. Confused, you got closer. He started playing the video once again, this time, slower. You could see the light on your neck moving.

"Holy fuck. Look at that. It looks as if something is like, pushing on your neck. Like pressing onto as if you're getting choked." Sam explains, pointing at the marks on your neck where there seemed to be a dent suddenly forming.

"Oh my god." You said as you touched your neck, remembering what happened barely a couple of hours ago. Colby had his mouth wide open after watching that.

"That's... that's poltergeist activity right there. It's undeniable." He said, looking at the both of you. You nodded, shocked at how much power this entity seemed to have. "We need to get you properly cleansed, we can't be having another demon up someone's ass." He contined, looking directly at Sam, who seemed offended. You chuckled.

As they continued the video, they heard the soft 'help' that you could barely spit out, your voice breaking in the midst of it. The quick movement of the camera as you turned around only to be thrown to the floor. Seconds later, watching as you tried to crawl back but your body seemingly giving up as quickly as you tried to do so.

It broke their hearts, even more so knowing you tried to scream for help. And so, the camera kept rolling for what felt like an eternity.

"How long did it took for you guys to come look for me?" You asked, seeing as the video kept going.

"So far, it's been five minutes..." Sam said softly, painfully watching the screen.

"Oh my god, I was dead for five minutes?"

"Don't say it like that." Colby looked at you, almost sad. Fear went through his body at the thought of not have gotten there on time.

"It is true though... oh, there are my heroes." They smiled softly as you said that. As you heard the conversation they had while you were unconscious, you scoffed. "You guys thought it was a joke?"

"Hey, listen. We've had our jokes and giggles with extreme pranks before, it could've been a possibility." Colby put his hands up in defense, looking at you truthfully. "Honestly, I was wishing it was."

"Sam. Call 911. This is real." Colby said on the video. Before you could completely understand what was going on, you saw him kissing you.

Well, saving your life, but touching lips nonetheless.

Your cheeks started switching colors. You obviously don't remember much, but your brain didn't thought about the fact he had to give you some oxygen back.

Your fingers touched your lips softly as you were watching. They seemed to be immerse on watching what happened, thankfully. You don't think you could handle their stares right now.

Trying to calm yourself down, you saw yourself waking up. No further from that, you saw as Sam helped you up for a split second before the camera was turned off.

"And that's the footage alright. Wow." Colby sighed and looked at Sam, and then at you.

"That was... something. I can't believe we caught that on camera... it's proof, yeah, but... you were seriously hurt." Sam says, looking at you. "Are you... okay with this?" He asked, you looked at him, confused.

"What? You mean for posting it? Oh yeah, I don't mind. Don't worry about it. I'm safe and sound anyways." You said, smiling as you put your hands on your hips.

"Just making sure you're okay with it." He said and you nodded, understanding his kind gesture.

"So..." You began, gaining the attention of them both. "Are you gonna keep the part where Colby kisses m- uh, gives me mouth to mouth?" You quickly correct yourself, trying to act cool. Not leaving your stare from the screen.

"What?" They smirked at your sneaky comment.

Fuck.

"What?" You asked back looking at Sam, seemingly ignoring their cocky smile as much as you could.

"What did you say?" He asked.

"If you're gonna keep the mouth to mouth on the video."

"Not that, when you stuttered." Colby obliged, making you nervous.

"...I said Colby?" You raised an eyebrow, looking confused although you perfectly knew what they were talking about. They shook their head.

"You know what we mean." Sam says, reclining back on his chair, getting comfortable as he looks at you, amused by the situation. Mimicking Sam's actions; Colby lied back, a hand underneath his chin, smirking back at you.

Like Gods. They looked like Gods.

It was driving you insane.

You sighed, "I'm just saying. A bit upset that that was my first kiss with any of you- I mean, not like I was... waiting for one anyways, of course. Ahem." You started mumbling at the end, looking away while scratching the side of your neck.

It wasn't anything strange for all of you to have some sort of stupid flirting in between conversations, but usually they were extremely noticeable jokes.

These? Oh. These weren't jokes. These were genuine mistakes.

And a part of you hated these silly accidents. Mainly because they knew.

"There seem to be a lot of mixed signs in what you're saying." Colby said, smiling at Sam then looking back at you. "I'm a bit confused in what to believe here."

You shrugged. "Believe what you want to believe, good sir."

"It's just that I don't know if we're on the same page, you know?" Colby continued, looking at Sam. "I only know he's with me."

"Oh, for sure." The sexual tension only filling the room even more. Usually, the jokes were seemingly too overboard and hence, you could tell they were that, plain jokes.

Usually.

Just like your silly little mistakes, these weren't jokes.

"And what does that mean?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, we know what we want. We don't know if it is what you want though."

You sighed heavily, seemingly loosing yourself for a moment as you whined. "Dear God, why are y'all so hot?" You looked up, dozing out of existence after thinking about their looks, their positioning, their everything.

.

.

.

Wait.

Wait.

WHAT DID YOU JUST THROW OUT OF YOUR MOUTH?

You accidentally said your thoughts out loud.

How does that even happen?!

When you realized what you've done, your eyes went wide, quickly looking at them. "Oh. Fuck. I didn't just- oh God." You didn't even wait to see their reaction as you began walking away. They quickly stood up, and you quickly sped up.

You started laughing but you were absolutely dying inside out of embarrassment. "Come back here!" Sam yelled as he got a hold of you and hugged you from behind, quickly throwing you over his shoulder.

"Let me gooo!" You yelped, moving your legs as you laughed purely by reflex. He held your legs in place. You were blushing hard.

"Nu-uh. We're gonna have a chat, young lady." Colby said, crossing his arms as you looked at him with a pout on your face. Sam turned around and slapped your ass, walking back to the room. You yelped, not expecting the sudden movement.

"A nice, long chat." Sam said as you sighed.

Oh boy. It's gonna be a long night.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

how do you guys like the banner? i got creative(ish)

also pls tell me what you thought about the fic, cause i don't really know if i did good with the idea, i did want them to review the footage but i also wanted a bit of tension or something extra to make it spicy, i'm not sure if i did a good job tho...

thank you for reading!

-nikkõ

smol taglist: @lemonnightmare @yourfavoritefangirl @stardollswrld

[overdressedcarp]

I've been thinking for a while about the optional Magatama dialogue in The Cosmic Turnabout where you can prompt Fulbright about what's bothering him, and for both of the wrong answers, he acts like you got it right, and actively leans into the bit. For example, if you suggest that he's exhausted by life, he agrees and claims he's thinking about quitting his job and going to space. (Honestly, mood.)

(AA 5-4 and 5-5 spoilers below the cut)

It's a good line on its own: funny, and definitely relatable. With 5-5's context, though, it brushes up against a deep-seated desire to disappear, to run away and start over, something the Phantom hasn't been at liberty to do in years. He's shackled to a seven-year-old assignment, strangled by loose ends that he can't tie off. For maybe the first time in his life, he has to wake up every day and live with the effects of his actions, made blisteringly real in the form of the people he hurt.

(Do I think he's walking around harboring deep, profound remorse for UR-1? Not really, no. But the self-protective lie of "my choices don't matter because I'm not really a person" only goes so far when you're clocking into work every day to hang out with the guy who's on death row because of you, who's grieving because of you, and suddenly you're the only person he trusts to hear about the monster that ruined his life, and you planned for this but you didn't plan for this and honestly at that point I'd want to quit my job and throw myself into the vast expanse of space, too.)

Also worth noting, during this entire scene, any time Fulbright goes to answer a question or make an assertion about himself, the tinted glasses go up like a shield. Eyes hidden, hand obscuring the lower half of his face. It's something he does pretty regularly throughout the game, but it's egregious here. My man is on the defensive and he's giving absolutely zero ground.

But the big thing for me is the other "wrong" option, where if you claim that Fulbright is troubled by love, the Phantom's knee-jerk "yes, and," response is to tell a story about a carp named Love who ate a bunch of goldfish because he put them all in the same tank.

In the moment it's supposed to be absurd and comical and one more example of how hapless this guy is, but in retrospect, it's kind of telling that when the Phantom tries to conceptualize love in relation to himself, the first piece of Fulbright-flavored bullshit that comes to mind is about a creature that brings pain and death through mere proximity, not out of malice, but out of nature. As though, subconsciously, he's fixated on the notion of a foreign element that's been dropped into an otherwise peaceful space. A fish that seems like it belongs there until it devours the others.

He really could have said anything—he could have made up a story about a bad breakup, or a really sad movie, or a family member who died. He could have jumped to talking about Blackquill, and how he's concerned for his emotional state given the nature of the current case. But instead, his mind instinctively gravitates to a Love that consumes everything around it: a Love defined by its capacity for violence. There was never a world where the carp could exist alongside the goldfish without hurting them.

And idk. I feel like if he wasn't feeling some kind of way about that, then it wouldn't be bleeding into his Olympic-level improv gymnastics routine to convince Phoenix that he doesn't have any secrets and you can put the supernatural lie detector away now, thanks.

[batty4vamps]

Dwayne (The Lost Boys) Nsfw Alphabet 🔞

As promised in the poll 😗

Includes: nsfw under the cut obviously, gn reader

I’m writing this with the context of the reader being in a relationship with Dwayne. I think outside of that him and the boys are used to getting off, getting fed, and getting out lmao

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

King of aftercare. Holding you and making sure you’re the most comfortable. He doesn’t speak much, just gently massages your back, hips, and shoulders until you’re completely asleep

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I mean let’s be so fr he loves his pecs and abs. Like he doesn’t OWN a shirt, he knows how sexy they are. Run your hands or nails down them and he’s giving the most proud smirk.

He’s loves hips and thighs. Doesn’t matter the size, he loves grabbing, kissing, and biting on them regardless. His favorite positions are the ones that enable him to grip his your hips.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

His favorite place to cum is your thighs. There’s just something so hot to him about seeing your soft thighs covered in it. If you’re giving him head though he loves finishing on your neck and chest.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’s gotten off smelling an item of your clothing. Multiple times.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He is very experienced. He may not be Paul experienced (or maybe he’s just not as loud about it) but he knows what feels good and what he likes.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves having you laid back at end the bed while he plows into you, standing. He loves gripping your hips and being able to get as deep as he needs while watching you come undone.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s serious, but not in an awkward way, he’s just a stoic guy. He isn’t one to make jokes, but if something funny or embarrassing happens he’ll laugh it off with you before getting back into it.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Natural, doesn’t shave, likes his body hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s a gentleman, and he wants you to feel desired. He’s romantic as much as a lost boy can be romantic. I wouldn’t expect rose petals on the bed, but he’s still very good at setting the mood. Candles are involved. He enjoys the process of seducing you, getting you into his bed, and making you feel good.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Less than average. He only really does it if you aren’t around or aren’t in the mood and he really can’t shake it off.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Cock warming FS, he loves having you that close to him while he reads to you or while watching a movie together.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

First and foremost he likes being alone in bed with you. Other then that, there’s something romantic about doing it in the moonlight under the boardwalk that can also get him going. He isn’t really one for anything public, but once in a while he’s down for a quickie in an alley to spice things up.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He very much enjoys you in revealing outfits, he is but a man after all. In public likes seeing people stare at you, knowing you’re his. Plus, seeing leather cling to your body is always gonna get him going.

He also lovessss when you wear his clothes. Whether they’re loose or tight on you, he adores it. Let him find you wearing only his jacket, it’ll be a damn good time AND he’ll get a hard on every time he sees you in it for weeks.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything too public, or around the other boys. He’s not the most territorial in the pack, but he’s up there, and doesn’t need the rest of the boys seeing you like he does.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves both, but I think over all he’d give more often. He likes providing and being the one making you feel good. That certainly doesn’t mean he’ll ever say no to a bj.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

If he can help it, he likes being able to take his time. He’s more about the journey than the destination.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not his favorite, but they can be hot under the right circumstances.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’ll try most things that you want to try at least once, but he’s also is pretty firm about not trying something again if it went badly the first time. He’d rather go back to things you both know you enjoy.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

His rounds are veryyyy drawn out, he can go for 3-4, but that’s on a night where you have nothing to do but just lounge about and fuck. Which he very much enjoys.

He, being the gentleman he is, tries his absolute best to last until after you’ve finished. Being that he’s very experienced, he’s pretty good at it.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Doesn’t own any of his own besides one pair of handcuffs, but isn’t opposed to explore more if it’s something you’re into.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He likes playing a little subtle cat and mouse game with you when you’re out. You doing something you know riles him up while having that little knowing smile on your face is just too pretty a sight.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Doesn’t talk much, mostly grunts. Will stop to praise you once in a while.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Very rarely he’ll let you cuff him while you ride him or give him head. The cuffs have definitely broken before. Be prepared to get your ass wrecked afterwards.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Slightly longer than average and thick

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Higher than he lets on, almost as high as Paul’s. He’s not ashamed of it, but he’s subtle and likes when you come to him. Y’all have a very healthy sex life fs.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If it’s in the middle of the night still, he prefers to lay around with you and talk or listen to music rather than sleep. If it’s morning, he’s pass out once he makes sure you’re asleep.

I’m not opposed to doing this for the other boys too if there’s any want for that 👀

[creatingblackcharacters]

Some General Notes, Week 1

(in no particular order, no you don't have to agree, no they're not "the right answer", no I'm not going to argue. They're just my thoughts!)

-What I definitely enjoyed seeing was (the discomfort and frustration of, rightfully so!) people realizing just how much writing and character design go hand in hand, when told they could not consider the writing! Context is a beast, isn't it? People unfortunately judge with their eyes a lot faster than they bother to read and comprehend (‼️‼️‼️) and so sometimes we have to think about what we've drawn, and what we're trying to or could possibly SAY with that design. It doesn't have to be super detailed, but little things can go a long way.

-White folk tended to overcorrect, with more negative opinions about certain designs than Black and NB fans of color. I don't think it came from a bad place, as much as a place of concern with some lack of understanding.

-Black viewers are overall quite gracious about Black character design if it looks like you cared enough to try (contrary to popular Tumblr and Societal Belief, we don't bite!) But it did sometimes feel that it was to the point of being too nice. There are a lot of Black people who will accept the bare minimum just to feel included, and I hope to one day see less of that. We deserve the effort!

-Measured in three separate groups, we actually tend to be on the same page about design! We won't see the end result of the polls til next week (sorry ahead of time about the poll notification onslaught) so I could be wrong, but usually after the first thirty minutes, our bars tended to trend similarly from what I saw. This is likely due to the bias of my userbase; I'm sure if this poll reached The Unfortunate Masses of Fan Racists, it would be different. We shall see!

-There is usually a beginning wave of NB fans of color that actually find designs better than Black people will, which I found interesting, but then it evens out over time.

-Professional artists seem to be real big fans of the fade. The fade and the killmonger. The fade is funny because fades have been around for decades, and no one ever cared this much, but suddenly there are fades every other character. I wish there were more teeny weeny afros and short locs and just loose curls. Twists too!

-A lot of people were surprised about some characters who were supposed to be Black (and actually were). Which is telling, both on your side as the viewer and their side as the artists! Because that means something was not conveyed, communicated, or understood when you consumed that media!

-Black folk, I love y'all, I'm saying this kindly and I want you to hear me: I think there were times where your emotional attachment to the design affected your answers, even when told to only base it off visuals (e.g., yes, I know that particular character wears wigs! I know that's in the writing! I hear y'all! But unfortunately, when told to look at that character with the pictures provided, without the writing, given the genre, no, that is not an apparent piece of information. I am sorry.)

-I think NB fans of color especially understood this concept, which is just because a character isn't Black doesn't mean they aren't still a person of color. I say that to mean, some of these people felt ambiguously brown to a point that yes, they could be anyone else! 80% of the blue haired characters submitted (and the majority of the gacha ones) fell into this category, imo. Like, we should not all have to share the One Brown for Representation.

-I definitely didn't think that people would assume that the answers were "is this design Black, nonblack, or white"... I must admit that it doesn't make much sense to me 😅 it explained some of the answers I saw, though. Felt like some folks had to be trolling. Unfortunate, not something I can control once posted. Moving on.

-I do wish more people understood that this was meant to be a thought exercise moreso than "this is the right answer" (though sometimes, there was a right answer lmao. Beau is trash IDC.) It's not to gauge "do you know" as much as "based off of what you know, what would you say". It's for you (and me) to gauge where you are! It's okay to realize that you don't know what you don't know!

[jamiedc-they-them]

I heard you were taking Thunderbolts* requests? You can refuse there's absolutely no pressure!

What about Bucky with an adopted child, young adult? I don't really have a scenario, just some context that popped when I watched the movie yesterday :')

Like, Bucky can take care of himself, sure, but his child always makes sure he's not living on the bare minimum. During the happenings of the movie, they followed Bucky without his permission but ended up being useful in their own way (because Bucky taught them how to fight, of course).

I know it's a bit abstract, but I've always liked your blog, and the last request I gave you did not disappoint (probably a year ago or something), so I trust your brain can make up something wonderful!

(If you wanna get a little crazy, totally optional, you can make his child a mutant, with wings. Thought it could be funny :'D)

Own it (Platonic)

Summary: Being Bucky Barnes' adopted child comes with challenges. Challenges that boil over in ways that almost make you lose each other, both to your memories, and physically.

Requested by @len-psychofr

Warnings: Swearing, depression, self-hatred, violence, dead parents, Valentina.

Marvel Masterlist 1

Marvel Masterlist 2

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

"How was the party?" You asked, sitting curled near the window, eating some leftover takeout that Bucky had left out for you to have when you got back in from work.

This was actual work. Not hired gun work, not Black Widow work. Work-work. A job.

Mind you, it didn't exactly pay the bills.

Bucky did that. He was an elected official. You were happy for him, the pair of you making new names for yourselves after pasts you'd rather forget.

You, a shit mum who sold you to some research programme that Yelena Belova found you in. She wasn't in a great headspace, so she asked the Winter Soldier of all people to keep an eye on you.

Yelena had then disappeared, but Bucky had stayed.

A butterfly came through the window, landing on your finger.

"Met Valentina's assistant," he said as he shut the door behind him, "trying to scope me out."

"In what way?" you teased. You knew how people had a crush on Bucky. The way he made people swoon with the simple phrase of doll.

It was harmless...mostly.

He rolled his eyes, "you got a broken mind, kid. Sometimes wonder why I took you in if all you're gonna do is talk shit."

He meant it in a light-hearted way. It had the opposite effect.

You were good at hiding how things felt, though.

You laughed. He didn't read into it.

A proper dad would, you told yourself. Your brain told itself.

It told you a lot of things. Most of them are not nice.

Yet, here you stood still, with a man who was seemingly getting bored of you.

Bucky looked at you, waiting for the dishwasher to be done; you were looking at the butterfly still, smiling at it.

You didn’t get much of that in your youth, he guessed. Time to just slow down and appreciate your life and the life around you. Just survive constantly until the next day.

You heard his phone go. The butterfly flew away.

You finished your "meal" before clearing your throat, "your arm is done."

He nodded to you in thanks, pulling it from the dishwasher, the one he wore to the party being a dud.

You laid on your bed, staring up at the ceiling.

He didn't mean it. He didn't mean it. He didn't --

"You don't touch them," Bucky sneered into his phone.

You poked your head out of the doorway, "Kid may be 'weak' but they're my kid. You don't go after them."

Oh. That was...mixed.

He slammed the phone down, accidentally crushing it with his arm that he had just cleaned.

You left the room, clearing your throat, "Everything ok?"

He let out a sigh, before turning around, “Yeah…no,” he was honest, at least, growth, “how much of that did you hear?”

You shook your head, “not much,” you lied, “just decided to come out when the phone got…you know…”

He nodded, both of you deciding to believe the lie. This was something serious.

“Take it trying to impeach the bitch isn’t going well.”

“Language,” you rolled your eyes, “but, no. But, there may be a way to find some people who can help.”

“I can help,” you said, arm going up.

“And, how is that?”

“Because it’s who my mum sold me to.”

“What?!” Bucky was walking towards you. 

You took a step back. He paused.

“Sorry…” he sounded apologetic.

He isn’t, a voice said in your mind, he’s just like her.

You cleared your throat, “it’s ok.”

“This is serious, (your name).”

“I can help,” you promised.

Bucky saw it in your eyes, a look that was in his long ago - though it still lingered, the past never fully went away: Redemption.

A want to make it right.

He knew you’d just follow anyway.

“You’re a pain in my arse, you know that?”

“So I’ve gathered.”

You had an attitude today. He just put it up to age. He remembered being in his mid-teen years as well. Anti-authority and all that.

He once got called a communist for it.

He nodded, “But you do exactly as I say, ok?”

“Aye aye,” you said, giving him a mock salute.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He took you to the garage, where he had a bike. He even donned a new outfit, and shades for some reason.

“You look like a cliche biker,” you said, waiting for him.

“And you look like a hipster.”

You gawked at him.

He got on the bike, you got on behind him.

He held something to you: A helmet.

“Really?”

“Safety first.”

You parroted what he said as you put it on, making sure it was secure.

“Hold on, I ain’t obeying traffic laws.”

“Wow, you’re so cool,” you said, dryly.

He shook his head, with you behind him, meaning you missed the smile on his face.

You set off, tearing through the mean streets and only almost dying several thousand times due to not obeying the traffic laws.

You even got pulled over at one point:

“Do you know who I am?” Bucky asked.

“Senator Barnes,” the officer looked at you, “and here’s your little scrap.”

“Walk off,” you said, the cop obeying.

Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that you had powers? We’ll get more into them later.

“Thank you,” Bucky said, starting the journey again.

“Uh-huh,” you said, not biting.

You drove on, and you did enjoy this part about America, the amount of diverse landscapes there were. From concrete jungles to more empty areas with deserts all around.

“So, who are we chasing, exactly?”

“Some people like us: fuck ups. One of them is the same girl who gave you to me.”

“Yelena?” You asked, wanting to see the woman who saved your life.

“That’s the one. We also got John Walker –”

“Fuck up Captain America, right?”

He snorted at the name, “That’s the one.”

“And the last one?”

“Ava Starr, The Ghost.”

“Cool name.”

“You said that about my name.”

“Well, I was lying then; that, and you didn’t like it.”

He looked at you from the mirror on the bike, you were a kind soul. He always admired that. You were traumatised and sarcastic, but deeply kind to others.

Just not yourself.

You made it. He held out his hand, and you placed a grenade launcher into it. He fired it, and you both rode through the smoke.

You leant to the side, “you got a plan?” he asked.

“Trust me?” 

He nodded: of course, he did, he just sometimes wasn’t great at showing it.

You zoomed off, carrying some bombs with you. You placed each of them on the trucks. 

All but one went off –

“Oh for fu–”

He fired his launcher at it, it did the job – doubly so when the grenade you had planted went off as well.

“It’s alright,” he said, “you’ll get them next time.”

You won’t, he had to clean up for you.

“You wanna do this one?” Bucky asked, holding out the last one.

He still trusted you.

You hesitated before taking it and zooming off once again.

It worked. The limousine flipped.

You just hoped Yelena survived.

She did. They all had. Even her dad.

You had read up on her ages ago, Bucky had given you her files.

You wanted to know about the friend who saved you.

She didn’t look too different, sans the blue eyeliner.

“You did good,” Bucky said. He’d said it before, but this time he sounded different. 

He doesn’t believe it.

“I mean it.”

You just hummed, looking back at the group of misfits.

Bucky called you kind, your therapist called you someone who got attached too quickly.

Maybe it was why, as everyone started to wake up, you hugged Yelena.

What? You only had two friends.

“(Your name)?” she asked, blinking a few times.

“Hi,” you said, backing away.

She smiled, “it’s good to see you again. Even if the circumstances aren’t great. You did blow up our car.”

You smiled, looking from friend to friend.

You felt good. You felt worth something. Not discarded.

You had helped.

Even your brain didn’t retort to that.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“That car was priceless,” her father said.

“Sorry…” you apologised.

“Never apologise, little America,” he said, “your technique was flawless.”

“Uh…”

“That’s Alexei,” Bucky said, “Yelena’s father.”

You waved, he nodded.

You listened to your father’s proposed plan: Impeach Valentina.

“That’s why you’ll go with (Your name) and –”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa –” You shot up, finger waving, “uh-uh.”

You had shifted back quickly.

Bucky sighed, turning back to you.

“So, I told you all that about where my mum sold me too and tell you this and the first thing you think about is impeaching Valentina?”

“She’s a threat.”

“So were - are - we!”

“So we are –”

“Don’t fucking correct me!” he flinched at your words. They had affected him.

“Don’t. Talk.” He didn’t open his mouth. Your powers had worked again.

“They care about this Bob dude, ok? Valentina hurt him. What was it you said to me once?”

He didn’t talk.

“Say it!” your voice had a deep rumble to it.

“That you don’t let those who can’t defend themselves get hurt.”

“Exactly,” you pointed at them, “we’re the best shot he’s got, ok? We go there, we find him and we stop Valentina.”

He agreed. Alexei cheered.

Your ragtag team was born.

You sat in the back of the van with Yelena, Ava and John. 

It was a battered truck, with small little holes in it. You looked out of one, seeing an old friend: The Butterfly from before.

“What’s the weirdo looking at?” John asked.

“Knock it off,” Ava warned.

“What is it?” Yelena asked, looking at you.

“It’s a butterfly,” you answered.

She turned, finding a hole to look out of with you.

“It’s very pretty.”

You smiled, “it’s a reminder of what we’re fighting for in this capitalistic hellscape of ours.”

“Sounds a bit commie to me.”

You spun round to John, “Why? You do know that like, not liking capitalism isn’t a hot fucking idea, right? You gonna go all-new Captain America, gonna crush my head in with your shield as well?”

“What, no. How do you even –”

“I live with Bucky, we’re friends. He told me.”

“What are you? Twelve?” 

“Seventeen.”

“Seventeen, and looking at butterflies still.”

“God forbid someone has a hobby, John.” Ava said.

“Look – all I’m saying is, you don’t like my helmet, but you don’t mind them looking at butterflies.”

“How are those two things related?”

“They – they aren’t. I just – I just want someone to like my helmet.”

You hated that you felt yourself tear up a small amount.

Yelena put a hand on your shoulder, “Ignore him.”

“No, it’s fine,” you said, rubbing your eyes, “I’m used to people like him. Besides, he’s right –”

“No,” both Ava and Yelena said.

“World we live in, we just fight to get ourselves through it, until we die,” you looked at him, eyes still glassy, “Thank you for reminding me of that.” You were sincere.

John loathed that you were sincere with your thanks. He didn’t mean to accidentally dig. From the look in your eyes, you didn’t mean to throw it so harshly back at him, either.

You’re not kind, you're nasty and cruel. You deserved what happened to you. You hurt him. Look, look at him. Damaged but not broken. Then there’s you, you cu–

“That’s – that’s not what I –” 

The truck smashed through the wall before he could finish.

You were brutal with your fighting: Just like you were told. 

Bucky and you even made a team.

Hell, you did with everyone: John launched you up with his shield, Yelena and you went back to back, you flung one person up and Ava appeared to slam them into the ground, and you threw someone at Alexei for him to hook. 

You made it up to Valentina after being invited.

“Oh, you,” she said, looking at you in disgust, “I thought I got rid of you a long time ago.”

“Oops.”

“You know,” Valentina said, walking towards you. Yelena took a step forward, Valentina didn’t clock her as she leant down close to you, “When your mother left you in my…care –”

“Don’t believe her, (your name),” John said.

Bucky went forward, but Alexei put a hand on his shoulder. He shook his head: Trust your child.

“She only asked that your name get changed. The rest of it could do what I wanted with you. She took the money and left.”

Ava went to use her ability.

“Uh-uh,” Valentina said, “look, whatever weird protection squad you’ve assembled here for little old (nickname), when - truthfully - I thought you were here for Bob, is all very cute and all. But, guys, let’s not forget here, I’m the one with all the cards on the table.”

She looked to Yelena, “You really do just pick up strays, don’t you,” she cocked her head to the side, “Bob, the little brother; (your name) the little sib. God, you learnt how to do that from Nat, didn’t you.”

Yelena pursed her lips at the words.

Valentina wasn’t digging her grave further, she was just digging the knife deeper into you all.

Bob appeared, in an outfit with his hair slicked back.

“I heard it all,” he proclaimed, “you’ve replaced me already.”

“Bob, no –” Yelena tried to dissuade her friend, but Valentina spoke before she could finish.

“They did, that’s right,” she said, putting a hand on his chest in what you hoped was meant to be a maternal gesture, “they’re criminals, Bob. It’s what they do: They lie, they cheat, they betray.”

You fought for your lives. You were the last one standing.

Bob picked you up by your throat. He looked to Yelena, “So this is who you’re replacing me with.”

“Bob, (brother), no. No, I didn’t –”

He looked at you, “I’ve seen that look before, that want to die. I can do that for you.”

“Let them run,” Valentina ordered.

You barely remembered getting outside. 

Yelena was tearing into everyone. You were out of your mind doing this, even attempting it.

She then turned to you, “and you…you deserve so much better, (your name). Better than us –”

“Hey –”

“No, Bucky, look,” Yelena pointed at you, “look at them. They’re a mess. They deserve stability.”

“I know!” Bucky lost control for a second. Yelena backed away. He put his hands up in an apology, taking a step back, “I know,” he said in a softer tone.

Bucky turned towards you, reaching an arm out, “What did he –”

“Fuck off.”

“Language,” the three males said.

“Don’t act all parental to me now Bucky, just because we got our arses kicked.”

“Where’s this coming from –”

“You,” you pushed him, “what was it, huh? ‘Sometimes wonder why I took you in if all you're gonna do is talk shit.’? Or, or was it ‘Kid may be 'weak'’?”

“I also said you don’t go after them.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you spat, “you agreed with her.”

“Who says that about their own child?!” Alexei was angered on your behalf.

“A tired dad who didn't mean it,” Bucky defended.

“Oh no,” you pointed a finger in his face, “you said it. Own it.” 

“Own it! You shouted, but this time you didn’t use your power.

“I did – I did say those things…and I can’t excuse them.”

There was a pause. Before:

“If I - if I can have a go.”

“Sure, John, join happy hour.”

“Oh, fuck you, Bucky,” John then softened his tone as he looked at you, “Look, I screwed up with my kid, alright? I was a lousy dad,” he waited to be made a punchline; when no one did, he continued, “I’d do anything to take it back. But, I’d burn the whole world down just to see my kid and wife again and try and pick up the pieces.

It might be too late for me, I don’t think it is for you guys.”

You and Bucky just looked at each other, unsure of what to say.

“Sometimes it is for some,” was what Yelena said, looking at Alexei before walking away. Alexei followed.

You looked to Ava, “So, what are you going to do now?” 

She let out a breath, “to be honest, I don’t entirely know. I guess, do what I’m best at: run.”

“You?” she asked.

You lifted your arms before letting them hit your sides. You were burnt out, at this point.

Why did you think you could do this? Help? Look at how that’s gone.

Screams, you heard screams next.

People were disappearing.

Someone was in the sky…Bob.

You moved without thinking. Instinct took over.

You helped zip someone out of the way. You were thanked. 

You were thanked a few more times, and someone even shook your hand when in relative safety.

Together, you all lifted a wall. 

You were cheered.

Maybe you weren’t complete fuck ups after all.

Yelena stood at the edge of darkness…she walked into it.

Alexei broke down.

You all took cover, John comforting Alexei as he wept.

You looked out at the darkness.

You felt a pull to it.

It was calling to you and –

A hand went on your shoulder. A metallic one.

“If you’re going into it to help her,” he said, “I’m going with you.”

You looked from him to Bob in the sky, to the darkness engulfing New York.

“I don’t fucking care for New York,” you said, starting to walk, “but I ain’t leaving Yelena to fend for herself.”

“We’re coming too,” Ava said.

“If there is even a chance that my Yelena is alive in there,” Alexei said, choked, “then I will fight with all I have.” 

So, as a united front, you ran into it…

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Dad,” you called out, looking around.

You were alone in a void.

Then, you heard voices, “Just, change their name. Pull whatever strings you need,” your mother said to Valentina. You were shaking in the corner of a room.

“Done and done,” Valentina said, shaking her hand, “take her out.”

You learnt that she meant that in two ways when you saw your mother be escorted out, and then when you heard a gunshot ring out.

Valentina crouched by your younger self, “Now, what are we going to call you?”

Valentina, or your mind's version of…well, it wasn’t a warped version, but still, looked up at the real you: “You shouldn’t have made it. But, to be honest, I’m kind of glad you did. Bob would likely have been harder to turn on them if you weren’t here.”

You shut your eyes, trying not to well up.

“Oh,” Valentina cooed, “You gonna cry? Is your…protection squad not here to help you anymore?” 

“You’re not real…”

“Oh, honey, no I’m not. But, I must have fucked you up badly to even be here in the first place and talking to the real you. To be honest, I forgot you as soon as I left. Figured that the trash would just take itself out.

“Oh well, adjustments and all –”

“You grabbed her throat, slamming her into the wall.

“There it is. There they are. There’s the monster I wanted.”

“You’re not real.”

“We’ve established that.”

You took your hands off of her throat. You looked around. It was this void that was showing you this. 

You shut your eyes and took some deep breaths. 

You heard a flutter. Opening them, you saw the butterfly again.

It landed on your hand.

“Show me the way, buddy,” you whispered to it.

When it left your hand, the scene shifted.

You were in the apartment that you shared with Bucky, your home. The only place you have felt safe in.

Bucky rushed you, “You were the runt. You ruined me! All you had to do, was keep your mouth shut, and I wouldn’t have had to be re-elected!”

You were being choked on the table. 

Even without his metal arm, he was strong.

You could feel your vision fading when –

“Get. Off!” He was whacked across the room.

…Bucky? Appeared in your vision again.

“Hey. Hey, it’s me, buddy. It’s me,” he rushed out the words, helping you sit up as you caught your breath back.

“How the – how the hell are you here?” You coughed.

“Dad power.”

You chuckled, being down to only small coughs now, “You’re weird.”

“I’m also sorry,” he said, hand on your shoulder, “I didn’t mean for the broken mind comment to come across how it did.”

You waved it off, “No, I’m serious, (your name). It hurt you, it matters.”

You nodded, he meant it.

“Talk about it later? I promise.”

He nodded, he could do that.

You made your way to Bob and Yelena, helping them not get hit by the debris.

Yelena nodded to you, you nodded back.

She then took Bob’s hands, promising that they were there and made him take them to the darkest parts.

He did, he trusted you.

John punched his dad, not using his nickname of ‘Bobby’ anymore. 

Bucky punched the high version of Bob before you all moved through the cellar door.

There, you were in a lab. Yelena recognised it.

There he stood: The void. The part of Bob that internalised all the self-hatred.

It moved on you, pinning you all and splitting the ground to create more distance.

Bob declared himself not alone, running and tackling this part of him, throwing punches.

It wasn’t working. It was doing the opposite.

Yelena got out first, using her acrobatics to reach him. She didn’t do any fancy moves, she just hugged him.

John was next. 

Bucky looked at you, “You go, I’ll be right behind you. I promise.”

He pushed your rubble enough to let you get out.

You started running, about to zip when the ground shuddered and you stumbled. 

Ava grabbed you, “I’ve got you!” 

You zipped the pair of you to Bob, holding him in the hug.

“We have you,” you said. Given how he cried out, your voice and power had reached him.

Alexei and Bucky then joined, and together you pulled him out of his spiral and back to New York.

You and Yelena stayed with him. Yelena reached over, hand going into yours.

You squeezed.

Her newly found siblings were ok. 

Attached quickly? Sure, but sometimes love worked like that. She cared.

Alexei offered a hand, you took it and were hoisted up.

“I am glad you are ok, little American. Where is Big American?”

“Present,” Bucky said.

“Ah,” Alexei put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, then yours, “you seem to have mended your problem?”

You looked at each other, “we’re getting there.”

“Progress is good, my friends!” He cheered, bringing you both into a bone-crushing hug. You didn’t mind it, though, hugging him back.

“Now,” he put you both down, “what say you, we deal with Valentina?”

It didn’t work out like that. 

Instead, you now owned her.

The New Avengers were born.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were all broken people. Dented by the world and internalised it the wrong way. You knew that, but you couldn’t help when your brain spiralled.

You were all just existing after a mission, and you found yourself on the sofa, lying on it and looking at the ceiling.

You hated it, you thought after this journey you would be complete. Why weren’t you –

“Hey,” Yelena said as she crouched near you, “bad brain day?” 

You looked at her, nodding.

She smiled sympathetically, she kissed your head, “Silly brain.”

Bob entered the room, then, “Hey,” he was still unsure, but powered through, “I did most of the dishes,” you smiled at your friend, “but, I left some things…if you wanted to do them.”

Ah, so he knew.

You got up silently, walked over to your friend, and hugged him.

He hugged you back.

You nodded to each other, “proud of you,” you said to him, giving his arms a squeeze.

He squeezed back, “proud of you, too.”

It had been a mantra for you both.

You went to the kitchen, finding a few glasses left and Bucky’s arm.

You did the first few dishes fine, then found your way to the arm.

“Ah, was wondering where you were,” Bucky said, coming up to you and putting a hand on your back, “Yelena told me that today was a cloudy head day?” 

You nodded, not having the energy for words.

“That’s alright,” he assured. 

Then he looked at his arm, “You’re doing a great job.”

You hummed.

“You know,” he said, leaning against the counter, “when Yelena told me about keeping you, I wasn’t sure if I could do it. If I could be what you…needed.”

You looked to him, continuing your cleaning duties.

“But,” he continued, “I think…maybe it’s the other way around. Maybe I needed you. Something to fight for, rather than just an abstract concept of good. I was so scared I’d screw it up, and I have don’t get me wrong. 

“But…I’m never going to stop trying to be the parent you deserve. I’m even asking Alexei and - god help me - John.”

You silently chuckled. He smiled.

“I’m proud of you, on the good and bad days. I’m here for all of them.”

You held his arm to him. He picked it up and put it on.

He then kissed your hair.

You looked out the window.

You took in a breath. 

One day at a time.

[sightseertrespasser]

Could I request a lore dump about Rung (almost typed him as rune which is funny lmao) in Odds of Survival? He has the weird memory thing going on, is he Primus in this world? Does he know? What are his thoughts on Jazz, considering how he reacted to Jazz definitely not having met him before?

Rung is certainly an interesting fellow.

Within the context of Odds Of Survival, Rung is not the creator of cybertron itself but was the first cybertronian to emerge.

Co-opting this ask to also explain a little about where Cybertronians come from.

The simple version is: the planet itself is weird as balls.

All life on Cybertron (minus Cold Constructs) come into being by emerging from Hot Spots, molten pools of raw metals and a shit load of potential energy. All living beings on Cybertron contain a spark and require energon to function. Energon functioning similarly to water for organic life plus the added benefit of supplying necessary calories.

Sparks can naturally occur throughout the planet and remain inert until surrounded by an adequate amount of malleable metal. They are very delicate and until the advent of modern technology, could not be handled without being destroyed (with one exception).

So why does Cybertron produce life?

Is the entire planet some kind of factory left running without reason? Did some long gone eldritch society design it that way? Is god real but just for giant robot aliens? Is Cybertron itself some kind of hive Queen and all cybertronians it produces are non-reproductive drone workers?

There is no rational truth I can produce that will not fundamentally change the genre of the story, so we’re gonna go with the funny option of “shit just happens sometimes”.

So where does Rung/Primus fit into that?

Pulling a bit from his wiki page, Rung has three strange abilities going on, consistent with other Cybertronians having special powers or Outlier capabilities:

1) He can recover from pretty much any form of damage (kinda needs that to still be around).

2) He is plagued by the Information Creep curse, so that any cybertronian that meets him will eventually forget him.

3) He can craft spark crystals.

Rung was the first sentient mech to emerge from a Hot Spot. After quite awhile, more mechs like him emerged and by virtue of getting there first, he got to show them around.

Waaay further down the line, after cybertronians started doing the who “civilization thing”, Rung figured out how to make spark crystals, and by extension the first Cold Constructed mechs.

In the modern day, it’s both possible and common with enough resources and expertise to make spark crystals on a factory scale. Rung doesn’t want or need to make anymore people so it’s not ability he’s even thought about for several hundred million years.

Rung knows about Primus, but it genuinely hasn’t occurred to him that those churches are talking about him.

Primus is described as this great and powerful being, whose been there since the beginning of all life on the planet. Supposedly, Primus created the first sentient mechs.

“Sure”, Rung thinks to himself. “I know pretty much every mech that’s ever been created, but that’s not divine knowledge. I’ve just, actually physically met them. And I didn’t make the first cybertronians, I was just the first to make more cybertronians.”

“Must be a different guy.”

Rungs greatest trick is that by virtue of having been around the entire time, there aren’t a ton of mechs he hasn’t encountered in some shape or form. Though it’s far from impossible, especially if they’re a new build.

Meeting Jazz was certainly a surprise. Bluestreak had already spread the news that Prowl had brought back an alien, so it wasn’t hard to guess who this wall crawling stranger was supposed to be.

After actually meeting Jazz however, Rung briefly thought Prowl was wrong. That Jazz was a cybertronian, just a very new one. It’s all about familiarity.

So when Jazz remembered Rungs name on the first try without issue, the psychiatrist had the very sudden realization he’d played scavenger hunt with an emotionally distressed, incredibly dangerous, wall crawling “holy shit that was an ACTUAL ACTUAL goddamn alien” alien.

He’s processed it now.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Meaningful Kiss 4

SUMMARY: Would they make Public Displays of Affection? If not, are they protective instead? And how do they show you how much they truly love you through their kisses? 💋

CHARACTERS: Cater, Trey, Floyd, Rook

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Established Relationship, Kissing, Flirting, Slightly Suggestive

WORD COUNT: An average of 430 words per character.

COMMENTS: The last part of the Meaningful Kisses series. These were the four least voted characters, however, I had a lot of fun writing them.

I hope you enjoy reading it too. 😘

Meaningful Kiss (Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus)

Meaningful Kiss 2 (Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Sebek)

Meaningful Kiss 3 (Ruggie, Jade, Kalim, Silver, Lilia)

CONTEXT: This can be seen as if you were at the beginning of the relationship, or already in an established relationship.

Cater is into PDA for sure! He likes to be lovey-dovey and flirtatious. And especially enjoys showing it on his social media. EVERYONE knows about your relationship. You are "that" couple. Or at least that's what Cater's photos and PDA suggest.

Whenever you two are together, you are glued to each other. He will always have one or both arms around you. Especially if you are on a date. Of course, if you're not that into PDA yourself, he'll respect it, but in that case you'll have spoil him with cuddles in private, kay~?

However, this fact that Cater likes to show his feelings for you in public and on social media will end up bringing you some "hate". People saying he's only with you because your relationship is aesthetic pleasing. That you like to have coordinated clothes is just a facade for an exaggerated and false romanticism.

He gets a little sad and hurt when people say bad things about him in the relationship, like when they imply that he's just using you. But whenever an attack is directed at you, like when saying that a person like you doesn't deserve a boyfriend like him, the people pleaser side of him disappears. And he starts using his social and conversational skills to defend you, even if he has to insult the other person to do so. This is if it is IRL, which rarely happens. On social media, he just deletes the comment and blocks the person. Good vibes only.

But of course you also feel bad when you read or hear things like that. A lot of people criticize the fact that Cater only shows the good parts and that's why it's all fake. Of course he only shows the good things, that's what social media is for. He likes the popularity and all that, but, unlike certain influencers, he knows what limits are. He would never publish anything bad about you, much less humiliating like an argument or you crying. Mainly because at these times, if they happen, he will be more concerned with consulting you or making you feel better to the point of forgetting his cell phone somewhere.

This can lead to his most meaningful kisses. The ones he gives you when these things affect you, to prove that those things people say are lies and they don't know anything. When he is hugging you and saying cute and funny things to make you feel better. Everything he does in public he also does in private, including kissing your cheeks and lips. But this specific kiss is one that is exclusive to the private sector.

It's not extravagant like the ones he usually gives you, this one is soft, sensitive, and slow by his standards. Basically the opposite of what he usually shows himself to be. You feel that they are calm and that he is enjoying the moment.

Trey is not really into PDA. I mean, it's not like he's averse to it, but it's just not his thing. He is a simple man, he shows and knows how to see love in small things. That and he's not, shall we say, the flashy and extra type. Too much attention can embarrass him.

However, even though he's not much of a show-off, he thinks it's fun to mess with you in public without anyone seeing. Like kissing your cheek discreetly and casually when no one else is paying attention to you and surprising you in the process. Beside that, you continue to behave like good friends. Nothing very different from how he would treat any other friend.

In private, it often doesn't change much. Just like I said, he's a guy who likes his peace and quiet. So the two of you end up looking like a long-term couple even if you aren't yet. However, it is also in private that he feels most comfortable hugging and kissing you. He's more welcoming to you doing the same to him.

If there's one type of surprise he's a fan of, it's you hugging him from behind when he's cooking. Many of your cutest moments happen in the kitchen. He likes to have you as a tester to his food and sweets.

The problem is when he feels more naughty and takes advantage of your trust in him to use his signature spell to change the flavor of what you taste to play a trick on you. For example, you're expecting to taste the sweetness of strawberry cake, but instead you taste the saltiness of an oyster. He will laugh at your reaction and your sulky face.

Then he will apologize, without regret for what he did, and that won't be enough for you. By feeling comfortable being himself with you, you'll end up getting to know his cheekier side. He hugs you around the waist with his rare smug expression and his gaze fixed on you. He's "really sorry" but maybe he can redeem himself. He runs his thumb over your slice of cake to remove some of the icing and puts it on his own lips. Why don't you try it again? No tricks this time, he promises.

And this leads to his most meaningful kisses. Not the soft, sweet, affectionate ones he usually gives you in private, but the ones that show that sassy side of him that most people don't think exists.

It depends on Floyd’s mood, obviously. But as a general rule, he likes PDA, more giving than receiving. He likes to be in control of these things, he doesn't like to be the one being "squished", you know.

He does what he wants, if he wants to hug you, he will hug you, if he wants to kiss you, he will kiss you. And no one will even have the courage to look at him the wrong way. No one wants to get in trouble with an Octavinelle student, especially Floyd Leech. This ends up guaranteeing you instant security and a sense of immunity. Everyone will know that you are together, not in a gossip way, but more in a sense of warning other students of the danger of messing with you.

He will hug you and kiss you however he wants, whenever he is with you. This part doesn't differ much from public to private (with one or two exceptions of course, chill!) If anyone can be embarrassed by PDA here, it's you, because he's never embarrassed. If others have a problem with it, that's their problem, and if they upset him... well... let's just say it will be the first and last time.

His affection only fluctuates when he is in a bad mood, and he becomes even more unpredictable. You can never predict whether he's in an "I want to be alone" bad mood or an "I want to hug you like a stuffed animal" grumpy mood. Either way, you don't need to know because he'll tell you. When he's in a bad mood he's not one to make people guess what he wants, he'll tell them directly and specifically.

Floyd’s good-mood kisses range from casual and lazy kisses just because to passionate and cheeky kisses to mess with you. But surprisingly, his most meaningful kisses are when he's in a bad mood and wants to be with you.

Just like he secretly likes to entertain and cheer you up when you're in a bad mood, he loves that you can do the same for him. He can be very clingy when he's in "I want you to hug" grumpy mood. He likes that you let him hug and kiss you however he wants to make him feel better.

This may lead to him starting to kiss your cheeks, moving on to your neck and finally your lips. His kisses are like his mood, in this case, grumpy, but not for long. Kissing you is fun for him, so you'll start to feel the kiss change at the same time as his mood. His pout starting to change into a lazy smile. And if you're not “careful” and he ends up in a REALLY good mood...

If words of affection could be considered PDA, well, I think you know. Rook is a man of words and everyone knows it. Some even know it too well. Prepare to receive the same treatment as Vil.

Surprisingly, he's not much of a toucher. He’ll never think twice before greeting you with charming words and a tender kiss on the cheek, or on the back of your hand like a prince, but never on your lips. At least not initiated by him.

He won't take the initiative to hold your hand or hug you. He will only do so if you ask or in response to your initiative. In this case he will gently hold your hand and caress it with his thumb, or hug you gently as if you were a precious little thing.

And why? One of the reasons is because he likes it when you ask. There's something about the need for his touch that he enjoys. Luring you with words to deliberately make you fall into the “trap” of wanting his touch. And the more “difficult” you are, the more he loves it.

Another reason is that, when hunting, touching the prey is usually the last step, right after finally catching it. He's a hunter, not a pet owner. He uses words because they are his bait, physical touch is the prize. And he likes that each other's touch is as much a reward for you as it is for him. He wants to make you want him as much as he wants you.

And that's why true physical touch only happens in private. He likes to show through words how much he likes something or someone, but he is also a man of secrets, and how he enjoys the prize of having you in his arms is one of the secrets between the two of you. Especially because his touch manages to be as flattering and appreciative as his words.

He likes to run  his hands over you like someone appreciating a work of art. Kiss your neck and lips like someone savoring an exquisite delicacy. And these are his most meaningful kisses. Kisses of appreciation, of care, of passion and at a certain point, of desire, for a prize that can slip out of his hands at any moment because you have your own free will and that is exciting.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[lotte-s-web]

Rockstar!Hobie x reader though 😩

The album covers for some of his playlists are pictures of your lips and chin, or bare shoulder where his hands are, or if you’re a female, his hands on your tits from behind HDJSNJSJS

Random shout outs during shows or concerts and looking straight at you as he says literally anything that makes the crowd go wild

Fucking in his dressing room after a show with his adrenaline still pumping, his black lipstick smudged around his lips and your neck covered in marks that shows what messed it up

EVEN BETTER IF it’s BEFORE A SHOW

He probably wears makeup (personal head cannon where he does Smokey eyes or eyeliner during shows) and so imagine BEFORE A SHOW

His lipstick smudged, and marks around your neck as you find a place in the crowd and he proudly stares with a smug smirk HDHSJSJSJSJXJJX CLAWING AT THE WALLS

(Sorry for yapping)

NONONONON ACTUALLY THANK YOU FOR YAPPING I LOVE IT WHEN I GET STUFF LIKE THIS IN MY INBOX

aghh where do i even begin with rockstar hobie... he's just so hdghsgbsdhsdvfhsdfvshd

his album covers are always photos of you without your face showing, always with a mark of him on your skin. whether that be his hand on your shoulder, his thumb pulling down on your lower lip, or black lipstick smeared all over your neck. he LOVES to show you off in subtle but loud ways

amidst the loud, angry and grating music his band usually produces, he makes songs just for you, showing off his love for you to every one of his fans. of course, people swoon over it, but only you get the full context of his lyrics. there are cheesy, romantic songs, just as well as there are cheeky ones. every song winks at you, references you and whispers lowly in your ear another inside joke that nobody but you and hobie will get.

oh and he's not above using your voice in his tracks. he'd record your moans and have them play in the background of his songs if you'd let him (see record). he records your laugh and little funny things you say to use them as producer/artist tags at the start of his songs. he thinks you just make his songs so much better; he'd take any chance to include you.

backstage fucking with him is always intense, exhilarating. seeing you supporting his music and singing along to his lyrics always gets his blood pumping downwards, his energy no longer directed at the show he was trying to put on.

he'll drag you out of the crowd between shows and take you somewhere where his bandmates know not to cross. one thing leads to another and suddenly, he's taking you against the wall with one hand over your mouth and another pulling your hips back against his.

he's breathing down your neck, keeping his pace fast and hard, determined to make the both of you cum as soon as possible. after all, he has to go back on stage in 15 minutes, he doesn't have all day. he has your mind all mushy, your nails scratching desperately at the wall as you near release.

he regrets having to leave you after you've both came, having to hastily clean you up; it's less than you deserve. but the fucked-out smile on your face and the messy, smudged black lipstick adorning your jaw, neck and lips almost makes it worth it.

he always kisses your cheek as he leaves you, handing you a signed guitar pick and winking at you. he shouts that you should do this again as he re-straps his guitar, not bothering to even fix the smudged eyeliner and lipstick across his lips. you say it won't happen again, but it always does.

SIGH rockstar hobie one chance god please

[lighteyed]

can it be easy this once? / steve harrington

summary: steve accidentally gives a stupid answer to your honest question. (best friends with benefits pining idiots to lovers, fem!reader)

unedited we die like men & title from the alcott by the national ft taylor swift hehehe enjoy

It started as a means of comfort after Starcourt, when he was bloody and bruised up but you took him home and got closer, closer, closer, until it turned into a mess of blurred lines and panting breaths, lips swollen for reasons other than being hurt, for better reasons, reasons that brought forth safety and relief for the two of you. You both tend to hunger for such things. It’d been good, easy, for a bit there. Lately it’d felt like the intimacy was threatening to choke you. Like you’d never met a form of  closeness you didn’t cling to. And God, did it feel like you were clinging. Craving an unwarranted change. Was it so unwarranted? You weren’t sure, you could never tell.

    The air in his room is hot and sticky with summer, the ceiling fan providing the barest relief, your bare skin providing the slightest bit more. You stare all around his room, taking in all the stark traces of him, though in truth it doesn’t betray much, just as he attempts to. It’s a plain room, plaid walls, matching curtains, his desk messy and cluttered, all the dresser’s drawers slightly ajar like he spent a touch too long shuffling through all his clothes to determine which outfit would be best, which, knowing him in the way you do, he probably did. You knew he wasn’t as secure as he liked everyone to believe. Steve Harrington tried his best, but sometimes you saw right through him.

     Other times he was harder to read. It was probably purposeful, layers of protection built around himself. Don’t love anyone, don’t let anyone love you, and you won’t get hurt. People can only hurt you if you let them. Steve wasn’t letting anyone anymore. Definitely not his parents, definitely not Nancy Wheeler, definitely not random girls who would inevitably end up disappointed with him. He swore it all off. He was a hopeless romantic who never wanted to be in love again. You understood it for the most part. Or you attempted to. It was hard when you were halfway (maybe more than halfway) in love with the guy, in his bed most nights, in his company most days, acting like a couple without being an established couple because he was too hesitant and you were too gentle to be pushy.

    He nudges you lightly, naked chest peeking up from his covers, naked everything else kept firmly underneath. “You okay? You’re quiet.” He sits up so he’s level with you, and you avoid eye contact by leaning down toward the floor to grasp for the shirt he let you borrow, a faded Spider-Man one he insisted was from middle school. You didn’t entirely believe him, but maybe it was just funny, and kind of sweet, to picture Steve sleeping in a Spider-Man shirt and keeping it a secret just for himself. You pull the shirt on over your head, and before you can do it for yourself, he reaches for your hair and takes it out from where it’s caught under the shirt. The familiarity of it makes you flinch. You can have sex with him all you want but God forbid he’s the slightest bit loving outside of that. It confuses you, the softness in the touches that aren’t in bed with him. If he holds your hand in any context other than bringing you as into him as possible while he slips himself in and out, you lose all sense of normalcy between the two of you. You can’t be normal when he’s holding your hand and stroking your cheeks and being kind, soft, adoring Steve, without being your Steve.

     “I’m fine, I’m just…” You reach for your shorts at the end of the bed. Steve watches you get dressed with his eyebrows scrunched together, confused. You’re not usually in a rush to leave after you have sex. Not that he wants you to. He likes that you stay until day sinks into night and he drives you home and waits to repeat it all again. Waits to see you, generally. And it’s not sex every single time. You drag him to see whatever’s playing at the Hawk and he makes you sit with him at Family Video on slow days when it’s just him on the clock and a single tumbleweed blows through the store instead of any customers. He drives you just about anywhere you ask and he lets you put on any cassettes you want in his car even if he hates what’s playing. It’s nice, the friendship part of all of it. If you had to give everything else up and just keep the friendship you’d be willing. He’d be willing. You consider it. “Nothing, just tired, probably gonna head home,” you smile at him over your shoulder before pulling on your socks and it’s half-hearted and he knows it.

    “What? You can sleep here, you know that,” he waves a hand around the room, trying to catch your gaze, but you avoid his eyes again. Descending light slants in through the curtains and envelopes him in gold. He glows, he’s so pretty. His hair is messy from where you heatedly ran your hands through it, but it still looks nearly perfect. The fact that he always looks so good infuriates you.

    “No yeah, I know, I wanna like shower and stuff too, and I left my new book at home and I wanted to do some reading,” you bluff calmly, standing up from tangled bedsheets and roaming the room in search of your sneakers.

   “That Stephen King scary clown book? I’ll take you home and you can come back and read it here, so you don’t get scared,” and he knows you won’t get scared and that you love horror far more than he ever could but he just really, really doesn’t want to be alone. Why would you go when everything’s right here? His parents aren’t home and something about you leaving makes him antsy and desperate. When you still refuse to look at him he feels himself, his confidence, growing smaller and smaller. “Did I- did I do something?” He doesn’t mean for it to sound as pathetic as it does.

   You whip around to face him, finally, finally, and touch a hand to his face. Relief floods through him at the heat of your fingers. “No, of course not, it’s all me, okay? I’m all sweaty and awful.”

    “You look beautiful, I swear,” he squeezes your hand and you feel like you’re drowning. It’s hard to breathe, your chest tight. “Are you sure you’re okay? You can talk to me, it’s me.” He scoots closer, if that’s possible. “You’re one of my best friends, we tell each other everything.” You look up toward the ceiling, inwardly groaning. Best friend.

   “You do this with all your best friends?”  

    “Well, no, Robin wouldn’t touch me even if she didn’t like girls-“ He feels himself starting to grin, teasing smile lilting at his lips.

     “Steve!” You’re laughing a little and so is he as you push his arm back. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

    “What’d you mean, then?” He’s still smiling, that entrancing, deliberately pouty, lazy smile. Vaguely smirky. You don’t know if it’s deliberate, a ploy to distract you, con you into staying, make you less prone to saying what you want to say, but you press anyway, even though he’s making you want to lean forward and endlessly kiss the smirk off his mouth.

   “I just think, I don’t know… you’re not seeing anyone else, right?”

   “’Course not, why, you got other plans after this?” He grins again. You roll your eyes. He makes it so hard sometimes.

    “Steve,” you whine, “I’m so serious right now.”

    “Okay, okay. No, you’re the only one for me.” He means it. It’s the worst thing you’ve ever heard. “Are you seeing anyone else?” He asks you like it’s the easiest question in the world for him to ask but honestly he’s shitting his pants a little. He’s not sure what’d he say if you said yes, I am, and I think we should end this, which is where he’s assuming the conversation is going. You’ve got we shouldn’t do this anymore written all over you in his eyes and he’s steeling himself for the heartbreak.

     “Does it look like I am?”

     “Does it look like I am?” He repeats back, and he reaches for your hand in that too intimate way of his, takes it all careful and slow. “What’s this about?”

     “I just, I just think, that, you know, I’m not seeing anyone, and you’re not seeing anyone, but we’re sorta… seeing each other, yeah?” You gesture between the two of you. He nods. He’s staring at you very intensely, waiting for you to get your words out. He’s still waiting for you to say you think this whole thing has been a very bad mistake, a miscalculated judgement on your part, you should go back to the way things were, so he’s not expecting what comes out of you next. “Shouldn’t we be, like, official, then?”

     And instead of throwing up all the ways he so badly would love for that to happen, he chokes out, because he’s stupid and speechless, “Official?” And the way he says it, like it’s a curse when it’s only his disbelief that you’d want that with him after all this time, makes you immediately go into panic mode.

    He quite literally sees the way you lose any sense of confidence in your question and he immediately tries to take it back as you stand from his side and start trying to force your words back in your mouth, too. “Fuck, forget I said anything,” you mumble, spying your shoes shoved under his desk where you’d comfortably kicked them off. You hasten to put them on as Steve scrambles up from the bed and starts dressing, matching your frantic speed.

    “Hey, wait, that’s not what I- I didn’t mean it like that-“

     “It’s fine, Steve, I get it, I totally do, this isn’t that for you, it’s fine-“

      “It is, it is-“ but you’re not hearing him, your mind is already elsewhere. It’s in your own bed in the quiet, alone with your thoughts and not with him, mercifully not with him. You need this one mercy, “I’ll drive you home, babe, c’mon, I’ll explain everything, please-“

    “I got it, it’s fine, I’m fine, you don’t have to explain, okay? I got it,” and you don’t just walk out of his house and down the block to yours, you absolutely flee. You take Steve’s heart with you.

      He’s pacing the floor behind the register at Family Video three days and three shifts later, practically clawing at the walls of the place, and Robin is pulling her hair out at the sight of him in distress this way.

     “What did you do?” She finally breaks, flipping her magazine shut.

      “What? How do you know it was me?” He stops pacing. He hadn’t even noticed he was doing it.

       “You’ve had three shifts and she hasn’t visited one single time. She always visits. And I know I didn’t do anything wrong, because I never do anything wrong, so, what’d you do?” Robin places her hand under his chin and stares at him expectantly.

      He huffs, his hands on hips. “Maybe she did something, Robin, did you ever think of that?”

     “Definitely not,” Robin retorts, waiting for Steve to be serious.

      He deflates. “Okay, it was me.”

      “I know that, now continue.”

      “We were, you know,” he tilts his head down and raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes.

     “Having sex, sure,” Robin bobs her head. A customer in the nearest aisle frowns and shuffles toward a different section further away from the two of them.

     Steve shushes her. “I wasn’t trying to say it so loud.”

    “Having sex,” Robin repeats, louder this time, not bothering to fight back a laugh at Steve’s exasperated expression, “continue.”

      “Well, after that, she started asking if, if I was seeing anyone, which of course I’m not, because, you know, I’m into her, obviously, so I told her I wasn’t, and she said she wasn’t, so she said maybe we should be official.” Steve hesitates to say the rest of what happened. He still can’t believe all he could do when you said the words was repeat them back to you with that stupid look on his face instead of giving you the biggest, loudest declaration of love in a big, messy, pathetic, devoted way, the way he pictures himself when it comes to you, messy and pathetic and devoted, and he replays that moment back to himself all day long, thinking of everything else he could’ve said to make you understand.

    “That’s what you want, isn’t it? She’s all you talk about all day long, you want to be with her, don’t you?”

    “Of course I do!” He snaps, dragging a hand across his face. “But when she said it I just couldn’t get the words out and she got, she got so sad and she left without me being able to explain anything and she hasn’t answered the phone which, yes, I’ve been calling, and I don’t know how to do this.” He’d never been good at school but he knew he’d get a Grade A in Pitiful.

    “Do what? Tell a girl you love her? You’ve been in relationships before, Steve.”

    “I know, but…” he sighs. “I’m different now, like, it’s not as easy anymore, for me, and I- I don’t want her to get hurt, and I don’t want to get hurt, it’s like, everything used to be my fault, and I wasn’t as good as I could have been, and I don’t want to break anything, I don’t want it to get fucked up, because it’ll be my fault, and I can’t do that again. Not to her.” He swallows, the words harder to come by than he would care to admit. “I’m a little… I’m a little in love with her, I think.” This is said quietly. It frightens him to say it out loud. He’s gone over it in his head, those words, so few of them, but they say so much, and it’s scary. He hasn’t said them to someone in years. The last time he did he got so brutally hurt he thought he’d never recover. But he had. So why was it still so scary?

    “A little bit?” Robin teases, but it’s all love for him, truly.

    “Alright, a lot in love,” he concedes. He wants to get used to saying it. He wants to say it to you. For real. Loudly. “I still don’t know how to do this, though. Not anymore.”

   “Come on!” Robin gets up from her stool and places her hands on his shoulders. “You’re supposed to be Steve Harrington. You were using those…” she pauses for a beat and then, “charms,” the word is said with the smallest hint of sarcasm but she persists nonetheless, “on tons of girls in high school and at Scoops! Now whip them out again for our very nice friend that you sometimes go to town with!”

   “When did any of those charms,” he says it with a matching sarcastic tone, “work aside from when I was sixteen and an idiot?”

   “You might not be sixteen anymore but you’re still an idiot, if that helps.”

    “It doesn’t but thank you for the encouragement.”

    “I’m just saying!” She exclaims, throwing her hands up and returning back to her seat. “Putting yourself out there is always gonna be scary, but you can’t let that stop you. You’d actually be an idiot if you let that stop you. Are you just never gonna see her again? No, because you’d go insane. It’s not like what you did was all that bad anyway.”

    “You really think so?” He perks up a bit, needing that confirmation that he isn’t a totally awful and irredeemable person. It’s easy for him to fall headfirst into that spiral of thinking. It was a trap set with the most accessible, perfect bait and he somehow always found himself walking straight into it without stopping to think if he was being fair to himself.

    “You’ve both been in bad spots, you reacted the way you did and she reacted the way she did out of what was most likely panic and embarrassment. She’s definitely not even mad at you. Probably just, again, embarrassed. If you explain I think it’ll all be okay, Steve, I swear.” Robin can’t take much more of this conversation circling around, as much as she loves Steve and wants to be there for him, she would love him even more if he acted on his feelings and allowed himself some happiness for once.  “So do you think you can you, like, maybe go tell her so she can keep visiting us at work? I need more company than just you and Keith and these customers with no taste,” she complains, glaring at the closed door that hides Keith, in all his absolute glory. The customer from before hears her comment and storms out. Robin rolls her eyes.

    “Right, yeah, tell her I love her, tell my best friend I love her,” he frowns, nerves creeping up the back of his neck. “Maybe you could just call her first and ask-“

     “Steve! I am not meddling in your love life like that when you already know everything there is to know!” She throws her magazine at him. “She said she wants to be with you, go be with her!”

    “Alright, alright!” He waves his hands dismissively. He begins to pace again, this time his eyes held to the clock. Robin groans. There’s still three hours left of their shift.

     You’re in your room wallowing, or doing what’d you call attempting not to wallow but failing at it miserably. You haven’t touched a single page of your book, mostly content to just listen to sad records and more or less stare at the wall. It was stupid, you knew, to behave in such a way over some guy. But it didn’t feel like some guy. It was Steve, after all. It all felt deeper than just some guy. You two had been through a lot together, more than most people have been, and if you’d just ruined your friendship with someone you always felt safe, felt at home with, over feelings you couldn’t control and probably would be better off not having, you were going to need some serious therapy.

     It probably was silly of the two of you to start this thing up anyway, you reason, fighting back your urge to do any further crying into a pillow. You try to focus on painting your nails a nice shade of dark blue but it reminds you of Steve’s old Scoops uniform and of that night (and all that nights that followed) so you stop in the middle of your second thumb and grab nail polish remover and start scrubbing away at your finished right hand.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” you mutter, the cotton ball in your hand soaked through with blue and your nails discolored and muddy. “I am ridiculous,” you say to yourself, shaking off your wet hand. Your room is filled with the smell of acetone and disappointment. You think about lighting a candle when your doorbell rings. You debate answering it before it rings again. And then again. And again, more frenzied this time.

    You open the door to a distressed Steve. His cheeks are red and he’s breathing like he can’t anymore. He’s not the multi-star athlete he was in high school, he realizes in this moment. “Did you- did you just run here from work?” You ask him, but he’s already too close to you, not answering your question, gazing at you because simply looking isn’t enough and has never been enough. He is gazing. He is flush with adoration. It’s hard not to bloom under that radiance. He makes you want to forget everything and go back to plush lips on hot skin and the quiet contentment that came alongside being with him in those first few months. You back up a little into your doorway but he steps up to you, following your steps. “Where’s your car-“

    “Forget that for a sec,” he says, and you stop talking out of surprise. “Just, just tell me if we do this it’ll be okay, and we won’t be terrible for each other, and we’ll be good,” because he needs to hear it, even if it’s ridiculous and he’s jinxing it before it’s begun he needs to know you’re right there with him. “Like, just tell me it can be easy this once. If you broke my heart I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it. ‘Cause I love you. I do. And I want this.” And you get it. He’s letting you get it. He’s letting you all the way in. You realize, flustered and basking in it, that he’s the first one to say those words. That you hadn’t even said them when you posed your first question. But he’s saying them out loud and it’s brilliant and beautiful. He is beautiful.

    It makes you want to weep, the love that swells here, out in the open. “Fuck, Steve, what type of girl do you think I am, breaking the heart of the guy I’ve been in love with since he started sneaking into my bedroom?” He smiles. He glows. It’s so beautifully Steve. Maybe it can be easy.

    When he kisses you, he proves it: the ease, the tranquility. He is fervent and burning. Everything is urgent with Steve. Especially kissing. He captures every bit of you immediately. His touch is light when he urges you out of your doorway and into your living room so he can shut your front door and quit giving the neighbors what he’s sure is the show of a lifetime. It is for him, at least.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Just Take It | Jeon Jungkook | Part Three

Summary: You settle into your new normal with Jungkook but looks like this new normal is going to get a little more interesting Pairing: Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) Word Count: 7k~ (Damn I spoiled ya'll lmao) Warnings: Smuuuuttt, Explicit Language and a crap ton of pet names (I'm sorry okay I love pet names lmao) a/n: I got carried away with this one and it's barely edited but I wanted to post it asap since I left you guys hanging for so long. I know I used hella pet names but I had to okay it was very necessary if you ask me 🤭

After getting up from my nap yesterday Jungkook and I spent the night just talking about anything and everything and nothing all at the same time. It's been nice getting to see him in this kind of context, the both of us totally relaxed and comfortable around each other. He does throw the occasional compliment or flirt my way and it gets to me every time but I try to hide it. I have a horrible poker face though and he knows it.

Sunday morning started out the same as yesterday, minus the hangover thank God. I woke up late and Jungkook had lunch ready for me along with a coffee made just how I like it. "How do you know how I like my coffee?" I ask while taking a sip, smiling when I see his body stutter for a second before relaxing and going back to cleaning up, even though I told him I would do it after I finished eating. 

"I just kind of noticed from the times you would sleep over and have breakfast the next morning with Jina" he says and I nod my head, a reasonable enough answer but still cute that he took the time to make sure he got it right. "Do you have any plans today?" I ask and he shakes his head no before responding. 

"No, not really. I was planning on going on a hike later on though if you'd like to join me" he offers and I cringe at the thought. "Are you going to be running?" I ask, knowing for a fact that I couldn't keep up with him even if I tried. "I said go for a hike not a run Darling" he chuckles, his pet name of choice always causing a fluttery feeling in my stomach. 

"Then okay, if you don't mind" I say and he brightens up at my answer before telling me the details and soon enough we're getting in his car and heading out. 

"What's the name of this place again?" I question as I unbuckle my seatbelt, looking over at him while he does the same.  "Lunar Falls, I'm guessing you haven't been here before" he says with a crooked smile before getting out of the car. "No, I don't think I've ever heard of it. I guess it's because I'm not much of a nature girly" I respond truthfully and he chuckles at my wording. "Well hopefully this will convince you otherwise" he finishes while we make our way to the path. 

~~~~ 

After we've been walking for a bit I start to notice a bit more of the wild life and Jungkook humors me when I stop and watch as a little bunny hops around in a little clearing we're passing. 

"Do you like bunnies?" he questions, his eyes crinkling at the sides while he smiles softly. "I do! I used to have one when I was a little girl" I say while watching it continue to hop along. "What was their name?" he questions, eyes totally focused on me without my knowledge. "Bunny!" I say, turning my face back towards him, eyes lighting up at the memories I made with her.

I watch as Jungkook gives me a crooked smile and holds back a laugh. "What's so funny?" I ask, scrunching my eyebrows together. "No, no it's nothing. It's just that Bunny isn't a very imaginative name for a bunny" he laughs, finally letting it loose. "I was four okay leave me alone" I mumble, crossing my arms over my chest and pretending to be upset. 

I start to walk away and make my way further up the path but he jogs up in front of me, and stops me in my tracks. "Hey, hey I'm sorry I just thought it was cute" he explains, making my ears go red and I walk around him wordlessly and continue up the path, making him feel even more guilty.

"Are you mad at me?" he questions, walking beside me and I glance over at him briefly before cracking a smile. "No I'm not mad at you, I was just playing around" I say, uncrossing my arms and settling into a more relaxed posture to further support my claims. "Okay good" he says, visibly relieved and following suit and settling into a more relaxed pace. 

As we continue walking we stop a few more times to look at more wildlife and as we finally make our way to the top I stop in my tracks. "What's wrong?" he asks stoping beside me, following my line of sight and notices that I'm staring at three beautiful waterfalls with a steady stream of crystal clear water rushing down them into a great big pool that's as pure as the water falling into it. 

"You don't like it?" he questions, worried that he might've oversold the place to me since I haven't moved or said a word once I laid sight on it. "N-no, no Jungkook this is amazing!" I stutter out, hardly believing that something this beautiful had been so close to home this whole time. "Really? I thought you might like it but from your reaction you kind of had me second guessing myself" he says while rubbing the back of his neck, almost looking bashful. 

"No I mean it this is incredible! How did you find this place?" I question, making my way over to take a closer look. "I mean I've always loved to hike and so I looked up places to go hiking when I first moved here and this was the first place that caught my attention" he explains and I nod my head mindlessly, listening but keeping my focus on the scene in front of me, shivering once the mist from the falls starts to hit my skin. 

He takes notice of how silent I've gone and decides to just fall back and let me take my time enjoying the serenity of the moment.

"Thank you for bring me here" I say, turning to face him after a while. "I figured you needed to get out and clear your head for a while" he says softly, walking over to where I'm standing against the railing and watching the various fish that are swimming below us. 

"I can bring you back another time if you'd like?" he asks and I can't help but let my face light up at the offer. "Maybe next time I can bring you after dark? That way you can see why they call it Lunar Falls" he suggests and I agree immediately. "I'd like that" I respond and he nods him head, satisfied with my answer. 

~~~~

After we finished our hike we made our way back to Jungkook's house and got cleaned up, deciding to keep things low key for the rest of the day.

"This has been really nice" I say aloud, voicing my thoughts and garnering his attention while we spend time on his back patio, enjoying the night sky. "What has?" he asks, curious to know more. "Well, being here with you and I don't know, feeling like I'm welcome and appreciated and safe. I feel like it's been a while since I've felt like this" I admit and he nods, listening intently and hanging on every word. 

"Well then I'm glad my intentions have been conveyed well because you are very welcome, appreciated and safe with me" he reassures with a soft smile, making sure to use my wording to show his sincerity. 

"Thank you Jungkook, really, for everything" I say and I see his features soften a bit, relieved that he's been able to help a bit. 

"You're welcome Bunny" he says with a cheeky smile. "Bunny? What happened to Darling?" I laugh, enjoying the switch up, maybe a little bit more than I should. 

"Well you just looked really happy watching the bunnies hopping around, so I feel like the nickname fits. Would it be okay with you if I called you that?" he asks, which makes me want to say yes even more. "You can call me Bunny if you want to" I say, feeling almost a bit bashful at the memory of it. 

"So Bunny, have you thought things through a bit more?" he questions, bringing up the topic I was scared to broach our whole time together. "I'm still not sure what I should do but all I know is that I really don't want to stay there while I try to figure things out" I say and while I take a deep breath before continuing he jumps in. 

"Just stay" he offers again and as much as I want to say yes I don't think it would be the right thing to do. "Jungkook..." "No I'm serious, just stay. What kind of man would I be if I didn't help a friend in need? I told you I have more than enough space for you and it would be nice to have another person around the house again. Things have gotten pretty boring here ever since Jina moved out so please, just stay" he say and I know that he really does mean it. 

"You sure you don't mind?" I question and his face lights up at my words "So you'll stay?" he says, not bothering to answer my question. "Yes I'll stay. But only until I find my own place!" I say, making my motives clear right off the bat. "Of course but you're free to stay as long as you want" he says and I nod my head, excited but also scared that I made the wrong choice. 

Who cares though? There's no reason to deny him since he clearly just wants to help. Lord knows I need all the help I can get...

~~~~

Living with Jungkook for the past month has been great! We work well together and share the household tasks even though he wants me to leave them for him to do. 

"I said I would wash the dishes. Just go sit down and relax, you had a hard day at work today" he says, while coming up behind me and grabbing the sponge out of my hand. "Hey!" I say in protest, reaching out for it while he holds it over my head, water droplets falling on my face. 

"You had a hard day at work too! Plus you cooked tonight so let me do it" I say still jumping up and trying to grab it from him but to no avail he still keeps it far out of my reach. 

He places his hand on me and I falter a bit, feeling his strong touch on my bare waist, my shirt having ridden up a bit from jumping and that's when he gets his way. "Go sit down on the couch and we'll watch a movie together" he says and I just end up looking up at him, watching the way his mouth moves instead of listening to what he's said. 

"Bunny?" he says, squeezing my waist a bit to get my attention. "Huh?" I question, now looking at his eyes, and I see the amusement written all over his face after catching me staring at his lips. 

He leans down and decides to whisper in my ear instead, teasing me mercilessly like he does every now and then and I have to brace myself against the sink behind me to keep my knees from giving out. 

"Go turn on the TV Bunny and we'll watching something together tonight yeah?" he says in a hushed low tone and I'm only able to nod in response, clearing my throat to choke back the whimper my body was begging me to let out. But with the way that he is I know that answer is not good enough for him so he decides to play dirty and starts rubbing circles on my waist, waiting for a verbal answer. 

"What was that Darling? I couldn't hear you" he presses leaving me choking out an 'okay' before slipping out of his hold and running up stairs to get dressed for bed although my main reason is to catch a breath after that. 

After opening and closing my door quietly I throw myself on my bed face down and scream into my pillow. 

'What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck is he doing?' I ask myself and this hasn't been the first occasion I've done this, oh no. These lines have been getting blurrier and blurrier as the days go by and this was one of the reasons I wasn't sure about staying here.

We're both two adults though. Two adults that live in the same house who, as far as I know are attracted to each other. We haven't really talked about that kiss after my engagement party since the morning afterward and nothing like that has happened since. 

I don't know what's supposed to be done in a situation like this but I think I just need to stop over thinking it. If something happens then it happens and that's all there is to it. 

I get up and quickly get changed into more comfortable clothes and head back downstairs and grab a blanket out of the little basket he has before plopping down on the couch and grabbing the remote. 

"Did you pick something out yet?" he asks while coming downstair, also having gone to change into sweats and a t shirt and I glance at him for a second to say something but do a double take after having seen he's wearing grey sweatpants. I can't help but gulp at the sight before quickly looking back at the TV, praying that he didn't catch me but from the way he decides to sit a little closer to me I know I've been caught. 

"Um no, is there something you want to watch?" I ask after clearing my throat and going back to scrolling through our choices. "Let's watch the next episode of that show you showed me last time" he says, picking something he knows I would like to make a choice quickly. "Oh um, yeah sure" I say, typing it in the search bar and pressing play. 

As the show progresses I can't seem to pay the slightest bit of attention to it. All I can think about is the line we've been toeing for a while, and at this point I'm not sure what side of the line I want to end up on. 

"Is everything okay?" he asks, placing his hand on my lap, catching me off guard and making me jump. "Yeah no, I mean yeah everything's fine" I stammer, not really knowing how to respond. He takes his hand off me and nods, not bothering to push anymore so as to not make me anymore uncomfortable than I already look.

I feel bad since I know I've changed up the atmosphere and for what? Because I might have a crush on my ex best friend's dad that I've been living with. Well, now that I lay it out like that I guess I do have something to be conflicted about but I don't know what to do, especially since I think he might like me too. 

"Did you want to watch something else?" he questions, noticing again how spaced out I am. "Can I ask you a question?" I say before I can stop myself. "Ask me anything you want" he says, turning to face me. 

"Why don't you have company over?" I ask the most general question I possibly could, leaving him laughing. "You wanna be a little bit more specific with that?" he chuckles making me squirm in my seat, trying to figure out how else to word this. 

"Well I mean you haven't really had any friends over ever since I started staying here and I feel like I'm kind of getting in the way of your life here" I say truthfully, looking down at my lap, feeling a bit insecure at the fact that I might've overstayed my welcome. 

"What do you mean? Did I do something to make you feel like that?" he asks and I immediately jump in, hating that I even brought this up. "No Jungkook you've been the perfect host I just can't help but think that I'm, I don't know, cramping your style" I say, cringing at my efforts to dance around the subject that I'm really curious about. 

"You're not cramping my style Bunny. I don't have friends over because I don't really enjoy bringing people over to my house. Especially other women" he says the last part in a slower more purposeful tone, making me look up at him embarrassed and relieved that he's gotten down to what I had been getting at. 

"I told you before that first night that you stayed here that I don't have a girlfriend and I'm not seeing anyone. I'm okay with not having someone right now and plus I wouldn't want to ruin what we have going on here" he say, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "What do you mean by that?" I question and he smiles at my adorable reaction from his point of view. 

"That's a topic of discussion for another time Bunny" he says booping my nose and turning back towards the TV and grabbing the remote to change it to something else. "I- what? No tell me please!" I plead but he doesn't budge. "Another time, I promise" he says, giving me a soft smile and I nod my head before letting it droop a bit. 

"I think I'm gonna go to bed" I say, getting up but he grabs my wrist before I can get too far. "Oh come on Bun don't be like that" he says, his eyes full of concern but I know that he won't budge on the subject. "No it's okay I really am tired" I say and gently pull out of his grasp and walk over to the basket to put the blanket back. 

"Are we okay?" he asks, following behind me. "Yes Jungkook we're fine don't worry" I say while turning the face him and my heart stops from seeing how close he is, giving me his undivided attention. After standing there and studying my features for a bit he nods his head and leans towards me, giving me a kiss on the forehead like he always does. 

"Okay Darling, goodnight" he says grabbing my hand and placing a kiss on it as well before letting me walk away after I say a quick 'Goodnight' in response. 

My heart races all the way back to my room and what feels like hours afterwards while I'm laying in bed. I don't know what's happening to me and I'm scared to find out. I never saw myself as someone who would be with an older man but the thought alone excites me when it comes to him. If he means what I thought he meant down there then what am I supposed to do? 

Where do we go from here?

~~~~

It's been a few days since we had that conversation and I wouldn't say things are weird between us but I would definitely say they're not normal. 

I guess until we have that conversation he had mentioned there's gonna be a bit of tension between us. I'm too scared to broach the subject again so that leaves me to just wait helplessly until he brings it up again. 

Putting my keys in the lock and opening the door I'm expecting to see Jungkook downstairs but seeing as I've gotten home a bit early I guess he might be busy doing something else and as I make my way further into the house I hear the shower water running and realize he's in there. 

Walking upstairs I go to put my things in my bedroom but stop in my tracks when I hear what sounds like him calling out my name. 'He doesn't know that I'm home though so why would he be saying my name?' I think to myself and I place my things inside my room before walking over to his door but before I'm able to knock I hear something else that has me stopping in my tracks.

"Fuck yes Bunny just like that. Shit y/n, fuck" I hear Jungkook say between grunts and groans and I unconsciously clench my thighs together. 'I shouldn't be listening to this' I say to myself quietly and turn to go but my feet feel like they're stuck to the floor and I'm drawn back in by the sound of him moaning my name again. 

"Fuck, wish I could have you in here y/n. My pretty little Bunny" he says and I start to hold my breath, trying to catch onto each and every word he says. 'I really shouldn't be doing this' I think to myself but lean in closer, curious to hear more. I've never heard a man moaning like this, let alone hear someone moan my name like this. 

I never knew someone like him would be so, vocal. 

I don't think I'll ever be able to hear him call me Bunny ever again without getting images of what I know he's doing on the other side of this door. "Darling want you so so bad. Come choke on this cock, there you go, just like that Bun" he groans and I know I'm a goner. 

The pulsing feeling between my legs is getting stronger and I can't seem to catch my breath. 'What is this man doing to me? How am I gonna face him after this?' I ask myself but I lean my ear against the door and listen until he finishes, sounds of curses and my name are mixed with a low moan before I hear the shower turn off minutes later. 

I stand there almost frozen in place before my brain catches up seconds later. 'Shit I've gotta get out of here' I scream in my head and run downstairs as fast as I can, grabbing my keys and putting on my shoes before running back to my car. I open it up with my key, not bothering to use the remote in fear of Jungkook hearing it from inside and sit in it for a few minutes, trying to calm my racing heart. 

What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do? What the fuck am I supposed to do in a situation like this? It's not like I can call someone and say 'Hey I caught my ex best friend's dad who I happen to be living with moaning my name in the shower. What should I do now?' like who the fuck could I possibly go to to talk about this? 

Taking a few deep breath in and out, I quiet down my racing thoughts as best as I can before opening my car door and heading inside. When I unlock the door I'm stopped in my tracks as I'm met with the sight of Jungkook with his bare back to me while he drinks a cup of water he just poured for himself. 

"Y/n? I didn't know that you'd be coming home so early" he says flashing me a smile and putting his cup down on the counter before walking towards where I stand. "Oh, um yeah we finished up our meeting early so they let us go home" I say while bracing my hand up against the wall while taking my shoes off. 

"I'm glad they let you do that! You've been working way too hard recently" he says while watching me. Just as I'm stepping out of my second shoe I end up tripping over the first leaving Jungkook grabbing my waist to steady me on my feet. "Careful Bun" he says and my heart rate picks up again from almost falling as well as gaining flashbacks of the last time I heard that name from his lips.

"Darling?" he asks, breaking me out of my train of thought "Huh? What?" I ask quickly, straightening back up and pick up my shoes to put them on the shoe rack by the door. "Are you feeling alright?" he asks, taking note of the sweat on my neck and shortness of breath. 

"Yeah I'm fine why do you ask?" I say, looking into his eyes and trying my hardest to not look at his bare torso but ultimately losing the battle, my eyes flickering down to it for a second. He looks down and takes into account that that might be the thing that's making me act like this so he takes a step back to give me some room to breathe. 

"Sorry Bun, I wasn't expecting you to be home this early. Let me go put on a shirt" he says and walks towards the stairs "You don't have to say sorry. It's your house, don't let me stop you" I call after him and he laughs in response before disappearing down the hall and into his bedroom. 

I sit down on the couch to take another breather, begging my flustered self to get over it. I'm flattered that he thinks of me that way but I don't know how to act around him anymore after hearing him. 

Like what am I supposed to do? Pretend like hearing him in the shower didn't turn me on and make me want to beg for him to take my virginity again. What am I supposed to do with this information? 

"Y/n?" he calls out to me again and places his hand on my shoulder, now sporting a black t shirt and appearing behind the couch and looking down at me. "I'm sorry did you say something?" I say after almost jumping out of my seat from the scare he gave me. 

"I said your name like ten times and you didn't respond. Are you sure you're alright?" he says, taking inventory of how I'm acting again. "No, yeah I'm fine don't worry about it. I guess these long days are starting to catch up to me" I say awkwardly scratching my head. He nods and takes his hand off my shoulder, not pressing me for more answers. 

"Maybe you should go lay down until dinner?" he suggests but I go to protest right away. "It was my turn to make dinner tonight though" I say and get up to head into the kitchen but before I can get there he takes a hold of both of my shoulders and stops me in my tracks. 

"No you need rest. Go upstairs and I'll come get you when it's ready" he orders. "But I-" "No buts y/n" "I-" "No. Go" he says, emphasizing each word and not giving me a chance to get in a word edgewise. "Fine" I grumble and he smiles before placing a kiss on my forehead. "It'll be ready soon" he says and turns me by my shoulders and points me towards the stairs. 

I turn to face him and try to say something one more time but he cuts me off again "Go!" he chuckles and I let out a sigh before running up the stairs and into my room. 

~~~~

"Bunny? You awake?" I hear him say as he comes into my room quietly after having sent me upstairs.

Somehow I ended up falling asleep after taking his advice of coming upstairs to lay down and I'm really glad I did. Hopefully I'll be able to act a little more normal now that I've given my brain a rest. 

"Hmm?" I hum out, acknowledging his presence while trying to slowly regain consciousness. "I told you you needed some rest" he says, coming to sit down on my side of the bed. 

"You ready for dinner?" he asks and I nod my head right away leaving him chuckling at my enthusiasm. "Do you want me to bring it up to you?" he asks while brushing the hair off of my face. "No I'll be down in a second" I mumble and he chuckles again at my groggy state. 

"Okay well, don't fall back asleep okay? You don't want it to get too cold" he says, standing up and heading out of the room after gaining a nod in response. I take a deep breath and stretch before sitting up and taking in my surroundings for a second before throwing off the covers and getting out of bed. 

Trudging downstairs I'm met with a the table all set with my favorite meal and a glass of wine for each of us. 

"What's this?" I question sleepily, still rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. "I thought you could use a little pick me up and remembered how much you liked this dish when we tried it for the first time" he says, pulling out my seat and pushing it back in once I've taken a seat. "I feel like I'm at a five star restaurant" I joke and he chuckles at my enthusiasm. "You flatter me" he responds while taking a seat next to me, feeling as though sitting across from each other would feel too distant. 

"Should I have dressed up?" I continue to tease and he does a motion for me to look at what he's wearing and laughs at my question. "Do I look like I'm dressed up to you?" he says, and I smile and shake my head before taking a bite. "This is delicious! It's even better than last time!" I say, humming in content and savoring the rich flavor. "I'm glad you like it! I wasn't sure of the spice blend but I'm glad it worked out alright" he says and take a big bite of his too. 

As dinner continues it feels like normal again, the both of us talking freely and laughing together and it all just feels right, until he uses that nickname again. "Are you feeling better Bunny?" he asks, bringing up my weird behavior from earlier again and suddenly everything comes rushing back. "Yeah I think I really was just tired" I say awkwardly and he nods his head and thinks for a second before saying something else. 

"Did I do something wrong?" he questions and I feel my heart break at his words. "No you didn't do anything wrong I promise. Why would you even say that?" I question, hating that he's doubted himself. 

"I just feel like you've been acting a bit strange these past few days and I just thought I was doing something that might've made you feel uncomfortable" he explains while pushing around the rest of his food with his fork, distracting himself from having to look at me. 

"You've done nothing to make me feel uncomfortable I promise. I've just been tired and drowning myself in work lately so I think it's starting to catch up to me" I say, telling him a half truth. I have been working a lot more lately but I've been doing it to distract myself from having to think about him. 

It feels as thought all I can do is fixate on that conversation and it's been driving me crazy. I just wish that things could go back to the way they were but a part of me wishes that we could be something more than this. What that is exactly I have no clue but I think I might want to find out...

~~~~

After washing the dishes together I tell him that I'm going to bed early and although he looks as though he was about to ask me to stay he nods and says goodnight before letting me go.

Tossing and turning is all I've been able to do since I came back up here and I can't seem to catch a break as my mind plays and replays the sound of him moaning my name. The sounds of him growling in pleasure and praising me as if I was there with him makes me clench around nothing, begging to be full. 

After trying to ignore that feeling as long as I can I finally break. 

I trail my hand down my stomach and play with my waistband, debating on if I should really do this but as the memory of Jungkook's bare torso and his sweatpants hung low along his waist flashes through my mind I finally give in and take my clothes off, leaving me totally bare and open to touch myself.

My right hand trails down my torso just as it had before while my left one trails up and gropes my breast, pinching my nipple and making it harden from the contact. Once my right hand reaches the apex of my thighs I drag my ring finger along my folds, teasing myself and only just barely tracing over my clit. 

I let out a shaky breath and continue my movements, slowly dipping further into my folds and dragging my finger up and down, gathering up my slick, making my movements more fluid. I drag my finger back up and draw circles around my clit, slowly working myself up and starting to get in that fuzzy headspace. 

One that's desperate for release. 

I let out a moans as I pick up the pace, switching to drawing figure eights with my thumb against my sensitive bud while dipping my ring finger into my entrance, making me let out a shaky breath. "Jungkook please" I whimper, my thoughts traveling back to him and how he touched me today, his strong hands on my waist and his intense eyes paying attention to me and only me. 

"Fuck" I say, throwing my head back as I add another finger and continue rubbing my clit. Feeling myself getting closer to that edge I start thinking about how his hands would feel if he touched me like this. My left hand now on my other breast tugs on my other nipple and I call out his name. 

"Jungkook please" I whine, so lost in this fantasy and not bothering to keep quiet anymore to the point of not noticing how he's standing in the doorway and watching me as I pleasure myself to the memory of the sound of his voice. 

"Please what Bunny?" he says in a deep tone, leaving me pulling my fingers out and sitting up, pulling the blanket up higher on me. "M-mr. Jeon?" I say, reverting into that more formal tone, having gone from one extreme to the other. 

"Come on Darling, you know better than that. Now what were you saying? Jungkook please? Please what Bun?" he says, stalking towards me and I can only open and close my mouth, losing my words from the shock of being caught. 

"What would you like me to do for you baby?" he says while sitting next to me, the bed dipping under his weight. He called me baby this time, he's never done that before, why is he doing this? What is he doing in here?

"Look at how cute you are. Confident enough to moan my name while I'm sleeping just a few doors down but now that you've been caught you can't even say a word. But you sounded so pretty Darling. Can you say it again for me?" he taunts, leaning in and placing a kiss under my ear. "Come on Bunny, I know you know how to use your words" he whispers in my ear, leaving me choking out a response. 

"P-please Jungkook" I say just barely above a whisper. "Please what Darling?" he says, ghosting his lips along the nape of my neck. "Please let me cum" I choke, tears now threatening to fall. The embarrassment and intensity of this moment being nothing like I had ever felt before. 

"Would you like me to help you cum Princess?" he ask, leaning back to look at me and I nod my head, a stray tear streaming down my cheek. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to. I can walk right out of here and we can pretend that nothing ever happened" he says, reassuring me that this is my choice. 

"Please help me cum" I plead, another tear falling and he cups my face and quickly wipes it away. 

"Lay down for me yeah?" he says in a hushed tone, kissing my forehead again and guides me back down onto the bed. I watch as he caresses my face again, studying my features before saying another word. 

"Can I kiss you Bunny?" he asks and I nod my head immediately. He leans down to kiss me but stops just short of letting our lips touch. "Use your words Darling" he says, his warm breath fanning across my lips and making me choke back a moan before saying 'yes' leaving him smiling against my lips before pressing them against mine.

This kiss is different than the one we shared before. It's more delicate, more sensual and it has my hips bucking up, begging for some friction. "Someone's needy now aren't they?" he taunts before kissing me again. "Can I take this off?" he questions, playing with the blanket I have covering me and I nod before letting go and he gets up only enough to push the blankets off of me.

His eyes drink in my form, trailing slowly up and down my body and leaves me clenching my thighs together, still frustrated from having my orgasm cut off. "You want me to touch you?" he asks, his cold fingers ghosting along my waist, leaving me shivering at the feeling. "Please" is all I can manage to choke out, overwhelmed and excited by what's to come. 

"Open your legs for me Princess" he says while guiding my legs apart and now tracing patterns on my stomach. "Were you just using your fingers baby?" he asks and I nod leaving him following the path my fingers once traveled. "Want me to use mine?" he continues and I nod again, taking in a sharp breath once he runs a finger through my folds. 

"Baby was all wet just thinking about me huh?" he says and I cover my face, too embarrassed to say anything. "Can I ask you a question Darling?" he says while he traces lazy patterns up and down my slit. "Y-yes" I whimper, pressing my head back against the pillow. 

"Did you hear me earlier today when I was in the shower?" he asks and I take my hands off of my face, looking at him like a deer in headlights shocked at the fact that he found out. 

"I noticed that you didn't bring your bags in from your car like you normally do and when I was walking out of my room I noticed that your door was open and your bags were already inside. Meaning that you were probably in the house before I first saw you. Isn't that right Princess?" he says before pushing a finger inside me.

"Yes" I moan, my back arching as he drags his fingers lazily along my folds, never having felt this before, never having been touched like this before. 

"Is that why you were acting so jumpy today? Were you thinking about how I was moaning your name in the shower? How I was saying I wanted you in there with me so bad? Were you listening when I said that Princess?" he says while easing another finger into me leaving me choking back a moan and letting tears fall down my face from all of the intense feelings I'm having all at once.

"Yes, fuck yes" I moan out when I feel him hit that spot inside me that I've never been able to reach. "You like that? You like it when I touch you like that?" he says now leaning down and biting my collar bone gently leaving me arching up into his touch. He licks the spot slowly, easing the slight pain and trails kisses down my breast. 

He looks up at me before he goes too far and glances down at my nipple that's right in front of him and looks back up at me wordlessly asking for my permission. "Yes Jungkook please" I groan out and he pushes his fingers in further dragging harder against my walls as he takes one of my nipples into his mouth. 

"You make such pretty noises Darling" he praises, switching over to the other nipple after having abused the first one, leaving it puffy and wet. I clench around his fingers in response, loving the way he's talking to me. 

"Does baby like getting praised? Do you like it when I tell you how pretty you look while you're under me?" he taunts and I clench around his fingers even harder while my back comes off the mattress, feeling myself getting closer to tipping over the edge. 

Babble out a slur of curses attached to his name, begging to cum and he chuckles dryly, enjoying the way my face contorts in pleasure. "That's it Bunny, just like that" he say, coaching me through it until I'm about to reach the edge and as I tip over I grab the back of his neck and pull him down, smashing his lips against mine, making him swallow my moans as I come undone. 

 His fingers don't falter for a second as he fucks me through my high and only stops when he hears me whining from overstimulation. "You did so well Princess" he says while brushing the tears off my face. "You did so good for me" he praises again and I hum in contentment, feeling myself start to drift off to sleep. 

He chuckles at the sight and goes into the bathroom and comes back to clean me up before picking me up and taking me into another guest bedroom so I can sleep on fresh sheets.

"Goodnight Bunny" he says, leaning down and placing a kiss on my forehead before slowly leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.

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[kiyomitakada]

what draws you to misa amane?

oh this is such a good question let me see if i can do it justice.

two of my favorite themes in anything are

characters who are performances

what if love was not good

and misa is basically like if you took these two and smashed them together in a way perfectly calculated to obliterate me

like she's so! our first introduction to her is her pretending to be someone else (the first kira) so well that she even fools the audience. our second introduction to her is rem telling her that she is only alive because someone loved her, someone was killed by their love for her, and misa looks down for a second — looks almost sad — and then smiles and immediately starts scheming to kill her too.

who the fuck does that? what is wrong with her?

i think what misa understands fundamentally is that love is a weapon. if you asked her she'd laugh and say that's silly, she's a romantic after all! but she knows how attraction works and she uses it like a physical object with rem and higuchi and her jailor (when she thinks she's being tied up by a stalker and she starts offering bits of herself in order to get them to give her more freedom. mr stalker, the video won't be interesting if i can't move. oh, i'll give you an autograph, i'll shake your hand…)

and like, sure, that's how any femme fatale works, but crucial to the entire act is that misa doesn't admit it. she acts stupid on purpose! she's a cute little girl, she's misa-misa! all of this is literally in the text but she is just so good at acting that people forget about it! she isn't your usual scheming seductress character (also a character archetype i'm obsessed with, incidentally) because she knows better than to let anyone see her scheming.

look at this bit where she's specifically trying to get sidelined and successfully gets light to sideline her

+ i literally just posted about it but this scene where she decides to go behind everyone's back to uncover higuchi as kira drives me up a wall. the way she immediately covers it up with asking light to come to bed to her. i've seen so many people just screenshot that last part out of context because it really does look like a normal misa thing to do, haha misa and her conviction that light is in love with her, so funny! and that is the exact thing she is relying on to make sure they don't catch onto her. she pulls the same trick on the reader that she does on the characters. isn't that! insane! and it works every time!!!!

and of course talking about misa is never really complete without talking about her and light. it is my personal belief that she has a bpd favorite-person fixation on light that she convinces herself is actually romantic, but mental illness headcanons aside i am obsessed with the way she conceives of their relationship? on their first meeting she says out loud that she doesn't care if light just plays the part of her boyfriend ("i'll work hard to make you love me") but she doesn't want him to date other girls in public. she doesn't actually mind that he doesn't have feelings for her (yet!) but she cares about the appearance of their relationship. about the facade. she keeps putting both of them in danger by showing up to see him when he's told her not to. she gives up her actual memory of light but is relieved that she doesn't have to give up her feelings for him, specifically. she is over the moon when L and rem say she's in love with him (not the other way around!). and this

this fucking scene added a decade to my lifespan

rem: you tried to kill yourself over this boy misa: (sincere) that's awesome!

like she isn't actually enamored with him. she's enamored with how in love with him she is

oh that reminds me. addition to my favorite themes in anything list:

3. SUICIDALITY

misa halves her lifespan twice. risks her life to catch kira multiple times in yotsuba arc. as aforementioned goes to meet light even though it threatens both of them. literally says aloud i'd rather die while i'm still young and pretty

her parents are dead. she is nineteen years old and incredibly traumatized. the conclusion here is very straightforward.

misa calls kira her savior even though she knows kira isn't the one who actually saved her life with gelus. kira doesn't even save her parents, just avenges them by murdering their killer. so why is he her savior? because kira gives her a reason to live again. her goal now is to meet him, and then after she meets him, get him to fall in love with her. this is impossible because of the way light is and in some ways i think that is ideal for misa: there's always something to keep going after, some reason for her to not die yet. but she keeps throwing herself at death anyway in the meantime because if she's going to die then she wants it to be for love. i did all that for light? that makes me so happy!

the two times i think misa is completely entirely honest with the audience are when she's in confinement and when she's in the forest alone, right after getting her memories back:

christ.

this is imo why she sides with light over kira in the yotsuba arc. because what she actually wants is to not be alone, to have a reason to live, and kira helpfully provided that for a while but now that she's under constant surveillance to make sure she's not siding with kira and now that her boyfriend is also trying to catch him, she's going to side with the boyfriend so that she can keep light by her side.

what i really like about this is that it's so… amoral? misa does think kira is doing good for the world but she personally doesn't care, she just wants to be loved. she will twist her morals into whatever necessary to make sure that she is loved. she really doesn't care about anything else. she frames her good friend for the kira tapes. she places zero value on her own life and by extension zero value on anyone else's — even light's, to be honest, see above about how she's willing to put them both at risk to see him — and it's the most entertaining thing in the whole world! it's so awesome! she's so awesome!

and the best thing is that this comes back to bite her so hard in the second arc because now that she's lost her memories she can't remember why she's with light in the first place but just like in yotsuba arc she understands that this person is the only reason she is still alive, that she has to be in love with him, that he has to be in love with her, and it doesn't matter how either of them actually feel because that is How The Story Goes for a cute little girl. it doesn't matter that she's canonically developing alcohol dependence issues (see her dinner with kiyomi) or that she never sees her fiance anymore. she's still misa-misa. she's still everything.

her trick folds in on itself. she's been pretending to be a good non-murderous girlfriend for so long that when she loses her memories and her internality she has to believe herself. she becomes the shell she was putting on for light

where's the post. here. [light, about misa]

like isn't that the coolest thing in the world! she's been acting for the audience both in- and out-of-universe for so long that she has nothing else to believe in! becoming the mask is a form of ego death! isn't that the most meta thing ever! i love her so much im going to die

oh god this is getting long. umm. conclusion

there's this framework i like to think about characters with that i call zoom-in and zoom-out, where the zoom-in focuses on their internal life and conflicts and feelings etc. and the zoom-out focuses on their role in the narrative, outsider-pov style. the best characters are the ones that are compelling both zoom-in and zoom-out style.

zoom-in: misa amane is a deeply lonely and deeply suicidal teenager who latches onto the first reason she finds for living and clings onto it (him) for the entire rest of the series while constantly putting on a moe act for the sake of survival and then just because she has nothing else

zoom-out: misa amane is the second kira, stalks a high school boy to his house, kills over a hundred thousand people at his command with the same bright smile, and is such a good liar that people still come away from this show calling her stupid.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Saw your Twst x EAH posts so I wanted to share a hc I have about those kinds of AUs:

Both Maddie and later Kitty are shown to be able to hear the narrators, which makes sense since they’re from Wonderland. Awhile back I saw a theory brought up that it’s those two out of the Wonderland cast specifically because they’re both rebels, so in order to hear the narrators in a EAH context would be to 1) be from Wonderland and 2) be rebel aligned

So. In theory, as the rebel-iest wonderlandian in Twst, Ace would be able to hear the narrator(s)

As you’ve already brought up, Riddle would obviously be a royal, then Trey & Cater are Riddle’s right and left hands, so they’d be royals as well, and Deuce wanting to be an honor student would also align himself with the royals (which adds a bunch of flavor in his role in book 1 too! Because he hates the oppression from Riddle, but he’s really trying to put his rebellious days behind him, in more ways than one)

Leaving Ace, who wants next to nothing to do with that shit. I think he doesn’t mind following his destiny, but to that strict of a tee? That good(or even people who don’t want to have a horrible fate) people will suffer because they have to fulfill their destiny? Yeah, no, he obviously hates that

And so, imagine the potential of him hearing the narrators. My personal thought is Brooke being the main narrator, as a kind of, “We’re narrating this story (EAH) it’s time for you to narrate on your own” and her parents send her to narrate Twst on her own (with some supervision at times, just because of how story breaking it can be to have a character hear the narrator, with that narrator willing to break the story, and especially if the character that can hear them will follow through)

Also I can’t help but imagine in like, Spectral Soirée for example,

Ace: Wait, gimme a minute, let me ask the narrator

Floyd: The who?

Ace: Shush! Brooke, little help here?

Brooke: Ehh, sorry Ace, I don’t think I can tell you much without ruining things

Ace: Bullshit! There’s like, 3 groups out here! Surely one of them knowing the plot, at least a little, won’t ruin things!

Brooke: Not wrong… Uh, I guess I can tell you one thing

:It’s Malleus’s fault

Ace: THAT DAMN LIZARD!

Or something like that lol. Cue the others just being confused about what’s going on/who he’s talking to

(Wow, this is getting long-) And to add on! If the theme of this AU is everyone slowly turning to the Rebel’s side, just imagine all of the main Heartslabyul cast (or even side cast for higher comedic potential) starting to hear the narrators as well lol

I think that’s it for now. I just find this idea really funny/interesting

[ EAH x TWST posts: part 1 / part 2 / part 3 ]

Ooh, that's an interesting EAH theory 🤔 and oddly very fitting for Ace, who is a character that consistently calls others out for their wrongdoings, regardless of their social status, wealth, or power. Even though Ace is often characterized as bratty and pretty mean-spirited for no particular reason, he's also shown to have a heart of gold behind all of that. He abandons the winter break he was willing to cheat on his final exams to avoid remedial lessons for, just to take a tedious transit route back to Sage's Island in response to a SOS text from Yuu. He's frequently standing up for others and hypocrisy that he sees (Ghost Marriage, Endless Halloween Night, etc.). Ace isn't exactly always in the right (he also avoids personal accountability and makes excuses to not get involved in book 7's big fight against Malleus) and doesn't always have the most noble of intentions (in book 2, he only wants to help out only to earn himself a spot in Heartslabyul's team), but this does speak to his rebellious streak.

Him somehow ending up as the only Rebel of his dorm (at least to start off in book 1) is also very par-for-the-course. Trey and Cater were pretty much obediently falling in line with and enforcing Riddle's orders, and even Deuce was hesitant to go against his dorm leader's words for a while. I guess by the end of book 1 though, Trey, Cater, and Deuce would classify as Rebels too since Deuce agreed Riddle was being unfair + joined the duel against him and they later on banded together to fight OB Riddle.

I love the idea of Brooke Page (the daughter of the two Narrators from Ever After High, for those who don't know) maturing a bit and being handed the responsibility of narrating her own story. It would add a lot of chaos to an already chaotic story, since Brooke tends to go on her own tangents and actively roots for her characters to win and to find their happy endings. Her parents would definitely have to keep a close eye on her to keep Brooke from giving everything away. Cue everyone else in the Twst cast thinking Ace just has a habit of talking to himself/j

I think it makes the most sense to keep “hearing the Narrators” limited to only a few characters in the cast. If everyone came to progressively learn to hear them, I feel like it would really kill any tension or suspense and the charm of the ability would be reduced. Maybe just keep it to Ace so there’s one person in the “main” friend group that’s able to hear the Narrators’ voices? Then he can sort of be an interpreter for the others.

It might be interesting to tie this in with his character development over the course of the main story as well. Like maybe Ace confides in Brooke after the end of book 5, wondering why is it that Deuce got his UM before he did?? And then he’s not able to properly protect Grim from being kidnapped in book 6… Is there anything Ace can do right? This could help lead into the big reveal of Joker Snatch in book 7.

Aaah, so many possibilities unlocked 😳