#i say “let's take a boat out on the lake” and “oh man i fucking love fishing” and “fish are swimming in the pond” so frequently

[accirax]

i heard there was a river in the empty sekai

(credits for inspiration and the original go to rice as part of this mv!)

#project sekai #mafuyu asahina #mizuki akiyama #nightcord at 25:00 #you all don't understand how much this stupid (/pos) song changed my brain chemistry #i say “let's take a boat out on the lake” and “oh man i fucking love fishing” and “fish are swimming in the pond” so frequently #it drives venus crazy i think #also to be transparent i did trace over the original image #i usually don't (like for my red flags drawing) but i started doing it without realizing and then didn't want to change it up #so especially this time please support the original artist their style is super fun #i also stole their text bc i have no idea what font that is #or how to use whatever type tool may exist in procreate #my art #fanart

[loveinhawkins]

kept thinking about Eddie & Steve deliberately making jokes to ensure that Dustin and co don’t get into the boat on Lover’s Lake.

“Nicely done,” Steve says when they’re far enough away from the bank—when they’ve left a disgruntled Dustin behind rather than a worried one.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” Eddie says—glances back to where the kids are, although they’ve already got swallowed up by the darkness. “‘Course, man.” He gives a weak smile as he drags the oar through the water. “Those little shrimps would probably try and, like, cannonball right in, and honestly? I, uh, really don’t think my heart could handle that.”

“Yeah, they… really throw themselves into things.”

Steve decides that he’s never gonna bring up Operation Child Endangerment if Eddie’s in the vicinity—the dude already looks at them all like they’ve got a few screws loose, he doesn’t wanna make it worse.

Although, on second thought, him and Dustin probably let that particular cat out the bag with their persistent optimism way back in the boathouse: “There’s nothing to worry about.”

Eddie’s wide-eyed look painted a thousand words.

Oh, he thinks you’re crazy, sing-songed the perpetual high schooler hiding in Steve’s brain. Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson thinks you’re crazy. Time to seriously re-evaluate your life choices.

“Did you think Eddie was a bit, uh, weird back there?” Dustin asked him later. “Like, he’ll be okay, right?”

Dustin was prone to using ‘weird’ as a catch-all term, where it could mean anything from someone being genuinely weird to them experiencing severe emotional distress.

Steve clapped him on the shoulder reassuringly. “Henderson, I’m pretty sure he thinks we’re weird.”

He almost wants to make a joke about that now, get Eddie to laugh, maybe. To tell the truth, Steve had almost cracked and laughed himself once he’d gotten into the boat, when he turned and saw Dustin’s comically outraged expression.

It was only as Nancy and Eddie began to row that he registered the laugh would’ve secretly been one of relief—heartened by the sight of the kids left on the shore.

He stays quiet; Eddie’s shoulders are slowly tensing more and more the further across the lake they go.

It’s not noticeable at first—Robin’s providing a running commentary on the movements of Dustin’s compass, while Nancy determinedly pulls her oar in and out of the water—but Steve soon realises that Eddie’s kind of stopped rowing, instead just making ripples as his grip goes slack.

It’s damn hard to see, but Steve just barely makes out Eddie’s eyes glittering in the dark, staring down at the lake.

“Hey,” Steve says quietly. “You don’t have to—we’re not too far out, we can take you back, man.” He tries for levity. “This thing holds three people tops, remember?”

Eddie’s smile is more of a grimace. “Nah, man. Had enough of being chickenshit.”

“Dude, you’re not…”

Steve trails off, biting back his frustration—it doesn’t look like Eddie’s listening to him anyway; he’s still not taken his eyes off the water. Steve briefly wonders if he’s got that thing Robin says she gets sometimes, something about an imp—it’s why she never gets on Ferris wheels or whatever, convinced that she’s somehow gonna fall.

Eddie gives himself a shake and resumes rowing.

“Sorry. S’just… pitch black down there. He—” Eddie clears his throat. “He wouldn’t have seen—”

His voice cracks, fades into the night. His grip on the oar slips—he snatches it back before it can fall.

“Eddie,” Steve begins, but Eddie speaks right over the top of him.

“I—I hoped he was just drowning instead.” Eddie scoffs, and there’s a bitterness to it, an edge of self-loathing that Steve wishes he couldn’t hear. “And then maybe—” A sigh, another grimace disguised as a smile. “That’s a pretty fucked up thing to think, huh?”

He’s got that tone, Steve thinks, like when he kept repeating that he ran away from Chrissy—like he thought that if he said it enough, someone would snap, condemn him. Like he’s looking for proof that he’s monstrous.

Robin’s still talking, tactfully giving Eddie a semblance of privacy. Underneath her chatter, Steve hears Nancy’s rowing falter for just a moment, and he feels a pang in his chest.

He thinks of Barb and drowning. Wonders again if an ordinary tragedy would’ve been better compared to…

Then he lets it all sink back down.

“That’s not fucked up,” he says firmly. “Trust me, dude, that’s… that’s normal.”

Eddie chuckles shortly—it sounds like he’s doing something similar, pushing everything down, down…

“Normal, huh? No-one’s called me that before.”

“First time for everything.”

There’s a flicker of amusement across Eddie’s face when he replies, “Guess compared to you freaks, I’m pretty normal.”

“Ooh, did that feel good?” Steve says, appealing again to his mental high schooler. “Bit of role reversal?”

Eddie laughs more genuinely. “Sure did. Community theatre’s done wonders.”

A silence falls, and Steve encourages himself to get all relaxed by the boat bobbing up and down. Yeah, nothing’s strictly been confirmed yet, but he already knew what he was getting into when he stepped off the shore, water leaking into his shoes.

It’s gotta be him.

“I know what you’re doing, Harrington,” Eddie murmurs.

Steve gives him a questioning look.

Eddie pulls in some long breaths in exaggerated imitation. “You’re not subtle, Mister Swim Captain.”

“Co-captain,” Steve corrects, hiding his surprise. He can’t really imagine Eddie paying attention to the swim team, least of all a former swim team.

“Oh, forgive me for my inaccuracy.”

Hmm, he’s getting borderline poetic, Steve thinks. Like he was with Mordor and stuff.

So. He’s afraid.

“I’ll be fine,” Steve says lightly.

Eddie lets out a short groan, mutters something that sounds like famous last words. Then, quieter still—Steve can’t quite make it out.

Something about the dark.

Steve could repeat that he’ll be fine, but he knows that’s a shit reassurance. He settles for continuing to breathe in and out, long and slow; Eddie’s beginning to look like he’s unconsciously mimicking the pattern, his shoulders lowering.

“Just come back up, Harrington,” he says, so softly that Steve might’ve imagined it.

“Co-captain’s promise,” he says.

Eddie’s lips twitch. But he’s still fixed on the lake’s depths, like he’s waiting for something—dreading it.

Like something’s lurking in the dark.

#the boat ride across Lover’s Lake #before the dive #pre steddie #eddie and the party #steve and the party #steve and dustin #eddie and dustin #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

[matthewkniesys]

Congratulations, my sweet love. You deserve every single one and more. 🥹🥰 may I please request 🍄 with prompt #3 “If you wish to keep your fingers, I’d take your hands off them.” with Jack Hughes? Thank you so much!

thank you so much ily🫶

Jack Hughes x fem!reader

Jack is seething. And for no reason,too. Simply because you and Trevor have been hanging out all day on the boat.

You love spending your summers at the Hughes lake house and you have been since you were 19 and started dating jack. His mom and dad are great. His brothers are super cool. You love being around his friends since at this point they are all close to you too.

But Jack being the guy he is can't help but get jealous. And in the back of his mind he knows you would never do anything to hurt him, and especially not with any of his friends but he just can't help it. He wants all your attention to be on him 24/7.

So that brings us to why he is sulking around on the boat.

“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you? Did you not get some last night or something?”

“Shut the fuck up, Luke.” Jack gazes longingly over at you and Trevor, wishing he could replace his best friend and be the one you’re laughing with.

“Hold up, Jack you aren’t jealous, right? “Oh you totally are. This is hilarious.” Luke laughs.

“I’m glad you find my misery entertaining, Luke.” Jack looks over at you once again, to see that you are now leaning into Trevor and laughing at something on his phone.

“Fuck.” Jack mutters, pulling at the ends of his hair.

“If you’re gonna be fucking pissy about this, just go over there Jack. She loves you so much so I don’t know why you’re so insecure.”

Jack didn’t know either. Neither you or Trevor had ever given him reason to be suspicious but still here he was. He just really didn’t want to lose you.

Jack watches Trevor as he wraps his arm around your shoulders to steady you while you’re shaking with laughter. There isn’t anything other than friendliness in his gesture but it sends Jack over the edge.

He marches over to you and Trevor and stands with a hand on his hip. He’s glaring daggers at the both of you. And he knows he isn’t being fair because there isn’t anything wrong with the two of you hanging out but Jack doesn’t want to share you.

“If you wish to keep your fingers, I’d take your hands off them.” Jack says, in a low, deep voice.

“Chill man, I’m not going for your girl. She’s just really fucking funny.”

Trevor realizes that wasn’t the right thing to say since it seemed to piss him off more.

“Trevor, fuck off let me hang out with my girl since you’ve been hogging her all day.”

Trevor leaves and Jack takes his spot. Gently you place your hands on his chest and turn to face him.

“Jack, what was that about? He’s your best friend and I know you know Trevor wouldn’t make a move on me.”

“I know,” Jack whines, “but he was just hogging all your attention and I wanted to hang out with you. You’re my favourite person in the world.”

“And you are mine. So you never have to worry about me picking anyone over you. You will always be my first choice.”

claires 1k follower celebration

#claires 1k celebration #claire tries writing <3 #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #trevor zegras #brynn<33 #thanks for sending!

[dotster001]

Kiss the Shrimp

Summary: Azul x gn!reader. You should've known teaching the twins a song from your world would backfire.

You and Azul were sitting in a boat to discuss a contract. The longer you thought about it, the more suspicious that sounded, but when he had offered it  as an option, telling you he had something you couldn't refuse, you hadn't thought too hard about saying yes.  Not that you could think much when he had interrupted your frantic search for the hedgehogs that Ace accidentally released, but you really should have.

 "Remind me again why we are discussing this in a boat in the middle of a lake?"

  He gave his signature smirk and pushed his glasses up from the end of his nose. "I take client confidentiality very serious, and certain of my employees would have had too much temptation to interrupt." He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a golden contract. "Now…"

  Suddenly, he was interrupted by the humming of a song. He looked around in confusion, but you felt this sounded oddly familiar.

 

   "Wait, I think I know this song," you began and then you heard it.

There you see them, sitting there across the way.

Shock and embarrassment began to dawn on you.

    "Fuck…" you whispered, leaving Azul even more confused until.

And you don't know why, but you're dying to try you wanna kiss the shrimp.

   Azul's face turned bright red, but you didn't notice because now you were searching for the two eels you knew were hiding in the water.

   "I taught you this song! How dare you use it against me!"

   Sha lalalalala my oh my

"You told me you wanted to sing this for Azul's crush!" Azul was now burying his face in his hands and shrinking as deep as the boat would let him go.

    As if it couldn't get worse, suddenly, over the top of the twins harmonizing,you heard…

La la la la la

Kiss the shrimp whoa whoa

"Those are my vocals! You said they were so you could learn the song!" You spotted Floyd waving at you in the lake while he continued to sing, and you were about to dive in and give him a piece of your mind when you felt Azul's arms attempting to pull you back from the side.

"Wait, Y/N…" but before he could finish his thought the boat had tipped over from both of you standing in it.

As you tread water you could hear Floyd guffawing and Jade snickering. 

You were ready to wipe that smirk from his face, when Azul said, "Wait, Y/N, you can't win against them in their mer forms."

"Sure I can, watch me!"

"No don't, just.."

"Wait." A sudden thought had come to you. "The twins asked me to teach them a love song from my world so they could help you serenade your crush."

You looked at him expectantly. As his face grew redder and redder, you could feel your smile go wider and wider.

"There was no contract, was there?"

He gave  you a withering glare. "Of course there was an actual contract." He hesitated a moment, then, "but it was mostly to gauge how you would react if I asked you to start to see our relationship in a more romantic light." He suddenly couldn't make eye contact with you, and it appeared that the suave business man was gone.

You smiled gently at him, and swam closer, reaching out to touch his cheek. "Oh Azul, of course I…"

KISS THE SHRIMP!!!!!!!

"SHUT UP!"

#twisted wonderland #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto #twisted wonderland x reader

[drabblesandimagines]

Snippets

So, I have a fair few half-finished Clive Rosfield x female reader fics that I thought I'd share some snippets of. The brainrot is back after playing the DLC, so let's put a vote up to see if there's a certain one people are keen to see finished... (and give me the motivation/fear to finish it/them all?)

---- Winter Mead Your head is pounding as you come round, blinking in the harsh sunlight through the small window. You’re fully dressed and seem to be at the wrong end of your bed – your boots resting on your pillow.

What had you done last night? You blink up at the ceiling a few times, slowly becoming more conscious and aware of how dry your mouth is. Water. You need water.

Cautiously, you slide to sit up, putting one foot down on the ground to hear a soft yelp and you jump back, staring at disbelief as you realise Gav is on your floor.

“I’m up,” he grumbles into the boards. “You don’t have to step on me, like.”

“What are you doing in here?”

“I imagine I passed out after that,” he gestures to the quarter-drank Winter Mead on the side. It was potent, all right.

“Oh, Founder…” You rubbed your temples. There’s a pitcher of water on your desk and a goblet, thankfully. You get up from bed again, careful not to step on Gav, and take the two short steps over, pouring yourself a drink. As the lukewarm water quenches your thirst, you realise the paper all over your desk has half written letters all over them.

Clive,

Please can you kiss me? I promise I don’t bite.

Love, your admirer.

PS: Well, I don’t unless you want me to.

Gav gets to his feet besides you, “Can I have some of that?” When you don't reply, goblet still held up at your lips, his eyes follow your gaze to the discarded letters on the desk. “Fuck me.” “We didn’t. I didn’t.”

----- Lemon Tarts

“Come on now, I know I have a scarred mug but I’m a nice fella under all that.” Gav – after all, he’s introduced himself several times now – says, softly. He’s crouched down in front of the crevice you’ve squeezed yourself in, huddling your knees. He’s broader than you and his shoulders won’t permit him entry, despite his best efforts.

Your master was harsh in his demands. Sometimes it felt that breathing the wrong way was worthy of a lash from his whip, so however many years ago you’d decided it was better off not talking back and then, eventually, not worth talking at all. It wasn’t like he cared for your opinion either way. Couldn’t get whipped for saying the wrong thing at least.

Then these people had shown up, announcing they were Cursebreakers – whatever they were - that they were here to take you and your fellow three Bearers somewhere safe, bundling you up in a cart and then onto a boat and up a dock, being told you’re going to  escorted to their infirmary to be checked over and it was too much.

You’d ran, ducking from outstretched arms trying to halt you. Being in the middle of a lake, you couldn’t really go anywhere and now as you’d ran, you knew you were going to make whatever punishment awaiting you far worse – at least with your master you knew what to expect, what to brace for…

You’d sequestered yourself in a narrow gap, out of reach.  Numerous people were trying to coerce you out but you ignore them, cuddling your knees in fright.

“You can’t stay in there forever. That’s not a threat, like! I mean, it’s not practical, and not when we’ve a warm bed waiting for you, eh?”

Warm bed…? It’s a trick. Don’t be an idiot.

“Gav, what’s going on?” A gravelly voice draws his attention elsewhere and he ducks back from the opening to talk to someone behind.

You’re trapped, you know you are, and they’ll drag you out of here one way or another eventually but you’re too terrified to move.

“Hello.” The same gravelly voice from before sounds cautious now. You look between your knees to see another broad-shouldered man with shaggy dark hair framing stormy blue eyes, clad in red and black armour, crouched down on a knee to peer into your hiding spot. “My name’s Clive. What’s yours?”

“She doesn’t talk much.” Gav’s voice comes from over his shoulder and Clive turns to face him. “Or ever. That’s what the other Bearers said anyway. They’re all pretty new to the bastard’s service, though. Not sure how long she’s been there – they didn’t know her name either.”

“That’s all right,” Clive turns back, smiling as he catches sight of you peeking at him between your knees. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. We just want to help – I promise.”

He waits, patiently, for a response that you won’t give.

“Please?” He presses on, tenderly. “We have a healer who can treat whatever ails you, and I’ve heard there’s a delicious stew on the menu tonight. Plus Molly, our cook, made some exquisite lemon tarts for afterwards. You can have mine too, if you like.”

---

Trust

“Bearer ran off – she looked terrified. We tried to stop her but I think we frightened her more than anything,” Cole sighed, cursing himself internally. “Her hands were bound too - I’m worried about her being out there alone. If Imperials or a fiend were to find her…”

“Which way did she go?”

“Into the thicket. I was going to go and look for her after we’d got the Bearers to the skiff.”

“You go." Clive folds his arms, forming a plan. "I’ll go look for her. Torgal will help me – won’t you, boy? He has a fine nose.”

Torgal barks, wagging his tail.

--

Your heart is still pounding from the climb where there is bark from below. Between your dangling legs, you see a giant wolf looking up at you.

“Good boy, Torgal.” The dark-haired man rubs the wolf’s head affectionately – is he going to allow him to maul you as a reward? You try and scramble further up the tree but it’s no use, the way your hands are bound prevents you from getting a grip and progressing further.  

“Please, be careful. I do not wish for you to fall, my lady.” The stranger pleads, holding his hands up in surrender.

The concerned tone in his voice would’ve been a clever trick if it wasn’t for the hulking blade strapped to his back, the leathers he’s dressed in, the wolf sat at his heels, panting with hunger.

“Allow me to introduce myself - my name is Clive.” You wish you could scoot back more, hide yourself from his view, but there’s only so much room. “My lady, I know you are frightened, but I swear I’m not here to hurt you. Quite the opposite, in fact - I want to help you. We want to help you. The Bearers you were with, they are safe with my allies back at what we call the Hideaway.”

Hideaway? A cosy name for a prison.

“You’ll be looked after there, your ills seen to. A warm bed, a hot meal every night...”

There’s no such place in this world that would treat a Branded like that. Does he think you’re stupid?

“I would rid myself of this blade if it were to reassure you, but we are in dangerous territory – fiends and Imperial soldiers – so I require it to defend myself, and you, my lady."

-----

The vote will be up for a week, but please let me know what you think in the comments too!

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

#ghostdogwrites #clive rosfield x you #clive rosfield x reader #fic snippets

[delikaitxx]

Hey! Sorry for the delay! Here’s Chapter Twenty!

‘86 // Chapter Twenty: The Sweet Escape

Tw: Patrick’s death, a bit of trauma.

*early hours of March 23, 1986*

“Eddie, come on. We gotta go!” I quietly scream as Eddie and I begin rowing the boat frantically. I see the goons in the distance running toward the dock house. Eddie and I ferociously continue to row out to the opposite side of Lover’s Lake.

“THERE THEY ARE!” I watch as the three stooges take formation at the dock from an already lengthy distance. “We’re losing them.” I say, with a deep breath of relief. That is until I watch Patrick diver in. “Oh fuck.” I breath out as a panicked Eddie turns and now Andy and Jason have joined in. Eddie grunts as he slaps the motor and it starts.

“Not on my goddamn watch.” Eddie growls as we speed away from the three. I watch the three try to come close to our boat as I clench the oar in my hands. Eddie also has his in his hand, ready for any of their grubby hands. “As long as I get Jason first.” I say almost jokingly. “He deserves it. You are my girl.” “And you’re my man.”

We both know there’s no time for kissing. Especially when the motor stops and we panic. “SHIT!” Eddie yells as he turns frantically to get it to work again, slapping it numerous times. I watch wide eyed, oar in hand, as the three come closer. However, Patrick has stopped. As if in a trance… Henry.

“Shit…” I say under my breath. Jason pipes up, catching Andy’s attention. “Patrick… C’mon, we’re close!” Ugh, even his voice makes me want to swing my oar in his face. I watch as Eddie struggles with the motor. “Eddie, we’re not far from land. Plus, I think Skull Rock is close by.” I whisper to him while we watch the events unfold. We both exchange knowing glances. I nod at what he’s thinking.

Suddenly, like clockwork, Patrick darts up in the air. Void of anything ranging from sight, sound, possibly touch. Absolutely stiff. “Let’s go!” I speak as Jason and Andy watch their friend’s demise. I will admit, Patrick didn’t deserve to die. He’s probably the most decent of the three. I also don’t want Eddie to relive it. Watching Chrissy, then almost losing me. This would be too much for him.

“Let’s go.” Eddie agrees as we leap into the frigid water. We begin stroking as we hear the bones start to snap. We both turned to see and there he was. What’s left of Patrick’s demise, it’s too painful to watch. I look over at Eddie who’s as brave as they come. It seems he’s being brave for the both of us. I smile softly at the feeling.

Finally, we watch Patrick fall into the water, then bolt into the woods scape, before Jason and Andy catch even one glimpse. “This way! C-C’mon!” Eddie leads me to the other hiding place we’d have. Or rather, all of Hawkins’ horny teenagers. King Steve apparently “owns” it. We’re both cold and wet as Eddie grabs my hand, scared the two somehow can catch up.

I grip on his hand as the cold air hits both of us. I give him a reassuring smile. “I don’t think those dipshits know where we ran off too.” I run his arm and I can see him smiling faintly. “You okay? I know it was probably rough watching that.” I quietly ask, going to his side as he keeps me close. “Yeah… I think so. What about you, sweetheart?” We continue to walk closely together, never out of sight.

“I’m okay, I think. I was more worried about you,” Eddie lets out a small chuckle. “I’m okay, baby. I promise. I’m with you and that’s all that matters. We embrace each other. “It’s been so weird without you today.” Eddie says as I listen to his heartbeat. It’s erratic yet calm. “It was weird without you too… and then being at my house, seeing a stupid birthday card from my dad. Then my mom locked me in my room.”

Eddie holds me tighter. “She truly thinks you’re a murderer. A cold blooded murderer. I’m so sorry baby.” I try to suppress my sadness over the thought. The very thought my mother has turned on me. The one person who I thought would be there for me. For Dustin. It’s not fair for him either.

“When I officially turn eighteen, I’m getting out of there. I’ll take Dustin if I have to. I harshly spit out. “Rox, babe, I know you’re upset but-“ “She thinks you’re a murderer, Eds.” I whisper loudly as we pass under the power lines. “The very man I fell in love with and her son’s role model. It’s such bullshit.” “Rox, she’s still your mother.” “I don’t care. It hurts that it feels like she can’t trust me or the man that makes me the happiest I’ve ever been.”

This brings the lightest, smuggest smile on his lips. We completely forget we’re damp from diving into the lake. We’re brought back by me shaking. “Here.” Eddie wraps his arms around me and we stand there for a moment. “Thank you.” I rest my wet head on Eddie’s damp chest.

“Of course, my love. And hey,” he lifts my chin up to meet his gaze. “When we kill Vecna and this ‘shit town’ is saved, we can sit with your mother and talk it out. I don’t want you to lose your relationship with her. We will fight.” I smile up at him. “I would’ve loved to meet your mother.” “She’d love you!” We both smile and laugh in each other’s arms. “Did I mention how much I love you?” I squeak. “You might’ve a few times.”

We kiss, then get to Skull Rock shortly after. That’s when we slump down behind it and get comfortable. “It’s too bad I don’t know a way to the cabin. They’re going to panic once they see we’re not there.” I say sort of chuckling. Eddie’s own chuckle follows. “They’ll figure it out. I mean, this is where most of us teens go to escape.” “That is true. Do you think Jason and Andy are coming?” “After what they just saw? I highly doubt it.” I notice him getting tired. “You should get some sleep, babe. I’ll keep an eye out.” I kiss him goodnight.

#joseph quinn #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x oc #maya hawke #robin buckley #eddie stranger things #eddie fic #steve harrington #dustin henderson #jason carver

[homomenhommes]

STORY: Ups And Downs 16

Character

(Note: This chapter does not contain a lot of explicit sex, but the information here is necessary to follow the development of the characters and the plot. Plus, there is a lot of humor and there will be more artwork at the end.)

“There you are,” Woody observed nonchalantly. I had clenched my eyes shut when Zac and Davey practically sucked me into a parallel universe, but I panicked when I heard the door of the limo open and saw Woody leaning over, almost touching me, as my dick blasted gobs of goop all over Zac and Davey’s faces and forced Woody to flinch lest he be caught in the onslaught of my cum barrage as well. Oh fuck! I just got this incredible job two hours ago, and now I’m gonna be fired before the ink on the paperwork dries.

“Kim has been looking for you two,” indicating Rafael and me as if nothing had just happened. “Your lunch is getting cold. I would invite you two (Davey and Zac) to join them, but it seems that you’ve already eaten.” Rafael, Davey, and Zac laughed at the joke with cum all over their faces and dripping out of their mouths, but I was still too panic-stricken to do anything but squirm in my seat—with my shorts down around my knees and my dick still at attention and still oozing joy juice.

And as Woody walked away, leaving the door wide open, Davey and Zac gave us both kisses as we pulled up our shorts and fled to the patio, where Kim was setting up our lunch.

“I knew you’d be starving, wanting more than a sandwich,” said Kim, “so I grilled you some steaks with baked potatoes and a medley of sauteed zucchini and squash. And if that’s not enough, I’ve got cookies baking in the oven.”

I was indeed starving, so I scarfed down the hearty meal, and when Kim brought us four hot chocolate-chip cookies, Rafael took a pass, so I devoured his two as well as mine. “I have to eat fast,” I confessed, “since this may be my last meal. I think I’m a dead man.”

“Because you had sex in the limo?” questioned Rafael. “Pfft. It’s not as big a deal as you might think. If Woody doesn’t say any more about it before breakfast tomorrow, you’re safe.”

“I hope so, but I’m not going to take any more chances today. Let’s get back to my training ASAP.” And so we did.

Rafael took me back to the garage and showed me how to operate all the new-fangled computerized gadgets in all the vehicles. When I asked about maintenance on the vehicles, Rafael explained that we were not expected to be mechanics. We just had to keep the vehicles clean, keep track of the maintenance required under the warranties, and schedule the service appointments.

Next on the agenda, Rafael showed me how to operate and maintain the pool and spa. I had a pretty good idea from having worked in the hardware store, but our family had never owned a pool ourselves, so I paid close attention to Rafael’s instructions. He then took me to the pool house and showed me where the supplies were kept.

The pool house was attached to a shed/workshop that housed all the lawn and garden tools as well as ladders, work benches, power tools, and other hardware, all of which I was very familiar with. “You may never have to use most of these tools,” said Rafael, “but some guys like to come in here and build stuff for their dorm rooms or whatever.”

Or to get their rocks off.

The next stop on our tour was the boat house down by the lake. There was no motor boat, but there was a paddle boat, a canoe, a kayak, a row boat, and related gear. “There’s not much to do here,” said Rafael. “All the guys are pretty good about putting things back where they belong when they’re finished, but we do make a point of following up on the guests when they use the boats just to be on the safe side.”

There was nothing to do at the barn or the guest houses, so we skipped those. “You just have to look after the gardens,” said my guide. “And just as with everything else, you can tap any of the guys around the pool to help out when needed.”

The tour and training session took us right up to 5:00 o’clock, and since we had an hour free before dinner, I decided to relax by the pool, but before I did, I went up to my room to retrieve a sketch pad I had brought with me. I had always enjoyed drawing but never really got to do as much of it as I had wished, so I thought now would be a good time to hone my skills.

Sitting at a table under the loggia on the patio, I began sketching portraits of some of the guys around the pool. “That’s very good,” stressed the voice over my shoulder. I recognized the voice immediately and snapped to attention as Mr. Block put his hand on my shoulder.

“Relax, Joe. No need for formalities. We’re all family around here.” As I settled back into my seat, Mr. Block lifted up the sketch pad I had placed on the table. “Do you mind?” he asked. What the fuck was I gonna say? “Hell no, asshole. Keep your goddam hands off my artwork?” Of course not.

Remaining standing, with Woody now at his side, Mr. Block flipped through several pages of the sketch book and nodded his approval. I don’t know if he appreciated the artistic talent or if he was just getting off on the fact that most of the sketches were nudes and some were undeniably homoerotic, but I accepted his endorsement gratefully.

“Woody did mention last night that you had an affection for the arts, and I can see that he was right.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Turning to Woody, Mr. Block said, “What do you think, Woody? Greenwich?”

“Yes, indeed. I’ll take care of it.”

I had no friggin’ idea what the hell they were talking about, but before I could ask, they walked on.

Rafael, who had been standing nearby, joined me at the table, but before I could ask him if he knew what they were talking about, Woody suddenly reappeared.

“You,” he asserted, pointing a finger as he addressed me, “and you,” he repeated, pointing this time at Rafael. “My office. Two minutes.”

“Oh shit!” I whispered to Rafael as soon as Woody was out of earshot. “He’s gonna can me for that little stunt in the limo.” Rafael said nothing. He just tried to console me a bit by rubbing his hand over my back. It felt good, but I knew it was pointless. The die had been cast.

“Not there,” said Rafael, as I started to knock on Mr. Block’s office door. Instead, he led me to another door at the other end of that wall. I had never noticed it before because it blended in so perfectly with the wood-paneled walls in the library.

“Come in,” said Woody in that deep sexy voice of his when Rafael knocked on that door. Getting chewed out or not, I could listen to that resonant voice all day and all night. I just hoped I wouldn’t pop a boner while he raked me over the coals. I thought he was fucking hot, but I also felt intimidated by him. Part of that was because of the fact that he was my boss and my fate rested in his hands; part of it was the simple fact that he had a commanding presence wherever he was or whatever he was doing.

“Sit down,” he said, indicating the two high-back leather chairs in front of his desk, nearly identical to the ones in Mr. Block’s office.

“I’m so sorry, Woody…Mr. Woodward. I won’t—”

“Have you killed someone without my knowing it?”

“Huh? No, I just—”

“Have you burnt down one of the guest houses?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then shut up and listen. If you’re trying to apologize for that little incident in the limo, forget it.”

Seeing the puzzled look on my face, he explained. “Look, Joe. You have suddenly found yourself thrust into a strange new world, and you don’t know quite what to make of it yet. You may feel like a kid in a sexual candy shop. That’s natural.

“Every boy dreams of screwing his prom date in the back of a limousine. Or having sex on an airplane.” With that comment, Rafael mustered all the strength he could to avoid laughing, and I turned beet red. “You’re blushing,” Woody continued. “That’s cute.” And that little observation fractured Rafael’s restraints. He burst out laughing so hard, I thought I was going to have to give him CPR. As for Woody, he simply broached that tiny demi-smirk of his, and I thought I saw a microscopic gleam in his eye as he paused and then continued.

“Over the next few weeks, you’ll probably play out your cowboy fantasies in the loft of the barn, your pirate fantasies in the row boat, or your Tarzan fantasies by swinging from the chandeliers. Don’t try that one,” he quickly added. “It didn’t work for me, and I’m sure as hell it won’t work for you.”

Oh, my god! Was that a confession?

“Go ahead,” Woody continued. “Get it all out of your system. Eventually, you will settle down. Hopefully that will be sooner rather than later. Now, may we get down to business?” Once again, it was more of a command than a question.

“In a couple of weeks, Mr. Block is going to an art show in Connecticut—Greenwich to be more precise—and he would like you to go with him, Joe.”

Holy shit! Me?

He thinks you have some artistic talent, and I agree, and he wants to encourage that. As you have no doubt observed, Mr. Block is quite a collector of homoerotic art.

“Yes, and it’s all beautiful,” I said.

“Indeed. So, meet me here in my office tomorrow morning at 9:00, and we will start planning our trip.”

“Our trip?”

“Of course, I’ll be going with you. Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on you to keep you from swinging from the hotel chandeliers.” That comment was made all the more funny because he said it with his characteristic deadpan face, and Rafael again nearly fell out of his chair laughing. And I must admit, I thought it was pretty funny too.

“As for you, Rafael, you may be wondering why I brought you into this conversation.” As Rafael nodded his concurrence, Woody continued, “Mr. Block is inviting you to join us on this trip as well.”

“Really? But I’ll be leaving for Spain in just a few weeks.”

“Precisely,” acknowledged Woody. “Mr. Block wants to reward you for all of your exemplary service these past few years with this little vacation. You will fly to New York with us, but while we are at the art show in Greenwich, you can remain in New York City—all expenses paid, of course—and see the sights or do whatever horny young men do in such places when left without proper supervision. Once you leave here, you will not be returning to San Diego. Mr. Block has a little something he wants you to do for him on the East Coast, which I will explain in due time, and then you will be off to Spain, where you will become the worst nightmare of Catalonian mothers instead of the mothers of California’s defenseless young men.”

And to that comment, Rafael rubbed his hands together, batted his long eyelashes, and grinned like the proverbial cat that was about to eat the hapless canary.

Before either Woody or I could rein in Rafael’s hysteria, Mr. Block knocked on Woody’s office door. “Pardon the interruption,” he said. “Could I see you for a minute, Woody?”

“Excuse me, fellas. Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”

“Whew!” I exclaimed the minute that Woody stepped out. “I thought for sure I was gonna get canned.”

“I told you not to worry,” said Rafael, slowly regaining his composure. “It all really boils down to character,” he added.

“Character? Whaddya mean? All the rampant sex around here, and you say it’s all about character?”

“Sex has nothing to do with character,” explained Rafael. “It’s really about how you treat people. You can demonstrate character with people whether you’re having sex with them or not. Likewise, you can demonstrate lack of character if you mistreat them. It’s not about sex. It’s about dignity and respect.”

“Wow! When did you become King Solomon?” I teased, but at the same time, I knew that what he had said made a lot of sense.

“Sorry about that, guys,” said Woody, re-entering the room and once again taking his seat behind the hand-carved executive desk.

“As I was saying,” he continued, “meet me here at 9:00 in the morning, Joe, and we’ll start planning our trip. I told you I could use your help with some administrative tasks. This will be your first chance to demonstrate those skills.

“While we’re doing that, Rafael, I need you to make sure the Navigator is ready. We’ll be going out right after our meeting.”

“That’s it for now. Go get ready for dinner.”

Rafael left the office ahead of me, but I paused, mulling over what he had just told me about character.

“Is there something else?” Woody asked me.

As I turned to face him again, I asked somewhat sheepishly, but very sincerely, “Would it be appropriate if I invited Davey and Zac to join us for dinner?|”

For a moment, Woody gazed at me as if he were trying to figure out if I was the same homeless vagabond he had rescued from a seedy motel room in Atlanta or if perhaps my body had been inhabited by some alien from another planet. But then there appeared that ever-so-slight smile at the edge of his lips and that miniscule gleam in his eyes. “Sure,” he finally said. “That will be just fine.”

As I turned again to leave, Woody caught me. “But make sure they are dressed appropriately for dinner. We wouldn’t want them to make a bad impression on Mr. Block.”

To be continued

+

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Always Mr. Right

Fandom: Stranger Things Pairing: Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler Rating: T Word Count: 2253

Summary: It’s confusing, because he never thought Robin was wrong when she talked about their love lives. About how she knows precisely who and what she wants while he just does a lot of fleetingly satisfying French kissing. Wanting Nancy, caring about Nancy, well, that’s just never stopped.

For the first time, like, basically ever, Steve wishes he were the babysitter.

Only of course he doesn’t, because even if he’d stayed with the kids, Nancy, Robin, and Eddie still would’ve taken the boat out into the lake. One of them (almost definitely Nancy) still would’ve dived down to search for the gate. She still would’ve ended up on the other side, and, presumably, the other two would’ve followed. Nancy always would’ve come down here. Unless she’d operated with slightly more caution than he had and not swum so goddamn close to the goddamn gate, accidentally taunting the fucking Tentacle of Death, which turned out to be only a flirty little prelude to the Bats of Death, and… yeah. He’s not taking this well.

Honestly, this feels like way more of an Eddie situation (the Ozzy-eats-a-bat story is sort of a stomach-churning blur way in the back room of his brain at the moment), except that it’s Nancy—if anybody’s gonna play babysitter to her while she’s entranced, he’s the guy. Or maybe Jonathan’s the guy. No, screw that, no time for jealousy, just problem-solving and ass-kicking. Which is admittedly difficult with no ass to immediately kick.

It's weird how their voices suddenly come back to him: Dustin’s bellow of nonsensical instructions; the Sinclair kids talking over each other, fast and bossy; Eddie’s yelps; Robin’s crackling scream that he can hear shredding her throat on the way out. It feels like somebody just slapped a set of headphones on him and cranked the volume. Steve quits yelling Nancy’s name into her face. (Not that it was working, but what the hell else is his gut reaction supposed to look like? He was almost eaten alive a little while ago! He’s a little on edge!)

“How-how can this be happening?” he babbles, not taking his eyes off Nancy’s vacant ones. “We’re here. We’re already in the Upside Down. Where did she go?”

From above him, silence.

“Oh, now nobody’s got anything to say?” Steve demands.

“We’re thinking,” Dustin snaps on behalf of the group. “Shit!”

“Maybe we should still bring her back,” Robin says. “You could tie the rope around her and we’ll pull her through!”

Steve hears Dustin’s loud sigh of frustration.

“We can’t pull her through, the physics of the bedsheet-rope rescue don’t work that way.”

“Well then, how do they work?”

“I don’t know! Wasn’t I clear that I don’t know? Didn’t I say that before?”

“Henderson,” Eddie says simply, “stop, man.”

“Couldn’t Steve carry her?” Erica asks, and there is a lot of judgement in that tone.

“How the hell would I do that?” Steve wonders.

“I don’t know. Put Nancy over your shoulder or something. Figure it the hell out. Didn’t you used to be an athlete? Or maybe all your weak arms are up for these days is scooping ice cream?”

“I would normally be laughing my ass off right now,” Robin concedes, “but I don’t think demotivational speeches are the way to go.”

Steve can’t bring himself to care that an eleven-year-old is attempting to eviscerate his ego. Nancy’s rigid. He hasn’t been able to let go of her shoulders. Is she losing heat or is he just imagining it? He’s suddenly chilly with fear and the inadequate coverage provided by Eddie’s denim vest.

“I don’t really think I should move her,” he says.

“Bringing her back through the gate while Vecna’s got control of her mind doesn’t seem like a good idea,” Lucas adds. “We don’t know what that might do.”

“When it was me…” Max says, and Steve realizes it’s the first he’s heard out of her since Nancy went into the trance. His eyes dart to the ceiling for a second, finding red hair and solemn blue eyes where Max stands in the Munsons’ trailer. “You guys helped. Like, you definitely helped, but I still had to get myself out of there. Anything you could’ve done to me physically, in the real world, wouldn’t have had any effect in there.”

“And we couldn’t have done anything anyway,” Lucas points out. “You got lifted into the air.”

“So, so, I won’t move her,” Steve says. “That’s the consensus?”

“Correct,” Dustin says, supplying the final word when no one else seems capable.

Steve nods and fixes his eyes on Nancy’s face. Her eerie eyes. Her neutral expression. The golden glow pouring down on her from the trailer over their heads.

“I should go back,” he says softly. “I have to go back.”

“Go back where?” Dustin asks.

“To the fucking red place. Vecna’s haunted house. That’s where she’d be, right? Right, Max?”

“I…” Max begins. “I mean, I don’t know.”

“That’s where you were,” Lucas says.

“But that was only in my head! Whatever’s happening to Nancy, that’s still happening in her head.”

“She makes a good point,” Robin says. “If Nancy’s there in front of you, Steve, she can’t also be at the Creel house with Vecna.”

“But her body…” Steve says. “…and her mind…”

“They’re on the same plane,” Dustin explains. “More or less. Nancy’s mind is a prisoner of Vecna’s, and Vecna’s in the Upside Down.”

“Is that better or worse?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t think it makes it any more likely that you’d be able to see a projection of Nancy’s subconscious in Vecna’s lair, or be able to interact with her, or be able to physically remove her from the house, no matter how much ice cream you’ve scooped. Besides, do you really want to leave her?”

Steve doesn’t need to look at Nancy to answer, but he already is, and she’s beautiful and still and unsmiling.

“I want to do something,” he says desperately. “Somebody just tell me what the fuck to do!”

“Music!” Robin reminds him.

“I’ve been there, and I don’t have a better suggestion,” Max says.

“Ok, great,” Steve says, because this is a real plan with proven results that he witnessed with his own eyes. Results under different circumstances, but they’re just gonna have to make this up as they go along. He seriously can’t remember a time when they haven’t been doing that.

And then he says, “What’s Nancy’s favourite song?” and his heart feels like it’s being tugged down by one of those tentacles when he glances up and sees a circle of blank faces.

Everyone starts talking over each other again.

There’s a suggestion of returning to the Wheelers’ place, rifling through Nancy’s tapes (which Robin apparently found during her rapid snoop-fest of Nancy’s drawers and tabletops), until somebody counters that whatever taste in music Nancy has here is three years out of date, and they can’t go to her real bedroom since the house is reportedly full of parents and cops.

Lucas is adamant that they just try Max’s favourite, putting all his faith in the power of Kate Bush. He thinks her voice just does that—fights supernatural demons, gives people marked for death the will to live.

Eddie is pushing words that could be band names or song titles (Steve’s never heard of any of them), and so many contain “death,” and absolutely none of them sound like what Nancy would like, but then Steve hasn’t really been such a genius in the area of what Nancy likes, apart from when she liked him. Man, did he ever fucking blow that.

If he could save Nancy by crouching down and folding her over his shoulder, by straining his arms and his back and his lungs hauling them up the makeshift rope together, he would do it.

If he could save her by screaming himself hoarse, his throat burning around the shape of her name until it stopped being a name and just became a sound, a sound of pain and regret and frantic hope, he would do it.

If he could unwind the bandage she made him out of her own shirt and wrap it around her instead, let the wounds bleed all over his skin and Eddie’s stupid vest, let go of the way it kinda feels like a hug because of the snugness and how Nancy’s arms went around him when she bound him, he would do that.

But none of that’s gonna help. And there are a bunch of kids up there—plus two morons, and he only feels the word affectionately towards one of them—who really need someone to be in charge (even if they won’t respect it), and to make a move (even if they’ll tell him later that there was a way more obvious solution that he should’ve thought of).

They can’t toss Max’s cassette player through, and they’ve already ruled out moving Nancy, so Steve won’t try to lift her high enough that they could sling him just the headphones and play a tape on their side. Eddie scampers off to see if he can find anything in the trailer and the boys go to help him look, Lucas dragging Erica behind him. Only Max and Robin are left. Max is mean in a way that scares him, not because she’s so intimidating, but because he knows where her hurt comes from and that’s what he’s afraid of. Robin’s the bored flavour of mean Steve experiences every single shift with her, the kind of mean that eavesdrops on his pick-up attempts in the Romance aisle for the sole purpose of mocking him later. Neither of these girls is someone Steve would willingly embarrass himself in front of, but he’s barely thinking of that now, because he only has eyes for Nancy.

Who inconveniently only has eyes for Vecna. That douche.

The radio’s always on at work, which is almost as annoying as Robin’s commitment to being the exact opposite of a wingwoman, but it means that Steve’s brain is full of patchy, half-remembered lyrics to all the current chart-toppers. He ignores his interdimensional audience and starts singing Nancy every chorus he can think of, every wailing bridge that he pitches way too high, squinting as his voice hits his own ears. She doesn’t react. Even if he does land on one of her favourite songs, he doubts he’s offering a version she’d be eager to come back to, but maybe she’ll wake up just to tell him to can it. Maybe they’ll laugh about it, and then he’ll urge her up the rope ahead of him. Maybe she’ll be limp, like Max was, worn out from the mental war she’s fighting while it looks like she’s just standing here. Maybe she’ll need him to carry her home.

It’s confusing, because he never thought Robin was wrong when she talked about their love lives. About how she knows precisely who and what she wants while he just does a lot of fleetingly satisfying French kissing. Wanting Nancy, caring about Nancy, well, that’s just never stopped. What happened, Steve accepts as he tucks Nancy’s curly hair behind her ears so she can hear him better, was scar tissue. Like he’s gonna have from those goddamn demon bats. But just because a person heals doesn’t mean they were never hurt, and even when it doesn’t hurt anymore, they can still feel the scar. He can still feel her. He could feel her when he took a page out of the departed Billy’s book (in the shallowest way possible) and started pumping iron. He could feel her eyes on him in the boat, floating on Lovers’ Lake. It isn’t fucking fair that, now that he’s meeting her gaze, her focus has gone deep inside herself. It isn’t her fault. It’s that bastard Vecna’s.

Vecna, who is here.

Steve trails off on “Manic Monday.”

“I don’t have to see Nancy to save Nancy,” he mutters.

“What?” Robin calls from above. His gaze snaps up to her.

“The place where Vecna’s taken Nancy—the place you drew,” he adds, looking to Max. “It’s not real, but Nancy has a real body, and so does Vecna. That asshole is here, in the Upside Down, with me. If I distract him… if I disrupt him… I mean, that’s gotta sever his connection to Nancy. And then you guys get her out.”

“Whoaaa, no. You’re not doing that by yourself.”

“Anybody who comes through that gate is in danger,” Steve reminds them, clutching Nancy’s shoulders protectively.

“Uh, yeah, we’re in danger out here too,” Max says snarkily. She waves her cassette player at him.

“But again,” Robin emphasizes, looking from Max to Steve, “you’re alone. Just keep singing to Nancy and the rest of us will regroup here, devise a strategy. We can get Nancy’s actual guns from her actual house.”

“Quit pointing out that I’m alone,” Steve shoots back. “Max got away from him when she was alone. You think I’m incapable of doing what a little girl can do?”

“Yes,” they say together, so firmly that they don’t even need to reem him out for calling Max a little girl he feels ashamed enough of his defensive posturing.

Though not so ashamed that he’s going to do what they say. He slides his hands down Nancy’s arms to grip her unresponsive fingers. Be good, Nance, he thinks. Be strong. Then, he bolts to the door of the trailer, ferociously kicking it open and leaping out into the darkness, like an action hero. Like a monster-killer! He winces, clapping a hand to his side where those little bastards gnawed on him.

“Not a great start,” Steve admits to himself, and sprints off into the spooky blue wasteland.

#my writing #Stranger Things #Stranger Things spoilers #Stranger Things s4 #Steve Harrington #Nancy Wheeler #Steve x Nancy #Dustin Henderson #Robin Buckley #Eddie Munson #Erica Sinclair #Lucas Sinclair #Max Mayfield

[daedalmirage]

curtain is still blue tonight, the || ch1 trial || tezuka || re: johann, marigold, gawain, the general assembly

Circumlocution is the active evasion of the greater manner by using additional language to suggest at the true meaning. Other synonyms include the idioms beating around the bush, mincing words, fudging the issue. Marigold is right; it’s a technique for cowards, specifically, the kind of coward who can’t find impetus to say what should for fear of backlash. Compromising the truth for sociableness. Tezuka likes circumlocution. It keeps him from saying things like: I hate every single one of you right now, stop talking, oh my god, I wish I could just jump off this shitty platform and wake up in by bed when that squabbling and squawking’s all done. It keeps him from spending the energy to be annoyed by every little thing that comes up, every odd glance, every twitch of someone’s face. It does not stop him, however, from saying to Johann:

“Ew. Keep your hands off my doll, man, that’s weird. That’s an HR violation. That’s so an HR violation.” When the knocking over starts happening, not being toppled brings some relief, only for it to register that the standings are the current murder pool, which yoinks that relief right back out. Does this guy have any hobbies that aren’t looming over people and smiling like he’s a magazine ad selling cigarettes to kids? Anyways, to Marigold-

“Hey, I’m not against making accusations. I just didn’t want anybody to start crying about how I was being mean, or unfair, or not considering everything, like any of this is nice, fair, considerate, or even remotely fucking okay in the scheme of things. Which, y’know, feels like I was kind of right on not drawing the gun myself?”

The goings on being:

“Cut the shit for a second, Gawain. If we’re going to finagle over the details, we can eventually reach a justification for why any of us could’ve been the killer. Prescribing a story and fitting the evidence to it, rather than just listening to what the evidence says, is going to get us nowhere.” “That bottle couldn’t’ve been Pluto’s anyways, we’ve established this- the one at the bottom of the stairs was the one she was holding, or near, when she got attacked. You can see the water splashed all over the front of her, meaning even if Pluto did own lipstick, it wasn’t her own bottle, and even if that lipstick got stolen or whatever, which we don’t have proof of, which is more plausible? An impromptu killer suddenly loses it while wearing lipstick, which supports the discussion we’ve been having this whole time, or someone premeditates the whole ordeal including stealing lipstick to frame someone, which should sound as ridiculous to hear as it is for me saying it? We can’t spend precious time measuring hands or feet or whatever just to come back with a ‘maybe’ for an answer.”

Ah, that was satisfying. He hasn’t been sufficiently snippy in so long, at least, fully as himself. Tezuka needs a moment to just be a dick. It balances his chakras, or, settles his feng shui, or whatever new age healing thing is going on at the time. He just ends up taking a deep breath and flipping through his notes, trying to be louder than Franz flipping through his, because that pen tapping is going to kill him.

  “Now, let’s get our heads out of our collective asses before we tear each other’s throats out as to who did it, okay? Here’s just a comprehensive summary of how it happened, as far as we can tell. Ahem, ahem.” His talking is intermittently interjected by scribbles and approximate lines being drawn over a very small map recreation of the lake area, arrows pointing and being made when he defines a ‘who went where’. Solid for Pluto and the killer, dotted for the killer only. “I think Johann mentioned it at the start- Pluto and the killer started in the cafe, apparently, which I’m sure is justified by something found there, I don’t know, I didn’t look. After the cafe, they work together to open up the rental shack and man one of the boats to the island, likely with the killer being at the helm over Pluto. After they get there, an x amount of time passes, and eventually, the two of them decide to climb the steps to get to the shrine. From the shrine’s vending machine, the two of them each get water.” He coughs a bit, into his sleeve.

“At this point, we’ve collectively agreed that the killer hadn’t had any intentions of killing Pluto up until this point. It’d make sense: why not dump her body in the river, where we wouldn’t find it, or do a better clean up job, if the plan was to kill the whole time? Maybe because of the pain, or the paranoia, we’ll never know, the killer sets down their drink and lunges for Pluto, attempting to choke her. The two scuffle at the top, kicking and scuffing up the dirt, until Pluto falls, tumbles down the stairs, and fatally, hits her head. This was about three hours ago. After the whole thing occurs, the killer follows down to see what happened, is horrified, stumbles backward, and proceeds to panic over towards their boat and hurry back to the mainland. Clean, cut, done.”

A big inhale, a sigh. Exhaustion.

“As for our suspect pool, which, this might not matter too much being all conjecture and happenstance, but. For most of the time everybody’s heads were on backwards, Sonia wasn’t wearing her makeup? At least, from what I saw. It was actually pretty hard to tell it was her. That’s not to say she couldn’t’ve remembered and put some on at some point, everybody was in an out in how much they were themselves, but. I don’t know. Something to chew on, I guess.”

#daedal mirage #ch1 #ch1 trial #tezuka #submission

[cerastes]

Due to the way the ADHD brain is 1) constantly underestimulated and desperately craves estimulation but 2) hates estimulation that doesn’t pertain to the personal interests of the person, it ends up being pretty personalized due to how creative and “I’ll do shit my way” the ADHD person tends to be, but a very common, generalized baseline of how all these personal, custom methods are usually developed, an important part of their bedrock, if you will, tends to be “everything I really hate, I’ll simplify to its purest, most basic form, which leaves me with the parts I’m really good at doing, and then I just fill out the insufficient parts with the output from the parts I did great”.

It’s easy to perceive it as mental handicaps because the usual methodology of neurotypical people makes up feel like we’re doing shit weird and wrong and we could be doing it better and “why can’t I do what everyone else is doing and works for everyone else but me?”, until you realize your own method of doing shit works out just fine and you can do incredible things and most others will look at the way you do things and say “what in the FUCK is wrong with you how can you actually live like this?”, because we are our own teachers and unfortunately it is unlikely anyone can teach us how to do things, BUT we can take ideas and suggestions and, through a lot of trial and error, we end up figuring out exactly how we tick and how we can pull shit off.

This is also why I’m adverse to the majority of these “ADHD tips” posts, unless it’s very generalized advice based on how to form a methodology, more than concrete and precise tips: Concrete and precise tips are just what works for each person, and they MIGHT work for you, an ADHD person, the way it did for the ADHD OP, but they might just not work, so those posts should be taken as “I’ll try it out” more so than “OH MAN TAKING NOTES THIS IS WHAT I NEED TO DO YES OR YES”, and if it works, joyous occassion, if it doesn’t, it was worth a try but now we move on. 

As an ADHD psychologist, back when I still was a therapist and worked with ADHD kids, my advice was rarely about specific tips, rather, I’d help the kid with their homework, but not by telling them the answers, just helping them actually go through it in a way that was easy and natural to their own style, which I’d take notes of, and then we’d work out more concrete things, and we’d try out what worked and what didn’t. It usually went well, because the thing with us ADHD people is not “teach me how to fish so I can catch fish and eat”, it’s “ok, so, I know I need to learn how to fish, but the rod approach just doesn’t work for me, I don’t get it, it doesn’t feel natural at all, is there anything else I could be doing? -> yeah, here’s a harpoon, let’s see if this works, or you can throw a stick of dynamite into the lake and then collect the fish, maybe even just grab the fish outright with your hands, hell, maybe you don’t need this boat, maybe you need a pier, or to swim wth the fish, we need to find the way YOU yourself are good at catching the fish, and limiting ourselves to the rod, which is what most ‘normal’ people use, is to shoot ourselves in the foot”.

#vanquishedvaliant

[rafescoke]

Brother’s Best Friend ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Request: heyy I’ve recently found your account and I just felt in love with the way you write and with your works so I was wondering if you could write a fic where the reader is Kelce’s sister, she’s sitting alone at home and suddenly she hears a doorbell ringing, she comes to open the door and that’s Rafe and she says something like “Kelce’s not home” or smth like that and Rafe answers “I actually came to see you” or smth like that. It can be smut or fluff or whatever I don’t really care. Sorry if this is chaotic but I just want the reader to be black and I have bad ideas lmao 😭 sending love ❤️❤️

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Fooling around with your best friend's sister is not a good sign, especially when it involves something more than skinny dipping and drinking alcohol together.

Warnings: Slight smut, mentions of drinking, slight angst, teasing Rafe Cameron

A/N: I'm so close to 700 followers wtf y'all are truly amazing ily! I'm finishing all requests in my inbox for the new few days; thank you to those who put their trust in me to write their ideas <33

(Y/N) could never deny the attraction she felt towards a certain brunette boy with that charming smile.

The feeling evolved for the first time when he came over to her house to see Kelce. He was so polite to her; giving her a turn on passing the ball and scolding Kelce and Topper for not wanting to give her a chance at playing basketball in the swimming pool.

But she was only 8 back then, and she regarded the feeling as nothing more than a silly crush.

Rafe Cameron changed when he entered high school. (Y/N) couldn't explain what was wrong, but he was not her Rafe anymore. He didn't hold the door for her, scold Kelce for making fun of her or do anything that used to make her heart soar.

Her thoughts were disrupted when a fresh blue towel hit her squarely on the face, causing her to yelp in shock.

"Do you wanna come down to the lake with us?"

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, pulling the towel to her side, and closed her magazine with a snap. Her eyes fell back to the three guys, lingering on the tallest one a little bit too long.

She cleared her throat, "No, I'm tired."

Kelce shrugged, walking towards the entrance of their home from the swimming pool. He didn't feel like having (Y/N) around anyways, because that would mean he would have to protect her from his friends.

Kelce loved his friends, of course, but he also knew the other side of them that uses girls like Kleenex tissue only to throw them away again.

"On a second thought-" (Y/N) said, stopping the three boys from entering the big house. "I think I'll go."

"You sure?" Kelce asked. God. Now he would have to play the big-brother stimulator for the whole night.

The night sky was dark, and the only light came from the moonlight up above and sometimes from the flashlight of each other's phone. Boozes laid messily on the wooden deck and their clothes were discarded all over the place.

Not one person was sober, and they were all laughing to a joke by Topper.

"Okay, okay, last one-" Topper said excitedly. He shivered, and (Y/N) thought about it as a response towards the cold lake water or the excited nerves of sharing another stupid joke. "Why did the chicken cross the road?"

"Easy. To get to the other side," Rafe answered proudly. A beer drop slid down from his lips to his chin, and (Y/N) felt a strong desire to lick it.

"Wrong."

"Okay, fine, I don't know."

Topper smiled widely, and (Y/N) could see this joke coming from a few miles away. "To get to the loser's house. Knock knock."

Rafe pulled a face, his eyebrows raised. "Who's there?"

"The chicken."

Kelce and Topper's laugh filled the silence around them, and (Y/N) found herself slightly smiling at the joke. Rafe groaned, finally understanding the joke and being angry at himself for willingly taking the bait.

"Okay, okay. The joke's over."

Kelce laughed again before taking a full swig of another beer bottle. He stared at the sky, and let out a loud huff.

"Wish we can go up there."

"Me too, man," Topper agreed. He joined Kelce by staring up at the dark sky, both clearly high out of their minds.

"Do you want to?"

(Y/N) looked to her side, not noticing Rafe who had moved from his previous position near Topper to beside her. She quirked her head to one side, her face questioning.

"Go up to the sky," he explained. He watched as she looked up to the sky, her mouth slightly parting. Her chest heaved peacefully, and her wet body donning the lilac bikini never looked so beautiful and perfect.

"Nah. I'm too scared."

"Even when I'll go with you?" he smiled. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, though her heart was soaring brightly; she would never feel scared anymore if he were to be around her all the time.

"Yeah. Even when you’ll go with me. Besides, it's not possible."

"Let people enjoy things," he said, and he was so close to her now because she could smell the coffee mint from his breath. Her heart was beating wildly, though this would be the ten-thousandth time he did this to her.

It never failed to leave her completely breathless.

"You're drooling," he whispered, and used his thumb to wipe her wet lips from the beer. Her breath hitched, and she couldn't utter any words back. She was too mesmerised with the whole situation.

His fingers stopped at her chin, looking into her eyes, and he was petrified too. He leaned in, but before anything could happen, (Y/N) moved away. He cleared his throat, and swam back to the deck.

‘I’m drunk’ was repeated by him all the way to the the place he threw his clothes off, shaking his head at the thought that he was so close to kissing her. He looked back to her direction in the lake, still staring at him. He focused back on the ties of his shorts, and made his way back to the Kelce’s house.

He ignored his best friends calls.

. . .

(Y/N) never really liked school, but she loved the after-activity that she got herself in.

Like cheerleading.

She used to think of the sport as something quirky, but in truth, once she was accepted into the school’s cheerleading team, she had never been more into a sport than before.

She walked down the field to the other side of the track where the other girls were waiting for her. Her training skirt flew slightly from the wind, and she was trying to hold them down all while carrying the water bottle and a duffle bag.

She exchanged a few greetings with her other friends, putting down her duffle bag and her water bottle. The sun was scorching hot, and all she felt like was eating ice cream inside of their boat whilst streaming down the lake, but the last time she had ditched cheer practice, it hadn’t ended well.

“Uh-oh,” someone exclaimed behind her. “Big bro is coming.”

(Y/N) looked up to the field, and sure enough Kelce was running towards her in his jersey. (Y/N) sighed, not knowing what she did now that could earn her a lecture from Kelce.

“Hey, I’m bringing a girl home after practice,” he said. “Would you mind getting a ride with someone else?”

She groaned, “Fuck, Kelce, no. You can tell your new scandal to fuck off because I am not getting an Uber to walk back to home.”

“Look, please? You can ask your friends to give you a ride, right? It’s important,” he begged. His eyes were scanning her friends now, obviously trying to find someone who could help his sister, and when he found one, his smile quirked upwards. “Yo, Sarah! Can you drive (Y/N) home after practice?”

Sarah walked towards them, her blonde hair up in a ponytail. She slung her arms around (Y/N)’s shoulders, noting the exasperated expression on her face, and gave Kelce a glare.

“You should let her drive a car if you’re going to bring a girl home after school,” she said. Kelce groaned, knowing the amount of shit he will be getting from the people around him, but he was truly trying to make it right for this new girl.

“Look, I’ll buy y’all anything for a week. Food? Sure. Clothes? Sure.”

Sarah clapped her hands, seemingly excited, and forced (Y/N) to say yes. She wouldn’t mind driving (Y/N) home, because she wanted to catch up with her about some gossip too.

“Fine. But I’m driving my own car tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” was all he said before he jogged down to the soccer team.

That evening was hell to (Y/N). She couldn’t get the formation right, the sun was getting hotter and hotter, her hair was sticking out weirdly, and worst of all, she couldn’t stop thinking about yesterday’s event.

He was so, so close to her.

“(Y/N), come on! What’s gotten into you? The top part, again!” The coach yelled, slapping her hands against her lap. There were sweat forming on her forehead, and she was obviously hot and bothered from this whole situation.

But sport was sport. The coach wasn’t going to let today’s training to waste, and she intended for the new number to work.

(Y/N) muttered a soft ‘sorry’ before going back to her position, her heart still thumping at the thought. The cheer started, and her mouth was saying the words, but her brain was somewhere else.

The two guys by her side picked her up by her calf, and she felt the wind gushing out from beside her ears. She was high up in the sky now, throwing one arm upwards and balancing herself on one leg, and it was finally time now, to twirl into the two boys’ arms, but she wasn’t ready. Her mouth didn’t utter any words from the cheer, too focused on the step, and before she could jump back into their arms, she felt herself slipping.

“(Y/N)!” The coach yelled, running towards her by the track. Sarah and the other teammates were surrounding her now, watching as she groaned on the ground painfully, holding onto her arms.

“Okay, I take that as the end of today’s training,” the coach said, sighing. “(Y/N), are you okay? Can you walk?”

(Y/N) held her thumbs up, because she had worse injury than this before. Hell, the boxing fight she used to have with Kelce in their childhood was more painful. She sat up from the track, feeling the heat of the ground burning on her bottoms, and stretched her fingers. The pain coursed through her veins at the feeling, but kinda liked it.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Sarah said, helping her up. She groaned when she finally stood on her two feet, feeling so painful all she wanted to do was lay back on the track, but she knew she had to go home.

She allowed Sarah helping her limp towards a black Mercedes, her eyes closed the whole time.

Okay, scratch the fight with Kelce. This one was more painful than ever.

“Can I stay at your house?” She blurted when Sarah drove out of the school gate. “I don’t feel like listening to my mom’s lecture about my leg.”

Sarah glanced at her from the rearview mirror, watching as she spread her leg out the whole backseat. The ice bag someone had gotten her was pressed against her calf, and she was sweating from the heat and trying to contain the pain.

“Yes, of course, that would be better,” Sarah said. She had other plans that evening, but helping (Y/N) overstepped all of them.

“So what’s up with you and John B?”

Sarah turned to look at her fully on her face, furrowing her eyebrows. “What do you know about John B?”

(Y/N) laughed, “The light’s green.” Just on cue, the car behind them horned at Sarah, and she quickly pushed on the pedal.

“How do you know about John B?” Sarah asked, biting her lips. If (Y/N) could find out, she couldn’t imagine what would Rafe do if he finds out.

“God, don’t be worried. I’m not going to tell anyone about this, okay? Just relax. I think it’s cute.”

Sarah’s worried expression softened, “You think so?”

“Yeah. At least you got to be with whoever you want. Some people can’t have that.”

Like her. Kelce would kill her and dump her body in the ocean for the sharks if he ever finds out how much she likes Rafe.

“You’ll find the one soon. How about that guy in your maths class?” The car turned to the right, nearing the destination.

“No. I’m not looking for anyone.”

There’s only one, but Sarah won’t like the answer.

The time was 8.23p.m. now, and (Y/N) had been in Sarah’s room for a total of 3 hours. After catching up on new gossips, watched a movie, did her English essay, she felt extremely dehydrated.

Sarah was sleeping peacefully beside her, being so tired after the practice and school, and (Y/N) didn’t feel like waking her up. She have been to The Camerons household, but that was only for Sarah’s birthday party a few years back.

She sighed, getting up from the bed to find the kitchen. The house was like a maze, and she wished they had some kind of a map to browse through.

Alas, she found the kitchen, her muscles screaming from all the wrong turns she took before. She knew where the plastic cups and plates were situated, having to help Sarah get them during her birthday party, so she didn’t have any trouble getting some.

She drank the cold water quickly, feeling the liquid sloshing down her throat. The feeling was so, so good that she wished she could go through it again.

“I do not know where your sister is, Kelce,” a voice sighed not far from the kitchen. “I told you you shouldn’t bring that girl home and just drive (Y/N) home yourself.”

The voice, unmistakably Rafe, was getting nearer and nearer. (Y/N)’s eyes widened, trying to find an empty space to hide in, but there were none. She panicked, still looking for a way out that she didn’t notice the tall figure behind her.

“Oh. Found you.”

His hair was dishevelled and wet, his chest heaving and he was shirtless.

What a nice way to bump onto each other.

“Take a picture,” he started, shutting his phone off and placing them in his shorts. “It’ll last longer that way.”

Now we’re talking about the new Rafe.

(Y/N) scoffed, pushing him away and making a disgusted face at his sweat sticking on her arms. “I’m here for Sarah.”

“Why? Did she die or something?”

God. He really is insufferable.

She made to push him away to return to Sarah’s room, only for him to grab her by her waist.

“Move.” Her tone was stern, but her stomach was flipping wildly. She tried to not look so bothered, but failed miserably.

Rafe seemed to notice her behaviour because he didn’t let go of her. “Come on, where’s the fun in that?”

She was on the same level as his neck now, and he could still smell his expensive cologne even after he swam in the swimming pool. She sighed, placing her hands against his chest.

“Move.”

Rafe laughed, putting his hands up in defeat, and went to grab the same glass she was drinking from. He refilled the glass and downed the content, and (Y/N) had to look away from the innocent move.

Maybe he was just saving water by not using a different cup.

“Do you need help to return to Sarah’s room or something?”

“No, I’m fine,” she refused, and made sure he could see her fake annoyed expression before she returned to the hall she came from. But there were 2 halls now, and she completely forgot which one she had been before.

“Really?” Rafe stood beside her, and she looked up to his amused face. “Because you’re in the wrong hall. It’s the other exit of the kitchen, darling.”

. . .

Why couldn’t she not see his face every single day?

It was truly troubling her, to see that boy everyday, because she couldn’t think properly every time.

The lights from the stadium blared widely, and the deafening screaming coming from both teams’ supporters rang throughout the whole field. (Y/N) was sure the whole island could hear them too.

Two things happened earlier than evening. Number one, her skirt wasn’t completely dried after being sent off to the laundry for a week, and her hair wasn’t just cooperating.

So here she was; in a shorter uniform skirt, her hair hung up into a ponytail with lots of hairspray. She wished for nothing but to be all cuddled up with her blanket in her room.

“You’re okay?” Sarah asked. She fixed (Y/N)’s lips gently, getting the lipstick and lipliner even, and gave her a kiss on the cheeks. “Don’t worry about the skirt. It looks normal.”

For a little girl.

(Y/N) sighed and involuntarily pulled down the hem of her skirt. Ten minutes from the game now, and she was nervous she would flash everyone on the school compound.

In the locker room, Rafe was sitting right next to Kelce as his best friend prayed for a win tonight. He was never that religious, and he didn’t feel the need to mutter a prayer to anyone. But tonight, he listened intently to whatever Kelce was saying because he needed to win this cup more than anything in the world.

“You’re okay?” The coach asked, patting him on the shoulder.

“Yeah. Just nervous.”

“Don’t be, you’re the Star Player. Right?”

The Star Player.

Rafe gave him a smile, and went back to his praying.

When he first entered the field to meet the rival team, his eyes couldn’t help but scanned the bleachers to find his dad. Ward wasn’t there, but Rose and Wheezie were cheering for him.

Of course.

He sighed, and went straight to the middle of the field. It’s funny how everyone was there to support him, Rafe, the Star Player, the jock, the whatever else people were saying about him.

He just wanted Ward to see him.

“Come on, man, it’s fine,” Topper said, patting his back. “He’ll come later.”

Even his friends could see how miserable he was feeling.

The first match of the game went smoothly; he scored a try goal, everyone was cheering loudly, but it was just then that one of the opponents came knocking Rafe by his side.

Rafe fell to the ground with a loud thud, earning so many gasps from the stand.

“What the fuck?!” Topper pushed whoever responsible for his fall, and the sound of a whistle rang throughout the air. “He pushed him for nothing! You saw it, fuck!”

Rafe groaned on the ground, clutching onto his arms, and he tried to spread his fingers, but couldn’t. His other teammates were surrounding him now, trying to get a good look of him, all while Topper and Kelce and another friend of his went off to the referee.

Rafe put his other hand up, trying to sit up. “I’m fine, I’m fine! Move!”

The other members scattered away, sighing in relief when Rafe came back to his legs. The referee, still getting yelled at by Topper, shook his head at something he said, and before anyone could process what happened, Topper tackled the opponent who had pushed Rafe down to the ground.

Kelce pulled Topper away after a few long seconds, telling him to stop. But one thing about Topper is that he just won’t stop.

“Stupid fuck!” He yelled, throwing another punch.

“Topper, stop, they’re going to throw you off the field!” Kelce yelled. Finally, he separated them away after the opponent’s friend pulled his injured friend away.

The referee, expectedly, pulled a red card to Topper, earning a groan coming from their coach and the stand. Rafe cursed, knowing that Topper’s one of their strongest member. He watched as Topper tried to argue with the referee, but it was no use.

“It’s okay,” Kelce said, patting his back as he made his way back to the bench. “Relax, bro, okay?” Topper calmed down after the coach said something to him, but Rafe could clearly see the distress written on his face.

“You’re okay?” Kelce asked, pointing to his arms.

Rafe could move his muscles now though he could feel the sharp pain from doing so. But he was too content on winning this game.

(Y/N) watched as the second match unfold, her teeth biting into her lips in fear. She didn’t feel like having the next week full of gloomy students and disappointed teachers, so she wanted the cup as much as everyone else.

Rafe was fast, throwing the ball smoothly back and forth with Kelce and his other friends, but it was apparent that the Star Player wasn’t feeling like himself.

It might be the arm, or the fact that Ward Cameron was too busy with his work to see his son playing.

37 minutes had passed, and the other team was leading. They only had 3 minutes left, and with the team being so drained out and their captain with a broken arm, it was clear who was winning.

The whistle blared through the field again, noting the end of the match. As the other team supporters cheered happily the other side of the stands muttered silently to each other about the game.

(Y/N) watched as Rafe yelled something at his teammates angrily before storming off to the locker room. He winced in pain, holding his arm for support, and ignored every calls from his friends as he made his way to the empty room.

Looking around quickly, she muttered a ‘be right back’ to Sarah, and quickly followed Rafe into the locker room. She wanted to see if he was okay, and if he needed help with his arm.

In truth, she just wanted to be there for him.

“Hey,” she slowly said, and Rafe’s head perked up to see her before he looked down to the ground again.

“What do you want?”

She felt a struck of pain across her heart at his tone, but decided against it. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I was just trying to see if you need anything,” she said, and when his eyes finally looked up to her again, she unconsciously pulled her skirt down again.

“Yeah? I don’t need anything. Go!”

“Wow, you’re a dick,” she scoffed, and before Rafe could mutter anything back, she exited the locker room and straight to the cheer team. She felt a mixture of anger and embarrassment all at once, because God, Rafe Cameron did not just yell at her for trying to be nice.

She should’ve known better than to be ‘nice’ to him. He wasn’t the same 8 year old she met 10 years ago.

. . .

A week had passed from the game, and everything went back to normal.

Except for one person.

Rafe didn’t come to school the next Monday, not that (Y/N) wanted to see him after getting yelled at, but she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

He didn’t just broke his arm; his father also chose not to attend his game.

It was finally Friday, and (Y/N) was too happy to stay home and continue watching Love Island. Life is better when you are focused on someone else’s relationship other than yours.

She was rolling in her bed, casually smiling at the cheesy joke made by one of the contestant, and before she could hear the reply towards the joke, the doorbell blared throughout the house.

(Y/N) groaned, thinking how Kelce must’ve forgotten his keys again, and waited a few more minutes so that he would just leave her alone and go to that stupid prick, Rafe Cameron’s house.

But the doorbell rang again, and she had no choice but to open the door. She was all alone in the big house, having both her parents still working and her maids having the day off.

But when she opened the door, the boy standing before her was the last person she wanted to see.

“Hi,” Rafe said.

“Kelce’s not here,” she mumbled, and pushed the door close. Rafe’s quickly put his hands to block the door from closing, and (Y/N) pulled away after deciding not to crush his other only working hands.

“What?” She asked, in the same tone that he had given her in the locker room. She felt good when his eyebrows were raised.

“I’m here for you.”

“Why? Did I die or something?” Bingo.

“God, you’re impossible,” Rafe sighed. “Can I talk to you? Just us two?”

(Y/N) sighed, wanting to get this done, and opened the door wider to grant him into her home. (Y/N) closed the door and pressed her back against it, crossing her arms.

“Okay. Talk.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” He said. “I was just so angry with everything. I was pushed and Topper received a red card because of me—”

“You didn’t do anything, Rafe.”

“Yeah, but he was just trying to protect me. And, and I was just so mad at myself because I couldn’t play properly like I usually play. I’m so sorry for yelling at you. I didn’t mean it.”

(Y/N) sighed, “It’s okay. I’m over it.”

“Really?” He stepped closer, and this time, (Y/N) allowed him. “Thank you so much!”

He pulled her into a crushing hug, and before she could put her mind into it, he lifted her up and spin her around.

“Okay, okay, now you’re just pushing it,” she groaned, hitting him on his chest. “Put me down, Rafe, I swear to god.”

Rafe put her down, his face shining happily. They were close again, like that time in the lake, and (Y/N) didn’t feel like pushing him away again.

Because maybe, that 8 year old him was somewhere in there.

“Uh—” he looked away, scratching the back of his head. “Do you wanna. . . watch Netflix?”

(Y/N) cleared her throat, “I was watching Love Island. Wanna watch with me?”

Rafe nodded, anything to get closer with this girl, and followed her upstairs to her room. The first time he entered her room was 9 years ago, and it was only because Topper and Kelce had pranked him into thinking that her room was the gaming room.

“What are you doing?” The girl before him yelled, and before he could explain how he was lied to, she threw a pink hairbrush at him. He groaned from the pain, rubbing his head.

“I’m sorry, I thought this was the gaming room!”

“Out!” She yelled, and he quickly obliged.

Her room was still pink, but it was now filled with so many books, clothes and makeups instead of the dollhouse and toys he saw a few years ago.

“Is this the pink hairbrush you threw at me?” He laughed, holding the pink tool. (Y/N) snatched the hairbrush, embarrassed, and quickly stuffed them into the drawers.

He placed himself beside her on her bed, watching her as she resumed the video. He focused on the show, trying to find at least something interesting from the show, but there was nothing.

2 episodes later, he was too into the show that he pressed on the stop button before they could continue on the next episode.

“I wish they would just communicate,” he said. “Like the whole show’s pointless. They didn’t try to talk to each other about their problems.”

“Yeah, that’s what makes the show interesting, Rafe,” she said as if that was a fact, “And besides, if they communicate, everyone will win the show.”

“Then that’s just good. A win-win situation.”

“You don’t get it,” she groaned, looking into his face. “There’s no use in fighting with you about this.”

She pressed on the resume button again, and instantly, Rafe pressed on the stop button.

“Rafe, I will—”

“You still haven’t apologised for throwing the hairbrush at me.”

She widened her eyes, “That was 9 years ago.”

“And?”

“Fine,” she placed her laptop aside, and turned to fully look him in the face. “Sorry.”

“Not sincere enough.”

She groaned, “Rafe, I am terribly sorry for throwing my pink hairbrush at you. I am so sorry that it hit your face and be the reason why you’re still holding vengeance at someone.”

“I’m not talking about that kind of sorry.”

“Fuck, you’re annoying,” she said. “I’m not going to bow down to you or anything.”

“Just a kiss.”

She looked at him back, her heart stopping at his words. “No.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because you’re Rafe?”

“Rafe? Okay, fine. I’m not Rafe. I’m Rafael.”

“Okay, it’s still a no. You’re Kelce’s best friend.”

“Didn’t you kiss Topper last year?”

“That was a dare—” she sighed. “And it didn’t mean anything.”

“Exactly. This won’t mean anything. This is just a sorry.”

It would mean everything to her to place her lips against his.

“This is sexual harassment.”

“Not if you want it too,” he said, and leaned closer to her. “And you do want it, right? I can see it in your eyes.”

She didn’t know why God would put her and Rafe in this damn position over and over again, because it wasn’t helping her to get over him.

She looked down to his lips, and how it was so inviting, and she wanted more than anything to kiss him, to finally give herself to him, but she was afraid.

“Rafe—”

“Shut up,” he cut her off, and pressed himself against her. Their kiss was slow and passionate, none like neither (Y/N) or Rafe had experienced before. Her hands found themselves wrapping around Rafe’s neck, pulling him closer.

He pulled away, grinning. “I thought you didn’t want this.”

“Shut up.” She rolled her eyes, and pulled him in for another kiss again.

He pushed her down onto the bed gently, still kissing her, and his hands were roaming down her body. She was so, so perfect and every time he saw her, he would have to look away to stop the unwanted thoughts forming in his head.

During the game last Friday, he had to pinch himself from staring at her legs in that goddamn skirt for too long.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he whispered, and she hummed in response before pushing him over so she could take control. She sat on top of him, grinning widely. She was in heaven; seeing him all worked up under her with his chest heaving.

“You would be surprised at the amount of times I imagined myself on top of you like this,” she said, placing her hands flat on top of his chest.

Rafe grinned back, trying to contain his feelings. “Yeah? Wanna show what else you’ve been imagining?”

She leaned closer, making sure to brush her bottom against him and hearing his soft groans. She placed a soft kiss against his cheek, and whispered into his ear.

“Would rather have you show what you’ve been dreaming of me.”

Rafe licked his lips, loving this side of her, and he wanted more than anything to make her his. She looked so innocent sitting there on top of him, smiling and biting her lips.

Before he could touch her in ways he never did to a girl before, a voice rang from outside the room.

“(Y/N)? Have you seen Rafe? I saw his car outside,” the voice said. After a few seconds of silence, he sighed. “You’re okay? I’m coming in, okay?”

“No, no, wait!” (Y/N) shouted, scrambling from her position on top of Rafe as he quickly pulled her up, but it was too late.

Kelce saw them in the midst of trying to get away, with his sister’s leg on one side of his best friend and his best friend’s hands still around his sister’s waist.

“What. The. Fuck.”

-

@okayshoto @joselyn001 @onceuponateenagetrash @dyingsleeping @iwannabeapogue @meaganjm @rafesobxs @flossy2929 @unfortunatekiwitrash @scottybitch @asimpwriter @amaya124 @tommy-tommo @thatshithurted8 @fallincindy @marvelwhor3 @rafeswh0ree @kookap @supernaturallydc-blog @blank-velvet @alaniskauany @kiiim8 @witchywrter @kaitlyn2907 @heyimflo @overcookedpastasause @tsukkiswifeey @spidey-d00d @anonymousobxfan @gotmeinloveagain @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @lexi-writes @classydragonthingknight @belongtoyou-u @badbussylol @savannah-elliott @angelreyesgirl100 @haterpenny @beehappyyy @alwaysclassyeagle @maybankslut @kayleea122 @clearbolts @lovelyxtom @christianaevans @jemimah-b99 @opierdalacz @dangerdolns @wildflowerliv @classygirlything21 @pogueslandia 

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smuts #rafe cameron imaginens #rafe cameron one shot #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagines #outerbanks #outerbanks x reader #outerbanks imagines #outerbanks smut

[mermaidsirennikita]

Can you please recommend some historical romances where the hero is a slutty simp lol that sounds perfect. Thank you so much!!

For sure!

Of course, you have to start with Devil in Winter by Lisa Kleypas, which is the definitive "oh god, this whore is actually a simp" book. The guy begins the novel with being like "listen I fuck around but I don't do feelings" and ends with one of the most ridiculous (amazing) pre-sex spiels I've ever read where he's like "I want to pour all my essence into you and have you so close to me that we can never be pulled apart and I want to make you come so many times that you can't handle it anymore and just want to die please let me do it" and it's great. Should be prefaced by It Happened One Autumn for full effect. The hero in that one is less slutty, but otherwise the dynamic is extremely show!Kathony.

Lorraine Heath loves a slutty simp. The Earl Takes All (the famous Gorilla Twins book; hero's twin dies by gorilla attack, hero pretends to be his twin so that his pregnant sister-in-law doesn't have a miscarriage; this plan goes about as well as you'd think) has a hero is such a fucking whore that when he attends his own funeral everyone is like "Jesus, that guy was a mess". Falls in love with his pregnant sister-in-law and discovers she has a Plot Important dirty mouth and he is OVERCOME.

Waking Up with The Duke, where the hero has to fuck his best friend's wife so that she'll get pregnant... the wife he's always secretly longed for while developing a reputation as London's greatest lover... is... a lot. There's a scene where they're out on a boat, because their Sex For Procreation Appointments quickly turn into actual dates, and he starts to try to eat her out in the middle of the lake and she's like "we're literally gonna die out here, you're the stupidest man I know, also a little to the left".

The Good Girl's Guide to Rakes by Eva Leigh has a great little older brother's best friend romance where the heroine wants to take a walk on the wild side (she's a virgin who can't drive) before getting married. The hero is like "what could go wrong with this?" By the end of the book his own brother is like "stop looking at her like that IN PUBLIC, you're giving the game away!!!"

The Duke I Tempted by Scarlett Peckham has a literally sexually submissive duke (yet oh so dominant in the right ways) in it. If you were intrigued by that shot of Anthony on his knees with Kate's thumb in his mouth, you would probably read this.

To be followed up by The Earl I Ruined, about a plucky gossipy young woman who isn't a total bitch but nonetheless accidentally on purpose ruined her brother's best friend's life. Brother's best friend has been longing for her for years and has big Sexy Secret, and this does come in hand in ways involving an apple.

Nine Rules to Break When Romancing A Rake, obviously. Sarah MacLean LOOOOOVES a slutty simp. Ralston does the whole "OH GOD I'M SO SORRY FOR MAKING SWEET LOVE TO YOU IN NOT A BED, MARRY ME" thing so well. Also, great fat rep, and an amazing scene where he tells the heroine that she's been very mean to her breasts by binding them for a fencing match, and unfortunately he's going to have to take care of them because of that.

The Rogue Not Taken also has an extremely slutty, extremely simpish hero. He eats her out in a moving carriage. It's a lot.

Devil in Spring by Lisa Kleypas has this as well--mostly because the hero is his father's (Devil in Winter) son. The Lords St. Vincent, once and future, are complete whores and love serving their lady loves.

I think Sweetest Scoundrel is probably the Elizabeth Hoyt book that matches this most? That and Scandalous Desires. Her heroes are usually a bit more on the brutal side, but in these books the men are like... gone. In Scandalous Desires the hero and heroine are fucking hard at one point, and she tells him she loves him in the middle of it, and he's too damaged to like say it back immediately, but he does instantly come inside her lol. Like. Just hearing I love you from her sends him over the edge.

The Wisteria Society of Lady Scoundrels has a steampunk fantasy Victoria romance take on this. The hero is a slutty pirate and the heroine is like "mmmm nope" and he just *_* the entire book.

Her Night with The Duke by Diana Quincy. Slutty, slutty duke has a one night stand with a widow at a tavern. Finds out she's the stepmother of the woman he's been courting. If you enjoyed the FORBIDDEN DESIRES aspect of season 2 of Bridgerton... lmao.... this has that down. He's like BUT I'VE TASTED YOUR ESSENCE and she's like "not as far as the record is concerned".

#romance novel blogging #also tagging #bridgerton #bc i based my recs off of what i think you'd like if you enjoyed show!anthony

[jobean12-blog]

Good morning, Jo! So as you know I had a haircut yesterday and now I'm feeling like a brand new confident me 🥰. Which got me thinking of a reader who's always shy around an equally shy Bucky (or Sam!). With the power of a new haircut she walks up to the man of her dreams and asks him out and he loves it ❤.

Walkin' on Sunshine

Pairing: Bucky x female reader

Word Count: 566

Summary: You've got yourself a new do and you feel good, you look good and you're ready to ask the man of your dreams out.

Author's Note: Thank you so much my sweet Mina @lookiamtrying Thank you for this lovely request and for your patience with me writing it! I love it and I know this feeling, it's awesome! I hope you enjoy this! Love you! Thank you all so much for reading and much love always! ❤❤❤ Divider by the lovely @imerdwarf

Warnings: fluffs and laughs and lots of smiles and slightly shy!bucky

Gifs not mine: Credit for the first two go to @bisexual-apocalypse and the third to @fishragnarsson Thank you so much :)

“When are you gonna ask her out man? It’s clear she likes you!” Sam prods as he and Bucky work on the boat.

“What makes you say that? Every time I talk to her I’m stumbling over my words and totally fucking up,” Bucky replies.

Sam grunts as he tries to pull a piece of rusty metal off the boat, his efforts doing little to move it. Bucky stands and walks over, taking the piece in his left hand and ripping it off with ease. Sam gives him the stink eye but mumbles a “thanks.”

Bucky smiles.

“It’s really entertaining that’s for sure and I can’t believe it either but I’m sure she likes you,” Sam continues with his own smirk.

Bucky sits down on the edge of the boat, mindlessly flipping the wrench in his hand as he contemplates Sam’s words.

“What if I ask her out and she says no? Huh? Then what?” Bucky asks with raised brows.

“Then at least you tried! What else are you gonna do? Hang out with me all day on the boat? I don’t think so,” Sam laughs.

Bucky hangs his head and grumbles something inaudible. Sam’s laughter gets louder before he elbows Bucky in the shoulder.

“Come on, let’s get back to work!”

You walk down the dock with an extra pep in your step, the warm sunshine dancing across the lake and making it sparkle. With a smile you spot Sam and Bucky on the boat, Bucky’s metal arm sparkling just like the water in the sun.

Sam sees you first and stops mid hammer. “Wow.”

Bucky looks at Sam.

“Do you need help hammering now?” Bucky teases.

Sam doesn’t answer and just keeps staring in your direction. Bucky finally turns around and his mouth drops open as you get closer.

“You can say that again,” he says only loud enough for Sam to hear.

“Look at you,” Sam says when you get to the boat.

“Hey guys!” you chime, waving to them.

Sam says hi and gives you a dazzling smile. “Love the new look.”

“Thanks Sam,” you answer sweetly.

Bucky just stares. You smile his way.

“Hi Buck.”

He keeps staring. Sam stabs him with the hammer.

“Hey doll,” he finally says. “You uh, wow. You look…I love it. Beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you giggle. “So how much longer are you guys working?”

“I’m not working,” Bucky says as he stands and pushes the screwdriver toward Sam.

Sam quirks a brow and leaves Bucky hanging. Bucky pulls his eyes away from you long enough to scowl at Sam and put the screwdriver away.

“Ok great. Want to go grab a bite to eat?” you ask. “I’m starving.”

“I’d love to,” Bucky answers quickly, wiping his hands on a rag.

“Oh, I see how it is Buck. Beautiful woman shows up and you’re gone,” Sam jokes.

Bucky rubs the back of his head and shuffles his feet. “Well. Yeah.”

You throw your head back with laughter, winking at your friend Sam and holding your hand out for Bucky.

“Come on Buck. I get hangry when I’m hungry.”

He takes your hand and steps off the boat, bravely keeping his hold on it as you walk back down the dock.

“I’m always hangry,” Bucky laughs, squeezing your hand.

You giggle and squeeze back.

“Actually, I take that back,” he starts. “Right now…I’m just happy…and a little hungry.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky #bucky fluff #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x female!reader

[yoongiseesawmp3]

punch me - jungkook

back again with another self indulgent fic! enjoy

summary: daycare worker jungkook invites you, his favorite coworker, to the lake with his friends. why the lake? he wants you to see his new sleeve and whipping his shirt off in the classroom isn’t quite acceptable. plus he just wants to spend more time with you. there’s no harm in that.

warnings: none i think! 

word count: 3.5k

you work at a daycare, which isn’t a bad thing. it’s pretty chill, you like the kids and you can take off work pretty easy because there’s tons of subs. but also, not many people are bringing their kids in lately. so that means you and the other staff have been digging into the snack closet so “they won’t go to waste.”

jungkook was the one who suggested it. well, maybe suggest is the wrong word? he got caught up to his elbows in the bin of sweets, so when he turned to face your boss he immediately went into charming mode so he wouldn’t get in trouble. and once jungkook said it, everyone else thought it was a good idea too. hell, you’ve stopped buying snacks for yourself because you just sneak them from work now. wait. don’t tell anyone that. 

anyway, it was a great idea, but that was two weeks ago. now the snack closet is empty and you have a room full of toddlers on the verge of anarchy because of it. because of jungkook.

you just watched him pass by your room, arms laden with cheez-its and rice krispie treats, and you know for a fact he doesn’t have a class today. he’s only here to touch up the mural he’s been asked to paint near the front desk, so all of those snacks must be for him. 

you get the teacher from next door to keep an eye on your kiddos so you can sneak to the front and steal a couple bags of cheez-its (the kids don’t need their own bag, they’ll never know). but you get there and find yourself distracted from completing your mission.

jungkook is wearing old sweats, spattered with paint here and there, and he’s stooped over a bucket of water with a paintbrush between his teeth. it’s cute. 

“jungkook,” you semi-shout to get his attention. you get a sort of “hmgpfh?” in response, and that’s enough for you. “do you seriously need this many snacks? just for yourself?”

“i’m a growing boy, y/n,” he replies, taking the paintbrush out of his mouth so he can dip it into a paper plate covered in red shades. “you can have one.”

“i need three, actually,” you reply, picking them up as you speak. 

“are you a growing boy too?”

“no, i have six little kids with bad attitudes waiting for me in my room so i’ll be taking these off your hands,” you explain, finally turning to look at the work jungkook has put on the wall. “wow.”

“you like it?” jungkook asks, turning to look at you with a smile and a dancing light in his eyes. “is the tree too much?”

“no, oh my god, this is really good, jungkook,” you assure him, tracing your eyes over the wall full of characters and scenery from various children’s books.

“thank you,” he replies. “it’s better than wiping asses all day.”

“watch your mouth.”

“why don’t you watch it for me?” he quips back, peeking up at you with a smirk.

“what does that even mean, jungkook.”

“just thought i’d try to make you blush,” he says with a shrug. “didn’t work this time.”

“i don’t think it works anytime, actually,” you mumble, but he ignores it.

“hey, are you busy this weekend?” he questions, inspecting a bottle of green before squirting some directly on the wall. 

“are you sure you know what you’re doing?” you ask with a laugh. you watch him frantically spread the paint around to resemble a bush.

“shut up. are you busy this weekend?” he asks again. 

“i don’t think so, why?”

“come to the lake with me,” he says as he stands up to meet your eyes. “one of my friends convinced his uncle to let us borrow his boat. it’ll be fun.”

“do any of you know how to drive a boat?” you ask. “the safety of all this is what would keep me away.”

“i’m sure yoongi hyung will be able to do it,” jungkook says halfheartedly. “but still, the boat could just stay docked. it would be fun either way.”

“when are you going?” 

“saturday, so i could come by yours and get you on my way?” he asks with a lot of hope in his voice. you shrug before responding.

“why not? sure.”

-

so, jungkook texts you late friday that he’ll pick you up at 7am saturday. what the fuck. you wouldn’t have said yes if you knew you had to leave that early, but jungkook explained that he’s the only one the uncle trusts to have the keys, so he has to get there before the world wakes up. but also, has this man met jungkook? jungkook, being trustworthy with small, easy to lose items? please.

nevertheless, you’re up bright and early on saturday with a very large thermos of coffee. jungkook texts you right at 7 that he’s outside, and when you walk out you see him at the back of his car trying to force something into the trunk.

“whatcha doin?” you ask as you approach, noticing his strong legs in his (surprisingly) short swim trunks. you’re now realizing you’ve never seen him in anything other than baggy pants, so his legs are a little...distracting. 

“trying to keep the beer bottles from rattling,” he says through clenched teeth.

“and you’re trying to fuse them together with sheer force?”

“no, i’m stuffing a towel in between them in the box but it’s really tight.”

“if hoseok were here he’d make a ‘that’s what she said’ joke,” you jest. 

“i thought about it,” jungkook replies. “so i guess that counts?”

as he talks, he rearranges the other things in the trunk so it can close easy, and as he lowers the door he turns to you.

“you look nice,” he says, eyes drifting over you quickly. he notices the coffee cup in your hand and smiles. “any chance that has the sickly sweet creamer in it that i like?”

“how would i know what coffee creamer you like?” you ask, slightly annoyed that he just assumes you pay that much attention to him but also annoyed that you got caught. 

“because you like me,” he replies, grabbing the thermos and taking a sip. “oh my god, i love you.”

“you better be talking to the coffee,” you warn him as you grab the coffee back from him. 

“i’ll say it to you someday,” he promises, walking around to the passenger side of the car before opening your door. “if you let me.”

“what’s gotten into you lately?” you ask with a smile. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a little crush on jungkook, and recently it’s gotten worse. after you started working together, you noticed how many shared friends you have, so you’ve been hanging out more and more the past few months. jungkook has always been more than nice to you, but these flirty little comments are a welcome change. you hope they keep coming.

“is it cool if we stop at the gas station real quick?” he asks as he gets into the driver’s seat. “it’s an hour drive and i need gas and snacks.”

“fine with me. how about cheez-its and rice krispies?” 

“i had my fill of those at work this week, thanks,” jungkook laughs. 

at the gas station, you offer to get the snacks while jungkook stays at the pump. you’re looking for your favorite gas station snack, a crappy fruit and cheese danish that you could eat every day. jungkook finds you bent over in the sweets aisle, ass poking out too much for him to pass by and not push your face right into the premade baked goods. he considers it, because funny, but mean. he also considers passing behind you and smacking your ass as he does so you’ll move. tempting, but maybe too far. he opts for just bending down next to you to see what’s so interesting.

“what are we looking for?” he asks, scanning the labels for something to try.

“cherry and cheese,” you tell him, moving a blueberry danish out of the way, hoping to find what you want, but no luck.

“what? that sounds gross,” jungkook replies as he stands. “you like that?”

“it’s one of my favorites,” you tell him as you move into a squat. jungkook slides behind you and looks for his favorite jelly candy as you keep searching. “what’s so gross about it? they go well together.”

“like us.”

“what?” 

“huh?” jungkook asks, staring down at you with a glint in his eyes. the glare you give him is definitely ignored as jungkook looks back up and spots something on the top shelf. he grabs it and hands it to you. “this what you want?”

“yeah, it is,” you reply. “thanks. get another one for yourself.”

“why?” he asks, screwing his face up in disgust.

“because i know you’ll want to try some even with the way you’re acting right now, and i don’t like sharing.” 

“whatever you say,” he grumbles with a roll of his eyes. “now help me find the sour worms.”

-

jungkook tried the danish, and he hated it. 

have you ever seen a baby eating a lemon? it was like that, except jungkook spat what was in his mouth into his hand and then tossed it out the window of his car as he drove. sure, that whole part was gross, but he looked cute when he didn’t like the danish. who doesn’t love babies making silly faces? 

“i can’t believe you like that, but i can’t believe you convinced me to try it,” jungkook complains.

“kook, i think if i told you electrocuting yourself was fun you would try it just because i said i liked it,” you reply. he thinks about it for a moment before nodding, a slight tint gracing his cheeks.

“you’re right, but that’s not gonna make me finish your gross choice of snack.”

“fine, more for me,” you say, grabbing the discarded treat in the cupholder. you take a bite, not really caring that jungkook’s mouth was on it before you.

“omg.”

“did you just say ‘omg’ out loud?”

“yes, why?”

“you’re a loser,” you laugh, taking another bite, causing jungkook to gasp again. “what?”

“it’s like we just kissed,” he replies, almost giggling through his toothy smile.

“what do you even mean by that.”

“we just swapped spit.”

“you’re disgusting. stop talking.”

“hey, you’re the one that wants to kiss me,” jungkook says with a shrug. you want to protest, but you don’t want to convince him that you’re totally against kissing him. you’d actually very much like to plant your lips on his and never let go, but life doesn’t always give you what you want. jungkook notices your silence and smiles. “you’re not denying it.”

“i’m being polite.”

“mmmhmm,” he replies, failing to hide how pleased he is as he pulls into a treacherously sloped driveway. “we’re here.”

-

it’s turning into a beautiful day. the morning chill is starting to slowly melt away, and you find yourself sweating slightly as you help jungkook move all of the junk from his car. he insisted on doing it himself, but you felt super weird just standing there while he huffed and puffed carrying things back and forth, so you finally jumped in. it’s still just the two of you here, the friend’s uncle had successfully given you both a crash course on how to handle the boat, and you’re confident the two of you can share that info with yoongi when he gets here and hopefully no one will get hurt. 

speaking of yoongi, he said he was a few minutes away, and that was more than a few minutes ago. maybe he and hoseok got lost. the final four (as they’ve been calling themselves all morning) will be here later because taehyung didn’t have a swimsuit and they had to make a pit stop at walmart to get him one. you’re familiar with jungkook’s friends, and comfortable with a couple of them, but you don’t know much about taehyung aside from his interest in art and now his view on the boxer vs briefs debate (he was apparently very picky when trying on said swimsuits). but whatever. they’ll get here eventually. 

before you know it, you and jungkook have unloaded all of the snacks, alcohol and water accessories from his car, so all that’s left to do is hang out until the boys get here. 

“you ready?” jungkook asks, offering you his hand. you give him a questioning look and he motions to the boat. “c’mon, we’re not gonna sit here in the sun while we wait for them. it’s hot as balls.”

“but it’s hot as balls on the boat too,” you counter as you take his outstretched hand and let him pull you behind him on the dock.

“yeah, but at least we’re on a boat.”

he leads you to the edge of the shaky dock and let’s go of your hand momentarily to steady himself as he steps over to the boat. he turns back and offers his hand again, giving yours a squeeze as he guides you over the gap of water. the boat is slippery, so you lose your footing slightly and jungkook reacts quickly by wrapping you in his arms. the boat is bobbing a little too much for your liking, but jungkook is giggling and that distracts you enough from the fact that you could’ve fallen just now. 

as you both stand there awkwardly staring at each other, you don’t notice yoongi’s car pulling up to the top of the hill and its two passengers walking out toward the water. 

“oooh, what do we have here?” hoseok asks as he sees you holding onto each other for dear life. you separate quickly, making the newcomers laugh.

“don’t stop because we’re here,” yoongi replies.

“yeah, i can hug yoongi if it makes things less awkward for you,” hoseok offers.

“please don’t do that,” yoongi quips back.

“i’ll get you when you least expect it, hyung.”

jungkook, still standing very close to you, clears his throat and waves yoongi over. you scoot around them to help hoseok with the bag of food in his hands.

“are you sure you know how to drive a boat, yoongi?” you ask. 

“i’m a fast learner,” he replies.

“that’s not very reassuring.”

“i’ve done it before, y/n,” he laughs. “just not with this kind of motor, but it won’t take long to figure out. everything will be nice and safe, i promise.”

“besides, we have jungkookie here to save you even if hyung throws us overboard,” hoseok jokes.

speaking of jungkook, he’s rustling around the boat, trying to figure out how to put the suncover up. his jacket from this morning has been tossed aside, and he’s in a baggy tank top. you allow yourself a moment to admire the way his muscles ripple as he works when you notice -

“you finished your sleeve?” you ask him. his head snaps up in your direction and he smiles.

“enjoying the show?” he teases.

“answer the question.”

“honestly, i wanted it to be a surprise,” he replies, stretching the arm out and turning it around as best he can.

“so what, you were gonna take your shirt off and punch me and that’s how i was supposed to find out?”

“are you offering?”

“i’m just mad you didn’t take me with you! i was gonna get something this time,” you complain with a slight pout, which jungkook scrunches his nose at. you’re really cute, he thinks to himself.

“my artist called me last minute and said they had an opening, so i went in as soon as i could. i think you were still handling six hungry toddlers,” he explains.

“so is that why you invited me today?” you laugh. “you couldn’t think of a reasonable way to take your shirt off in front of me so i had to come with you to the lake for the big reveal?”

“jungkook, if you say yes, then jin and i are giving you the sex talk. you gotta up your game,” yoongi mumbles.

“no,” jungkook insists, ignoring yoongi. “i invited you today because i think it’ll be fun and i wanted you to be here.”

“and he wanted to see you in a swimsuit,” hoseok adds, pulling some cookies out of the bag of snacks. he offers them to you and you gladly accept. then he turns and pops one into yoongi’s mouth as he yawns, before he tosses one over to jungkook, happily shouting “a cookie for kookie!”

“that’s cute,” you smile, liking the way hoseok babies jungkook. it’s got him flustered, and it’s kind of adorable.

“kook, did you hear that? y/n thinks you’re cute,” hoseok sing-songs.

“i- that’s not...i didn’t say that,” you stumble. “the rhyming was cute. if anything, i called hoseok cute.”

“everyone thinks hobi is cute,” yoongi replies. “but jungkook? eh.”

“eh?!” jungkook shouts. “i’m just eh to you hyung?”

“now you hurt the boy’s feelings,” you tell yoongi, and he shrugs.

“you should’ve just called him cute.”

you look over and notice jungkook is staring at you, an eyebrow quirked in a challenge. hoseok is watching and munching like this is a movie, and yoongi looks between you and the so-called cutie and laughs to himself.

“well?” jungkook asks.

“i mean, yeah, you are cute, sometimes,” you begin. “not when you’re being annoying though.”

“i’m not annoying!”

“yes you are,” hoseok and yoongi agree in unison. jungkook huffs at that and looks back at you.

“now my feelings are hurt again. talk more about me being cute,” he pleads as he finally gives up on the suncover and joins you on the wraparound couch of the boat. he’s looking at you with the absolute worst puppy dog eyes, so you keep going.

“uh, you’re cute with the kids i guess? like when they use you as their personal playground and you’re all giggling. that’s cute,” you offer. “or when the little girls get hurt, they always run to you first and you cheer them up with sweet songs.”

“hmm, family planning perhaps?” you hear hoseok joke with yoongi. 

you would go on (or deny how often you’ve thought about jungkook being a dad) but the other car of boys has finally arrived, so the two instigators leave the boat to help them unload. that leaves you next to jungkook, who’s not done talking about the cute stuff.

“i didn’t know you noticed all of that,” jungkook whispers, suddenly sitting very close to you. you try to act like it’s nothing, but he stops you. “ah ah, now it’s my turn.”

“your turn? for what?”

“for talking about how cute you are,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing ever. if he had his way he would be pulling up a whole powerpoint presentation right now, but he has to rely on his words, which is fine. “first of all, you have great style. you’re maybe the only person who can make the daycare uniform look like a capital o outfit everyday you come in. and the way your eyes light up when a kid tells you a story, or shows you something they made? that’s my favorite. wish you would look at me like that someday.”

“you...what?” you almost can’t believe where this conversation has gone, but it’s making your heart beat faster and you’re not ready for it to stop.

“i wish i could make your eyes light up like i’m the only person you can see,” he clarifies, locking eyes with you. he holds your gaze for a moment before his eyes flick down to your lips. you wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t so close, but the movement was obvious. jungkook wants to kiss you. 

“and what would you do if they did?” you challenge, repeating the same glance from his eyes down to his lips. your gaze lingers a little longer, and when you look back up at jungkook you know what’s coming next. that doesn’t mean it’s not shocking, though.

kissing jungkook is like pulling down a piece of the sun and slamming it into your chest. the warmth that he exudes, and the softness of his lips as they caress yours, it’s perfect. but - 

“wait,” jungkook mumbles against your lips. you pull back, worried.

“what?”

“i did that wrong.”

“wha..how? jungkook, i thought that was nice,” you assure him but he shakes his head.

“i did it wrong,” he insists, looking at you and noticing the shine in your eyes that he was hoping for. “can i kiss you again?”

you nod and let out a quiet “yes” before jungkook is cupping your face and connecting your lips again. this one is stronger, more intentional and you’re glad he wanted to try again. not that the first kiss was bad, your mind is still reeling from that first one. but this feels like a kiss full of love. it feels like a kiss from someone that’s been pining for you over bags of cheez-its and funny kid stories, but they didn’t know how to tell you how badly they wanted to do this. jungkook didn’t know how to tell you, but now he doesn’t have to because this kiss tells you everything you need to know.

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jeongguk #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook one shot

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#184

“Frankie, c’mover here. Let me go over some things. First of all welcome home. Six years in the Navy made a man out of you. You’re looking good. When I heard you were coming home to live, I told your papa that you can have your old job again. I’m glad you accepted. There are things that have changed. I’ll go over that in just a minute. Say, do you remember your going away party up at the cabin?...

“Oh my god, we all got so fucking sloshed. It started right after you got your anchor tattoo. You were eighteen, but none of us cared that you were drinking under age. I remember that we had to get something out of my boat at the lake. It was only a couple hundred feet yet we were staggering. You know what I remembered real good? It was having to take a piss and before I knew what was going on, you had my cock in your mouth while I was still pissing. And you were confessing how much you have always wanted me.

“The next morning at breakfast I came in on your mom serving a table full of your family and friends. You had a panicked look on your face, and all I could say was ‘Christ was I drunk. I don’t remember anything from last night.’ You looked relieved. Still remember that look. And yes I remember everything.

“And before you wonder, you will be swinging on my cock in a few moments. I thought about you ever since you left. But more so, I wanted that piss blow job again. So I went hunting for gay boys like yourself. There’s none around here, well none that I know of. I heard about the rest stop on the interstate seventy miles away. I got some of the best blow jobs ever. I went further up the interstate to the town of Tyler. They have a dirty book store. The booths have glory holes. Yes, I now know what they are. You know you have to play videos if you are going to get blown.

“This one time, my dick is through the hole, and I’m not paying attention to the video until I look down to see this boy getting fucked and pissed on by a bunch of biker types, passed around like some whore bitch. What’s interesting is that boy had your tattoo. It was clear that it was you. Hell the title was ‘Biker Semen for the Seaman’. So I started following you, always pounding my pud while watching. And it’s not even just fucking and sucking. You are one twisted boy. I laughed when you were the cover boy for ‘Make Room for Daddy’ holding an enema bag. I never knew a clean cut boy could be so nasty.

“The thing is as I was watching you do this, I wanted to be there with you, to make you do more. Now my favorite video of yours was ‘The Lieutenant and His Slaves.’ The other scenes were boring, but yours where he shaved you and then chained you under a toilet seat with table legs, fuck, that was hot. The fucker was hairier than I am. I thought he was going to take a dump in your mouth. I’m glad he didn’t. But you tongued his bunghole for a long time. He jerked himself off with his balls slapping your forehead all the while calling you every name he could, and your dick was rock hard. When I watch it, if I haven’t shot my load by the time he smacks your dick once and you shoot this huge load, I’m shooting right along with you. Then he made you eat his ass for another five minutes. Fuck, every time I see it, I want to be him.

“As much as I have played in town, I have never had that done to me. But I watch that video over and over. I think that was the last movie you did. I looked and looked. Nothing since. Your papa told me you were over seas the last three years. That’s probably why. So here we are. You are a fucking piss drinking, dick sucking, butt fucking, ass eating, sperm burper. And no one in town is any wiser. So… get the fuck naked and on your knees you fucking faggot. Take my cock out. I have to take one hell of a piss. I’ve been saving it all morning.

“Being my pisser is now part of your job fag. As is getting naked when we are on this side of the farm. Oh fuck, does that feel good. You know, that apartment above my barn where Billy Joe Adams lived in is empty. Why don’t you move your fag shit in there? My old lady won’t know what’s up. And besides, your papa was happy to have you home, but he was enjoying his time alone with your mama. I was going to blackmail you into being my slave bitch, but something tells me that you aren’t going to need to be coerced. One of the first things I will do to you is shave you smooth. What the…? Did you just cum? Mother fucker you just did! And without touching yourself too? Next time give me a fucking heads up. I want to see shit like that. Ok, I think now it’s time for you to lick my shithole clean. It’s hairy isn’t it? I expect five minutes. Get in there. Get in there… oh hell fuck, oh my fucking god. Jesus! This is going to be required of you several times a day. Fucking hell. You fags know what the fuck you are doing.”

[junghelioseok]

clandestine. | 03

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 9.2k [3/6]

notes: this will likely be my last update of this fic until the new year, because i have two (2!!!) other fics that i’m planning to post in december, including another jungoo one, so! please look forward to those, and enjoy this chapter in the meantime! 

warnings: jk’s massive noona kink: a recurring yet warranted warning, me absolutely fucking up everything about korea’s geography probably, semi-public? fingering???, jungkook....... shall we say, rocks the boat, there is one (1) dick pic but no one’s complaining

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 

Monday - 11:27am

Kim Taehyung added you to the group: the great escape!!!!!! 🏝🚗💨

[11:27am] Taehyung: let’s gooooooooooo!!

[11:27am] Jisoo: ???

[11:28am] Lisa: go where?

[11:28am] Taehyung: parks lake house this weekend! we’re going on vacation!

[11:28am] You: hold up tae, we haven’t even asked our parents if we can have the house yet

[11:29am] Chimchim: oh yeah lmao

[11:29am] Chimchim: u wanna go ask noona??

[11:29am] You: nope

[11:30am] Chimchim: ugh, fine

[11:30am] Chimchim: u big baby

[11: 31am] You: 🙄

[11: 37am] Chimchim: they said yes!

[11:38am] Taehyung: LET’S GOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

[11:38am] Minho: sweet 👍

[11:38am] Taemin: tight

[11:39am] Jungkook: dope

[11:40AM] Jisoo: you’re all idiots 🙄

Tuesday - 2:34pm

[2:34pm] Chimchim: i’ve secured the van

[2:34pm] Chimchim: for the trip i mean

[2:35pm] Taehyung: noice

[2:35pm] You: 10 people aren’t gonna fit in mom’s van, chim

[2:37pm] Jungkook: i can drive too

[2:37pm] Chimchim: 👍👍

[2:37pm] Chimchim: see? nothing to worry about

[2:38pm] Jungkook: yeah noona, nothing to worry about. nothing at all.

Wednesday - 9:49pm

[9:49pm] Taehyung: oh my god we need FOOD

[9:49pm] Lisa: you’re just realizing that now?

[9:50pm] Taehyung: shut up

[9:50pm] Taehyung: i have a cooler

[9:51pm] Lisa: and ice?

[9:51pm] Taehyung: ………… i will buy some ice

[9:52pm] You: there’s a grocery store on the way up that we always used to go to, we can stock up there

[9:52pm] Taehyung: 👍

[9:54pm] You: you also better remember to bring your own towels. and more than one change of clothing

[9:54pm] Taehyung: 👍👍

[9:55pm] Chimchim: yes, mom

///

The day of the trip finds you standing in the foyer, rifling through your purse to make sure you have all the essentials. Off in the distance, you can hear Jimin sprinting around frantically, catching the briefest glimpse of his ruffled blond hair before he disappears again into the depths of the house.

“Chim, I swear to god. Why didn’t you pack earlier?”

“I did!” your brother whines, poking his head out from the living room where his suitcase is lying wide open, belongings scattered in every direction. “It’s just that—oh, fuck. Do you have my toothbrush?”

“Why would I have your toothbrush?” you deadpan.

He ignores you, and not two seconds later, he lets out an excited shout. “Never mind! I found it!”

You sigh and rub your temples. The trip hasn’t even begun, yet you’re already feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. “I’m going outside,” you call to your brother, who grunts in acknowledgement. Opening up the front door, you drag your suitcase out onto the sun-drenched porch, relishing the welcome breeze that caresses your cheeks and whispers through your hair.

The rare moment of peace is broken almost immediately by the rumble of a starting engine—the sound shuddery and wavering before it finally evens out into a steady, mechanical purr. It’s coming from nearby, and your gaze immediately travels to the neighboring driveway where a beat-up sedan sits, torn between exasperation and amusement when you see Jungkook waving at you from the driver’s seat.

“I’m coming to pick you up!” he calls through the open window, and you hold back your laughter as he reverses out of his driveway, rolls ten feet down the street, and pulls into yours.

“Was that really necessary?” you ask once he’s parked.

“Of course it was,” he replies, hopping out to grab your suitcase. You watch as he pops the trunk and loads it inside, and blanch when you realize what that means.

“Wait a second. Am I riding with you?”

Some emotion flashes across his face, but he wipes it away before you can identify it. “Would that be so terrible?”

It’s been one week since Taehyung’s party, and Jisoo’s warning still rings loud and clear in your brain. Still, you feign nonchalance and tamp down the uptick in your heart rate, offering him a shrug. “Just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

He grunts. An awkward silence settles over you as he adjusts your suitcase in the trunk beside his, and you distract yourself by fiddling with your purse strap until he slams the lid closed.

“So…” you start after a few seconds. “Are we picking anyone else up?”

“Yugyeom,” Jungkook replies, opening up the driver’s side door and climbing in. Hesitantly, you make your way over to the other side of the car, wondering if there’s any way you can avoid sitting in the passenger seat without looking like a total weirdo.

“Oh! Jungkook’s here already?” Jimin exits the house at last, lugging his suitcase and a smaller backpack. He shoves both into the backseat of your mother’s van before coming over, frowning when he sees you hovering near the trunk. “Why are you just standing there?”

You make a face at him. “We’re waiting for you, dumbass. Who’s riding with you?”

“Tae, Minho, and Taemin,” your brother replies. “Didn’t you see the group chat this morning?”

“I muted it days ago,” you admit. “You guys were annoying as hell.” Then another thought strikes you, your brain belatedly registering the names Jimin listed. “Wait, what about the girls? Aren’t they coming?”

Your brother rolls his eyes. “Jisoo’s working as a camp counselor this summer, and Lisa has other vacation plans. Maybe if you hadn’t muted the chat, you’d have known that.”

He has a point, though you aren’t about to admit that. You’re also wise enough not to inquire about the third member of the trio, remembering Jisoo’s revelation at the party. It’s no surprise that Chaeyoung isn’t joining you for the weekend—you’d want to avoid extended periods of time with your ex-boyfriend too. At the thought, your gaze reluctantly flits back over to the ex in question, who raises an expectant brow when he catches your eye.

“Ready?” he calls out the open window.

No, you want to say. But Jimin has already clambered into the van and slammed the door shut, and Jungkook’s car is blocking the van in the driveway so you suck in a deep breath and slide into the passenger seat beside your dark-haired neighbor.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

Jungkook nods and throws the car into reverse. One hand splays across the wheel while the other comes up to rest on the back of your seat, and your breath hitches when he cranes around to check his blind spots, his face suddenly too close for comfort.

He’s playing with you, you tell yourself firmly, leaning back until your back’s pressed against the door and you can safely breathe again. Chaeyoung. Think about what he did to Chaeyoung.

“Hey, I made a roadtrip mix,” Jungkook pipes up all of a sudden. He grabs his phone from where it’s resting on the dashboard, tapping at the screen until the first strains of a melody filter through the car speakers. “It should last us the whole way.”

You perk up when you recognize the tune. “Oh! I love this song.”

Jungkook watches out of the corner of his eye as you bob your head to the beat, before smiling down at his lap. “Yeah. I know.”

///

Yugyeom lives on the other side of town, in a sprawling, winding neighborhood that sends your brain—and your phone’s GPS—into a complete and total tailspin. “Wait, wait—hang on. I think you missed a turn. You must have.”

Jungkook’s face crumples in confusion as he slows the car to a crawl, drawing a few irritated honks from the cars behind you. “There weren’t any streets back there, though.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, twisting in your seat to get a better look. “The directions said to take a right in… oh, fuck, hang on. We’re not even on a digitized road anymore, apparently.”

Jungkook heaves a sigh, but when you glance up at him, he’s wearing a grin. “Come on, Noona. You’re supposed to be my navigator. I’m depending on you.”

“I only know how to get us to the lake house, not Yugyeom’s,” you sniff defensively. “This is way beyond my pay grade.”

Jungkook chortles and reaches out, extending an open palm. “Can I see your phone for a sec?” You nod, handing it over, and he clicks his tongue as he turns it upside-down—rotating it a full three hundred and sixty degrees before returning it. “We might be lost,” he declares.

“Gee, you don’t say.”

He chuckles again. Picking up his own phone, he swipes a thumb across the screen before handing the unlocked device over. “Here, call Yugyeom. Put him on speaker, yeah?”

You hum in acknowledgement and scroll down in his contacts until you find the other boy’s name, clicking it open. A photo fills the screen as it rings—clearly a group photo from the way it’s cropped, zoomed in on Yugyeom and the ridiculous face he’s making.

“Is this from graduation?” you ask curiously.

Jungkook blinks and tears his gaze away from the windshield. “Huh?”

“Yugyeom’s contact photo,” you clarify, tilting the phone screen so he can see. “He’s got robes on.”

“Oh.” He looks away again, cheeks flushing. “Yeah. It’s lame, I know.”

You shake your head. “Don’t say that. I think it’s nice.”

Jungkook doesn’t get a chance to respond, but it’s impossible to miss the grin that crinkles his face and settles there. There’s a staticky hum as the line connects, and then Yugyeom’s voice is filling the vehicle, sounding as if he’s just rolled out of bed.

“Whaddaya want?”

“We can’t find your fucking house, man,” Jungkook says bluntly, turning onto a street that you’ve driven down at least three times by this point. “Where do you live?”

On the other end of the line, Yugyeom sighs. “Okay, okay. What street are you guys on?”

That gives Jungkook pause. “Uhh, Cedar Street? Oak Avenue? It has a tree name.”

“Neither of those streets exist, dude.”

“Birch Boulevard!” you exclaim. “We’re on Birch Boulevard. I saw the sign a while back.”

“Ah, okay. You’re close, then. Do you see a sign for Linden Lane?”

You glance around until you alight on a signpost. “Yeah.”

“Turn right onto it. Then take the first left, go past the cul-de-sac, and another left. Do not pass Go, and do not collect two-hundred dollars. I’m the fifth house on the right.”

He ends the call before you can ask him to repeat the directions, and you send Jungkook a helpless look. “Did you get all of that?”

“Besides the overused Monopoly joke?” Jungkook asks.. “Yeah, I got it. Right, left, left. Fifth house. Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes to get there.”

And true to his word, you arrive at the house three minutes later. Yugyeom is standing on the front step with rumpled hair and a duffel bag at his feet, and you snort when he throws open the car door and flops across the entirety of the backseat.

“Rough morning?”

“Stayed up late packing,” he says by way of explanation, his eyes already beginning to drift shut. Jungkook immediately turns the music up, and you giggle when Yugyeom shoots upright at the bassline that’s now shaking the entire vehicle. “I’m up, I’m up! Jeez, man.”

Jungkook just sends him an innocent grin in the rearview mirror. You turn the volume back down to a reasonable level as Yugyeom directs Jungkook onto the best route to take out of the neighborhood, and it isn’t long before you’re merging onto the highway that leads toward the coast.

You’re just beginning to get comfortable, staring out the window at the passing cityscape, when your leg vibrates with an incoming text notification. Glancing down, you see that Jungkook’s phone has slipped between your thigh and the seat, the screen lit with a new message.

[10:21am] Minho: gonna be at the store in 10

“Minho says they’ll be at the grocery store in ten minutes,” you relay to your companions. “We have a little longer to go. Probably another half hour or so.”

“We wouldn’t be so far behind if Yugyeom didn’t live in a fucking labyrinth,” Jungkook remarks, but a glance at the young man in the backseat reveals that he’s drifted off despite your earlier stunt. Rolling his eyes, he turns to you. “Can you text him back, Noona?”

You nod and hold out his phone so he can unlock it with his thumb. “Hey,” you say once you’ve hit send on the message. “Do you have a contact photo for me?”

Jungkook stiffens slightly, his gaze skittering between you and the road. “Oh. Uh, yeah, I guess I do. But it’s nothing, really. It’s kinda lame. But you… you can look at it if you want.”

Curiosity piqued, you scroll down until you find your name, tapping on the image beside it. The photo is from several years ago, during a family trip to the lake house with the Jeons. You are no older than fifteen, your arm slung around a fourteen-year-old Jungkook as the two of you stand knee-deep in the lake, wearing swimsuits and bright smiles. In the background, you can just barely make out a blurry Jimin mid-splash.

“I remember this,” you murmur, zooming in on your smiling faces. “That was a fun summer.”

“Junghyun was grumpy the whole time,” Jungkook recalls with a laugh. “But we had a good time, didn’t we? We practically lived in the lake that entire week.”

“Or that old canoe.” You grin, taking one last look at the photo before locking his phone and handing it back to him. “Remember? We’d always row out too far, and our parents would scream for us to come back before we fell in and drowned.”

Jungkook snickers. “As if I’d ever let you drown. I’m a great swimmer.”

“Are you saying I’m not?”

He backpedals immediately, realizing his mistake. “Hey, don’t twist my words. I said nothing of the sort.”

“That’s what I thought.” Giggling, you turn to look out the window, propping your chin in your palm as you watch the scenery flash past. “And I want that photo, by the way. Send it to me?”

“As soon as we get to the store,” Jungkook promises. “Speaking of which, we’re getting close. Keep an eye out for the exit for me?”

“Deal.”

///

Jimin and the others are waiting in the parking lot when you arrive, perched on and around the van as they watch Jungkook expertly maneuver the car into a neighboring parking space. “Took you long enough,” your brother says once the engine is cut, hopping off the hood and landing lightly on both feet.

“We’re here now, aren’t we?” you snark as you join the others hovering near the grocery store entrance. Jimin makes a face at you, and you stick your tongue out in response. After a quick huddle—wherein you form a very haphazard game plan—everyone disperses. Jimin grabs a shopping cart and heads inside with Taehyung and Minho, the latter of whom is trying to clamber his way into the cart to hitch a ride.

Sighing, you grab a shopping cart of your own and scan the interior of the store for the produce section. They’ve rearranged the aisles since you were last here, but you quickly find what you’re looking for and begin picking your way over when Jungkook materializes at your side.

“So, what are you thinking for food?” he asks, nudging you away so he can push the cart in your stead.

You allow him to take over, gesturing toward your destination. “I know my brother,” you tell him dryly. “He’s going to buy meat and completely forget about everything else. And I don’t trust any of you to buy a single fruit or vegetable.”

“I like fruit and vegetables,” Jungkook defends.

“You like everything,” you correct, flashing him a teasing grin before leading him into the produce section.

Grocery shopping with Jungkook turns out to be surprisingly pleasant—comfortable, even. He proves adept at finding the ripest fruits and greenest vegetables, and when you ask him to find some apples, he trots off immediately and returns with a handful of sweet potatoes in addition to your requested fruit.

You raise an eyebrow. “What are you planning to do with those?”

Jungkook feigns offense, slapping a hand to his heart. “That’s cold, Noona. Don’t you think I can cook?”

“I’ve never seen you cook in my life,” you respond. “How am I supposed to know if you can or not?”

“I can,” he promises. “And I’ll prove it too, if you let me.”

You get the feeling he’s not just talking about cooking anymore, but he doesn’t give you a chance to answer. Dropping the apples and potatoes into the cart, he flashes you a crooked little smile before turning toward a display of cabbages, leaving you to wonder at what exactly is going through his head.

///

It’s nearly one in the afternoon when you arrive at your family’s lake house. The last stretch of the drive takes you through the forest along a winding, narrow road, but Jungkook is a capable driver and you know the way well enough to warn him about any upcoming hairpin turns. Piling out of the car, the three of you make quick work of putting the food safely into the refrigerator. By the time you’re finished, Jimin and the others have arrived as well, lugging their belongings inside and setting them inside the entryway.

“So who’s sleeping where?” Taehyung asks, glancing around the house. It’s modestly sized, with a living area on one side and a combined dining room and kitchen on the other. Three bedrooms and a bathroom branch off of the hallway between them, ending in a back door that leads out to the lake. Through the window, you can see the water glimmering in the sunlight, hazy and golden.

“We’ll have to share,” Jimin says. “ If Noona takes one room, that leaves two bedrooms and the pullout couch for the rest of us.”

Jungkook tilts his head. “Rock, paper, scissors?” he suggests, drawing a chorus of groans.

“I always lose!” Jimin complains. “And Taemin cheats!”

“Do not!”

Laughing at the indignant expression on your brother’s face, you decide to leave them to it and head to your bedroom with your luggage in tow. The room is just as you remember it, with a bed tucked against one wall and a dresser on the opposite. There are three doors in total—one that you just entered through, and another that opens into a small closet. The third leads to a bathroom—shared with the bedroom on the other side of the wall that usually belongs to Jimin. Vaguely, you wonder who will be sleeping there tonight, before setting your suitcase on the bed and unzipping it.

“Fuck!”

You jump at the sudden shout, poking your head out into the hallway to see what’s causing all the commotion. Yugyeom is kneeling on the floor with his head down, a crestfallen Taemin standing beside him. Meanwhile, Taehyung and Minho look supremely pleased with themselves, and you see why when they grab their bags and practically skip to the master bedroom across the hall, collapsing onto the king-sized bed.

“Have fun on the couch, losers!” Jimin singsongs, grabbing Jungkook by the wrist and dragging him into their newly won bedroom on your side of the hallway. “Lake in fifteen minutes, so get changed! Last one there’s in charge of dinner!”

The door slams shut behind him, and you roll your eyes before turning back to your opened suitcase and pulling out a book. There’s a perfectly shaded spot beneath one of the trees along the water, and you fully intend to capitalize on the last few hours of daylight before the sun begins to set.

Minho is the only one outside when you exit the house, standing on the dock in a pair of green swim trunks. He waves at you cheerily before cannonballing into the lake, and you squeak as the resulting splash sends water splattering across the front of your shirt.

“Sorry!” he calls when he resurfaces, shaking his hair out like a wet dog.

You wave off his apology with a laugh, settling down onto the soft grass at the base of your chosen tree and opening up your book. The other boys trickle out of the house one by one, but you barely notice. It isn’t until a triumphant shout pierces the air that you finally glance up to see what’s causing all the commotion, your gaze immediately landing on Taehyung standing on the back steps of the house.

“Trust me,” he says, unbothered by his apparent tardiness. “You don’t want me to make dinner.”

Minho pulls a face and straightens up from where he’d been floating on his back. “You know, he kinda has a point there.”

Murmurs of agreement all around. Taehyung gives Jimin a smug smile, who scowls from where he’s sitting at the end of the dock, his bare feet dangling over the edge. “So what now? Do we have to play rock, paper, scissors again?”

“Nah, I’ll do it.”

Every head whips around to face Jungkook, yours included. He’s standing a short ways from where you’re sitting—his approach so quiet that you hadn’t even heard him arrive. The last time you checked, he’d been diving off the dock with Minho and Yugyeom, water pooling in his collarbones and dripping down the ridges of his taut abdomen each time he resurfaced.

Not that you’d been looking, of course.

“Really?” Jimin looks aghast at his best friend’s declaration. “You can cook?”

Jungkook scoffs in disbelief and plops down beside you, leaning back against the tree trunk. “Why does everyone in your family seem surprised by that?” he asks, his lip jutting out in a petulant frown. “Do I seem like someone who can’t cook?”

“Yes,” you tell him honestly, marking your page and letting the book fall shut. “Don’t take it personally, though. Men only learn how to cook in college when they have to start fending for themselves. And sometimes, not even then.”

The noise that leaves Jungkook’s mouth can best be described as disgruntled, but he doesn’t press any further. Instead, he peers over your shoulder to get a look at the cover of your book, mouthing the title to himself before glancing at you. “Haven’t I seen you reading this before?”

“Probably,” you admit. “It’s an old favorite.”

He hums, slouching back against the tree again, and when you look over, you see that both his eyes have fallen shut. With his mouth parted and his dark lashes resting on his cheeks, he looks years younger than he is—and so much more like the Jungkook you used to know.

“Tired?” you whisper.

“Long drive,” Jungkook whispers back, his head already beginning to loll. “Lemme sleep, Noona.”

Smiling to yourself, you return to your book and leave him to rest.

///

“So, what are you even planning to make?” Jimin asks, swinging his legs. He’s seated atop the kitchen counter, taking up the majority of what precious little space there is to begin with, and Jungkook sighs deeply as he’s forced to dodge around him yet again to peer into the refrigerator.

“You’ll see.”

“I don’t think you even know yet,” Taemin pipes up from the doorway. The other boys are in the living room playing Mario Kart, but Taemin and Jimin have selflessly pulled themselves away from the game to help their friend in the kitchen—or so they say. As far as you’re concerned, they’ve been nothing but a nuisance thus far, but you don’t voice that particular thought aloud.

“Ramen doesn’t count as making dinner,” Jimin points out snidely when Jungkook pauses too long next to the box of ramen packs. “Anyone can boil water. And you don’t get to add an egg and call it fancy, like you usually do.”

“My ramen is delicious, excuse you,” Jungkook retorts, pointing a spatula at him. “And that’s not even what I’m making, so fuck off.”

Jimin shrugs, but shuts his mouth nonetheless. You take the opportunity to throw some pork belly at him, the meat wrapped neatly in paper and tied off with twine. “Here,” you tell him. “You could at least make yourself useful and start grilling the meat.”

“Okay, mom,” your brother grumbles under his breath, hopping off the counter. He and Taemin head out to the back porch where the grill sits, and you join Jungkook at the stove where he’s staring thoughtfully at an empty pan.

“Try twisting the dial. I’ve heard that helps.”

Jungkook snaps out of his daze and turns to you. “Huh?”

“The stove. It won’t light itself, you know.”

Chuckling, Jungkook twists the dial as instructed, adding a drizzle of oil to the pan. As it heats up, he turns and selects a knife from the cutlery drawer. The sweet potatoes he’d insisted on purchasing are already washed and peeled, and you watch as he begins to slice them, your gaze automatically flitting down to his exposed forearms, his muscles flexing with every movement.

“Hey, Noona? Can you do me a favor?”

You blink, tearing your gaze from the branching veins lining his arms. “What?”

Jungkook, thankfully, doesn’t seem to notice your distracted state. “Can you put the rice in the microwave?” he asks, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Why?” you tease. “Are you still scared?”

“Of course not,” he retorts, but you don’t miss the wary look that flashes across his face when you plop the rice inside and go to punch in the cook time.

The remainder of the cooking goes smoothly. Jimin and Taemin return with the grilled meat, and Jungkook rebuffs your offer to set the table, leaving his position at the stove to lay plates and utensils down on the table himself. “I’m just about done, anyway,” he tells you, gesturing at the plate of glazed sweet potatoes on the counter. “Sit down and relax, Noona.”

“Fine,” you relent, taking a seat. Jimin takes the chair beside you, and Taemin plops down on his other side. Jungkook sits down just to your left once he’s finished laying out the food, and for a brief, insane moment, you almost think that he’s going to repeat what he’d done at his graduation dinner. But the dark-haired young man remains on his best behavior, keeping his hands to himself under the table, and you aren’t sure whether you’re grateful or disappointed.

The meal flies by in a flurry of laughter and conversation. Jungkook discovers that his glazed sweet potatoes have adhered to the plate, and sends everyone into hysterics when he promptly starts spinning it around like a steering wheel.

It’s a good night. And at the end of it, you go to bed warm and content, with a belly full of food and a smile on your face.

///

You awaken to the sound of chirping songbirds and gentle waves lapping at the shore the next morning, thoroughly rejuvenated after an undisturbed night’s sleep. Stretching your arms overhead, you yawn and bask in the comfort of your bed for a few more moments before getting up and heading to the bathroom, thankful that you don’t have to fight anyone for sink occupancy. The toilet seat is even down, which comes as a welcome surprise, all things considered.

Before long, you are back in your bedroom, rifling through the contents of your suitcase. Belatedly, you realize that you’ve packed only one swimsuit—and a bikini, at that. Cheeks warming, you pull the two pieces out, holding them up against your body. Has it always been this small? You don’t remember. All you know is that Jungkook has two fully functional eyes, and there’s no way that he won’t be looking at every inch of skin you choose to expose.

In the end, you settle on wearing the bikini beneath a flowy, floral kimono-style robe, tied at the waist to form a makeshift dress. The ensemble reaches just past your knees and is sheer enough to still show skin, but you no longer feel as self-conscious going out into the view of your companions and that’s a victory as far as you’re concerned. Checking your reflection one last time, you adjust your sash before opening the bedroom door and heading down the hall for some breakfast.

Unsurprisingly, the kitchen is empty when you walk in, tiptoeing past a still slumbering Taemin and Yugyeom on the pullout couch. You savor the quiet as you start up the old coffeemaker, pulling a mug from the cabinet and rinsing it out to get rid of any lingering dust. The weather app on your phone promises that it’ll be a clear, cloudless day, and a glance out the window confirms it. Silently, you debate whether or not to crack a window.

Your musings are interrupted by the arrival of Taehyung, his brown hair sticking up at all angles. Blearily, he trundles to the fridge and grabs the orange juice, seemingly two seconds away from chugging it straight from the carton before you clear your throat and push a clean glass toward him. You think you hear him mumble a thank you.

As the morning wears on, the others slowly begin to trickle in. Breakfast is a disorganized affair that leaves bread crumbs all over the counter, and nearly causes a fight when everyone seems to want their eggs cooked a different way.

“Look, if you wanted your egg soft-boiled, you should’ve made it yourself!” Jimin grouches to Taehyung, the t-shirt over his head muffling his words. Everyone else is already in the water, splashing about, but you’re seated on the end of the dock with your brother and Taehyung, who looks thoroughly unfazed behind his tinted sunglasses.

“Maybe if I knew how to soft boil an egg, I would have.”

“Google exists,” Jimin says, finally freeing himself from the shirt and tossing it aside.

Taehyung nods sagely. “Exactly. So why didn’t you use it?”

Jimin is beginning to look positively murderous, so when Minho swims over and taps your submerged ankle, you are beyond grateful for the distraction. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Are you gonna swim, or are you gonna sit onshore the whole time?” Minho asks, raking his wet bangs out of his eyes. “The water’s not even cold, so get in here.”

Pointedly, you wiggle your toes. “Feels pretty cold to me.”

“Okay, fine. It’s cold.” Minho grins. “But you get used to it.”

You sigh at his easy admission. “All men do is lie. How am I supposed to believe you?”

He raises a brow. “Do I need to pull you in and dunk you under?”

“I will kick you if you even try,” you tell him, standing up and shrugging off your robe. An audible hush falls as the gauzy material pools around your ankles—Jungkook stops wrestling with Yugyeom and trying to dunk him underwater, and Taemin pauses mid-splash, his hair drenched and dripping.

It’s Minho who breaks the silence first, letting loose a low whistle of appreciation. “Damn, {Name}.”

Jimin grabs a shoe from the pile on the dock and chucks it at him, hard. “Dude, that’s my fucking sister!”

“Ow! What the fuck, man, that’s my shoe!”

“Quit ogling my sister!”

“I’m not!” Minho yells, just as Jimin chucks the other shoe and hits him square in the mouth. “Okay, I’m not anymore. Sorry, okay?”

Once he’s sufficiently sure that Jimin is done attacking him, Minho turns to you. “I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. You know that, right?”

“I know,” you reassure him. “Honestly, it was kinda good for my self-esteem. And I don’t need you defending my honor, or whatever it is you think you’re doing,” you add, glancing over at your disgruntled brother.

“Men are pigs,” Jimin sniffs. “I won’t apologize.”

You ruffle his hair good-naturedly. “I know, Chim. You’re right.” Then your smile turns mischievous. “I won’t apologize for what I’m about to do, either.”

And then you grab him by the arm and drag him into the lake, the cold water submerging you in an instant and stealing the breath out of your lungs. You’re both gasping by the time you resurface, blinking water out of your eyes, and you squeal when Jimin takes the opportunity to splash you again.

Hours pass—the sun rising higher overhead. Around noon, Taehyung disappears inside the house and returns with an assortment of snacks and sandwich fixings, ushering everyone over for an impromptu lunch on the dock. You dip your feet into the water as you munch on a bag of chips, and Jungkook plops down beside you with a juice box in one hand and a ham sandwich in the other.

“Wanna go for a ride in the canoe after lunch?” he asks, jabbing a thumb back in the direction of the house. “I found it in the garage.”

You laugh. “Really? I thought for sure we got rid of that thing. Are you sure it hasn’t sprung a leak?”

Jungkook’s face crinkles into a grin. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see, huh?”

You grin back and raise your cup, the lemonade inside swishing around. “I’ll hang on to this, just in case I need to start bailing water out.”

Lunchtime winds down gradually. Jungkook polishes off his sandwich and trots off to fetch the canoe, waving off your offers to help before disappearing around the corner of the house. You watch him return a few minutes later from your seat on the end of the dock, resting your weight back on your hands and swirling your pruney toes in the water. He’s stripped off the loose white tee he’d donned during lunch, his golden skin cast in shadow by the canoe perched across his bare shoulders, and your gaze trails from his bulging biceps down to the ridges of his abdomen. The muscles flex with every step he takes, and you hastily take another sip of lemonade in an effort to combat the sudden dryness in your throat.

With a grunt, Jungkook comes to a stop at your elbow, heaving the boat into the water. The impact sends ripples across the lake and the butterflies in your belly into a frenzy, and you nearly fall off the dock when Jungkook touches your shoulder gently.

“Ready to go, Noona?”

You nod, not quite trusting yourself to speak. Jungkook holds the boat steady with one hand while offering you the other, and you gratefully grasp it as you step off the dock. The canoe rocks dangerously when Jungkook clambers in after you, but quickly steadies when he picks up an oar and jabs at the dock to push off into the lake. The glimmering expanse of blue water stretches before you, and you relax as you let your fingers dangle off the side of the boat, watching ripples form beneath your fingertips.

“I can help row,” you say after a few moments, casting a glance over at Jungkook. He’s settled into a rhythm now, the veins and tendons in his arm flexing with each movement, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close he’s sitting.

“You—” Jungkook says, fixing you with a playful stare, “—just enjoy the ride, yeah?”

Shaking your head, you smile and turn back around to admire the view. Sunlight reflects off the rippling water, lending a golden iridescence to the glittering blue depths. In the distance, the opposite shoreline rises up, crowned with rocky outcrops and majestic dark green pines.

With a start, you realize how far away you’ve gotten from the other boys. The shouts and laughter from the house are quickly fading into the background, and you nervously turn to look at Jungkook as he rows you even further.

“God, my dad would freak if he saw us right now,” you remark, trying to diffuse the sudden tension that’s settled. “I mean, we don’t even have life jackets. He’d lose his mind.”

Jungkook hums. He stops rowing, his hands stilling on the oars, and you’re just about to ask him what’s wrong when a warm hand glides up your thigh.

“You think you could maybe stop talking about your dad, princess?” Then he smirks. “Unless you’re into the whole daddy kink thing, because I’d be down to explore that at some point if you want—“

“Jungkook!” you hiss, scandalized.

“Yes?” the young man in question hums, his face the picture of innocence. It’s hard to muster up your vocabulary when he’s looking up at you with those wide doe eyes, but you somehow manage to prevail over your malfunctioning brain.

“We’re in public!” you whisper, glancing back at the shore where your brother and his friends have started an impromptu game of water polo.

Jungkook smirks crookedly at you. “Guess you better not scream too loud, then.”

And then, before you can open your mouth to protest—before you can even try to call his bluff—he’s slipped his hand into your bikini bottoms and found his way to your clit. Your entire body spasms when he presses into it experimentally, and the resulting snicker that escapes him is nothing short of infuriating.

“Careful,” he coos, laying his free hand on your thigh, his thumb rubbing nonsensical circles into the soft skin. “Don’t wanna rock the boat, now.”

Then he returns his attention to your clit, pinching the nub just to watch you jolt in his grasp and soothing you with a gentle kiss to the knee afterward. Your skin warms beneath the plush of his lips, and the pleased smile that curves them is all the warning you get before he sheathes a single finger in your clenching core. “Jungkook—” you gasp, shoving uselessly at his bare shoulders, but you can’t keep the edge of desire out of your voice. You can’t hide the growing wetness between your legs either—wetness that he most certainly feels as he slips another finger inside, pumping into you with ease.

“God, look at you,” he murmurs, his eyes trained on the way you clench around him. “So pretty like this. So pretty, getting fucked by my fingers. I could do this all day.”

“We—we don’t have all day,” you whisper. The last syllable dissolves into a moan as Jungkook eases a third finger into your cunt, and you scrabble to ground yourself when he picks up his leisurely pace. One hand settles on the edge of the boat, your fingernails digging into the wood, while the other finds Jungkook’s bicep. His arm flexes beneath your grip with each snap of his wrist, and you keen when he crooks his fingers just right and sends stars skittering across your vision.

He knows that you’re getting close. You can tell from the growing furrow between his brows and the hard set of his jaw, and you can tell that he won’t stop until he gets you off. Concentration etches across his face, and you gasp when his thumb finds your clit again.

“Oh, fuck, Jungkook—”

“That’s it,” he rasps, digging deeper and thumbing roughly across your bundle of nerves. “Cum for me.”

And you do. With one final flick of his wrist, Jungkook sends you hurtling over the edge that he’s so effortlessly built, a cresting wave of pleasure overtaking your body and spreading through your veins. Your leg kicks out instinctively, rocking the canoe dangerously in the water, but Jungkook catches you by the ankle with his free hand and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. He shifts his weight until you’re steadied once more, and only then does he ease his fingers out of you, raising them to his mouth to lick them clean.

“Think we can sneak away so I can fuck you properly?” he asks.

Your cheeks heat up at the lewd display, warming even more when his words register in your muddled brain. “Oh my god, Jungkook.”

“That’s exactly what you’ll be saying when I really get my hands on you,” Jungkook agrees. Flashing you a mischievous grin, he drops his hand over the edge of the boat, letting the turquoise water wash away any lingering fluids. “What do you think? The backseat of my car isn’t half bad…”

“I will literally push you into this lake,” you tell him, trying and failing to hide a disbelieving laugh. “Why are you such a perv?”

“You like it,” Jungkook defends immediately. “‘Sides,” he adds, casting a wary glance at the shore where Jimin and the others are still fully engrossed in their game, “I wanna kiss you while I fuck you. It’s not as good like this.”

At that, something dangerously close to affection blooms in your belly, winding its curious tendrils around your heart. Swallowing the feeling down, you pick up one of the oars instead, handing it over to him before hefting the other. “Come on,” you murmur. “They’re gonna get suspicious if we’re gone too long.”

Jungkook hums. “Yeah. Probably.”

And then he raises the oar you just handed him, lifting it until the paddle covers both of your faces, and boldly plants a firm kiss on your mouth.

“I’ll row us back,” he declares casually when he pulls away, as if he hasn’t just stolen all the oxygen from your lungs. As if your lips aren’t burning where he’s kissed you, your cheeks hot beneath his gentle exhalations. As if you aren’t positively thrumming with the desire to pull him back in, and maybe take him up on his offer to fuck you in the backseat of his beat-up sedan.

“Yeah,” you say instead, your voice hoarse. “Let’s go.”

///

What few remaining hours of daylight you have, you decide to spend inside. Jungkook gets roped into the water polo match as soon as the two of you return to shore, and you take the opportunity to slip into the house and clean yourself up. Safely locked away in the bathroom, you strip off your damp bikini bottoms and toss them in the sink. The top follows, and you give both a quick wash, doing your best to ignore the remaining slick from your orgasm that stubbornly coats the material.

Once everything is washed and hanging up to dry, you step into the shower. Warm water soaks your hair and slides down your back, and you tilt your head back to let the spray wash your worries away, relishing in the rare moment of peace and quiet.

By the time you’ve toweled off and gotten dressed, you can hear the boys beginning to traipse back into the house. From what you can make out, they’re making dinner plans, and you poke your head out curiously when Jimin mentions you by name.

“What are you saying about me?” you ask, narrowing your eyes accusingly at your brother.

Jimin whirls around, his cherubic face a perfect picture of innocence. “Nothing! I was just talking about your fried rice and how good it is…”

“You’re trying to get me to make you dinner,” you sigh. “I knew it.”

“No, we’ll help!” your brother promises. “I swear, as soon as I get out of the shower, I’ll chop all the vegetables.”

“Sure you will,” you snort, brushing past him and heading for the kitchen.

Much to your surprise, the kitchen is already occupied when you arrive. Jungkook and Yugyeom are at the counter—the former poised with a knife at the ready, about to slice into an onion. The latter is digging through the cabinets, and both turn at the sound of your footsteps.

“Hey,” Yugyeom says. “You probably know where the bottle opener is, right?”

You nod. “Left of the sink, second drawer down.” Then you turn your attention to Jungkook, peering curiously over his shoulder. “What’s the onion for?”

“Dinner,” he replies, flashing you a crooked little smile. “We’re making fried rice, aren’t we?”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest and races to catch up, thumping erratically against your ribcage. It’s hard to ignore the warmth blossoming in your belly—near impossible to ignore the butterflies that have made a home there—but you somehow manage to school your expression into something passably neutral and busy yourself with the other vegetables on the counter. “I see Jimin got to you, too. Is the other cutting board clean?”

Jungkook nods, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the dish rack. “Washed it last night, yeah. It’s all yours, Noona.”

You hum and skirt around Yugyeom to grab the clean board and another knife. Chopping vegetables goes a lot faster with two people, and Yugyeom does his part by cracking open two bottles of beer and plunking one down next to each of you before opening a third for himself. “Hydrate,” he orders, and you roll your eyes before picking it up and taking a sip.

It doesn’t take long to finish making dinner. As promised, Jimin joins you as soon as he’s out of the shower, plucking the knife out of your hand and nudging you aside so he can finish cutting the vegetables. You fire up the stove and drizzle some oil into a pan, and smile when Taehyung brings you the container of leftover rice and a large serving bowl.

“You know what we should do?” Minho asks as you’re all sitting down to eat. Yugyeom’s opened more beers, and Jimin’s brought out the wine as well. Jungkook is spooning out fried rice for everyone, and you accept the bowl he hands you with a murmur of thanks before looking at Minho expectantly.

“What should we do?”

“Go to the beach,” he replies, tilting the remainder of his beer back into his mouth. “It’s only an hour away, isn’t it?”

“Closer to half an hour without traffic,” Jimin corrects. “But, yeah, we should go. That would be fun.”

By the time dinner is finished, you’ve finalized plans to drive down to the beach in the morning. “Remember, we’re leaving at ten,” you tell Jimin, elbowing him in the ribs. “That means you have to wake up before ten.”

“I know!” your brother whines, rubbing the spot where you elbowed him with a grimace. “Jeez, Noona. I’m good at waking up. It’s Jungkook and Tae you have to worry about.”

“Says the punk who takes hour-long showers,” you snark. “What are you gonna do when you have to pay your own water bills, huh?”

“Shower at your place,” he replies smugly. “You can’t turn me away. I’m your brother.”

“Please, that’s exactly why I can turn you away, you little mooch.”

“You love me!”

“Really? You wanna test that theory?”

The remainder of the evening passes in a blur of booze and board games, unearthed from the closet in the hall. Despite your collective agreement to go to bed early, it’s past midnight when you finally bid everyone goodnight and crawl underneath your covers. Shutting your eyes, you will your brain to settle and your limbs to relax, and you’re on the verge of drifting off when your phone suddenly buzzes. Lazily, you roll over and snatch the device off the nightstand, taking in the late hour before your eyes flit down to the new notification and go wide.

[1:02am] Jungkook: IMG_497

You freeze, thumb hovering just above the message. Even when your screen goes dark again, you can’t erase the sight of his name lighting up your phone, the attachment sitting there like a taunt. You shouldn’t open it. You can’t open it.

But curiosity gnaws at your belly, fraying the edges of your resolve. Slowly, you wake the screen, watching as Jungkook’s name fills it once more. You hesitate, bottom lip finding its way between your teeth.

And then your phone buzzes again, several times in quick succession.

[1:04am] Jungkook: i miss you, noona

[1:04am] Jungkook: miss your pretty face

[1:04am] Jungkook: miss how tight your pussy felt around my fingers

You drop the device as if scorched. It takes several moments to gather your wits again, but when you do, pick up your phone, clicking on his name and scrolling up to the attachment. In the darkness of your bedroom, you watch with bated breath as it downloads.

“Fuck.”

The expletive slips past your lips, unbidden, but you can’t help it. Jungkook stares out at you from the photograph illuminating your screen, his eyes hooded and his lips curled into a devious smirk. He’s in the shared bathroom between your bedrooms, and even though it’s dark inside, the flash of his camera is just enough to illuminate the distinctive palm tree patterned shower curtain behind him.

But, you aren’t focused on that.

No, your focus is zeroed in on the foreground of the photo, where you can perfectly make out the head of Jungkook’s cock, sticky and leaking copiously from between his fingers.

“Fuck,” you repeat, louder this time.

And as if reading your mind, another text flashes onto your screen.

[1:07am] Jungkook: wish your pretty little pussy was stretched around my cock right now, princess

You aren’t sure what possesses you to send the response you do, but your thumbs are moving before the more rational side of your brain can catch up and stop you.

[1:07am] You: why don’t you come over and make it happen then?

You’ve only just hit send when the bathroom door swings open, revealing Jungkook standing there in nothing but sweatpants. His face is illuminated in the stark white light shining from his screen, his eyes dark and his smirk even darker. Every movement drips with intent, from the way his lips quirk upward to the way he saunters over to join you on your bed, dropping his phone somewhere amongst the rumpled sheets. The room goes dark.

And then…

“Hey, princess.”

His lips are at your ear, hot breath caressing your cheeks and sending shivers down the length of your spine. The mattress dips beneath his weight as he joins you, a hand finding your bare thigh before sliding up to grasp your hip. Only an oversized t-shirt and a thin pair of cotton panties shield you from his roving fingers, and you can tell from the pleased curve of his mouth that he isn’t going to let either stand in his way. One hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt, dancing along your ribcage, and you let out a breathy gasp when he trails up and skims along the soft skin just below the swell of your breasts.

“Been thinking about you all night, you know,” Jungkook whispers, pushing up your shirt and peppering kisses along every inch of newly revealed flesh. “Been thinking about how pretty you looked, cumming around my fingers, and how much prettier you’d look cumming around my cock.”

Your shirt is long forgotten by this point, tugged overhead and thrown carelessly over his shoulder. Jungkook hauls you closer, slotting himself between your spread legs, and you shiver when he presses the pad of his thumb against your clothed clit, the material uncomfortably damp as it clings to your folds.

“Jungkook—” His name escapes you in an airy whisper. “Please.”

Even in the darkness, you can see the satisfied, self-assured tilt of his lips. “Such a good girl for me,” he croons, leaning down to press a kiss to your waiting mouth. His free hand comes up to cup your cheek while the other remains between your legs, and you gasp sharply when he digs his thumb a little harder against your clit, circling the sensitive bud.

Jungkook seizes upon the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips, licking into your mouth with unrestrained ardor. Your panties are peeled away, the cottony material disappearing right alongside the pressure of his thumb, and the inadvertent whine that escapes you has him chuckling darkly in his throat.

“What is it, princess?” Jungkook rasps, his voice dipping several pitches. “You have to tell me what you want, remember?”

You clutch at his wrist weakly, tugging it back between your legs until he finally indulges you and resumes his lazy revolutions around your clit. “Want you,” you whisper. “Want you inside me.”

Jungkook lets out a pleased hum, rewarding you with a single finger that he slips into your sopping entrance, your juices aiding the smooth glide as he curls it up in search of the spot that’ll have you seeing stars. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t,” you agree shakily. “But it looks like you are, so why don’t you let me help you out?”

Jungkook chuckles softly, his lips ghosting across the swell of your cheek. “Oh, yeah? And how exactly do you plan on helping me?”

Slowly, you reach down, letting your fingers graze the sizable bulge in his sweatpants. “You said it yourself, didn’t you? Me, stretched around your cock?”

A low groan escapes him when you give him a firm stroke, your fingers barely meeting around his length. “On your back,” he commands hoarsely, nudging you backward until you’re nestled into your pillows. Freeing his erection from the confines of his sweatpants, he settles comfortably between your spread legs, the mattress groaning in protest at the shift in weight.

“Wait,” you whisper, grabbing his wrist. “Did you hear that?”

His face scrunches in confusion. “Hear what?” he asks, as if he’s never heard that particular string of words before. “Are you sure it wasn’t just—”

He stops mid-sentence, and you both hear it again—the unmistakable creaking of bedsprings from next door. “Shit!” you hiss, scrambling back on the mattress until you’re nearly pressed against the headboard. “Oh, god. That’s Jimin. He’s going to kill you if he finds you in here—”

On the other side of the wall, the door to the shared bathroom opens, the light flickering on and illuminating the crack beneath your door. You hear your brother cursing sleepily under his breath as the toilet lid clatters open, and nearly shove Jungkook off the bed in your haste to get him out of your room.

“You have to go,” you whisper frantically, herding him toward the door that leads out into the hall.

Jungkook hurriedly pulls his pants back over his hips, and you can practically see him willing his erection to go away. “What am I supposed to say if he asks?”

“I don’t know! Pretend you were going for a glass of water or something!”

With a final push, you shove him out of your bedroom, leaning against the door with a relieved sigh when it clicks shut behind him. You hear Jungkook shuffle off just as Jimin flushes, and cast a prayer up to any deities that may exist as you listen to him wash his hands. And it seems your prayers are answered, as quiet descends over the house once more. Off in the distance, you think you hear Minho snoring.

Letting out another sigh, you return to bed, crawling beneath the covers and getting comfortable. And when sleep finally takes you, you dream of Jeon Jungkook.

#bangtanarmynet #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #jeon jungkook #bts #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #lia writes