#*MAKING VAGUE GESTURES TO WORK* THAT EATS UP MOST OF M Y TIME.

[reveriecorridor]

you haveto post on tumblr more i can never send you stuff for ask games bc i dont know the names or anything of any of your blorbos ever 😔 Its saddening

I;M SO SORRY

[blackwidow-bby]

Positions - Marvel Ladies x Fem!Sub!Reader

Summary: You're a sex worker and you've been hired by a new client for a "group activity".

genre: smut(18+)

pairings: Maria Hill x fem!reader, Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader, Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader, Carol Danvers x fem!reader, Yelena Belova x fem!reader

warnings: D/S dynamics, face slapping, spanking, strap on use, degradation, orgy, big ole lesbian train, oral, throat f*cking, name calling, degradation, thigh riding, fingering

AN: I am...well not a pro at writing dirty things especially not with multiple people but I hope you all enjoy regardless!

I don't own any marvel characters!!

Your assistant had just called you into her room. Your week had been slow but fruitful. Normally, it would be a regular client for the month, nothing to sweat over. Your thoughts started to run over who it could be. Maybe Mr. Dean, he usually calls on a Friday but you could've sworn you saw him two weeks ago. That didn't leave a lot of your regulars left to be requesting you as you knew their schedules like the back of your hand.

As if she could read your mind upon entering her space, she spoke, "Y/N, you have a call for a new client. Something about a friend requesting your services? The only thing is..." She hesitated almost thinking if she should tell you the rest of the details before she proceeded. "Well, it's for a group. You don't have to take up the offer if you're uncomfortable with that. I can call her back and let her know you declined."

To tell the truth, the thought of it being a group of strangers did make you uncomfortable, but your assistant wouldn't put you into a situation without going through the proper protocols first. She knew a head count of how many, roughly where they all worked, and several phone numbers. It always helped to be extra safe in these situations where you could be overpowered.

"Who inquired?" you asked interestedly. "She goes by N.R., gave me a headcount of all of her friends that would be attending. There's not going to be any men there, but I guess 'more power in numbers' is still 'more power in numbers'." In all honesty, women gave you way less shit about certain things than men did. Hopefully they'd be way more understanding if you didn't want to do specific activities.

"Call her back and tell her I'll take the offer. Do you know how much she's paying?" Your assistant slid a little sticky note over to you as she dialed the number of one 'N.R.'. You swear you almost choked when you saw how much she offered for you. That was a lot of zeros compared to usual. You walked away to get a water from the mini-fridge while you vaguely listened in to your assistant's phone conversation.

Good.

Perfect.

Okay, I'll tell her to meet you there at 6:30.

Extra clothes, yes ma'am. Have a nice day.

"Hey Y/N, I've written down the address, floor, and room number. It's uh...a really high end hotel in New York City. She also said to bring an extra change of--" you interrupted her, "Extra clothes? I overheard." you started wondering what for? Dinner? Go out? "Uhm, yes, she said extra comfy clothes." Comfy? Was she expecting you to spend the night? You looked down at your watch to see how much time you had to get ready. 2 hours. It wasn't enough but you could make it work. "Alright then, I should go freshen up."

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An hour and a half later had found you briskly walking toward the extremely tall and very expensive looking hotel in the Upper East Side. You lived in Queens and while the distance wasn't very far, paired with the traffic, the feeling of unsettlement about being late to such a client was enough to make you almost hurl.

You made your way inside the lobby, barely looking at your surroundings. You wanted to get up to the room as quickly as possible without being noticed. "Excuse me," Could you ever be so lucky? "Are you here for Ms. Romanoff?" Who? That must be your clients last name. "She said she was expecting a guest soon." The lady was being extra kind to you, she had an inviting smile. You almost wanted to never lie to her. "Yes, I'm here to see Ms. Romanoff." you replied quietly. It felt like your voice would echo too hard around the warmly lit lobby. You thought it would break you to hear your own voice shrill around such a pristine room.

"Very well, I'll show you to her room." Your nerves began to spike more the higher up you went. It was as if every floor number on the elevator was the level of anxiety you started to feel. Your palms were sweating and you could've sworn your back was too. The lady just kept her eyes forward with a meek little smile. It took every fiber of your body to not explode your feelings all over that elevator.

Ding

The elevator stopped, of course she was in a penthouse suite. You rolled your eyes as how predictable this situation was playing out. The kind lady, who's name you definitely forgot to get, remained in the elevator as you walked out. "There's a number for room service if you ladies need anything." She sung out. "Thank you."

The walk to her door seemed to never end. Your feet were dragging like gravity was doing everything in its power to keep them on the ground. The air was getting hotter as time slowed in the short distance it took to reach her door. You rang the little buzzer and a melodic voice called beyond the frame.

"Coming!"

You could hear the light patter of a single set of feet. The knob then turned and revealed a stunning short redhead with bright eyes. You were certainly gawking at the sight of her but there was nothing you could do to pull your own attention away. She had a smirk on her face when she saw you staring but not saying anything. "You must be Y/N, it's very nice to meet you. Come in and lets get you introduced to everyone."

She reached out her hand to you and you took it gently. her palms were much colder than yours and her fingers were long and slender. her hair was shoulder length and fire-y. The room was massive, and clean. She had all of the blinds closed to keep any natural light and eyes from entering the den. Scanning the room some more you noticed a couple items around the room. Non-traditional furniture. It was going to be one of those events. There were also four other heads aside from the host's. She turned around once reaching the main room and faced you. "My name is Natasha, over there is Wanda," another read-head standing behind everyone else with a glass of wine in her hands, she lightly nodded, "...that is Carol in the middle," a blonde woman with a bright and bubbly smile. She seemed taller than the rest but she was also sitting down on a piece of equipment that will no doubt be used in a different way by you. Natasha gestured to a brunette, "...this is Maria," another tall and slender woman, didn't offer a smile but a simple wave to your direction. You were scared of her the most. "...and this is Yelena." A second blonde who's face was much more stoic than Maria's. You take it back, she scared you the most.

Natasha's hand unhooked from yours and made its way up your back to settle on the back of your neck. The pads of her fingers added slight pressure to the muscles there as if she could feel all of your tension in waves. You felt her lean in closer, her hot breath fanning your ear. "There's a bathroom in the hall to the right. I got a cute little outfit waiting for you." You could feel her soft lips smiling against the curve of your ear. the feeling made you shiver. You managed to follow her eyes and swiftly walk to the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

You looked around and found the outfit in question. It was sleek all black leather body suit with a halter neck. You lifted it up in your hands and rubbed the material under your fingers. Next to it sat a bottle of lubricant no doubt to get the body suit on. You got to work shedding the current clothes you had on and began to slide on the little leather number. It wasn't too tight but certainly snug against your frame. The only thing out of the ordinary besides the material was, you noticed, a tiny little zipper in between your legs. If unzipped would reveal your very private essence. The thought made you blush a little to yourself. After cleaning up, you made your way back to the room where the women had sat prior.

Since you calmed down a little, you took the opportunity to fully take in your surroundings. The hall was adorned in art more than likely as expensive as this room. Everything seemed darker than when you arrived. To your surprise when you entered the living room area, the room lighting was red as opposed to the normal LED lighting.

Natasha held her hand out to you again for you to take. You obliged her and she pulled you close into her side. Natasha's deft fingers traveled up and down your ribs before finding purchase on your backside. "You look like the most delicious treat. None of us can wait to eat you. Would you like a drink before we start?"

The other women started moving closer almost circling you like sharks. "Yes please." Natasha poured you a glass as she went on, "We should go over some rules before we start. If at any point you feel overwhelmed, anxious, or hurt, the safe word is 'Heart'. We all stop what we're doing and will help you. If at any point you are gagged, two taps to the closest person will get all of us to cease as well. Because of those rules you will not be bound and gagged simultaneously...at least not this session." She ends her rules with a wink toward you. All of these women truly were stunning and it piqued your interest to know what they could possibly be capable of.

Wanda came closest to you first, she pulled the wine glass away from your lips and replaced it with her own lips. Holding your hand with the glass close to her chest and cupping your cheek with the other. Her lips were sinfully soft as was her kiss. She felt delicate and gentle against you, she almost seemed to not match any of this situation. Natasha took your wine glass away while you continued to make out with Wanda, who let her hands roam lower down your body. Your own hands moved behind her neck. Another set of arms wrapped around you from behind. "You're such a pretty kitten." They nibbled on your ear making you separate from Wanda to see who it was. Carol smiled down at you and found the very lips that left Wanda. You moaned into her mouth at feeling how she controlled and dominated the kiss, very different from Wanda's passion. Wanda moved down to kissing your neck and shoulder.

You could hear other giggles in the back. Natasha kept her eyes trained on you as Yelena and Maria began to touch each other in the mean time waiting for you. After a few minutes of watching her friends have all of the fun, Natasha made her way over to you, Carol, and Wanda. She pulled the other red-head back by her locks and pressed her lips to hers in a searing kiss. You heard Wanda moan out into the other woman's mouth next to you causing you to release your own into Carol. This made the blonde swiftly lift you up and wrap your legs around her waist. She brought you over to a nearby bench and kissed you harder. All of the sounds you were making began to rile her up.

"I'm not sure which one of us is more excited to have you here, pretty girl. All I know is I can't wait to ruin that pretty pussy of yours." You moaned at her words and yanked her back down into another kiss. Her words went straight to your core igniting a fire that had been waiting to burn. You made a mental note to find whoever recommended you to these ladies and thank them heavenly. Carol sunk her hips between your legs and began grinding against you seeking the friction she wanted so badly.

Even though the leather was a new material to you, you could still feel the faux member that rested in her pants; Carol was packing. This caused you to move your hands down to her pants to tear the buttons away. The tall blonde grabbed your hands and smirked, "Allow me." She stood to her full height and slowly removed the black jeans she was wearing and revealed her long, girthy strap she had been hiding. Your eyes widened which made Carol giggle. She sunk to her knees where she seductively pulled the zipper on your suit down. She held your eye contact until you saw them shift to behind you. Natasha and Wanda had pulled away long enough to see what Carol was doing and decided to join again. The two red-heads began to undress themselves where Natasha also sported a rather large strap but not Wanda.

In your distraction upon noticing the other women join in, Carol took to opportunity to shove he face into your pussy. You moaned out loud at the contact. Her tongue quickly lapping at your clit and sinking lower to curl inside you. Her ministrations were making you squirm on the bench. She reached up to hold your hips down. "Stay still kitten. Gotta get you ready for our cocks." Eating you out was an art to her. Every move she made, made you more and more wet. Natasha slid her fingers into your open mouth. You sucked on them harshly slipping your own tongue in-between her fingers and coating them in your saliva. Nat removed her fingers and started to rub them between Wanda's folds.

"Eat her out for me, malysh." Natasha requested. You looked up at Wanda as she slowly lowered herself over your wanting mouth. Your head went fuzzy upon seeing all of the quiet red-head's intimacy. Your tongue immediately poked out to welcome her to you. She let out a soft moan and slowly began to grind herself against your mouth. Carol was growing impatient watching you eat out the other woman and feeling you grow more aroused in her mouth. The blonde stood to position the tip at your entrance rubbing the head up and down your slit before she slammed her length in all at once. You yelped against Wanda's soaked cunt sending vibrations straight to her clit.

The whole scene was turning Natasha on more and more so she began stroking her own member, hoping to find some friction. The other two women walked over to join the rest of the group partially feeling left out. Carol continued to slam into you at a rather fast and rough pace. The tip of her strap hitting that blissful spot inside of you with every thrust. All of your moans and whines brought Wanda closer to her orgasm. She came hard in your mouth before she got up and was replaced by Natasha's own cock.

"Suck kotenok. Mommy's getting restless." Carol did not stop chasing not only her own high but yours. You could hear her grunting from below you. All of this attention was turning you on more than you think you've ever been in your life. Even though one hand wrapped around Natasha's strap and the other gripped Carol's wrist on your hips, you were finding it hard to keep blowing Nat. Carol moved her other hand down to your clit. "You better cum for me you little slut."

And you did; hard.

Carol continued her pace and upon watching you come undone, did so herself. Three quick thrusts and she was spent. She released the most guttural moan before her body was replaced by another blonde. Yelena had this look in her eyes like she wanted to make you pay for every wrong you never committed. She removed her clothing and sat right on your bent leg. At this point Natasha was fucking your mouth deeper and deeper. Needing to ground yourself you wrapped your hands around her thighs. Yelena began to rub herself against your thigh. You could feel how wet and warm she was, her hand sliding up and down your slit collecting your cum to rub your clit in tight circles. Your whines didn't stop especially when you were already beginning to feel another orgasm approaching. Yelena slipped her fingers inside you, finding your g-spot with accuracy. With every thrust of her fingers she hit that same spot over and over. tears started to run down your face with the feeling of Natasha in your mouth and Yelena in your core. Natasha gave one last thrust before she pulled out.

Maria shoved three of her fingers to the back of your throat. She giggled when you gagged around them. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at being finger fucked by the two women. "You're not allowed to cum before I do, else Natty here give you a nice punishment while I ride your face." Yelena only made the threat to turn you on more, but part of you was hoping it was true. It was hard, Yelena knew exactly what she was doing with her fingers but you could feel her slick slide down the sides of your thigh. God you hope she was close because you certainly were. Maria replaced her fingers with her lips and she kissed you hard sliding her tongue along yours. The brunette smiled against your lips when she felt your whimpers in her mouth. Yelena just kept slamming her fingers harder inside of you and rubbing herself quicker. Her breaths got faster and more shallow and as she came, a couple seconds later so did you. Your body shook with the most intense tremors, but Yelena couldn't fault you. She did cum before you, and something about it being in close tandem with hers turned her on a lot more than she would admit. You let out a soft whine when the coolness of the air hit your soaked thigh.

Maria left your mouth and moved between your legs. She put one leg over your left and the other under your right and brought your centers together. "You're a pretty little slut. I want to ruin you so bad." Maria started out ruthless. Her grinding was fast and hard as if she had been waiting to cum for weeks. You felt her in her entirety sliding against your own. The feeling started to overwhelm you. Carol took your face in her hand and rubbed her thumb along your bottom lip. "Open up you little slut."

You obeyed her and opened your mouth sticking your tongue out. At this point you were a blubbering mess and all the ladies were loving it. Carol spit into your mouth before shoving her cock in. "I saw you taking Nat like a pro, so I know you can take me." At least her pace wasn't rough but it certainly was quick. Your gags around Carol was making Maria closer to her release. She leaned forward to angle herself differently against you and put her hand around her throat. She could practically feel Carol's cock fucking your face. Sweat was running down your forehead and your hair clung to every part of your body it could touch. You were close to being spent and you never looked more beautiful this way. Maria's hand tightened, her grunts were heavy. "Such a good little fuck toy. I'm so close baby." You didn't think it was possible for Maria to go any harder but she did. She came with a loud cry and slowed her hips down to ride out her orgasm. You felt her wetness mix with yours. Maria's hand stayed for a couple more minutes, entranced by feeling Carol deep in your throat. The tall blonde slapped your face a couple times before she pulled out. You were too busy catching your breath, you didn't see Natasha move by your feet. She lifted you up and turned you over on your stomach with your legs and arms hanging off the bench. Just when you were hoping it was over, you forgot that Natasha never officially had her turn with you. She rested her strap on your lower back as she ran her cool hands in an attempt to soothe your burning skin. Almost mocking you for being the one to give you the final blow. Wanda walked up to you again. She ran her soft fingers in your hair and moved the stuck strands out of your face. Your breathing was heavy and your body was trembling. Wanda's fingers moved down to cup your jaw and she lifted your head. Tapping the side with her pointer finger, you got the silent request to open your mouth for her. In unison, as Wanda brought her cunt to your mouth, Natasha slid her strap inside you completely bottoming out. Nothing but incoherent noises left your mouth at being filled so sinfully. Wanda gripped your jaw harder as she rubbed her intimacy against your mouth for a second time. You lazily kept your tongue out to try your best to accommodate Wanda's wanting. Natasha on the other hand, had been waiting very patiently for her time and now that she got it she was going to make the best of it. She grabbed your hands in her own and pulled them behind your back to make it easier for her to pound deep into your cunt. When you felt her hit somehow deeper your eyes rolled back. Wanda picked up her pace just as Natasha did, both red-heads moving in perfect synch at opposite ends of your being. A jolt of paint hit your right asscheek igniting a new spark and effectively waking you up even if only for a minute. With every thrust administered, Natasha rained a hand alternating each side of your ass. All of this was sending more and more feelings to your core. You will not be lasting long if these two kept going the way they were. You could feel Wanda fumbling, she was about to come for the second time tonight. Natasha continued to get more rough inside of you until you felt the knot inside of you burst. You came hard around Natasha groaning against Wanda's own cunt. The sight caused Wanda herself to not be able to keep her composure and she came with a scream against your tongue. You felt her pussy pulsing with her orgasm on your mouth. As soon as Wanda backed away from your face, Nat yanked your arms back harder to push herself deeper than you thought was possible. You were screaming, a sweaty broken mess, absolutely spent in this five star hotel. Every thrust pushed harder against that spongey spot inside you. You could feel another earth shattering orgasm approach hoping it would be the last. Natasha's thrusting didn't let up, she was desperate to cum. She was moaning over you with every hit. You yelled her name as you came harder than you had before that whole session. Watching you absolutely spent around her

member, Natasha came just as hard with her final thrust. She stayed inside you to ride out the rest of her high before she carefully pulled out. Looking down she could see wetness all over the bench and her legs. Nat smiled to herself at being the one to make you squirt everywhere like a silent victory. Allowing you to lay and collect your bearings, the red-head began to clean up the room.

There wasn't much you could make out in your state, but you could partially hear Natasha thanking all of the women for coming over before hearing the door open and close through the ringing in your ears. Your were shaking, your whole body felt blissfully weak. The red-head padded over softly to your spent and soaked body and picked you up carefully to place you in her arms bridal style. Your mind was in a war with yourself between wanting just a little bit more or to just go to sleep. You couldn't even open your eyes at this point.

Natasha had brought you to the bathroom to help you clean up and as she moved about, she kept you in her arms. She made sure to hold you as she turned on the faucet and sit on the edge of the tub. As the water filled the tub, Nat moved between rubbing your back and gently caressing your cheek. Once the tub was filled up enough for the both of you, she picked you up again and cautiously lowered the both of you into the hot relaxing water. You couldn't do anything but mumble and cursed yourself for the state you were in even though it wasn't your fault. You desperately wanted to think your gracious host for a life changing night but nothing could come out. Natasha shushed you sweetly. Her time wasn't done until you were well taken care of in her company.

You don't know how long you were in the bathroom, hell you don't even know when you fell asleep as Natasha washed the night away from both of your bodies. Clearly still in no position to be able to make it back to your home, the red-head dried both of you off and brought you to the large bedroom. You had come back into partial consciousness long enough to feel the soft sheets and the plush comforter of this heavenly bed you were being gifted to rest on.

Natasha lowered you down and climbed on the other side before pulling you into her. She lifted your head to lay on her chest so she could easily hold you and play with your hair. She stayed awake until she heard your breathing even out again, signaling that you had fallen asleep again since the bath. She placed a soft kiss to your hairline before succumbing to sleep herself with a blissed smile on her face.

She'd definitely be requesting you again.

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AN: Not sure how I feel about this but yeah this is my wack attempt at something extra dirty.

[hansolmates]

hoshi; vowels and veracity (m)

summary: after a blind date that makes you feel like a giddy teenager all over again, you’re forced to grow up and take a chance when you realize that special someone is your daughter’s kindergarten teacher. pairing: teacher!soonyoung x single mother!reader genre/warnings: fluffity fluff nuggets, humor, a lil bit of angst when yn panics, *steve rogers voice* language! alcohol, unprotected sex (wrap the pickle before u tickle), face sitting w/c: 5.2k a/n: i really have nothing to say about this but i’ve been thinking about going back to school all week so this manifested. enjoy a lil sexy but sweet hosh💕 

“Y-you,” another giggle and the press of wet lips to the sensitive spot of your neck, “stop, Soonyoung! I’m ticklish there!” 

You feel a pout imprint itself in the sweet spot between your ear and your jaw, and you sigh at the rumble of his lips against your skin, “But you taste so sweet, baby,” he croons, and you’re practically melting between the door with how much Soonyoung has pressed himself against you, all of himself. 

“What if I don’t wanna stop, pretty girl?” he husks against your soft skin, whispering things in your ear that aren’t for the faint of heart. In your haste to keep a firm grip, one hand goes to his clothes and the other nips at the undercut of his midnight black hair, “what if I just open the door right now and we slip right in, and then I slip right in you?” 

Your breath hitches and suddenly your core feels like a timebomb, ready to combust. 

Go on a date, Joshua says. He’s a sweet guy, Joshua says. He’s a friend of Joshua’s, so you know going into this blind date that at the very least, he wasn’t a serial killer. But what Joshua failed to tell you going into this was how much Kwon Soonyoung packed and how much of a temptor in disguise he is. 

“I really would love to invite you in,” it looks like it pains Soonyoung to admit this, as he presses his forehead to yours and the edge of his fingers dig into your crushed emerald velvet number, “but tomorrow’s the first day of work and I am not emotionally prepared. But, I do want to see you again. I had a great time.” 

The previous mood melting into the night sky, you reluctantly let go of the lapels of his tweed blazer. Unable to suppress your crestfallen smile you nod, “That’s fine,” you reply, inching away from him to send him a pointed look, “I wouldn’t have gone inside anyway. I don’t put out on the first date,” you cross your arms in an attempt to feign nonchalance.  

Which isn’t a lie, although if Soonyoung had asked you two minutes ago to come inside for a cup of tea, you wouldn’t have argued. He is just that tempting. Said date raises an eyebrow in response, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear at the defiance in your eyes. “Oh?” he echoes, “then what date do you put out?” 

“Date seven.” 

“Lucky seven,” he grins, “so if we go on a date every day this week by Friday we should be good to go. How do you feel about steak?” 

You slap his shoulder in his response, and the giggle that erupts from his lips in response has you feeling dizzy and giddy with excitement. Soonyoung has you feeling like a college freshman all over again, floating like Cloud 9 and drunk in anticipation. You peck one, two more kisses on his lips. He tastes like the peach champagne you shared and his own scent as he pulls you in for a much longer, much hotter kiss. 

“Good luck on your first day,” you mumble against his lips, vaguely remembering that he’s a teacher in a school nearby. 

“Mm, text me when you get home,” and with a final kiss to your forehead he unlocks his door, leaving you warm and full of heart-eyes on his front porch. 

The walk home, more like float home, has you feeling all parts exhausted and hopeful for the days to come. For the first time in a long time you feel young and unbridled, thrumming with excitement. Now you’re just playing with your phone, waiting to exchange goodnight texts. 

“Nari’s asleep,” when you walk into your shared apartment, you spot a sleepy Seungkwan on his laptop and sprawled across your couch. “How was it?” 

“It was reealllly nice,” you’re still a little wine tipsy, drunk on the taste of Merlot and a certain someone’s kisses, “he was really sweet, and surprisingly sexy.” 

“Did you get dicked down?” Seungkwan asks only the most important questions. 

You scoff, flopping down on the couch next to him, “As if, we have work in the morning.” 

“Speaking of work, are you sure you’re not able to drop off Nari to school tomorrow? It’s her first day of kindergarten.” 

“I can’t,” saying it feels absolutely awful, but a single mother has to work extra hard to keep her and her daughter happy. 

“It’s fine,” Seungkwan easily waves you off and runs a hand through his fluffy auburn hair, “her favorite Uncle is there, anyway.” 

“Hey,” you lightly punch his arm, “I’ve already talked Nari through it. I’m cooking a big breakfast tomorrow—chocolate chip pancakes, duh, and taking a million pictures before we have to part ways. I packed a little Kit-Kat for her lunch with a sweet note. When I come back in time for dinner I promised her pizza from her favorite parlor and she can tell me everything about her day.” 

“So, you’re bribing her with food.” 

“Sue me, it’s every parent’s weak spot.” 

Seungkwan stretches his arms, cradling you between his chest. You sigh into his clean linen scent, feeling sleepy. “Yeah, I’ve bribed her with my Switch once or twice,” he admits softly, eyes also drooping, “but you’re a great mother regardless. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything tomorrow.” 

“Thanks, Kwannie,” you sigh, feeling more at ease. 

Nari is the light of you and Seungkwan’s life. Five years ago, you promised yourself that if you were more than financially stable and still sick with baby fever, you would adopt. You didn’t want to find a romantic partner for the sole purpose of having a child, you could easily do that on your own. And that you did, you researched and visited foster homes off in the countryside. 

In a little town off the coast of the shore was where you met Nari, only six months old and full with cherub cheeks and eyes that sparkled like the moon and stars. You fell in love with her instantly. Fast forward five years later and she’s the reason you wake up every morning and work hard every day. Seungkwan being your best friend, also wanted rights as the godfather and therefore is also part of your perfect family picture. 

You and Seungkwan sleep warmly tonight, both excited to share yet another year of Nari’s milestones. 

“And then Mr. Kwon said I was an ‘ace’ with my vowels!” Nari has a string of cheese hanging from her chin, and you don’t bat an eye as you reach to pat it away with a napkin. 

“I wouldn’t expect any less, baby,” you coo, carding a hand through her hair so her bangs don’t get caught in her meal, “remember when mommy and Uncle Kwannie taught you the vowels this summer? We sang that song.” 

“Yes! I sang the same song and showed everyone how ‘ta do it,” your heart is swelling with pride, and you fight the urge to tear up because Seungkwan’s already showing signs of waterworks from his side of the table, “I read a book Mr. Kwon gave me today and he said he’s so impressed I read at a Level B.” 

You quirk your brows at the new jargon. You certainly don’t know what it means to be a Level B, but it makes Nari happy and that’s all that matters. Wiping the orange grease off her lips, you muse that you must get in contact with her teacher one of these days.

“What’s a Level B?” Seungkwan similarly looks stumped at the new vocabulary. 

“I don’t know!” Nari shrugs, but nevertheless her teacher’s attention has her glowing. 

You giggle, “I’m so happy for you, baby.” 

“I’m excited to go back tomorrow, I made a new friend! His name is Jeonghan and he helped me with my numbers today. He called my bows cute.” 

“Cute?” Seungkwan perks up from his stupor, “of course you’re cute, Nari. So cute that you’re too good for this Jeonghwan boy.” 

“Jeonghan, Uncle Kwannie,” she pouts when Seungkwan scoffs, in favor of shoving half a slice in his mouth. She turns to you, tugging on your blazer, “Mama, can I go watch TV now? I finished my homework and I wanna see the new Ladybug and Cat Noir!” 

“Of course,” you pull away her plate, gesturing for her to go to the living room. 

“Thank you mama,” and she’s bouncing off her seat, pushing her chair in and off to watch Miraculous Ladybug. 

You sigh, “They grow up so fast.” 

Seungkwan’s eyes widen at your age-old phrase, the words reminding him oddly of his parents when they used to talk down to him. “And here we are, aging twice as fast,” Seungkwan bemoans, already starting to feel the greasy food settle in his stomach. “We used to eat a whole pie! We could eat absolute garbage back in college and here I am weak at two slices—oh my god, am I having a ‘back in my day’ moment? We need to go out. I need to go out. I’ve been practicing consonants and vowels all day. I need a boyfriend,” he playfully narrows his eyes at you, “I need a boyfriend like yours, sweet and sexy.” 

“Sorry,” you stick out your tongue, “but he’s mine.” 

Perfect timing, Soonyoung’s name pops up on your phone. You two have been texting sporadically throughout the day, making plans for your next date. The two of you are going to watch a drive-in movie, a situation that screams teenage-back-of-the-truck-sex but the movie is a much anticipated favorite of yours and you genuinely want to watch it. 

Soonyoung is full of humor and laughs, getting you to smile and relax at the right times during work and always manages to keep you on your toes whenever he says something flirtatious. 

“Are you gonna introduce him to Nari?” 

You stop typing, and look up towards your beautiful little girl in the living room. Her hair is out of her pigtails, drooping tiredly like she is. Her cheek is pressed against her favorite plush cat, fighting for consciousness because she’s waiting for Marinette to save the day. Your heart swells with affection. 

“Dunno,” you shrug, trying not to think too hard about it, “we’re not that serious right now.” 

You’re absolutely winded. You finished work early today, due to the fact that came in early so you could clock out and pick Nari up from school. Despite the fact that Nari says it’s okay for you not to pick her up, you can’t allow it and you want to be the one who she runs into when she comes out the door. 

“Who do you think she’s gonna hug first?” Seungkwan’s elbowing you, baiting you. “Because this morning she gave me a hug and three kisses before I dropped her off.” 

“Three?” you seethe in annoyance, “three kisses is our thing! Two on the cheek and one on the forehead!” 

The two of you slowly steep together, waiting for the colorful blue door to the kindergarten area to file out. The heel of your shoes are digging into the grass, probably making a needle-like  indentation in the dirt as you struggle not to seep into the lawn. You feel like you’re going to flop on your heels, wishing you could go run back into the car and find your flip-flops from last month’s beach trip. But before you could debate on the run the bell rings, and you’re on livewire when you see the students start to file out. 

Your smile grows ten-fold when you see Nari’s jaw drop in surprise, seeing you waiting for her. She fists whatever is in her hands in surprise, breaking into the cutest smile as she screams, “mama!” 

And you’re ready to hold your arms out and throw her around in circles, until you see who follows right behind her. 

Kwon Soonyoung is Nari’s kindergarten teacher. Kwon Soonyoung with his hair down and untextured, wearing a mint polo and looking nothing like the date you had the other night. He looks absolutely soft and so, you are weak. 

Kwon Soonyoung, the sexy deviant who sends you questionable texts and sends you funny puppy videos, is staring right at you and utterly confused when Nari rams straight into your hip. 

Momentarily distracted, you pepper your pretty daughter in kisses (all three of them, two cheeks and one forehead) and tell her how much you’ve missed her. Clearly she doesn’t miss you as much, as she’s waving around a picture she drew during playtime, one of her and Jeonghan in the sandbox. 

“Really, Nari,” Seungkwan mutters under his breath, shamelessly vocalizing his opinion on a five-year old, “can’t you choose a different friend?” 

“Seungkwan!” you chide, but he pointedly annoys you when Nari finally enters Seungkwan’s embrace. He takes extra time to cuddle her, obviously jealous that another boy has taken refuge in your little Nari’s heart. 

The moment is so sweet and simple you have no choice but to revel in it and take out your phone to snap a photo. 

“Mama!” she pops her head off of Seungkwan’s shoulder, “come meet Mr. Kwon!”

And she’s tugging your hand, only you’re much stronger and you stay firmly planted on the grass. Heck, you even sacrifice your shoes by digging your heels in for extra measure.Your eyes widen in panic, but Nari doesn’t notice because she’s paving a path of dirt with her lime green light-up sneakers, trying to get you to move. You nearly forgot your latest tryst is your daughter’s teacher, and you never told him you have a kid. 

But within seconds, there’s an audible slam and the three of you are shattered from your bubble. Turning to the noise the heavy navy door is now locked shut, all the students dismissed for the day. The crowd is gone. Soonyoung is gone. 

Seungkwan’s eyes dart between the closed door and you, the pieces clicking. His mouth forms a little ‘o’ and he nods in understanding. “He thinks I’m your baby daddy.” 

The two of you point out each other like the Spiderman meme. “He thinks you’re my baby daddy,” you echo, horror marrying your face. 

“Mama? What’s a baby daddy?” 

“Shh, Nari—” he picks up Nari in one swoop, mouthing a go to you as he leads her to the car. 

All alone on the grass, you panic as you watch your family grow smaller and smaller as they enter the parking lot. Soonyoung’s just behind that door, right? Looking left and right to assure no one is going to think you’re being that parent and harassing the teacher within the first week of school, you bound up the steps to knock on the door. Your knocks clang heavily, echoing against the building. 

Ten seconds pass. Nothing. 

You deflate, pulling out your phone to shoot Soonyoung a quick text. 

You: hey, can you come out for a bit so i can explain? Please

A minute passes. He leaves you on read. Defeated, you slump against the door. This day is really a whirlwind on your mental state. All you wanted today was some extra time off work, Nari’s three kisses, and maybe a goodnight text from Soonyoung if you were lucky. 

The door suddenly flips open, and you’re braced against someone’s hands. 

“Whoa, you okay?”

Your face crumples in relief when it’s Soonyoung that’s come out to respond to you. He’s bracing your weight by holding your arms between his hands, although keeping a respectable distance between the upper half of your bodies. It makes you a little upset, but you understand. Once you’re stable, he lets you go and leans away from you.

“Why are you waiting out here?” he asks pointedly, looking at you up and down. You seem terribly overdressed in your coral pinstripe suit, mismatching with Soonyoung’s apple sauce stains. 

“Why do you think I’m waiting out here?”

“And if I close the door again?” he retorts suddenly. 

“Then I’ll follow you home.” 

A beat passes, whatever expression he conveys on his face is practiced and primed. You have a terrible time trying to decipher his blankness. Working with kids probably does that to an adult. “Come in,” he says neutrally, and you wordlessly follow him into his classroom. 

The room is decorated beautifully, with rainbows and glitter. It’s also surprisingly organized, all the crayons in place and the play area free of stray toys. Your eyes instantly search for Nari’s desk, and a small smile fits on your face as you trace her handmade name tag. 

“Normally, I don’t let parents in my room until it’s Back to School Night,” Soonyoung says, leaning against his desk. It makes you terribly nervous, knowing the ball is in your court and he’s waiting for you to make a move. His carefree, easy going nature is nowhere to be found, and all you see is walls and a mean poker face. He pulls up the sleeves of his polo, exposing pale, strong arms. Your mouth waters a little (you can’t help it!) and you immediately reach for a bottle of water in your purse. “So, what is it you have to say?” 

“Seungkwan’s not my baby daddy,” you blurt, and you immediately blanch when Soonyoung’s eyes widen. “Wow uh. I didn’t mean to say it like that.” 

“But you did say it like that,” Soonyoung replies slowly, “no child just doesn’t give three kisses to someone who isn’t their father.” 

“I only called him my baby daddy because he said it first,” you grumble, almost childishly, “and Nari’s a baby, of course she’s going to give three kisses to anyone that feeds her and coddles her.” 

“It sounds like an excuse.” 

“It sounds like I’m freaking out because you keep talking back and forth like this!” you cry, slapping your hands against your thigh. You don’t have to look in a mirror to know that you’re quickly getting annoyed, your face morphing into a shade of embarrassment. You can’t tell if this is amusing him or this is a real interrogation. “Let me explain, Soonyoung!” 

He says your name slowly, deliberately. And then, “do you want to take a break in the Calm Down Corner?” 

“The—the what?” Soonyoung’s eyes flicker to a corner at the far end of the room. The radiator is decorated in a sky blue wallpaper, and there’s a yoga mat on the floor. There are chairs next to a desk filled with coloring pages, decorated with fairy lights. Filling three of the chairs are various stuffed animals, a tiger, a cat, and a panda, all dressed as doctors. It’s a child’s therapy corner. “You gotta be kidding me.” 

He raises a brow, and—is that a smile on his lips? “Then explain, why are you here?” 

“Because I think I really like you,” you confess, frustration melting away to reveal the uneasy upturn on your lips. You lied when Seungkwan asked if you would ever consider introducing Soonyoung to Nari. In a different world, you would’ve loved to take the time to take Nari to the museum and introduce Soonyoung there. They’d definitely bond over their love for tigers. “Seungkwan is my best friend, and helps me take care of Nari. I adopted her five years ago.” 

Something softens in Soonyoung’s eyes, and the air feels much more relaxed. But his dark brows remain knit together, and he looks at you with confused eyes. “Then if you like me so much, why didn’t you tell me you had a daughter?”

“Because kids can be deal breakers,” you admit, and the colorful classroom feels smaller as you hug yourself. “I just, wanted you to like me first.” 

It’s the primary reason why it’s taken you so long to date. Sure, there’d be a fling here and there, but nothing that feels as tangible as Soonyoung is. You’re not old enough to find a partner that wouldn’t blink at the sign of children, yet you’re still at that weird age threshold where a partner could immediately run for the hills at the mention of one. Nothing will top Nari, she’s number one in your heart, but the small selfish part wanted you to put the focus on yourself for just one night. 

“You don’t have to hide, I want every part of your life no matter how long we have,” he assures you gently, firmly without an ounce of regret. Soonyoung opens his arms, and you cry in relief when you get to collapse in the scent of his cologne. You tuck your head in the crook of his neck, slightly sweaty from whatever activities he needs to do with the kids, but you don’t mind. His voice is quiet, melting in your ears, “and I really like you too. I really like Nari as well, she’s a great kid.” 

“She is, isn’t she?” 

You two pull away, and he swipes a thumb under your eyes in case some tears manage to escape. “So, Friday? Movie?” 

“It’s a date.” 

“Where’s Nari?” the question is huffed against your breath as you’re pressed between your freshly washed bedspread and Soonyoung’s body. He takes care in making sure the zipper of your delicate dress doesn’t get caught in the rush, easily slipping your dress off and throwing it on your desk chair. 

“At Seungkwan’s, why?” 

His cheshire cat eyes glow under the moonlight, positively devious. “It’s date seven,” he announces sweetly. His gaze betrays his saccarine reply, a look that only tells you that Soonyoung plans to fuck you five ways to Sunday, and you’ll gladly let him. 

You sit up on your elbows, enjoying the show as Soonyoung quickly sheds his clothing. It’s ungraceful, exciting. Tonight was a simple carnival date, easily making you feel like a giddy college student all over again. Soonyoung won you five Pokemon keychains today, you could put a whole party on your hand. 

“It’s actually date six,” you tease, tilting your head as his pants finally come off, revealing black boxer briefs that snug deliciously around the waist. 

“Oh, okay,” he looks at you like you’ve spoken God’s word, reaching to pick up his shirt, “so you don’t want my dick fucking you raw tonight? Okay, I see how it is,” he pretends to put on his clothing, jabbing a thumb out the door. 

You have the audacity to giggle, pulling him over by the waistband, “Come here so I can make an exception.”

You don’t know what it is that makes you want you want to give everything to this man. Heck, five years ago you didn’t even want a man as an excuse to have kids. But as he nudges you in all the right places and places you on top of him, you know this man will treat you like an absolute treasure. Every kiss is laced with smiles and sweetness, filled with vigor and vivacity that fills you up and leaves you afloat. 

He takes care of you first, unwilling to let you budge as he places your core over his face. He makes quick, but effective use of his tongue and fingers, making sure you’re nice and sensitive for his future plans. You’re practically throbbing with pleasure, vibrating from every cell of your body. Within minutes he’s glistening in your arousal, and he pulls you down so you’re lined up with his crotch. It’s involuntary when you pulse against his member, your body shamefully alerting you that it’s desperate with need, and the remedy is right under you. 

Soonyoung looks more satisfied than you, eager to please you. Without warning, he stuffs two fingers in your mouth, “You pretty, pretty girl,” you are keen at the attention, your body is glowing a radiant rose. 

Your tongue rolls against his fingers, sticky and tasting of your arousal. Tilting your hips up you let Soonyoung pull his member out, lining it against your entrance. Feeling the soft tip brush against your delicate folds, you moan against his mouth. With a little ‘pop’ he releases you, lips shiny and parted. 

“I hope you don’t think I’m some kind of hit-it-n’quit-it kind of guy,” he noses the sensitive spot of your jawline, which distracts you momentarily when the plush tip nudges your folds, coaxing you to unite. “Because after tonight, I’m definitely keeping you. Forever.” 

The reply that dances on your tongue is overtaken by your whines when Soonyoung slips in fully, forcing your body to clench tightly against his. You take him, all of him. You feel wet and sticky and hot and swollen with affection as Soonyoung praises you for taking him so well. His pace is firm and passionate, short nails digging deliciously into your hips for leverage as he makes sure to fill you to the brim. 

He’s right, tonight is far from being a means to an end. You feel like you can have nights like this the rest of your life. And when the both of you finish and you’re pulling the covers over one another, you finally manage to grasp the reply that was nearly forgotten. 

Pressing a kiss to his jaw you whisper, “I’m keeping you, too.” 

“So, how long can we keep this a secret for?”

“Ideally? Ten months. Realistically, I’d say Christmas.” 

“Why Christmas?” 

“Because I know you’re going to be dying to get Nari a Christmas present.” 

Soonyoung props his elbow on the pillow, looking at you petulantly. “I could say it’s a good behavior reward. She’s been racking up those gold stars during morning meetings, babe. She’s not even trying.” 

“That’s my girl,” you coo, rolling over to lean your head on his chest. Light has long flooded into your apartment, seeping through your curtains and reflecting on your white duvet. Soonyoung looks absolutely fluffy and well rested, and you can’t help but reach to pat down the ebony bird’s nest atop his head. 

The two of you lay like that for a little bit, playing with each other’s cold feet under the covers and relishing under the touch of bare skin to bare skin. You remind yourself that you need to take Joshua out to dinner one of these days, as he managed the inevitable and set you up with  an amazing partner. 

“Breakfast?” Soonyoung pops the question easily, “let’s get steak.”

“Steak isn’t eaten for breakfast.” 

“Then can I eat you for breakfast?” 

You snort, hiding under the covers while Soonyoung attempts to tickle you. The whole act in itself feels wholly innocent despite the fact that you’re both naked and smell like sweat and sex. Just as you feel Soonyoung’s head dip under the covers to meet you at your chest, the door swings open. 

“Mama!” 

The previously warm room feels like wickedly sharp ice, freezing you to your spot as you clutch the covers closer to your chest. “Baby!” you cry exasperatedly, flinching when she throws all her weight on you. She’s still in her ladybug pajamas from last night, hair falling out of her braid. 

She lifts her head from your breast to give you an adorable one-toothed grin. You try your best to maintain eye-contact, but Nari has impeccable vision. Her grin evolves into a full-on beam when she finds your bed partner.

“Mr. Kwon!” she’s squealing, clamoring over your lap. You do a double-take when you see Soonyoung sitting next to you, wearing a t-shirt. Where on earth did he get that?

Soonyoung’s eyes reduce to crescents at his (secretly) favorite student. “Good morning, Nari-ah. Had a fun time at your Uncle’s house?” 

“Nari,” you force your daughter down to stand on the hardwood, giving her a stern look, “give Mr. Kwon some space, it’s really early and it’s the weekend.” 

Knitting her brows together, she looks between the two of you, “But you two don’t have any space.” 

You wince at her perception, and nudge yourself away so you���re pressed against your nightstand. The oakwood corner digs painfully into your back. 

“We were haviång a very special parent meeting,” you fight the urge to cry when Soonyoung turns on his teacher's voice, sending your daughter a very convincing smile. You watch as your daughter’s eyes go wide, probably feeling very special that her teacher came all the way to her house to have a meeting. “You’ve been doing so well during the read-alouds that I had to tell your mama in person!” 

“I told you mama!” Nari juts out her chest, and you lean over to kiss the crown of her head. “But Mr. Kwon, why are you having it in mama’s room?” 

“Her room is the warmest!” he says like it’s the most obvious thing, his and Nari’s eyes widening simultaneously as he gestures to the open window. “The sun travels directly into your bedroom in the morning, and those rays send heat—”

“Mr. Kwon,” your voice is as steady as it can be, and  you frown when Soonyoung wiggles his brows. You already know he’s thinking of three separate ways you can use the term Mr. Kwon in private, but you’re not having any of that, “shouldn’t we uh, wrap up this… meeting?” 

“I wanna stay,” Nari glowers, obviously nosy as to what you two are talking about.

“I know baby. We just gotta finish up the meeting, okay? Can you—” you cut  yourself off when Seungkwan finally decides to make his appearance, eyes wide at commotion he’s created. He’s in matching pajamas, ridiculously red as he bends down to scoop up Nari. Absolutely sweating and as red as his clothes, his eyes dart between the two of you. You could care less that Seungkwan’s eyes have bags under their bags, and was probably too tired to catch her when she ran inside the house. No, Seungkwan doesn’t deserve the title of godfather anymore. 

“Nari! You can’t interrupt teacher meetings,” Seungkwan pretends to scold, and Nari turns her head so she can hide in her Uncle’s shoulder. 

Knowing that Nari can’t see a thing, you mouth a very explicit I will kill you to your best friend, and he immediately mouths an apology to the both of you as he ushers himself out the door. You wait ten seconds for your daughter to be out of ear shot, before dropping the blanket from your neck and throwing yourself against the pillows. 

But Soonyoung’s chuckling, pressing a litany of kisses all over your bare body in an attempt to comfort you. Instead of reveling in his lazy morning touch, you want to disappear between the sheets, never to be seen. What will the PTO moms say when they find out? How will you stop Nari from telling Jeonghan, and therefore Jeonghan telling the entire kindergarten population? Why isn’t Soonyoung freaking out about this? Instead, he favors to taste your body, in between kisses muttering something about it being kismet that Nari so happened to see right as you were discussing the secrecy of your relationship. Ten years from now, your daughter will be horrified when she realizes that no, teachers don’t normally give housecalls in your mother’s bed.

Your boyfriend pinches your thigh, regarding you with mirth in his eyes. 

“So, that means I can buy her a Christmas present now, right?” 

[crowfootwrites]

Assumptions [Chibs Telford x Fem!Reader]

I honestly don't even know what this is. A v long one-shot? Also, the ending is not my best work, but it is what it is. I just love Chibs. So, here's approximately 4,250 words about it.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut (like, literally a third of this is just smut): oral sex (M receiving), fingering, P in V sex; language

As you pulled your car into one of the few remaining open spaces of the Teller-Morrow lot, you took a few calming breaths and wiped your damp palms on your bare thighs. In the passenger seat, your best friend Luci looked over at you with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. Unlike you, she seemed completely at home. It made sense; Luci was dating Juice, a patched member of the Sons, and she spent a fair bit of time at the clubhouse. This was the first time she had been able to successfully drag you along, thanks to your hectic work schedule.

You were excited to be attending a SAMCRO party, but you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t also a little nervous. A clubhouse full of rowdy bikers, surrounded by alcohol, drugs, and half-naked women? As juvenile as the thought felt, you wondered briefly what would happen if they didn’t like you. If you were unwelcome. If Luci abandoned you and then you had no one to talk to. If you embarrassed yourself somehow.

“Babe, it’s gonna be fun!” Luci said reassuringly on your right. She opened her door and hopped out. Not wanting to get left behind, you got out and followed close behind her to the front of the clubhouse, where the party was already raging.

A couple guys were inside a big boxing ring out front, beating the shit out of each other with bare fists, and a small crowd gathered around to watch. Some others were sitting at picnic tables to the left of the front door, smoking and drinking beer. You let your gaze wander, trying to take in as much of the surroundings as possible. It was mostly men around you, and most of them were wearing kuttes. There were also plenty of scantily-clad women roaming around, hanging off of the bikers. You were suddenly glad you let Luci pick out your outfit. You weren’t showing off as much as Luci in her tight black bandage dress, but your short, blue, bell-sleeved baby doll dress advertised a ton of leg and complemented your bright red lipstick. You fluffed your hair nervously as you walked past the men out front. No one really paid you any attention, which simultaneously made you feel better and worse.

Luci grabbed your hand with a reassuring look and tugged you through the door into the clubhouse. Inside, it was… chaotic, in a word. Music pulsated through the room over the chatter of a throng of people. Inside, there were more men in kuttes; standing around the pool table, crowded around the bar on the side of the room, seated at tables or on couches. There were also more women inside, sitting on men’s laps or flitting around flirting with anyone wearing a kutte. They all seemed a little drunk, all giggles and teasing touches. A few people glanced over at you and Luci as you walked in, but paid no other mind.

Luci dragged you over to the bar, squeezing her way in between two men sitting on barstools. They made space for her and greeted her cheerfully, pulling her into tight hugs and kissing her cheeks. Luci reached around for you and dragged you up beside her.

“Bobby, Piney, this is my best friend, (Y/N)!” she exclaimed, thrusting you into her spot. (Y/N), this is Piney,” she motioned towards the man on your left, who wore a nasal cannula attached to an oxygen tank. He nodded gruffly at you as Luci continued, “and this is Bobby!”

Bobby smiled warmly at you. “Nice to meet you, sweetheart,” he said. He had a welcoming presence and you already liked him. He had long, wild gray hair and an unkempt beard. He reminded you of a big teddy bear.

“What’ll you have?” he asked you and Luci, flagging down a guy with a prospect patch working behind the bar.

Luci leaned over your shoulder to answer Bobby. “Two whiskeys, rocks,” she said cheerfully. The prospect turned to get them as Luci squealed behind you. You turned to see Juice grabbing Luci up into a giant hug and spinning her around him. She laughed, a look of pure joy on her face. You couldn’t help but smile. You knew Luci deserved the happiness she had with Juice. Somewhere deep inside, you felt the dull tick of loneliness, but you shoved it down like you always did, and your smile didn’t even falter.

Bobby tapped your upper arm with a knuckle, handing you a whiskey.

“Oh! Thank you,” you chirped. Bobby handed Luci her drink, but she was already lost in Juice’s presence, and he chuckled at the sight of them. You couldn’t help but giggle alongside him. They were pretty cute.

Bobby turned back to you with a grin. “So, how long have you been friends with Luci?” he asked conversationally.

“Oh, god,” you snorted, “basically forever. We met in kindergarten. We actually hated each other at first, but then I punched her in the face over a boy, and we’ve been best friends ever since.”

Bobby laughed aloud. It was a good laugh, and it put you at ease. “Well, we like her here,” he said. “She’s got a good head on her shoulders. She’s good for our Juicy.”

Your smile widened as the pair moved onto the makeshift dance floor and you nodded at Bobby. “Juice has been really great for her, too,” you admit quietly. “She’s been through a lot, and he makes her really happy. Treats her right.” Bobby nodded slowly and gazed out over the crowd in the clubhouse. Your gaze followed his and you noticed a Son rising off one of the couches and approaching the bar. You turned a little more towards Bobby to study him out of the corner of your eye as he approached. The man wore all black beneath his kutte. The first thing that registered in your mind was his undeniable handsomeness. He kept his graying hair swept back from his face, but a few strands fell forward around his eyes. He also had silvery facial hair and long scars that climbed from the corners of his lips up to his cheekbones. He carried himself with an easy confidence, clapping Bobby on the back as he finally reached your bar companion.

You ducked your head and took a long swig of your drink nervously, but Bobby was already introducing you, and you glanced up with a smile, trying to mask any apprehension.

“(Y/N) here is a friend of Luci’s! (Y/N), this is Chibs,” Bobby supplied.

A blush crept slowly across your cheeks under Chibs’ gaze, but you squared your shoulders and threw him a bright smile, trying to will your nerves away. You held out your hand and Chibs shook it firmly, his hands large and calloused. You wondered unexpectedly what they would feel like on your body before you flushed deeply and glanced away from Chibs. You were suddenly reminded of just how long it had been since you’d slept with anyone, and you instructed yourself mentally to cool it. Bobby cleared his throat with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Headin’ out for a smoke,” he said to his companions. “You need anything, (Y/N), come grab me,” he added.

“Thanks, Bobby,” you said sweetly.

As Bobby made his way out the door, Chibs took the bar stool beside you and smiled. You could feel the warmth in your face, despite your desire to play it cool. Chibs’ eyes were intense and perceptive and the feeling of him watching you had your heart thumping in your chest.

He motioned to your almost-empty glass. “Wha’re ye drinkin’, lass?”

Your breath caught in your chest at the unexpected presence of a Scottish accent, and you tried to recover quickly, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of this incredibly handsome man.

You cleared your throat nervously. “Uh, whiskey,” you responded. He grinned almost approvingly and you ducked your head quickly to hide your smile upon the discovery that Chibs had dimples.

“Oi! Sack!” he called to the prospect at the other end of the bar. When he had gotten his attention, he motioned towards your glass and held up two fingers.

He turned back to you. “So, firs’ time a’ one o’ these?” he asked conversationally, gesturing vaguely towards the raging party beside them.

You nodded, tossing back the last of your drink. “Luci’s been asking me to come with for like a month,” you said with a chuckle, “but I’ve been working a ton, so this is the first time I could come out.”

Chibs’ eyes didn’t leave yours as you answered him. You liked that. He didn’t leer or openly ogle you.

“And wha’ is it tha’ ye do, darlin’?” God, that accent.

“I, uh, I own a photography company,” you told him sheepishly, but some of your apprehension abated when you realized he looked fascinated.

“So, ya do weddin’s an’ the like?” he asked as the prospect set two glasses of whiskey in front of them.

You nodded eagerly. “Weddings, milestone birthdays, maternity shoots, family photos… All kinds of shit,” you said, earning a chuckle from Chibs.

You greatly enjoyed conversing with Chibs. It felt easy. He listened attentively and appeared engaged. Periodically, you wondered if he was simply entertaining you, as you couldn’t wrap your head around what an attractive man, wearing a sought-after patch, wanted with you. But he continued to ask you questions and he seemed genuinely interested. You sat at the bar chatting with Chibs for what felt like a long time. As you spoke, you found yourself leaning closer to him, taking comfort in the low lilt of his voice. His eyes followed yours at all times, an easy smile on his lips. You realized after a while that he had begun leaning closer to you as well, his elbow propped on the bar. You saw him glance very briefly towards your crossed legs on the barstool, your skin on display as your dress rode up over the course of the evening. His eyes found his way back to yours almost immediately, not wanting to be impolite, but that glance, probably in combination with the alcohol and the long night of talking, sent heat flooding to your core. You bit your lower lip and took a chance, gently sliding your hand onto his jean-clad knee as you laughed at a story he was telling about Juice. He didn’t break stride in his tale, but you saw the hunger flash in his eyes as he registered your hand on him.

By this point in the evening, your heads were practically touching, tilted together conspiratorially as you spoke to one another. You were swooning at the scent that wafted around Chibs, a mix of leather, cigarette smoke, and good whiskey. Perhaps it was the alcohol (although, to be honest, you hadn’t had that much to drink), but you were suddenly desperate to know what it felt like to have Chibs touching you. Your earlier apprehension had been wiped away by his demeanor and company over the course of the evening. You hadn’t been with anyone in the year since you had returned to Charming, and it had been a long and lonely time. You knew that this would probably be a one-time thing, which wasn’t normally your style, but you hadn’t felt this kind of pull towards anyone in a while. Maybe it would be good for you to see it through?

So when Chibs brought his arm off the bar and placed his right hand at the top of your thigh, his thumb resting in the bend of hip, you tipped your head forward just slightly, resting it against his with a small sigh. And that, apparently, was enough for him. Chibs rose from the bar stool and you uncrossed your legs to give him space to stand between them. Both of his hands found your hips and your heart thundered against your ribcage. You bit your bottom lip and didn’t try to hide the desire in your eyes as you met Chibs’ burning stare.

“Not too old for ye, lass?” he asked, his voice tinged with such a slight edge of uncertainty that you weren’t actually positive you had heard it.

You shook your head vehemently, wanting to reassure him without openly telling him you had a thing for older men anyway. “With age comes experience,” you responded coyly. He grinned at that, his hands tightening on your hips. He grazed his nose gently against yours before capturing your lips in a soft kiss. His mustache tickled your lips and you smiled against his mouth before bringing a hand up to cup his cheek, running a thumb along his jaw. With that touch, he deepened the kiss, a low rumble in his throat. He snaked one of his hands up to the back of your neck, keeping you pressed into him as your tongue danced against his tentatively. He pulled away for a moment, his brown eyes on fire. You were both breathing heavily and, as embarrassed as you would have been to admit it, you were already soaking wet.

You let him pull you off the barstool and guide you gently towards the back of the clubhouse, where you had seen Juice take Luci. The dorms, you remembered. His hand never left yours, and you inspected the reaper patch on the back of his kutte as you followed him. Were you really about to do this with a Son? With an outlaw biker? Chibs pulled you into a sparsely decorated (but blessedly clean) room with a large Scottish flag hanging behind the bed and closed the door quietly behind you. You studied the need in his eyes, the comfortable set of his shoulders, and you knew the answer. Yes, yes you were.

He glowered at you hungrily, and you gripped the leather at the front of his kutte, letting your hips grind forward into his. You felt the firm grasp of his hands on your ass, still over your dress, and you couldn’t wait until he got underneath it. He brought his lips greedily to your neck, kissing and nipping and biting until you were whimpering under his ministrations. Your hands traveled from the front of his kutte to his sides, sliding them underneath his black t-shirt and caressing the soft skin there. You ran your nails lightly up the front of his chest and he shuddered slightly at your touch. As he growled against your ear, you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips. That seemed to send Chibs into overdrive. He gripped you tightly around the waist and hoisted you up so you could wrap your legs around him, his hard length pushing against you beneath his jeans. You couldn’t help the little roll of your hips, rubbing your core against him, eager to feel him against the thin fabric of your soaked panties. He moved you to the bed before setting you down with a little bounce. His hands grabbed the hem of your dress and he tugged it over your head, tossing it to the side. He stared at you for a moment, reclining on his bed in nothing but a bra and thong, a bit of wonderment in his eyes.

You watched as he shed his kutte and pulled his boots off, then tugged his shirt over his head. Before you was a strong, sturdy man, broad in the chest. The kind of man you imagined would have no problem manhandling you in bed. The thought had you squeezing your thighs together, increasing the pressure there. You studied the strand of wooden beads around his neck and the tattoos scattered across his chest and arms, licking your lips suggestively. You were a sucker for tattoos. You sat up on the bed, scooting yourself to sit on the edge and pulled him towards you by his belt loops. He grunted and exhaled hard as you deftly unbuckled his belt and undid his jeans, pulling his pants and boxers down. His cock bobbed in front of you, hard and uncut, twitching slightly with the sound of Chibs’ breath. You gazed up at him through your eyelashes and he stared down at you almost pleadingly, his jaw clenched. You wasted no time in bringing him into your mouth, swallowing as much of him as you could, letting your tongue trace the veins and ridges along his length. He groaned and wound his hands into your hair, gripping gently. You could tell he was trying not to pull or push too hard, but you wanted to hear him make more of those delicious sounds. You took him deeper, until you were gagging and tears were pricking at the corners of your eyes. You used one hand to grip and stroke what you couldn’t reach with your lips, and the other to roll his balls lightly between your fingers. Groans and growls flew freely from Chibs’ mouth and you smirked. You had always been a little cocky about your oral skills and were glad to know you hadn’t lost your touch.

“Fuck, darlin’, if ye keep on like tha’ I’m no’ gonna las’ long,” Chibs growled, his hands moving to rest below your jaw, motioning you upwards. His alluring Scottish brogue thickened in the throes of your playtime together. You hollowed your cheeks and pulled your mouth off him with a loud pop before coming to stand before him again. He guided your lips to his, kissing you fiercely, his hands snaking behind you to unclasp your bra. As it fell to the floor, he tugged your thong off, gripping your ass forcefully, his erection pressing between your bodies. You whimpered, desperate to have him inside you. His hand slipped between the two of you and he ran his deft fingers teasingly along your folds. He touched you so lightly, so tauntingly, that you actually whined, a keening sound that flew out of your throat unbidden. He chuckled darkly, then thrust a finger into you, his thumb circling your clit firmly.

You cried out, finally getting some release for all the tension you’d been holding between your legs. You buried your face into Chibs’ shoulder, dragging your nails down his back. Your hips rocked against him and he added a finger, thrusting harder, circling faster.

“Ahh – Chibs, fuck,” you hissed, your chest heaving against his. “I need you.”

“Tell me wha’ ye wan’, love,” he mumbled against your ear, his lips ghosting over your temple. Heat expanded between your bodies where you clung to him, trying to stay upright through the waves of pleasure shooting through your abdomen.

“I – Chibs, I need you to – to fuck me,” you stammered, your brain overloaded by sensation. You ran your fingers gently along his cock, still pressed between you, and through the fog you felt the clenching of his jaw against your cheekbone. You groaned quietly as he pulled his fingers from you and brought them to his mouth, tasting you. Fire burned in your cheeks, turned on beyond comprehension, and you twisted your hips against him involuntarily.

A moment later, Chibs backed himself up the bed, coming to rest finally with his back against the headboard. He leaned over towards the bedside table, his gray hair falling into his eyes as he plucked a condom out of the top drawer. He curled a stern finger and motioned you towards him. As you crawled up the bed, he handed you the packet. You wasted no time ripping it open and rolling it down his length, gripping him firmly and eliciting a sharp hiss from him. You straddled his lap, the slickness between your thighs gliding over his cock as you leaned forward to wrap your arms around his neck. His hands once again found a home on your ass, the metal of his rings warm now, and he gripped you tightly, guiding you upwards as you positioned him at your entrance.

Pleasured groans tore from both of your throats as you sank down onto him. He held you still for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, and your foreheads grazed as you leaned in to kiss him again. You thought hazily that you might never grow tired of kissing this man. Slowly, you surged higher, then ground down again, pulling another moan from Chibs. His grip on your ass tightened as you rode him, and you were sure you’d have bruises the next day. You felt incredible. He felt incredible, filling you deliciously and hitting you in just the right spot. You tossed your head back, your hair cascading down your spine as you chased your peak. Chibs attached himself to the curve of your shoulder, his lips and teeth savoring every inch of your skin.

Your thighs burned with the effort, melding with the heat building in the base of your belly. Chibs brought a hand to the back of your head, pulling your face closer to his, his lips crashing onto yours fervently.

You rode the wave higher, quickly approaching the brink that you would happily throw yourself off of under Chibs’ care. You panted against his lips, your foreheads joined as you rocked together, words tumbling incoherently off your tongue.

“Chibs – I, fuck – almost there. Please, I need – gonna come –” you whined, the pleas snatched from your mouth unchecked.

“Come for me, darlin’,” he whispered huskily, flattening one hand against your lower stomach, his thumb pressing roughly on your clit. Sparks flashed behind your eyelids as you peaked, crying out Chibs’ name. He slowed his hand on your clit, letting you ride it out, groaning under you as he continued to thrust. The feeling of you clenching around him was too much and he snapped, burying himself deep inside you one last time, a guttural, rolling grunt erupting from somewhere deep in his chest.

You remained settled in Chibs’ lap with your arms wrapped loosely over his shoulders as you both caught your breath. Your chests heaved in tandem and Chibs traced his fingers up and down your side gently.

“Jesus, love,” he finally managed to huff out.

You gave a breathy laugh and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. As your breath evened out, you gingerly climbed off of Chibs’ lap and began searching for your clothes, your unfamiliarity with this type of situation beginning to creep in. It had been a very long time since you had had a one-night stand, and you didn’t want to overstay your welcome. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Chibs remove the spent condom and toss it into a trash can by the bed. You grabbed your dress off the floor and tugged it quickly over your head. As you circled the bed in search of your bra, Chibs watched you keenly.

“Where ye goin’?” he inquired from his spot on the bed, where he had pulled the comforter over himself.

“Oh, I just… I figured I should get going,” you answered, a flush rising to your cheeks. Was that not the right thing to do? You couldn’t imagine a scenario wherein he wanted you to stay.

You glanced back at Chibs, who was wearing a smirk that made your knees weak. “Was it that bad, love?”

Your jaw dropped and you stumbled to reassure him. “No!” you exclaimed. “No. It was – honestly, Chibs, it was amazing.” You paused, twisting your fingers nervously and staring at the floor, balking slightly at being this vulnerable. “I just figured. I don’t know. I guess, that you wouldn’t want me to stay. Just sort of a one-and-done kind of thing,” you trailed off feebly. As the words left your lips, you realized that he hadn’t actually ever given you that impression. You had just assumed. You wiped a hand over your face, even more embarrassed now.

“(Y/N). Look a’ me.”

You forced your gaze back to Chibs’ face. His eyes were soft, watching you with a small smile.

“I don’ wan’ ye to go anywhere,” he admitted. “I don’ know wha’ you’re lookin’ for, lass. Fuck, I don’ even know wha’ I’m lookin’ for.” He ran a hand through his hair, sweeping the graying strands back before continuing. “Bu’ I know tha’ I like ye. And I had fun tonigh’. So, maybe ye can come back to bed wi’ me, and we can figure the rest ou’ in the mornin’. Wha’ do ye think abou’ tha’?”

The tension that had been winding tighter and tighter in your chest suddenly unfurled, and warm relief flooded your limbs. You didn’t want to have to admit that you perhaps liked Chibs more than he liked you. You had been determined to see it through, even if it was just a one-night stand, but hearing that he was at least a little interested felt nice after such a long time alone.

Whatever was going to happen in the morning could wait, and you weren’t in any hurry to make more assumptions about Chibs anyway. So, you shot him a rueful grin and climbed back into the bed beside him, letting him slip your dress back off and pulling you into his arms.

[retvenkos]

romantic at heart | m.

Legend of Korra - Mako x Reader, fluff

tw: none

word count: 4.6k

A/N: canon? who needs her? certainly not this fic. korrasami deserved to be canon earlier so i vaguely mentioned it, and mako and bolin’s apartment is the perfect setting don’t @ me.

Summary: Mako has always had bad luck when it comes to love, but with (Y/n), things feel easy. So why, then, is it so hard to admit it?

the three times he didn’t say it, and the one time he did.

one;

“I’m telling you guys, this is going to be great! Part Four is my favorite in The Adventures of Nuktuk: Hero of the South!” 

Mako shared an amused look with (Y/n) as Bolin led the way into the darkened theater, holding open the door for the group to enter. Asami and Korra passed hand in hand, and when (Y/n) walked past Bolin, they tossed a piece of popcorn at him and Bolin caught it in his mouth.

Mako brought up the rear of the group, and as they walked up to find their seats, he whispered, “How many parts are there, Bo?”

“Seven! And the Finale’s great, don’t get me wrong, but it just doesn’t have the heart that part four does.”

“That’s just because he kisses Ginger,” (Y/n) leaned in and whispered to Mako, earning an incredulous “hey!” from Bolin.

“How’d that work out, by the way?” Asami turned to the earthbender with what sounded like genuine curiosity and Bolin chuckled nervously.

“Ah, well, you know, the hearts of mover stars are fickle, so we didn’t last long… there was something about it being a publicity stunt, but that didn’t make much sense, so…”

“Well it’s her loss,” Korra elbowed Bolin in the side with a smile and he forced a chuckle.

“She doesn’t deserve you, Bo.”

“Yeah, you’re a great mover star.”

A few people in the theater shushed them, and the group settled down into their chairs, just moments before the lights dimmed further and the mover started. The disembodied voice of Varrick boomed through the speakers with a recap of the previous 3 parts of the daring adventure, and everyone fell silent, slowly getting sucked into the mover before them.

Ever since their debut, the Nuktuk movies were a success - a staple of Republic City culture - getting replayed in theatres again and again. After learning that Mako hadn’t seen Nuktuk in its entirety, Bolin called for a state of emergency and got the whole group together so they could schedule a time for a complete rewatch of the seven-part masterpiece.

Mako had been planning to make some excuse - a series of cases that Beifong put him up to, or a slew of paperwork that some higher-paid coworkers pawned off onto him. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to miss something for work, and it wouldn��t be the first attempt at lying to get out of a viewing party. Just three months ago he narrowly avoided a showing of Love amongst the Dragons by faking sickness and saying that Beifong told him to sleep all day so he could be back at work the next. Everyone but Bolin believed him, and Bolin (who didn’t want to see it either but promised Asami he would go) let it slide.

After that, Bolin was better at guessing when Mako was lying, and whenever he needed Mako’s compliance, he set (Y/n) up to the task of cajoling Mako to come along.

So far, their track record had been impeccable.

(Y/n) chuckled at something they saw on screen, and Mako turned to them. “How many cases of Vari-dye do you think Varrick sold after that product placement?” They gestured to the screen where the once blonde Ginger flagrantly mentioned her hair dye product before becoming a, well… ginger. The script was somehow able to loosely tie the product placement into the plot, but the moment earned a couple of well-earned laughs throughout the theater.

“Millions, most likely. Aren’t these movers big in Ba Sing Se?”

“As comedies,” (Y/n) muttered, leaning in, clearly trying to keep their voice down so Bolin didn’t hear. The theater around them was dark and silent, but the light reflected in (Y/n)’s eyes was full of life and mirth. Mako found himself unable to look away.

He cleared his throat, “You do have to give it to Nuktuk and his comedic timing.”

“And Juji’s heart-wrenching death and subsequent resurrection.”

Mako found himself chuckling at their lame joke, and for once, he didn’t mind. (Y/n) smiled triumphantly, as though they had accomplished something truly grand, and angled their bag of popcorn towards Mako. He took some and popped a piece in his mouth, his laughter still dying on his lips. 

“Varrick must be quite the director, to get you to laugh in a totally serious, not-a-comedy mover.”

“Varrick?” and there was just enough suggestion in Mako’s words to say all that he couldn’t, though why he couldn’t seem to get anything else out, he didn’t know.

Things were always easy with (Y/n); their smiles were soft and infectious, their tactics in getting him to open up were effortless and effective, and falling in love with them had been the most simple and uncomplicated thing in this world. It should have been with such ease that Mako told them that it was them that got him into the theater and their corny comments that made him burn inside, like a thousand dying comets that took the form of shooting stars.

But for some reason, he was stuck.

Unsurprising, really, Mako had never really had luck when it came to love and even friendship. There was always something complicating things; there were always two sides of him, fighting the other for reasons even he couldn’t fathom. Eventually, one of them would lose. Eventually, something would give. 

But until that eventuality…

“I suppose I am quite the comedian. Should I write a screenplay?” (Y/n) was speaking, but something in their demeanor was different - a little stunned - like they hadn’t considered something before and it was only now dawning on them, slowly, but comfortably. Easy. “It would have to be a sequel to Nuktuk, of course. Maybe I can introduce the grumpy, mysterious fire-bender who he’s now forced to share a quest with?”

(Y/n) nudged him in the shoulder, already rolling their eyes at their own idea. Mako looked down, suddenly interested in picking the perfect piece of popcorn. “Yeah. If you’re making it, why not?”

(Y/n) snorted and turned back to the film.

two;

Taking the steps to his apartment two at a time, Mako fished for his keys in the pocket of his pants. Walking the beat had the potential to be more trouble than it was worth, and often Mako found himself at the gym at the end of the day, taking out his frustration the way he used to - pro-bending. Well, not so much pro-bending, anymore, seeing as they disbanded the Fire Ferrets, and dissolved the team, but it was the same training, nonetheless, and Mako had been a pro-bender so long that oftentimes, nothing felt more comfortable than the gym.

As he walked down the hall to his door - second on the right, Bolin had insisted - Mako could hear the sounds of laughter and the beeping of the oven. Despite himself, he smiled, breathing in deeply as he fiddled with the lock and opened the door.

Inside the tiny apartment, (Y/n) and Bolin were working side by side, leaning over the oven as they looked at the baked goods that lay within. The counters were a mess of cluttered ingredients and mismatched bake wear, Pabu had tracked flour across the carpet, and by every measure it was chaotic, but Mako simply leaned against the doorframe, speaking just loud enough to be heard. “Stress baking, again? Y’know, I’m really starting to regret giving you a key.”

"This was all Bolin, actually.” (Y/n) pulled the baking sheet out of the oven and set it down before turning to Mako with their usual countenance. “He told me to come over - he bought a set of mixing bowls and everything.”

“He didn’t buy more counter space?”

“Hey!” Bolin called incredulously through a mouth full of baked goods. Pabu scuttled beneath him, eating the crumbs that fell to the floor. “Counters wouldn’t fit.”

“It’s alright Bo,” (Y/n) nudged his arm with their shoulder, turning back to the task at hand. They used an old spatula to take their masterpiece off of the pan, and Bolin took two from them. 

“You have to try this batch, Mako, (Y/n)’s gotten really good at their green tea cookies.”

“Oh?”

Mako shut the door behind him and walked over to the couch. (Y/n) met him halfway with their signature, light green cookie, Mako took it with an appreciative smile. “The secret is in the matcha. I wasn’t putting in enough before, so they didn’t taste right.”

Mako broke off a bit of the cookie, making sure to get a bit that had a white chocolate chip in it, and savored the taste. (Y/n) was watching him with one of their expectant smiles, and he nodded his head, the bittersweet flavor still lingering in his mouth. “These are your best yet.”

“High praise, coming from you.” And there was an edge of sarcasm to their voice, but their eyes were bright. Mako just looked at them for a moment, really looked at them in all of their casual beauty. (Y/n) had moved into his life so early on and so slowly that Mako didn’t know what life would be like without their casual teasing and easy grins.

And, of course, their random (but not unwelcome) bouts of stress baking.

Mako must have been staring a bit too long, because (Y/n) raised a playful eyebrow, and not too long after, Bolin broke the silence. “Uh, Pabu and I have to go, and uh... y’know, do adult stuff, with uh....”

“With Korra?” (Y/n) supplied amusedly, turning to Bolin, who was stuffing a napkin with cookies hurriedly. 

“Yeah! Y’know, Avatar stuff...” Bolin shrugged, slipping out the door, only to open it up again and grab his shoes before shoving off again.

(Y/n) scoffed and Mako sighed, calling after him. “Real smooth, Bo!” 

A muffled response called out to them, and (Y/n) laughed, walking back over to the kitchen area, where they started to put together another batch of cookies, measuring the sugar with their hands and putting it into a bowl with butter. “I’m surprised you haven’t been kicked out from noise complaints.”

Yeah, well Bolin charmed our neighbors into liking us too much to see us go.”

“His charm does go far, doesn’t it?” Mako watched and (Y/n) moved through his apartment with ease, pulling spoons out of the drawers and cleaning the dishes as they went. Their practiced movements had the surety and preciseness of someone who lived there, and the thought was enough to make Mako’s throat dry.

“So,” Mako cleared his throat and walked over to (Y/n) passing them the egg they were reaching for. “you measure everything with your hands, and yet you’re constantly insisting that baking is a science. How does that work?”

“It’s all in the weight and look of it - a full cup is a far cry from a fourth.” (Y/n) mixed the ingredients together, their brow set in concentration, “Or, at least, that’s what my mom used to say. What I will tell you—” they looked up at Mako rather suddenly, that intensity still alight within them “—is that it’s in how it feels.”

“So the weight of it.”

“Yes... but it’s more than that.” (Y/n) looked at him with their sharp eyes, as though trying to judge something. “Go wash your hands,” and they jerked their head to the side, “I’ll show you.”

Mako didn’t even hesitate to do as they said, and even though Bolin had left, he could hear his voice - a surprised “what...?” - nagging the back of his mind. It was easy to shrug off. It was (Y/n). Everything was easy when it came to them.

“Alright,” (Y/n) said, with a hint of childish excitement, as Mako slung the towel he had used to dry his hands over his shoulder. “Give me your hands.”

Their touch tickled and their fingers - dry and powdery from the flour - grazed over his, opening his palms with a gentle sort of care.

“Here is one cup or so.” (Y/n) grabbed a handful of flour, transferred it to their other hand, and skimmed some off the top before placing it in his. “Yeah, you can feel the weight, and you can see how much there is, but you have to kind of trust that what you're feeling is right, because it’s not always going to feel the same, right? When you’re tired or you’ve been baking all day, things feel different, even though they’re the same.”

“All this for flour?”

“For each cup of flour. We need two and a half.”

“I can see why Bolin asks you to do the baking.” (Y/n) chuckled and guided his hands to the mixing bowl, where Mako let the flour slip out of his fingertips like really fine sand. “But I can tell that you feel it...” the last bit of flour fell out of his hands, but Mako let his hands hover near (Y/n)’s for just a moment longer, “and that’s good enough.”

They smiled, and it has all the serenity and beauty of dawn. “I’ll make a baker of you, yet.” They added more flour to the bowl and started mixing, their gaze flicking up to Mako. “One of these days you’re going to understand the feeling of it.”

“I...” and part of Mako wanted to say that he already did, that his feelings were about the only thing he understood when it came to moments like these, but the words got caught in his throat, and he found himself unable to get them out. “I think we’ll have to do a lot more baking, then.”

three;

Mako ran, the ground beneath his feet steady and his breathing exact. The beauty of Republic City Park surrounded him and in the early morning, when the air was just nippy enough to need a jacket, there were few people to be found. The usual groups of people practicing tai chi or playing Pai Sho weren’t out yet, and the sun was just peaking over the horizon. 

Morning runs often gave Mako a sense of clarity - there was very little he could focus on when in fast, forward motion, and everything complicated fell away. It was just him, the ground, and the fire in his veins. 

Mako slowed to a jog, and when he found an empty park bench, he sat down, wiping the sweat off of his brow. The shadows were just starting to creep away, losing to the brilliance of the sun and hiding in each recess and tiny alcove. The duck pond in front of him was warming to a crystal-like blue. Mako breathed out and tipped his head back, letting the stillness wash over him, his thoughts slowly catching up with him.

“Mako?”

And at first, he thought it was just his feelings for (Y/n) meeting up with him once more, but then he heard the steady pounding of the pavement and there they were jogging toward him, ushering in the morning with a comfortable pace.

“Heading into work later than usual?” They stopped by the bench and Mako slid over so they’d have room to sit.

“No, Beifong told me to take a day off. I usually do paperwork today, but she handed it off to someone else.”

(Y/n) hummed in acknowledgement. “So you’re joining Asami and me for our run, then?”

"Huh?”

“Asami and I usually go on a run, at this time. We meet here.”

“Asami told me that I should take a run since I wasn’t going into work today.”

Both of them scoffed, relaxing deeper into the metal bench. For a moment they just sat there, taking in the moment, and letting the world dawn on them, a beautiful mixture of colors - a painting slowly completing itself. Eventually, (Y/n) turned to Mako, an eyebrow raised in jest. “Do you reckon they think they’re being slick?”

“Probably - and it’ll only get worse once they get Korra on board.”

“Who’s to say they haven’t already?” The two chuckled, shaking their heads at the efforts of their friends, and (Y/n) knocked their knees together, leaning in a little closer. “It’s alright, I like spending time with you.”

“You’re gonna hate me once we finish this run, though.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to buy me some tea, afterwards.” (Y/n) stood up, stretching their arms and letting out a yawn. “To make it up to me, of course.”

Mako stifled a smile and stood, making a show of his weary sigh. “Alright” —(Y/n) rolled their eyes at him— “You drive a hard bargain.”

They started off at a slow jog, and every minute or so Mako upped the intensity until they were sprinting across Republic City Park, occasionally dodging the wayward soul taking a morning stroll. The world blurred around them, the lush foliage turning into swaths of green with the occasional pinprick of color - purple or yellow, green or blue. As they slowed down, the world became more defined, and when they came to a walk, (Y/n) pulled ahead and turned around so they could walk backwards, facing Mako with a breathless grin.

“You owe me at least a muffin to go along with that tea, after what you just pulled. I almost ran into a woman walking her toddler! Could you imagine what would have happened, had I hit her?”

Mako laughed, still coming down from his high, and (Y/n) grinned at the sound - dazzling and so bright, it put the sun to shame. “Let’s get you out of the park, then, before you start running down Pai Sho players.” 

The two fell into step beside each other, taking the path out of the park and into the busy streets. Already, Republic City was booming with life, and the two were rather quick to slip into the quiet tea shop that was just around the corner. Inside, the cafe was fairly empty, with slow music playing from the speakers. (Y/n) closed their eyes and breathed in the smell of freshly-baked muffins, and Mako was quick to look away when they caught him staring.

(Y/n) walked towards the case that held all of the baked goods, trying to read the different types they had displayed. “This is way better than trying to throw something together at my apartment.”

Mako pulled his attention away from the menu board, where he had been searching for the right type of tea. “Your apartment? You mean you actually have a place to go, other than mine?” 

“You gave me the key.”

“For emergencies.”

(Y/n) scoffed. “Well, ‘emergencies’ is in clear need of a mutual definition.”

The two ordered, and Mako paid, despite (Y/n) saying they had the money, and when their order was ready, they took a seat in the corner, next to a window that overlooked a busy intersection. (Y/n) insisted they split the muffin and gave half to Mako, and after settling into their more calm atmosphere, (Y/n) turned to Mako.

“So, what are you going to do for the rest of your day off?” (Y/n) took a sip of their tea and fixed Mako with one of those stares - the kind that saw through everything else, and somehow got down to his core. “I can’t imagine this is what you had planned.”

“Uh… I don’t know. I figured I’d go home and work on finding a lead to a case or something.”

“Even though Beifong told you to take the day off?”

“Well, I’m not at the station…” Mako trailed off, suddenly finding great interest in the rim of his cup.

“And you’re not going to work from home, either.” (Y/n) scoffed exaggeratedly, and though Mako was the most incorrigible person they’d ever met. Although, in their defense, he probably was. “Not on my watch.”

“So what, you’re going to find something for me to do all day?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

Mako watched as (Y/n) sat back in the booth, a triumphant yet challenging smile on their face, and he felt the disbelief in his chest melt into something softer. It was there, again, that urge to say something both incredibly brave and terribly stupid; that desire to put all of his feelings into words and express them more truly than anything else.

“Alright,” Mako swallowed and allowed himself a small smile. “If that’s what it takes.

✧ *:･ﾟ

one;

Just when Mako had admitted to (Y/n) that he was an avid reader, he couldn’t remember, but at some point, they had found out, and ever since, the two spent their lazy weekends sprawled out on his sky blue sofa, books in hand. This time, (Y/n) had come earlier than usual, and by midday, they had already finished their novel - a fast-paced murder mystery with just a bit of a redemption arc for one of the main leads. They had talked about (Y/n)’s book while walking down to the market to get the necessary fixings for dinner, and when they came back to Mako’s tiny apartment, he passed them one of his favorites to read - a historical fiction that combined elements of notable legends and recorded history to make an interesting thriller with plenty of easy-to-digest drama. 

When (Y/n) took it from him, they took one look at the summary and raised an eyebrow.  “This is one of your favorites?” Mako had tried to push down his embarrassment, stuttering out some kind of response, but had just smiled. “It’s not a bad thing, just surprising. I’m sure I’ll love it.”

And they did. For the next hour and a half, the two sat in Mako’s apartment in relative silence, reading separate novels and making the occasional exclamation of shock, betrayal, joy, and surprise. Mako had looked over at (Y/n) occasionally, trying to judge where they were in the book, and whether they were enjoying it just as much as he had, the first time.

At some point in the day, the sun filtering through the window matured into a deeper, golden shade, turning the afternoon into early evening. Mako, who had been thoroughly engrossed in his novel for the better part of the day, stood up from his couch and stretched when he noticed the change in light. Letting out a sigh, he made his way over to the kitchen area. As he started to make dinner for the both of them, Mako missed the way that (Y/n) turned to look at him from their place on the couch, a lopsided grin on their face. They still lay on the turquoise material, sitting upside down with their feet in the air, book in hand and the red couch cushion resting on their stomach, watching as Mako turned on the stove with a click of propane and a bit of fire bending. 

It wasn't long before the apartment was full of the comforting smell of Mako's cooking, and soon (Y/n) found it impossible to focus on the page before them. They opted to right themself instead and watch Mako as he finished up, adding the finishing touches to the meal before splitting what lay in the pan into two different bowls. 

He handed a bowl to (Y/n) as he settled onto the couch, both of them moving to sit cross-legged, their knees touching. (Y/n) savored the flavor of Mako's signature dish, and he gestured to the book beside them. 

"How're you liking it so far?"

"The book? It's great. Perfectly paced, in my opinion, although I wouldn't mind for a little bit more world-building. The time period is so interesting and they could lean into it a little more."

Mako nodded, satisfied with the smile on their face and the eagerness in their tone. "I figured you'd like it. There's a lot happening, but the characters are good enough to carry the story."

"That's a raving review, coming from you." (Y/n) laughed, the sound falling from their lips effortlessly. "And I can see why it's your favorite. You like a good redemption arc, don't you?"

"It's an interesting enough idea."

"A rather sweet one, too. Are you sure you're not a romantic at heart?"

Mako scoffed in response, but even so, he could feel his cheeks burning up, the nagging voice in his head (the one that told him to just confess already, or do something equally as rash) getting louder from conviction. "I think that's you."

"Oh definitely, but there's always room for one more," (Y/n) mumbled through a mouth full of noodles. "And judging by your taste in books, I'd say you already are."

"There's not even a romantic subplot!"

"The main character literally took lightning to the face for his best friend, and then proceeded to say that he’d do it all again, if it meant they could stay together. Are you telling me there isn't something there?"

“You said yourself that they’re friends!”

“C’mon, Mako,” (Y/n) deadpanned, setting aside their dinner so that they could use their hands to punctuate their speech. There was a fire in their eyes, and something restless in the way they moved - like there was something important they were trying to say. “Friendship is clearly just an excuse for them.”

“An excuse?” Mako felt his throat dry. Suddenly, he was acutely aware of their proximity, and the little space that still existed between them - like they were almost touching, and yet oceans apart. 

(Y/n)’s hands fidgeted in their lap. “Yeah, like… An easy out when you’re too afraid to go for it...or when you think you’re not enough.” Part of Mako wanted to look away, but (Y/n)’s eyes had caught his gaze too fully and the other part of him battled to stay. For the longest moment, he couldn’t move. “But they love each other - you can see it.”

There was a battle waging war inside Mako; each side fighting the other for dominance, and only one coming out on top. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost like a deep sigh. “Yeah, they love each other.”

(Y/n) smiled, their mouth moving with just the slightest tremble, and part of Mako wondered what had disrupted the ease with which they did everything, but another part of him already knew. Mako reached out and cupped their cheek, the feeling of their skin against his flooding him with courage he didn’t know he had.

“And I love you, (Y/n).” 

“About time you confessed to me.” (Y/n)’s eyes sparkled in jest before they surged forward, kissing Mako and igniting the fire in his chest. All he could think about was them and the way they blissfully invaded all of his senses, how soft their lips were, and how strong their hands were, as they wrapped around him, pulling him nearer. When they broke apart, (Y/n) rested their forehead on his. 

Then they said it, their voice a whisper that sent him tumbling over the edge, their breath fanning against his cheek.

“I love you, too.”

Mako kissed them again, craving the feeling of their lips against his, chasing after the way they made him feel - like every moment had led to this, like every battle had been worth the struggle. Time seemed to stop, and for a moment, it was as though there was no gravity, and the only thing anchoring Mako to this world was (Y/n), and their touch.

“Like I said,” (Y/n) was smiling when he pulled away, and their gaze made it easy to come back down to earth. “You’re a romantic at heart.”

Mako chuckled and (Y/n) laughed with him, the sound filling the tiny apartment with something undefined but utterly perfect. 

“Alright, so maybe I am.” Mako relented, tipping his head back. “But an epic romance doesn’t happen within that book, if that’s what you're after.”

“Well, maybe we’ll have to write a sequel of our own."

-- taglist: message me if you want to be added to a taglist!

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 15.5k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: filmed sex/voyeurism/exhibitionism as usual, an extra lil tidbit of exhibitionism this time around though, thigh riding, choking/erotic asphyxiation/breathplay, degradation, dumbification, objectification - all consensual, but y’all wanted meandom jimin so i delivered, please read at your discretion - dom!jimin obv, sub!reader, oral (m receiving), throat fucking, punishment/discipline, footjob kinda (socks are worn, it’s not bare feet), aftercare as usual, mentions and implications of mxm

dedicated to my sfhs girls, everyone in the villa discord, and femboy friday

please note there are hyperlinks in this chapter ! they link to specific images that i thought might help you visualise some things ;) all links are safe

DAY NINETEEN

Your body clearly still isn’t right again by Friday morning, but it’s nothing a good breakfast can’t solve. Fortunately for you, Jin is more than happy to turn it into an occasion for a large, communal meal, and with barely any prompting, he’s whizzing away in the kitchen like a madman.

As you wait, you sip away at some vaguely herby-yet-fruity tea that he’d brewed you, watching his broad shoulders shift beneath his shirt when he chops vegetables, and his brows furrow in focus when he measures out spices.

“I don’t suppose I’d have time to- Nevermind,” Jin mutters at some point, carting a bladeful of crushed garlic from the chopping board to a simmering pan.

You sit up, ignoring the billow of steam from your mug. “Time to what?” He shakes his head, but you keep on him, watching his eyes dart to your figure leaning against the counter, and back at his work. With a gasp, you thrust the mug at him accusingly. “Were you going to put the moves on me?”

He scoffs low in his throat, but doesn’t respond.

“You were! Was making breakfast for me just a ruse, then?”

Jin turns around at that, lifting his brows and giving you a mock look of offense. “It was not! I’m just an opportunist, that’s all.” His shoulders sag. “But I don’t want the meat to burn, and it’s only time before the irresistible aroma of my delicious cooking reaches their doors and draws them down like rats to the pied piper.”

“Are you calling the others rats?” you ask with a giggle bubbling up your throat.

The cook pauses. “I suppose I’m not not calling them rats,” he allows, “but that’s not the point. I’m taking my time with you.” Perhaps the comment would be more sexy or romantic if he wasn’t using a kitchen knife to gesture.

Your interested piqued, you take a slow, thoughtful sip of the quickly-cooling dregs of tea. “You could always tell me,” you offer up, watching his head tilt in curiosity. “Tell me what you would’ve done to me if you weren’t worried about time. Or burning meat.”

His lips part slightly, a strange look in his eyes, like he’s appraising you. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” Though it’s probably meant to come off as a joke, his voice is too soft for it to carry. “If I tell you, I’ll have to change my plans for the prompt. Keep you on your toes?”

“Plans?” you question. “I thought you were an opportunist.”

Even though his back is faced to you, stirring some vegetables amongst the strips of meat, Jin speaks clearly, every word enunciated like it’s a mantra. “I’d kiss you ‘til you couldn’t breathe,” he begins, “and when you were overcome with need, I’d lift you on that counter and get to my knees. Eat you out like you were my last meal. Finally, if you still wanted more, I’d lie you down on the tile and fuck you well like you deserve.”

Your cheeks are hot, searing skin and throbbing pulse. Jin turns around to spoon the cooked stir-fry into a bowl on the countertop, looking far more unaffected than you. His eyes dart to you, a bemused and genuine smile quirking at his lips when he sees you flustered into silence. “It’s your turn,” he remarks in an easy drawl, placing the bowl beside you before he goes to the fridge to retrieve a carton of eggs. “What would you do if you weren’t worried about time?”

You take a breath, nostrils flaring at the rich mix of buttery vegetables and perfectly seasoned meat. “I’ll be honest with you, Jin,” you quip in a small, unobtrusive voice, “I’d probably get you to finish cooking first. This smells fucking incredible.”

Jin’s pealing laugh is punctuated by the cracking of an egg into the still-hot pan, and as the sizzling echoes through the room, you feel the air settle back into something lighter. Good timing, too, as it’s then that you hear footsteps behind you.

Before you can turn, your sides are crushed by a tight back-hug, arms wedged into your sides. “Feeling better?” a smooth voices asks, and you’re surprised to recognise it as Namjoon’s.

The academic had woken before you, so was fully coherent when you’d gotten up with a roiling stomach. With more than a tinge of concern, he’d let you shower first while he’d passed the message on to Jin, the only other awake member of the household. He now smelt fresh, like mint and citrus, and his skin still radiated heat from under his shirt.

He releases you just as quickly as he’d wrapped his arms around you, nothing more than a greeting, and Jin doesn’t even lift a brow at the affectionate display.

Before you can answer however, there’s a fourth party entering the room, a familiar sleepy drawl as Yoongi pads into the kitchen and beelines straight for the coffee machine. “Still sick?”

“Still?” Jin questions, narrowing his eyes in concern as he scrambles the eggs with the corner of a silicon spatula. “How long have you been sick?”

“Just since yesterday,” you deflect, “it’s probably nothing.”

Namjoon goes stiff beside you. “You don’t think it’s...you know? A problem with your birth control?”

Your eyes furrow in confusion before you process his words a moment later. “Oh, I- surely not? I have an implant, so it’s not like forgetting a pill or anything.” But the thought niggles in your mind, and you seek out Yoongi, who slumps against the counter while his drink brews. “It’s not like… morning sickness, is it?”

A disbelieving laugh leaves Yoongi’s lips. You gape at him, but he just waves a hand in dismissal. “Don’t stress about it. You have an IUD, right? They’re 99% effective, and morning sickness generally starts around the six-week period. When did you get the IUD?”

You think back. “Once I cleared all my tests for the show, I guess? I think it was a couple days before we came here. Why?”

Yoongi seems to wake up very quickly after that, face falling slack. “Wait- A couple days? First of all, unless you were having unprotected six roughly two to three weeks before you came here, I highly doubt you have anything more than a slight cold or at the most, food poisoning-” Jin shoots the doctor an accusatory glare, which Yoongi ignores in favour of abandoning his coffee and rounding the corner. “But I think we have a different problem to worry about.”

You blink, your sick stomach returning as his concern starts getting to you. “I wasn’t having sex at all two to three weeks before the show. But what’s the problem?”

Yoongi looks stern, what you imagine he’d look like in his clinic giving serious medical advice to a patient. “Were you on your period when you got the implant?”

Reflexively, your cheeks heat at the personal question, hyper aware of Namjoon, Jin and Yoongi’s collective attention on you. “No. Why?”

“Fuck,” the doctor curses. “Come with me.”

“What’s going on?” You take his outstretched hand, heart racing as he leads you towards the front door, away from the other two who wait in confused and concerned silence. “What’s happening, Yoongi, you’re stressing me out?”

Yoongi’s fingers squeeze yours reassuringly as his face softens, holding the door open for you. “I’ll explain when we get to Sejin’s van, sweetheart, you’re fine.”

Though the sun has well and truly risen, it’s relatively cloudy, and the two of you aren’t even wearing anything more than house slippers and socks as you rush across the gravel towards the production van. There are lights on inside, and Yoongi doesn’t bother knocking before he’s bundling you and him inside.

The van is relatively cramped, some modest floor space with a single bed and then every other surface filled with monitors, paperwork, and a bank of screens displaying the cameras inside the Villa. Sejin, with his bulky headphones around his neck and his chair faced towards you, clearly must have seen you coming, as your sudden entry doesn’t catch him off-guard.

“How can I help yo-”

“Did nobody do their fucking research?” Yoongi spits immediately at him, giving no introduction or pleasantries. “I know there are speakers in the rooms, I know you heard us, so you better start explaining otherwise if you’re not lucky you’ll be facing a massive fucking lawsuit.”

Sejin sighs, his eyes darting to you in sympathy, before they return to Yoongi. “The requirement was that Y/n was on birth control by the time the show began. She was.”

“Yeah, well, not effective birth control,” Yoongi counters.

“The IUD Y/n got is 99% effective. She and all of you signed off that using additional birth control such as condoms beyond that was your choice. If you’ve chosen not to, that’s legally not our responsibility. The condoms have been made available.”

You furrow your brows, finding comfort in his hand tightly cradling yours. “Yoongi, I don’t understand…”

The doctor sighs, pinching his brow, and turns to you. “Y/n, when you got the IUD, did they not warn you about the seven-day window?”

You feel the blood drain from your face, the feeling that bad news is imminent. “What window? No, the lady didn’t say anything.”

“Un-fucking-believable,” Yoongi curses, rubbing a palm over his face. “Well, listen up the two of you for a quick lesson in intra-uterine devices. If you aren’t currently on your period, they can take up to seven days to be considered effective. So while it’s highly unlikely that you have morning sickness right now, Y/n, I’m pretty fucking concerned for what may have happened during that first week.”

You bite down harshly on your lip as tears spring to your eyes, you naturally feel yourself wrapping your free arm over your stomach. “How do I- What do I do?”

Yoongi’s face softens at the action, and he turns to Sejin with a sigh. “You need to get an early detection pregnancy test, so that we can know for sure. Plenty of couples have unprotected sex without any pregnancies, so it’s not a definite, but we need to rule it out quickly so that Y/n can decide how she wishes to proceed. How quickly can you get one?”

Sejin, who had been looking greener and greener as Yoongi spoke, finally lets out a rushing breath, jumping up. “I’ll go down to a pharmacy now. Y/n; are you wanting to come with to do it sooner, or...?”

You sniff, shaking your head quickly. “Can you just bring it back here? I don’t want the others to think something’s wrong.”

Sejin nods stiffly, patting you once on the shoulder as he passes you. “I’m so sorry, Y/n, Yoongi’s right. We should’ve done more research. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Yoongi goes lax the second Sejin shuts the van door behind you, pulling you into a tight hug. “Either way, you’ll be just fine. You always have options,” he assures you, cheek pressed to your hair, rubbing your back.

Like your mind is desperate to find something to relieve your sudden crashing wave of stress, a hysterical laugh jumps out of your throat. “A fucking pregnancy scare,” you bemoan, “this is meant to be slutty Bachelorette but it’s just a slutty telenovela.”

Yoongi freezes when you begin laughing, but quickly falls in on the joke. “I even have a secret twin,” he jokes. “We better keep an eye out to make sure Jin doesn’t fake his death to steal the show’s budget.”

You sink further into his secure embrace, chuckling at his remark but quickly sobering up. “What am I gonna do, Yoongi? I can’t have a baby, especially not if it’s some- some mutant mix of seven different dads!”

“Sweetheart, please don’t stress yourself over it before you even know,” Yoongi pleads. “If it’s any consolation, that’s not how biology works at all. That would make for a riveting episode of Jeremy Kyle, though.”

You let out a groan. “God, how would they fit eight armchairs on the stage?”

Yoongi chuckles, smoothing a hand down your back before he gently breaks the hug. “Do you want to stay here, or go back inside and get something to eat? We don’t have to tell the others; Jin and Namjoon are mature enough not to ask pry, especially if there are others around.”

Your growling stomach answers the question for you.

Inside, Jin and Namjoon stay quiet just as Yoongi had anticipated, the former simply announcing that you were just in time for breakfast.

The table was set, most of them already seated, and you gape at the impressive display. The stir-fry from earlier, several individual small bowls of rice, a deep brown broth, scrambled eggs, and even some rice porridge fill the table.

Taehyung, Jungkook and Hoseok are on one half of the table, Jungkook looking like it physically pained him to restrain himself. Jin at one end, an empty space at the other, and the final long edge has Namjoon sitting beside two place for you and Yoongi. Just as you open your mouth to voice the absence, Jimin comes around the corner from the stairs and snags a place on the head of the table beside Taehyung.

You wish him a good morning as you sit, the smells of all the different dishes mingling in your nose the second your butt hits the seat. “Sorry for holding you all up,” you apologise, pasting a smile on your face even as your insides still wriggle in anxious tension. “Thank you for the meal, Jin.”

“Anytime,” he deflects, and like that word was a command, Jungkook bursts into action, shoveling food into his bowl like he’s on the verge of starvation. Jin sighs, reaching for the stirfry. “Quickly, before the vulture gets it all.”

Breakfast, once you force yourself to enjoy it and stay in the moment, is impeccably delicious and a lot of fun. As it turns out, Taehyung’s been making good use of his free schedule, and he regales the table with anecdotes of teaching Mango a number of ‘useful’ tricks like high-fiving, playing dead and turning in tight circles to beg for a treat. It’s while watching a video of the small white dog lolling out her tongue after Taehyung pretend to shoot her with his fingers shaped like a gun that there’s a sudden knock at the door.

Immediately, the thought of the pregnancy test comes to mind, and you’re rushing to the door before anyone else gets the chance.

What you don’t expect to open the door to, however, is a simple delivery worker, with a decently large box under one arm and a small electronic pad in the other. You stare blankly at the man as he consults the label on the box. “Looking for a Jung Hoseok,” he states gruffly, eyes barely reaching you from under a yellow cap branded with the company logo.

Your eyes widen, and you turn back, calling through to the kitchen. “Hobi, it’s for you!”

Rather than returning to your seat, you wait in rapt curiosity as Hoseok practically skips to the front door, smoothly signing off the package with an easy grin. Once he takes it and shuts the door behind the already-departing delivery man, you press against his shoulder to catch a glimpse at the label.

Though Hoseok tugs it away from you with a tut, and you aren’t able to read the packing sticker, you manage to take note of a dark red stamp inked heavily on the top left corner of the box. Two Rs, back-to-back with lush flicks on the outer downward strokes.

The dom parades the box around the foyer, making sure he’s visible to the rest of the guys at the kitchen table, before taking it upstairs with a spring to his step.

Taking a seat again, you let out a disbelieving whoosh of air. “I think it’s from his work,” you tell the others conspiratorially.

Jungkook’s eyes widen, his right cheek stuffed with meat he’s pushed to the side. “Like the Red Room? Kinky stuff?” he questions with a slight lisp, before chewing frantically and swallowing the food. “Are we allowed to do that?”

“It seems so,” Jimin murmurs, his eyes glinting with interest. “Just because we can’t go out doesn’t mean we can’t bring stuff to us, I suppose.”

Jin watches the two youngest with a strangely amused look on his face, twirling his chopsticks against the tabletop. “I’m surprised the two of you have kept quiet so long?”

Jungkook frowns. “Huh? Oh!” Suddenly, his and Taehyung’s faces light up in unison, glancing down at themselves.

Taehyung claps the table in excitement, staring at you, Yoongi and Jimin. “Do you know what day it is today?”

“Friday,” Yoongi answers shortly. “Is it a public holiday or something? It doesn’t really matter if we’re still stuck in here, does it?”

“No, hyung,” Jungkook enthuses, “do none of you go on TikTok? It’s femboy Friday!”

Jimin furrows his brows in utter confusion. “It’s what?”

In their haste to stand up, Taehyung and Jungkook just about tip their chairs over, knocking the table with their knees. Your mouth drops as you see instead of sweatpants or jeans, both boys are sporting skirts.

“Femboy Friday,” Taehyung repeats with a shy smile as Jimin’s eyes rake shamelessly over his figure, “we’re saying fuck toxic masculinity and celebrating feminine boys and proving that clothes don’t have gender all in one! Namjoon, don’t you love it?”

Namjoon, to his credit, manages to nod dumbly, but it seems like that’s his only remaining executive function as his jaw hangs slack, eyes wide.

You can’t blame him, however. You can’t stop looking at the two either. Jungkook has a casual, loose black t-shirt tucked into a high waisted skirt that’s the same shade. Tight around his hips and flaring in an a-line down his thighs, silver chains and buckles give it an edgier look. As he does a twirl, you catch a glimpse of the definition the fabric gives his ass, everyone watching with rapt attention.

Taehyung, on the other hand, has gone for a sweeter look, with a white blouse tucked in to a dove grey plaid skirt that falls in perfectly ironed pleats. It’s relatively cool inside, so he’s shrugged on a cream-coloured jacket somewhat reminiscent of a school blazer. It’s clear by the tentative smile and blushed cheeks that he’s more shy about the getup than Jungkook is; the latter stands tall with folded arms, like he’s daring you to say something.

Once the rest of you at the table get over the initial shock, followed by the silent awe and appreciation, it’s Jimin who speaks up first, his lips parted in a shocked pout. “Why did nobody tell me?”

Jungkook blinks. “Huh?”

Jimin pushes his chair back, brows furrowed. “Where was this announced? I wasn’t informed.”

Taehyung sends him a boxy grin, his skirt swishing with the slightest movement. “It’s a TikTok thing, Minnie! You should do it with us!”

Jimin tilts his head with a thoughtful hum. “I’m not sure that I have any skirts in my suitcases. Some lingerie, sure, but not-”

“Oh, I just got mine out of the little costume wardrobe in the cupboard,” Taehyung explains easily, jumping forward to tug at Jimin’s arm. “I got a schoolgirl one, but I saw a cheerleader one in there too, come on!”

Your mouth hangs open as the two rush away, and Yoongi splutters, clapping a hand on the table to punctuate his shock. “Wait, sorry, I must’ve- wait,” he babbles, shaking his head in disbelief, “Jimin has lingerie? I’m making tomorrow Panties Saturday.”

Jungkook giggles. “Hyung, that’s not how it works! Femboy Friday is like, a thing, you know? Tae and I made a video earlier and it’s already doing numbers. If we all did it, I bet we’d go viral!”

Yoongi winces. “In my line of work, ‘viral’ is not a good thing.”

You turn to him with a grin. “Come on, Yoongi,” you entice warmly, “it would really cheer me up.”

Keeping your mind off other things is definitely a priority now, and by Yoongi’s reluctant sigh of defeat, you know he knows it. “I don’t want to wear a skirt,” he states, “my legs get cold easily. Is there any compromise of some sort? Anything else I can contribute to the cause?”

It seems you and Jungkook get the idea at the same time, judging by the way his eyes light up.

Before Yoongi can voice his concern, a triumphant clearing of a throat catches the room’s attention. Looking demure in his schoolgirl-esque getup, Taehyung stands tall in the doorway, glancing behind him. “Announcing,” he calls out more noisily than is needed, “the head cheerleader himself, Park Jimin!”

When Taehyung had mentioned cheerleader, and again now, you’d expected the typical red get-up, maybe a sweeter, more innocent look, but at this point in the show it’s about time you realise that Jimin never restricts himself to the obvious route, preferring to defy expectations.

Stepping into the gap Taehyung leaves for him and resting an elbow casually against the doorframe, Jimin looks like the type of student that would run the team with an iron fist. Or, judging by the rings laden on his hands, a silver one. It looks like the only things he’s taken from the cheerleader costume is a pleated pink skirt and some white thigh-high stockings, slipping slightly on the foyer tile. A simple but sexy Gucci shirt is tucked into the obscenely high waistband. Though the logo is gold, red and green, stamped onto the centre of the white fabric, it doesn’t clash with the skirt, instead making an addicting contrast. Shrugged on top, loose around his arms, is a black jacket with red and gold detailing on the shoulders. His gaze is piercing and superior, wearing the skirt like it’s armour as he slinks forward and sits in the chair with a smug look on his face.

Your mouth feels dry. Reminded of the last time he wore more typically feminine attire, it’s like the temperature of the room has increased by several degrees. “I think this is my new favourite day of the year,” you admit quietly, though it carries well enough in the awed room. “You guys look incredible.”

Jimin smirks. “Who’s next, then?”

Jungkook brightens up, wiping the corner of his lip surreptitiously. “Yoongi! Hyung, we need makeup; lots of it.”

Yoongi blanches. “You what now?”

Jin sits forward eagerly. “Wait; if we’re all making ourselves look pretty, I want in. I’ve always wanted to look like the rich hot mom from Parasite,” he divulges openly, turning to you. “Y/n, do you have some jewellery I can use?”

You grin. “I guess so. I know Jimin has some too, and I think Jungkookie? We can get you iced up. Ah, I feel like a little girl dressing up paper dolls. Let’s go get some supplies and we can make a day of it!”

You stand up too quickly, head lurching and stomach protesting, and like the crashing of a freezing wave, you feel dread wash over you. Before you can even dwell on it, Jin’s behind you, steadying you and holding you upright against him.

“Alright?” he asks in a low voice as the others begin to discuss a game plan.

You nod. “Just stood up too quickly.”

Jin’s mouth twists, unconvinced with your answer. “Let’s go upstairs and raid your closet. Take a breather.”

Leaving the others behind, you let the noise drop away as Jin carefully leads you up the stairs and to your room, sitting you carefully on your bed.

You collapse back against the mattress, feeling weak now that the pressure in your head is beginning to recede. Unsurprisingly, Jin doesn’t immediately beeline for the wardrobe or set of drawers. The springs adjust to a shift in weight. Jin’s hands finds one of yours, wrapping it between the two and squeezing it in reassurance. You’re smart enough to recognise this as the start of a Talk, capital letter intended.

“I’m worried about you,” he starts softly, his voice warm and comforting like cotton. “You don’t have to feel obligated to tell me a thing, and I know I’m no medical expert like Yoongichi, but I do know a lot about sex and relationships, and I know that surprises and accidents can happen. I’m here for you in any capacity you need, Y/n. Any at all.”

You swallow, staring at the slightly uneven, off-white paint on the ceiling. “I might be pregnant. It’s a big might but, you know…”

Jin’s hand tightens on yours briefly at that word, like a flexing of muscle, and relaxes again. “The not-knowing is still scary,” he finishes lightly.

“Yeah.” With a frown, you focus your awareness inwards, feeling your stomach rise and fall with your breath. “I don’t feel pregnant. But then- how the fuck would I know what that felt like?”

Jin is silent for a moment. “That isn’t really something I could help with, sadly.”

You huff out a humourless laugh through your nose. “It’s fine, Jin. I appreciate your concern. Sejin’s bringing back a test soon, hopefully, and then I can just… deal with it then.”

“Do you wanna talk about what those results would mean for you? What you feel about the possibility of-”

“Absolutely not,” you cut in sharply, sitting up so quickly that your vision spots. “I’m refusing to dwell on it until I have an answer.” You swallow down the nausea that rises in your throat the more you think about it, turning to face him. “If you wanna help, Jin, and I can’t thank you enough for wanting to- then just distract me.”

Jin pauses, nods, then a grin stretches across his face. “Deal.”

--

“This is ridiculous,” Hoseok huffs for the hundredth time, nails digging in to the arms of the chair he’s sat at. “It could’ve been anyone else but him. Y/n, why didn’t you help?”

You beam innocently, watching as an equally tight-lipped Jimin settles on a stool in front of the dom, a palette of brown and beige pressed powders and a small brush in hand. “Minnie’s way better than me at it, Hobi. Don’t you wanna look pretty?”

“I chose to pass this in the truth or dare game for a reason.” Hoseok tenses and recoils violently when Jimin’s hand lifts suddenly towards his face. “He’s going to make me look ugly on purpose,” he accuses.

Jimin scoffs, hand falling again. “Are you going to keep talking about me like I’m not here?”

“Ideally, yes.”

The blue-haired man tuts, lazily swirling the soft, short bristles over a particular shade, collecting more pigment. “It would be easier to make you look ugly, but I always relish a good challenge. Don’t worry; you’ll thank me when I’m done.”

“I most certainly will not,” Hoseok pouts stiffly. “Just get on with it, Peaches.”

Jimin’s hand overshoots and streaks a thick tan line on the strip of naked skin between his short skirt and thigh-high stockings. “Fuck. Keep your mouth shut, Jung.”

“You said you’re just doing the base stuff, why does my mouth need to be shut?” Hoseok complains.

Jimin levels him a glare. “Because if you open it, I’ll shove this down your throat and use you as storage.”

“Kinky,” Hoseok banters back, but settles into silence, only flinching slightly when Jimin raises the brush to his face again, dabbing delicately at Hoseok’s dainty nose.

Like some sort of makeshift salon - the second time all eight of you had gathered together to do so - the dining table has been transformed. At the head, Hoseok and Jimin glare at each other with less than a ruler’s length between them. Jungkook and Taehyung have descended on Yoongi like makeup kiosk employees, gushing over his smooth skin and graceful eye shape as the man protests noisily but otherwise seems very content being fussed over.

Jin is wearing enough necklaces, bracelets and earrings that he jingles with the slightest movement, of which there are many as he compulsively makes the eyeliner on his lids longer and thicker and longer again. The brief moments of silence that descend usually consist of him holding up the hand mirror and staring intensely at his reflection, sometimes holding it close enough that his breath fogs it up.

And finally, you and Namjoon are in between the three parties, the academic patiently holding his hands steady as you file away at his nails, shaping them a bit. “I’m not hurting you, am I?” you check in.

Namjoon immediately shakes his head, leaning in closer to watch your motions and the dust shavings that pile up on the folded paper towel beneath your hands. “I’ve always wanted to get my nails done,” he says, voice a casual low timbre.

That surprises you. “Really?” you ask, gently tugging on his hand so he can present his thumb for filing.

“Well,” he amends quickly, “always since yesterday.” At your bewildered laugh, he cracks a sheepish grin and explains. “One of the fans sent in something mentioning it when I visited the confessional booth at lunchtime. It’s sort of been on my mind since then.”

“I’m glad I can help you fulfil this lifelong dream of yours then, Joonie,” you remark with a smile of your own. It’s impossible not to cheer up in Namjoon’s company, your heart always feels lighter in his vicinity. “Are you wanting a colour? I don’t have many, sorry; Jin’s hogging the white and the pink.”

“It’s for a French tip,” Jin calls out imperiously, never one to miss his name mentioned in conversation. You know he’s chosen to help himself so that he can quietly keep an eye on you, and the thought makes you feel more secure and unburdened, appreciative of his attempts to keep your mind occupied. “It’s high class fashion, baby.”

“Maybe in 2010,” Jungkook retorts without glancing away from the blush he’s patting onto Yoongi’s cheeks. “These days it’s all about nail art, hyung.”

Namjoon pipes up. “Like drawing pictures and stuff on the nail? I think some of the girls in my class get those.” He gasps, wriggling in his seat as he turns to you with as much urgency as he can while his hands stay still in your loose grasp. “Do you think you could do that?”

You laugh self-consciously. “I’m not really an expert,” you begin, but Namjoon’s look of veiled disappointment is too much to bear, “but I could give you some nail stickers? They’re just like, love-hearts and stars and leaf patterns and stuff, but-”

With a gasp Namjoon leans forward. “Can I have the leaf ones?” After receiving your confirmation, his knee jiggles under the table in suppressed excitement as you pick up a bottle of nude base coat, the colour of milky tea with a hint of pink to warm it up a bit. You’d used it many a time when you just wanted something plain, and it’ll serve you well today as a blank canvas. Namjoon holds his breath as you uncap it and hold up his pinky finger, carefully coating the smallest fingernail in the glossy polish.

His hands are warm, pliant under your grasp. As he goes quiet to let you focus, the sounds of the rest of the room fill in the vacuum.

“You get that away from my eyes,” Yoongi hisses at one point, making his two stylists tut in reproach.

“It’s just an eyelash curler, hyung,” Taehyung defends, Jungkook providing a resounding ‘yeah!’ in the background. “People use them all the time, it doesn’t hurt.”

“People wax and get tattoos and piercings all the time, Taehyung, and those are still painful. You will not be using that medieval torture device on any part of me.”

Taehyung huffs, and you hear a petulant clank as he drops it back onto the table. “Enjoy your boring straight lashes then, Min Yoongi.”

“I will, actually,” he retorts automatically. “Are you almost done? I feel like I’ve dunked my face in cake flour.”

“Not even close,” Jungkook responds cheerily. “Now it’s time for the fun part though, don’t worry.”

“And what’s the fun part?”

A familiar sticky thwack echoes through the room. “Lip gloss,” he declares with a pleased voice.

Just as Yoongi lets out a pitiful groan, Hoseok gasps from the other end of the table. “Jimin,” he squawks in offense, “why aren’t you giving me lip gloss?”

Jimin just about growls in response. “I said not to move,” he chastises, “now you’ve gone and fucked up the smokey eye, so thanks a lot.”

“I believe you’re the one that fucked up, Jimin,” Hoseok answers haughtily, “a poor worker blames his tools.”

“If you’re calling yourself a tool, I’d be inclined to agree,” Jimin responds, his tone clipped in a way that means he’s focussed. “Okay, that’s looking better. And we’re not doing lip gloss, it looks tacky.”

Finished with the bottom layer on both of Namjoon’s hands, you glance up in just enough time to see Jungkook gasp and turn Yoongi around violently, presenting him like a piece of evidence in court.

Jimin appraises him silently, Yoongi blinking and waiting for his opinion. Taehyung and Jungkook have done a great job, giving him delicate hints of pink shadow just under the outer corners of his eyes, short swoops of eyeliner and baby pink lips coated with a thick sheen of gloss reflecting the light. With an indignant tut, Jimin turns back to Hoseok. “It looks tacky unless you’re Yoongi,” he corrects.

Yoongi seems more content than Hoseok with the answer, and steals Jin’s mirror to inspect himself. He tilts it every which way, mouth slowly opening. “I do look kinda hot, don’t I?”

“See?” Jungkook cheers with a small pump of his fist. “We did good, right? Oh. Jin-hyung, do you need the mirror back? Wait, let us help you! We come highly recommended, Taehyung and I.”

Tuning out the others, you turn back to Namjoon. “Okay, let’s put on some stickers.”

It takes the rest of the morning for everyone to finish up, but none of you seem in a rush. Yoongi, routinely smacking his lips together to feel the texture of the gloss, starts getting different dishes together to make some lunch, and his two little helpers go over to make Jin look like the tiger mom of his dreams. Jimin can’t hide his pride at how well Hoseok’s smokey eye and peachy lip turn out, and Hoseok can’t help but admit that he likes it. Namjoon covers each nail in a thoughtfully selected and arranged sticker, and keeps cooing over them as you cover them in a clear top coat.

Finally, when all of your boys are prettied up and you’re just about to tuck in to lunch, there’s a knock at the door.

You rush up to answer, and this time it is in fact Sejin. He looks harried, chest heaving like he rushed to get here, and before you can even greet him he’s thrusting a brown paper bag towards you.

“Traffic,” he gasps out, “I’m so sorry about the wait, there was a hold-up. I got you it,” he murmurs, before raising his voice so the others - who are no doubt listening in with curiosity - can hear, “so I got you the ginger pills for your stomach, and then just some vitamins that the lady at the counter told me were good for immune systems. Take it easy. Send me a text if you need anything, or if you don’t need anything.”

His voice sounds so awash with concern, his eyes softened in sympathy even as he looks out of breath from getting back here as quickly as possible, that you throw yourself at his chest and wrap your arms around him in a quick hug. He stays frozen for a moment, then pats your back and squeezes your shoulders fondly once you pull away. “Thanks, Sejin,” you say with a smile, “I’ll be sure to let you know.”

When you shut the door lightly behind him and poke your head into the main room, where everyone’s acting like they were’t eavesdropping (Jungkook and Taehyung are thumb-wrestling, Jimin has grabbed Namjoon’s hand to inquire about the little leaf stickers, Hoseok’s turned his face a full one hundred and eighty degrees from you, staring wistfully out the window, and Jin and Yoongi share a look). “I’m just going to duck upstairs and take some of the ginger pills and the vitamins he got me, I won’t be long. You can start without me; don’t let it get cold.”

Though you try and stay calm, when you shut yourself in your bathroom, your hands are trembling. The thin cardboard box tears as you open it, a thick folded wad of instructions and warnings falling out. The longer you take, the more suspicious it is, so you just scan over them to get a general idea. Piss on a stick, you think to yourself, how hard can it be?

So nervous that your muscles lock up, it’s hard enough to actually do even that, but once you’re done, you wash your hands and the handle of the small white stick, and wait. Unable to look, you leave it on the counter and sit on the toilet seat lid, feeling your heart race a million miles a minute. Breathe.

A knock on the door makes you startle violently, a hand instinctively rising up to press against your chest. With a racing heart, you call out to ask who it is.

“It’s us,” Yoongi’s voice echoes through the door. “Me and hyung, I mean. Is it the- the test, sweetheart?”

Opening the door, you let the two men in with a silent nod, returning to your stoop. “Just waiting,” you explain when they glance at the plastic stick on the counter. Your voice has never felt so small and distant to you. It makes you want to curl into yourself and disappear.

Yoongi hovers near the test, checking his watch, but Jin immediately comes over to you, smoothing your hair back and pressing your head and shoulders against his torso. You slump into him, into the embrace that always reassures you. Jin smells still like his cooking, and breathing it in gives you some small comfort.

The three of you don’t speak. There’s nothing to say; not yet, not when you still don’t know. Yoongi stands by the test like a guard dog, not looking himself, and Jin rubs your back and strokes your hair, holding you close.

After what feels like a cold eternity, Yoongi consults with his watch again and clears his throat lightly. “Do you want to come and check, sweetheart?”

You get the thought of you leaving Jin’s hold, of going up there and taking the piece of plastic and seeing two blue lines, and you shake your head, pressing yourself more firmly against Jin. “Can you just… Can you check it and tell me?”

As Yoongi turns to pick it up, you feel yourself tense. Two blue lines, your mind chants over and over, and even as you’re terrified you’re going to somehow conjure that result by thinking too hard about it, you can’t stop.

The plastic rattles against the counter, and you’re watching his face, eyes narrowed on his expression with laser focus. He picks it up, looks at the result, and the slightest exhale gives him away. A tiny puff of breath, his shoulders dropping an inch and the line between his brows smoothing out. Your heart soars in raw relief even before he confirms, “you’re not pregnant, Y/n.”

Even though you’re happy, so grateful of fate working in your favour, the underlying fear of the past few hours comes crashing down on you like a tsunami, and you burst into tears, your whole body shivering and juddering with sobs that you muffle against the soft fabric and solid chest you’re leaning on.

“Hey, hey,” Jin’s voice calls to you in a soothing croon, “you’re okay, baby, you’re fine. You’re safe.”

The reassurance only makes you wail harder, feeling so unburdened, so unanchored, like you could float away were it not for your grip on his sleeves. He rocks you gently, back and forth as his fingers card through your hair and cradle your back. It’s not until you hear the hollow clatter of the test going in the trash can that you feel the ghost of your fear and worry leave you, and finally you go slack against him, tears dried up.

As you sit up and dab at your eyes, Yoongi passes you a tissue to properly clean yourself up and Jin pats your hair back down. “Sorry,” you pipe up with a croaky voice, “I got your shirt messy.”

Jin smiles softly and offers you a hand to stand with. “Never you mind that, young lady.” He’s quite a sight to see now; even with a soft expression, his eyeliner is sharper than the point of a knife and the imperious dark red of his lips makes anything less than a grin look pouty and dramatic. “Do you want us to let the others know you’re feeling under the weather? I can bring some food up here for you? Are you too cold? Too hot?” You giggle tearily as he lays his hand across your forehead and pinches your cheeks lightly, clucking in worry.

“I’m fine,” you reply. “I’ll take ten minutes or so to calm down a bit and then I’ll join you all. Can you just tell them I’m on the phone with a friend or something? I won’t be long.”

Jin furrows his brows. “Are you sure? If you need anything, I’m here for-”

“Hyung,” Yoongi chides gently, “let’s give her a breather.”

By the way Jin sucks in a deep breath and nods stiffly, it might be him that needs the breather. Yoongi drags him away as you thank them, and soon enough you’re once again alone in the bathroom.

Stumbling on weak legs to your bed, you all but collapse onto it, feeling totally devoid of energy. You just need a moment to recharge, that’s all. Just need a moment to acknowledge that no, there isn’t a life form inside you right now, and yes, everything can go back to normal.

And if it’s well over ten minutes by the time you make it back downstairs to reheat your portion of lunch, no one mentions it.

--

The afternoons are often a lazy affair in the Villa. Unless you’re off getting fucked (not uncommon, of course) you tend to hang around in the lounge with whoever’s in the mood for socialising, and put something on TV.

You’re starting to realise that perhaps there are better uses of your time, which is why when Namjoon asks how Jimin got so good at makeup, you enthusiastically accept Jimin’s generous offer to be his model.

Once again your communal area gets renovated into a mini studio fit for purpose. Two of the couches are pulled closer together, a tight arrow shape around the coffee table corner. As is often the case, Yoongi and Jin are noticeably absent, with Namjoon and Jungkook on one sofa, leaning forward in their eagerness, and Taehyung and Hoseok on the other, the younger looking like he’s just about to fall asleep on Hoseok’s shoulder.

You perch on the edge of the table between them with nervous anticipation as Jimin darts upstairs to collect his tools. “How come you’re wanting to learn, Namjoon?” you ask lightly.

The academic scratches his neck lightly, knee bumping against Jungkook’s as he shifts in place. “It’s interesting, and I love learning new things,” he states, his voice lilting up at the end.

Jungkook nudges his elbow into Namjoon’s side. “He thinks Jimin’s focusing face is hot.”

“I did not say that!” Namjoon insists, but the violent blush in his cheeks betrays him. “I enjoy watching, that’s all.”

“I’m sure you do, hyung, I’m sure you do,” Jungkook commiserates with a wise and somewhat sarcastic nod, but before Namjoon has any further chance to defend himself, you hear the thud of socked feet coming down the stairs.

Jimin’s skirt flounces around his thighs with every step as he rushes back in, a heavy-looking back held against his chest. He pauses in front of you, breathing slightly elevated. “Up you get,” he instructs.

You do so without thinking, but then stand awkwardly beside the coffee table as he takes your spot and dumps the makeup bag beside him. “Where do I sit?” you ask hesitantly, but Jimin just pats his thigh wordlessly.

Glancing out at the four onlookers, you suck in a breath and place yourself delicately on his lap, perpendicular so that your shoulder is against his chest and you’re facing Namjoon. Clearly it wasn’t what he was after, as Jimin clicks his tongue with a huff and grabs you under the knee, parting your legs so that you’re facing him, balanced on a single, stocking-clad thigh.

Your eyes widen as you’re suddenly face-to-face with him as he raises a brow at you. “Namjoon wants to learn, little mouse,” Jimin instructs, “so you’re going to be nice and still for me, right?”

You’re hyper aware of the pressure of his corded thigh against your core, even through your loose cotton shorts, and the four sets of eyes on you that are just outside your peripheral. “Yes, Jimin.”

His eyes darken in disapproval, fingers tightening on your knee. “A good doll doesn’t make any noise either,” he chastises. “Pinch me if you want out, otherwise stay still and be quiet.”

You swallow, recognising his introduction of a non-verbal safeword. But there are others watching, and he was just meant to be doing your makeup. Your eyes dart to risk a glance at the others, blurry in the very corner of your eye. They’ve gone dead still, Jungkook and Namjoon still leaned inwards towards you, Taehyung close to Hoseok but definitely no longer napping. You aren’t allowed to nod or say yes, so you give your lack of response as confirmation.

Jimin lets out a short hum and drops his gaze from you, unzipping the makeup bag. “Lots of steps in makeup have to do with personal preference,” he explains, glass, metal and plastic clattering together as he draws out a bottle. “But starting with primer is like prepping a canvas, so it’s always a solid first step.”

For a moment you’re confused, before you recall that Jimin’s teaching this all to Namjoon. He glances at the academic briefly, giving you a glimpse of his graceful side profile before he turns back and clicks open a narrow tube, piping some of the creamy formula on the back of his hand. When he dips a clean beauty blender into it, collecting it on the narrower end, you notice it glistens just slightly.

“I ran this under the tap upstairs to get it damp,” Jimin continues, and you fight the urge to flinch when you feel it begin to dab along your nose, spreading out to your cheeks. “These blenders are good because the sponginess is a good texture to make everything smooth, but they’re so absorbent that if they’re dry they’ll suck up half the product. If they’re a little damp, you won’t need as much.”

You can’t bring yourself to meet Jimin’s gaze, or even lift your eyes to his face at all, far too intimidated by the proximity. Instead, you watch the rhythmic way his chest rises and falls, rippling the Gucci logo on his white shirt. The afternoon had brought a low, hot sun, and all of you had stripped off any outer layers. Jimin was no different, ditching the jacket, and you can just make out his upper arms flexing past the short sleeves before the blender gets a little too close to your eyes, and you snap them closed.

“Once you’ve done that, I’d go in with a foundation…” Jimin lets out a small sigh through his nose. “This shade won’t really match exactly, but it’ll do. Finding the perfect shade is like finding a pair of shoes that fit just right, it can take ages but once you’ve got it, you’ve got it. Unless you go and get a tan.”

Slowly you begin tuning Jimin’s voice from coherent sentences into one smooth, lulling river. Soft whispers of brushes and cool swipes of liquid make your skin tingle, and the solid, unmoving presence of his thigh between yours anchors you in the moment.

After every step, or whenever there’s a specific technique to show off, you feel the searing heat of his fingers on you, turning your head to the side with a tight grip on your chin, displaying you to the others. Every time, that heat moves downward, pooling in your core.

“Eyes open,” a voice rings out, short with impatience.

Upon following his command, you focus on his face with a few blinks, just in time to see him come at your eyes with a narrow, pointed brush. Instinctively jerking away, you gasp when the movement causes you to grind against him slightly, pleasure blooming at the friction.

With an annoyed curl of his lip, Jimin uses the hand not holding the brush to grab your chin again, fingernails digging in and pulling you closer. “Stay still,” he hisses, and lets go after you freeze into place again.

This time, when he brings the brush back up, it goes not onto your eyes, but above onto your brows, and you remain obediently motionless as you feel the stiff brush press on something powderlike. As he explains its purpose and use to Namjoon, however - the other three watching just as intently - you don’t listen to his words, instead directing all your focus downwards.

If you move, just slightly, the smallest shift of your pelvis, you can press your clothed clit against the strip of bare skin between his skirt hem and the stockings, where the flesh is stiff with tensed muscle. You watch his face as closely as you dare, wary of a reaction, but there’s none.

It’s not much, and it’s not nearly enough, but you sate yourself on that dull pleasure as he finishes your brows, and begins working on some eyeshadow. He takes longer here, dipping into different shades with pretty names that you forget the second you hear them, because it’s riskier now, with your eyes closed again. You can’t see if he’s aware of your minute motions, but you’re too desperate to stop.

When there’s suddenly a sharp poke on your lid, your instinct takes over and you jerk back with a gasped yelp.

Jimin growls, and the noise makes you open your eyes in alarm. He’s holding a jet black eyeliner wand, and his face is tense, displeased. You even open your mouth to apologise, before quickly thinking better of it.

“Sorry for the technical difficulties, gentlemen,” Jimin states to the others stiffly. “Give me a moment to sort out my equipment.”

A rush of heat floods your core at the dismissive way he refers to you, and when you feel his hand tighten - not on your jaw, but on your throat itself - you melt into his grasp. The cold bands of his rings dig into the flesh as he inflicts just enough pressure to make your heart race.

Still able to breathe comfortably, just with that physical reminder of his strength and his control, you go pliant in his hold, eyes fluttering before they naturally settle shut.

“There we go,” Jimin murmurs, “now let me continue.”

Jimin uses your cheekbones to prop his hand up as he paints a delicate stroke of black across the bottom of each eyelid, his voice like honey as he walks Namjoon through every last detail.

The weak rutting had barely given you any relief before, but now with Jimin’s hand on your throat, it’s not even enough to keep you sane. Your brain knows there are four other people trying to watch the processes of applying makeup, but that logical part is being steadily overridden with primal need, a need that’s going unfulfilled.

Jimin has to remove his hand to show you off, then to turn your head back and reach for something else, the sticky sound of it opening, and the wet bristles that you can only just feel against the edge of your eyelids tells you it’s mascara.

“Look up,” Jimin commands shortly, tapping your temple. You follow command and glance up, curling your fingers into your own thighs to stop yourself from flinching when the wand comes so close to your eyes.

When he shows off his work this time, your eyes are finally open again, and so you find yourself facing the others properly. Namjoon’s doing a decent job of pretending he’s actually interested in the makeup, but his eyes spend too much time on the space between your legs, and Jimin’s face to be really focused. Jungkook’s got his feet up on the couch, with an arm shoved in front of his crotch, rocking against it to relieve some pressure.

On the slightly less affected couch, Hoseok sits back with his gaze hooded as he stares you down. Taehyung, shoulder-to-shoulder with the dom, has a swollen bottom lip pinned tightly under his front teeth. You don’t doubt he wishes nothing more than to be between you and Jimin right now.

Jimin pulls you back too soon, and as he retrieves the familiar short, round casing of a tube of lipstick, you can’t hold back any longer. No longer worried about accidentally being stabbed in the eye, you keep your face still but tighten your thighs around his, grinding your core against him.

You know you aren’t being subtle, but you’re beyond caring, just needing something to relieve the desire boiling over inside you.

As he uncaps the lipstick - a deep wine red that looks ridiculously expensive - he sends you a warning glare. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he chastises in a low tone.

You choose to ignore him, propping your hands on the top of his thigh, over the soft pleats of his skirt, to get better leverage, moaning between closed lips at the feeling.

“That’s disappointing,” Jimin admits, and as your heart begins to sink at his tone, his free hand lifts up once more to wrap around your neck.

This time, instead of his grip being an implication of consequence, he starts to tighten and tighten and tighten, slowly and steadily. You feel the pressure on the sides of your throat, where his fingers are, not on your voicebox, and it makes you start to feel a little hazy. He keeps going as you feel the first brush of lipstick against your parted lower lip, and there’s a heat in your face, a slight tightness. His fingers curl in more, just slight changes every time, but your brows furrow at the slight pain, and without you even reaching out to pinch him, he’s eased back to that sugar-sweet lightheadedness.

It’s easier to let your eyes flutter - not open but not quite closed either - as your lips are coated in red, hand moving with just as much case as his other. Although you can breathe, it’s thin, and you feel yourself go lax at the slight deprivation, like you’re floating above yourself. Once the cap of the lipstick clicks, his grips falls away, and you instinctively suck in a breath, your exhale sounding closer to a pleasured sigh.

You begin to sink forward, seeking out more contact as the endorphins of an oxygen rush lift you higher. Jimin hums, the lipstick clattering noisily on the coffee table as he grasps your shoulders and turns you slightly, so that you don’t faceplant into his chest. A strong hand keeps your chin up, air flowing so easily that you feel drunk on it, strength returning to your limbs.

“Isn’t my doll so pretty, Namjoon?” Jimin asks sweetly, before he ducks in and nips sharply at your earlobe, voice lowering to whisper harshly in your ear. “I only gave you two very easy, very simple commands. Be quiet and be still. And yet that’s seemingly too much to ask of you. I have no qualms about punishing you in front of everyone, little mouse. You’ve used up all your chances. If you make a single noise or move out of turn, I’ll discipline you right here without mercy.” His fingers are featherlight, tender as they turn you back to face him, pressing your foreheads together. His eyes dance in mirth, a smile playing on his lips. “Is that understood?”

You only just manage to prevent yourself from answering or nodding automatically.

Jimin laughs through his nose at the way your lips twitch, leaning back just a few inches. “That was mean of me, wasn’t it?” His smile falls in a second. “Then again, I think I’ve been going too easy on you lately. And I don’t make mistakes a second time.”

Blessedly, all he has left are delicate dustings of blush and highlighter, and some setting spray. He moves your face this way and that, tells you when to open your eyes and when to close them, and although it feels like your insides are vibrating hopelessly, you manage to keep still and silent, a perfect doll for him.

“All done.” When Jimin says those two magic words, and gives you permission to move again, you feel relief crash down on you, making your knees weak as you get up off him and collapse onto the couch in the gap between Jungkook and Namjoon.

Your relief is short-lived. “And what do you think you’re doing?”

You blink up at Jimin. “Um… You said we’re done.”

“The makeup is,” Jimin corrects, looking unbelievably intimidating even in a white t-shirt and pink cheerleading skirt. “We are not. You still deliberately disobeyed be, little mouse. You’re in trouble.”

On either side of you, Jungkook and Namjoon retreat, ducking out of Jimin’s line of sight so they can look on from the sidelines. You frown at him. “But I didn’t do it again, and you said you wouldn’t do it if I-”

“Goodness, were you so desperate that you stopped listening entirely? I said I wouldn’t discipline you in front of the others, Y/n. You haven’t earned absolution. You just get the dignity of privacy when I punish you. Go up to my room; now.”

There’s no protesting his command. There’s a safeword, or there’s obedience, and the choice is easy. You feel positively electric with arousal, excited at the concept of Jimin no longer going easy on you, and what that might entail.

You jump up, spare one glance at the four men that remain, open-mouthed on the couch, and make your way towards the stairs, Jungkook’s whines about ‘missing out’ fading away with distance.

Jimin’s room is relatively tidy, but it’s not the neatly made bed or overflowing tabletop of neatly arranged jewellery, watches and belts that catch your attention. At the foot of his bed, a heavy wooden armoire with his initials engraved is unable to ignore, a constant reminder of just how fucked you were. You didn’t know half the things he had in there, had only really experienced a few of them yourself, but something tells you that digging around inside it while you wait will just get you in more trouble; although you aren’t opposed to acting up for some extra attention, you’re in new territory with Jimin right now, and you want to get a feel for what you’re in for before you make things worse for yourself.

You’re proven right very quickly, when the door creaks behind you. “At least you know how to wait patiently,” Jimin’s voice calls in a sultry whisper. Turning around to face him, you can’t help but gulp at the glimmer in his eyes and the smirk that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “That lipstick shade looks so beautiful on you, little mouse. Mind if I try it on?”

With two smooth steps, he’s upon you, a hand winding around the nape of your neck and the other keeping your chin steady as he presses his lips to yours, forceful enough that your teeth begin to dig in to the delicate flesh. You exhale roughly through your nose, a whimper stuck in your throat at the sudden contact. As plush as his lips are, he kisses you with a ferocity and coldness that has your mind reeling.

When he pulls away, your eyes flutter weakly open, and that whimper makes its way to the surface. He looks like sin personified, that deep blue hair low across his brow, exposing a narrow triangle of his forehead, a smokey eye and those lips of his, stained with red. Of course it’s not a neat application - you imagine yours must be even more ruined - but the messy smears of colour across the middle of his mouth just serve to make him look wilder, a creature of lust and raw desire. “Jimin,” you say, voice hushed like a prayer.

His eyes narrow minutely. “Did I say you could speak? On your knees, shorts and shirt off.”

You follow without hesitation, just about scratching yourself in the haste to remove your outer layer of clothing. Though your ribs practically vibrate with how fast your heart races, your skin still prickes into goosebumps now that all you wear are your panties and a bra. The fibres of the carpet, though soft, scratch against the bare skin of your knees and shins as need makes your nerves extra sensitive. You look up at him and shiver at the sight this position awards you.

You haven’t specifically drooled over his thighs before, but now that they’re bared to you, directly in your line of sight, you feel yourself grow wetter. You knew he still had the corded strength of a dancer, too, and the thought of him using that power to fuck you into the floor makes you seek out some friction, crotch pressed to your heels and rocking against them. From this angle, you can’t see up his skirt, but the fabric is thin enough to expose the bulge of his cock beneath it. Looking up further, craning your neck to see his face, you appreciate how even from below, he has a jaw that could cut diamonds - especially when he’s clenching it, like now.

Your eyes widen, taking in the tensed look of disapproval he’s giving you. With a start, you realise your hips are still rocking back and forth absentmindedly, and you freeze with an apologetic whine.

His hand comes down to stroke back your hair, deceptively lightly compared to iron lines of his face. “Oh, doll, you really can’t follow any basic commands, can you? So needy for cock that you can’t even think?” He lets out a teasing laugh, the sound like windchimes. Slowly, he trails a single finger down the side of your face, then diverts inwards along your cheekbone and pushes down against the seam of your lips, making you naturally part them. “Such a mess already,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Shall we see how much more that lipstick of yours will hold up? See how long it takes you to become just a mindless little doll for me to play with, hm? Maybe you’d behave then.”

Your eyes plead with him as he toys with your lips lazily, running that finger inside, collecting your saliva to smear it over, your cheeks a hazy red at the humiliation. It only serves to make you needier, though, as you wait for him to do something, to use you like you know he will, and judging by the grin on his face as he messes you up, you know he’s well aware of his effect on you. But good dolls don’t talk, and they don’t move on your own, and so Jimin makes you sit and wait, letting him take his time.

When he finally pulls his finger away and wipes the drool - tinged pink with the dislodged lipstick pigment - on your cheek, you could groan in relief, but he still seems in no hurry, lazily toying with the hem of his skirt as he tilts his head to the side like he’s appraising you. “Look at you, trying so hard to follow the rules,” he coos, “did you not like me calling you cockdumb, little mouse?”

You bite down on the inside of your lip to mask another whine, blinking up at him as it takes all of your effort not to grind against your heels. You can’t answer, but it seems your response was explanation enough.

“Oh, so that’s it…” Jimin grins, eyes alight with the condescending mirth that makes you feel so deliciously small beneath him. “You like it a little too much, huh? I should’ve known. I’ve been spoiling you; Tae too. In fact, I bet every guy in this house has spoilt you rotten, and now the only thing on your mind is when you’ll next get some cock..” You swallow at the way he slowly begins lifting his skirt, knuckles grazing on the skin of his thighs as more pale golden flesh is revealed. His voice is sultry, addictive. “Rest that pretty little mind of yours, little mouse, you don’t have to think about a thing. Just open your mouth and be a good doll for me, and I’ll give you what you need.”

You widen your jaw and let your tongue rest on your lower lip before he’s even bared himself to you, and he chuckles as he holds the skirt to his lower abdomen, showing off the cotton-candy pink underwear he’s donning. The satin-like fabric is so narrow across his hips and between his legs that it’s clearly not meant to contain his cock, but he doesn’t seem bothered about the precarious way the weeping tip pokes out of the skinny waistband. There’s not much time to dwell on it, or even admire it, however, because he quickly reaches in with his free hand and pushes them down, letting his cock bob free.

Your eyes grow lidded with desire as he holds himself at the base with three fingers and taps the head against your awaiting tongue teasingly, drool quickly pooling there.

Jimin grins at your needy reaction. “I’d love to tie your hands back and fuck your mouth, but I want them to be free if you need to use them,” he states lowly, before shrugging, “maybe next time. For now; open up.”

You stretch your mouth even wider, wanting to obey his every command, and feel his cock begin to fill it, the salty tang of his precum sliding over your tongue. Focusing on breathing through your nose, you fight the urge to gag. Though he takes his time, and certainly isn’t as large as some of the other members of the house, he hasn’t have any qualms about burying himself to the hilt, making your eyes tear up.

“Fuck, just like that,” Jimin curses, and your heart sings with the praise even as you struggle not to choke around the intrusion in your throat. Unsure if he wants you to properly suck him off, but knowing the last thing you should do is move without permission, you just keep your jaw as wide as possible, lips pulled back slightly to cover your teeth. As he draws back with a pleasured sigh before beginning his slow drive back in, you think Jimin’s more than happy with what he’s getting.

He takes his time, but throat isn’t exactly something that adjusts like your pussy would, and so it doesn’t get any easier to stop your gag reflex from kicking in when you feel him past the base of your tongue. You can breathe through your nose, but there are so many things to keep track of that you don’t get quite enough air to your lungs, trying to make every inhale you do manage as deep as you can.

His groans and breathy praises are enough to keep your nerves on a livewire, so turned on you could cry - and, in fact, your eyes tear up as he gently but thoroughly fucks your throat, so that when you glance up at him, he’s blurry in your affected vision. That doesn’t stop you from knowing that he’s grinning, because you can hear it in the way he assures you that you’re being “so perfect, little mouse; just drunk on cock, aren’t you?”

You groan around him in your mouth, and feel a spot of wetness on your sternum, that you don’t doubt is your drool beginning to spill over. Even as your cheeks flush with humiliation, he doesn’t tell you to suck him off, or do anything but leave your mouth wide open, and so you stare up at him with tears in your eyes and remain obediently still.

It could be a minute, it could be ten, but at one point, when your nose is pressed to the waistband of Jimin’s skirt and his hand is gently cupping the back of your head to hold you there, you become aware of a foreign presence between your legs.

It takes you a moment to recognise it, that probing pressure that quickly seeks out your clothed core, but you blink away the sheen from your eyes and and close your thighs just enough to feel the outline, and it’s the textured fabric against your skin and the teasing way he wets his lips that helps you make the connection. The object moves again, a stiff drag right over your clit, and the sudden burst of pleasure makes you choke around him, spit running down your chest now. He’s rubbing his foot against you, the foot that’s covered in pretty white thigh-high stockings.

Jimin pulls out to give you a moment to cough and splutter, and thankfully doesn’t call you out on the involuntary breaking of the rules, but you barely manage to suck in two breaths before he’s clicking his tongue at you, telling you your brief respite is over. You clear your aching throat one last time and spread your mouth wide open again, but Jimin just hums and pats your cheek. “Could my doll handle one more command? You’re doing so good, taking me well like I knew you would.”

You nod straight away before freezing at your unintentional mistake. The blue-haired man just lets out a dark chuckle, pulling his foot away. This time, you at least manage to prevent a whine, biting hard on the inside of your cheek at the loss.

“That was mean of me, wasn’t it? I understand, little mouse,” he coos, crouching in front of you so that you’re at eye-level, “I do. It must be hard for you to remember all these pesky rules and orders, isn’t that right?”

His gentle croon of sympathy cracks you once again, your need to please overriding your better judgement, and you nod again.

This time, he openly laughs, making you shiver as he runs a line through the spit that’s fallen between your breasts. “Let me give you a deal, then,” he begins, voice dripping with apparent sympathy, “I’ll take away those rules. I’ll let you move, and moan, and say my name, but only if you promise that it’s because you’re too cockdumb to follow them, hm? Can you say that for me?”

You swallow, opening your mouth to take a heaving breath. What’s worse; not being able to move, or having to admit that you’re so desperate that you can’t stay still? “I’m just c-cockdumb, Jiminnie, can’t think about anything else but feeling you inside me,” you confess, and as he strokes back your hair and smiles at you like a prized pet or small child, something beloved but not all that smart, it’s strangely freeing.

Your sex drive had skyrocketed since coming on this show, and even with having sex almost once a day, sometimes more, you found yourself missing the feeling of each guy in the house while they awaited their turn. It had been what felt like ages since the last time you actually, properly fucked him, even though it couldn’t have been a week, and you longed for it. Admitting that you were too desperate to even follow basic commands, letting yourself be reduced to a creature of need, with no coherent thoughts alleviated any shame you had about that thought. Jimin was here in front of you, skirt barely covering his spit-slicked cock, lips still a sinful wine red, and he loved your need, your desperation.

Jimin stands back up again, and makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat. “That’s my good girl,” he praises, and any scant notion of tainted dignity that remained within you flies out the window. “I shouldn’t punish you, should I? When you couldn’t help it.”

“No, Minnie,” you agree with a whine, clenching your thighs together in a poor imitation of the stimulation you briefly had, “‘couldn’t help it. You don’t have to punish me.”

“And what would you want instead, little mouse?”

You widen your eyes in plea. “Fuck me, Minnie, I’m your good girl.”

He tilts his head to the side, and it’s the bemused smile that graces his lips that makes you realise he’s not going to give you what you want. “What a shame, then,” he murmurs, his fingers delving into your hair and tightening around a fistful of it, “that I have to punish you anyway. How else will you learn?”

You gasp as he steps backwards, pulling you with him by the grip in your hair. You’re forced to stumble forward on your knees and the tips of your fingers as he sits down on the edge of his mattress and settles you in front of him. “Minnie,” you whine, your own hands reading out to clutch at the fabric of the duvet in front of you.

“Y/n,” he teases in a singsong voice, “remember that new command that I wanted from my doll?” He spreads his legs open further, and the pink miniskirt rides up to expose his cock, smeared with a deep red from your ruined lipstick, dripping with saliva and precum. The hand in your hair tugs you closer. “It’s suck.”

Jimin isn’t gentle with you this time. Now that you have the advantage of responsiveness, sucking him down and swirling your tongue, he doesn’t bother sugar-coating it, and obscene noises emerge from your mouth as you swallow, gag and choke around him. He curses, using the handful of hair like a handle, guiding you up and down.

It’s barely any time at all before you feel a familiar sensation against your soaked panties. Jimin’s stockinged foot grinds against you with so much pressure you almost want to wriggle away from it. Your nerves are so touch-starved and your clit is so swollen that the slightest touch would’ve made you shiver, but the intense way he rubs the ball of his foot over your panties has you gargling hopelessly around him, mouth going slack.

He chuckles. “Too much? I can stop if you need, little mouse, I can’t have you getting distracted from your main use.”

Your hands detach from the duvet and wrap around his calf, fingers digging in and holding him there. Rutting your hips against it, you seek out the pleasure yourself but make sure to throw your efforts twice into blowing him, making him curse when you bob on his cock faster than your hips move.

“God, you’re fuckin’ filthy,” Jimin breathes out through a groan, “humping my leg like a fucking dog. Thought Tae was the pup, not you.” You’re unprepared for the hand that shifts and slips under your jaw, tightening around your throat so that you can feel his cock even more inside you. You gag, but swallow through it, the slight restriction of air bringing back that delicious heady feeling from earlier. Jimin catches your moan, even though it’s muffled around him. “Maybe I should get you a collar, little mouse. Make sure to buckle it tight.”

The thought makes your grinding falter, and you don’t doubt he feels the sudden rush of heat between your legs, because he suddenly kicks into action himself, grinding harshly against you as you cry out gutturally around his cock.

His grip on your neck loosens only to take a hold on the back of your head again, fucking your throat to chase his orgasm. The faster he snaps his hips, cursing lowly and groaning praises, the faster he jerks his foot against you, and it’s not long before the heat is gathering in a tight coil low in your belly.

You moan around him, jaw aching and lips stretched, and suddenly Jimin twitches inside you, spilling down your throat. Quickly, he pulls his cock out, and you only get the briefest taste on your tongue before he’s rubbing his tip across your swollen lips, spreading his cum across them.

His leg slows down as he releases, but you were so close to the edge yourself, and so you feel no shame in seeking it out, grinding yourself against him as you stick your tongue out to lick your lips clean.

Jimin groans, chest heaving, but lets you rut yourself against him, cum dripping down your chin, until finally you give a violent shiver as your orgasm runs through you. It’s mellow but toe-curling, and you clutch his leg to anchor yourself through it.

“Fuck,” you gasp out, head lolling forward onto his thigh, where the stocking turns to flesh, then the soft ironed pleats of his skirt.

Jimin’s hands are in your hair, stroking it away from your messy face and brushing out the tangles. “Oh, Y/n,” he chants softly, his voice a far cry from the dom that teased you before, “I love to play with you. How are you feeling?”

You feel drained, your entire body weight collapsed against him and the bed. “Mm.”

Jimin stifles a chuckle. “Could I have a colour, my little mouse?”

“Green,” you manage, “I’m green. But are we done now? If I don’t get some lip balm on now, my lips might just fall off.”

“Indeed we are,” he confirms, and bends down to slip his arms under yours, picking you up off the floor with ease. “As much as I love you being drunk off desire, I miss my clever, sweet, cheeky girl.”

Even with your body screaming in exhaustion, barely able to help him get you laid down on his bed and tucked under the duvet, your cheeks heat in a blush. “Don’t compliment me when I’m vulnerable, that’s cheating.”

“I’ll save them for later, then,” Jimin bargains with a tired smile, before he gets up and cringes, looking down. “As much as I’d love to collapse into bed for a nap with you right now, my sock is drenched thanks to you.”

Your eyes fly wide, and you manage to pull yourself up enough to glance over the side. Jimin isn’t kidding. All over the toes and top of his foot are dark patches in the stocking, clinging to his skin. “I’m so sorry,” you say with a wince.

“Don’t be,” Jimin assures, stripping it off with two fingers hooked into the fabric, “it was hot at the time. It just, uh, feels weird when it’s gone cold.”

Half the blood in your body has probably rushed to your face as you cover it with an embarrassed whine, burying yourself deeper in the sheets. “Maybe if you fucked me, I wouldn’t have gotten your sock wet,” you mutter petulantly, shamelessly deflecting.

“I’ll know better next time,” he quips, a grin evident in his voice. By the time you poke your head back up, he’s stripped down to just his white Gucci shirt, his bottom half totally bare as he retrieves a pair of boxers from the set of drawers. Stepping into them with no qualms about the temporary nudity - though, you suppose it would be stranger for him to be camera shy - he glances back over his shoulder. “And as much as I love to fuck you, we have just enough time for a cuddle before dinner. I miss you.”

Your heart warms, eyes soft. “Jimin,” you croon softly, “come here.”

He smiles, but hesitates. “Could I- I’m just- Should I text Tae?” he asks, lips twisting in uncertainty, still tinted a faded red. “I’m pretty sure nobody’s getting suspicious, and it’s not like we’re technically-”

“Text him,” you instruct with a beam. “I miss having you both close. We live in the same house; it sucks having to stay so separate.”

With how quickly Taehyung bundles into Jimin’s room after he sends the text, he must not have been far. He’s on you in a second, jumping onto the bed with enough vigor that the springs creak, and wriggling under the duvet beside you.

You seek him out with as much earnestness, if not enthusiasm, and hum happily when he lies back to let you rest your head on his chest. The bed creaks again, and Jimin’s body heat warms your back, his arm slung over your waist.

“It’s about time,” you hear Taehyung’s voice say, echoing through his chest, “I’ve been cuddling with one of Jin’s plushies these past few nights. It’s a sorry substitute for a whole human to snuggle.” He pauses to lift his chin, glaring imperiously at the blinking camera in the top corner of the room. “I missed having platonic cuddles with my friend Y/n. Cuddling is a favourite non-sexual pastime of mine.”

You giggle, curling into him and inhaling his comforting scent, like brown sugar or caramel. “I think you’re good, Tae.”

“Can we sleep now?” Jimin whines as he holds you tighter, face buried in the crook of your neck as he huffs. “I just had the soul sucked out of me.”

“I know, I know,” Taehyung grumbles, and if the comment strikes you as odd, it only takes the steady heartbeat and low hum of his breathing to blur the thought from your mind as you let yourself drift off.

--

Yoongi glances worriedly over his shoulder, ear straining to hear past the glass sliding door.

“They’re occupied,” Jin reminds, “besides, I doubt they can hear us all the way out here. Did we really have to come out to the patio just for a talk? It’s hot out here.”

The doctor shrugs, placing the package of fresh sliced beef onto the tabletop. “We’re having a barbecue tonight. At least this way we can pretend we were just getting set up.”

Jin narrows his brows, eyes softening in concern. Quickly, Yoongi drops his gaze, knowing it’ll just make him weak. “Yoongichi, talk to me. What’s up? What’s got you so nervous?”

Yoongi swallows. Thinks of what he rehearsed, of what he’d written in the notes app of his phone, read over and over that morning. This has been fun, but we’re kidding ourselves. Or maybe he’d skip the pretense and avoid beating around the bush. I can’t keep having sex with you while my feelings are on the line. “Um… A lot happened today. With Y/n.” Maybe he can beat around the bush a little bit, just to work up his courage.

“That it did,” Jin responds slowly, leaning against the outdoor dining table. Yoongi takes one of the wooden chairs, nails digging into the arms as he feels tension stiffen his body. “Though it seems like the others are doing a fine enough job of keeping her mind off it.”

Yoongi doesn’t miss the bitter tone in Jin’s voice. “Are you jealous? Of them, I mean.”

“Of course not,” the therapist answers immediately, “I have no right to be. She’s a free woman, and this is just a show.”

He frowns, heart sinking. “You said you wouldn’t lie to me about her, hyung. We started this so that you had an outlet. Physical or otherwise.”

Jin pauses for a moment. “I don’t think she would’ve told me,” he says finally, “if I wasn’t already there when part of it happened. If you hadn’t have asked me to look after her. She hasn’t told the others. Not even Namjoon, I don’t think.”

“And that bothers you?”

“It shouldn’t bother me,” Jin deflects.

Yoongi doesn’t miss a heartbeat. “That’s not an answer.”

Jin lets out a hollow laugh. “Since when you get so smart?”

Upon hearing those words, Yoongi feels a sudden shard of glass cut deep inside him, enough to make him wince. “I was always smart,” he replies stiffly. “I wasn’t dumb before I started fucking you, Jin. I didn’t get emotional intelligence through osmosis.”

At least Jin has the good grace to look pained. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to say you weren’t, I phrased that poorly. I just meant…” He trails off, seeking out the right words. “I suppose I’m realising how much you’ve learnt about me in the time we’ve been spending together lately. I feel like I don’t know much about you.”

Maybe because you don’t care about me like I care about you, Yoongi wants to say. Maybe because you only think about Y/n these days. “You could always ask,” he says instead, and curses himself for the pathetic way his voice wavers in the air.

Jin’s brows furrow deeper, and his hand begins to rub against his thigh. Self-soothing, Yoongi knows. Jin always started stroking at his own thigh when he was stressed. “It’s probably good that you asked to have this talk. I’m not sure this is best for both of us. I appreciate how you’ve stuck by me, and the support you’ve given me-” Yoongi wonders why he doesn’t just call it like it is, fucking, “-but it really seems like it’s doing more harm than good for you. Maybe we should put an end to this, Yoongichi.”

Yoongi sucks in a breath. He came out here to say that. He came out here to end it. But hearing it from Jin’s lips, it sounds abhorrent to think of. “Don’t,” Yoongi blurts without thinking, nails digging into the wood, “don’t take it all away from me just based on that. I know what I have with you, Jin, and I know that right now it isn’t ideal, but it’s better than nothing!”

Jin’s brows knit together as he shakes his head. “I don’t think this is healthy. It was irresponsible of me to lean on you in the first place, but I swear you aren’t just a substitute for Y/n. I care about you, Yoongi, it’s why I came to you.”

“You came to me because you knew I’d say yes,” Yoongi corrects, a sad smile on his face. “Because you knew how I feel. It’s just my shitty luck that you don’t feel the same. I mean, I’m crazy about you, you’re crazy about Y/n, fuck, I’m even starting to- starting to think about her and me like that too, and…” He takes a breath, feeling like a speeding train about to run out of tracks. “And I know Jimin and Tae and Jungkook are all head over heels for her and each other, Namjoon just about worships the ground she walks on, Hoseok looks at most of the people in this house like he wants to eat them alive in the best way possible, and it’s just- All these feelings are all over the place and it just seems cruel that you couldn’t just like me. To want me to still be in your bed when you wake up, to want to cook for me not just with me, to maybe kiss when we fuck, I don’t know, it’s-” Yoongi forcefully cuts himself off before he digs that particular hole any deeper. “I guess the odds just aren’t in my favour here. Do you even like men? Romantically, I mean? A good fuck is fine, but-”

“I do, yes,” Jin says with a wince.

Yoongi’s heart sinks. “Just me then,” he surmises in a hollow tone. “That’s okay.”

Jin frowns. “I’m not entirely sure what you wanted to achieve with this conversation,” he says, in a voice so soft it could shatter, in a voice that sounds like he’s worried Yoongi might be the one to shatter, “but it sounds like whether you want to admit it or not, this friends with benefits thing just isn’t right for us. There’s too many loose strings and it’s getting messy.” Yoongi goes to butt in, but Jin isn’t done, raising his brows to get him to pause. “I want to be fully honest with you, Yoongi. I don’t think it’s wise for you to put your wellbeing on the line for a possibility. We should end this.”

There’s a part of Yoongi that’s writhing in relief, at seeing a light out of the cave, an escape. But that part of Yoongi is drowned out by the majority of his being, the part that can’t bear a goodbye. “It’s not messy,” Yoongi blurts against his better judgement, “I told you I’d keep my feelings out of this and I will. I want to fuck you, hyung, and you want to fuck me, and I see no reason to stop when I’m perfectly fine.”

“Are you?” Jin asks dubiously. “I’m not going to continue this a moment further if I feel like you’re suffering because of this, Yoongi. It would be wrong of me.” He opens his mouth to continue, but is interrupted by a swooshing noise.

Yoongi jumps and whirls around just as Jungkook hops through the sliding door, grinning at the two of them. Yoongi sighs, relieved it seemed like the kid hadn’t heard anything. “This is a private conversation, Jungkook.”

“Is that, like, your code?” the youngest asks. “Wait, doesn’t matter. Anyway; I want in.”

Jin frowns. “You what?”

Jungkook’s smile just grows wider, exposing his teeth. “I want in, hyung, you two always sneak away to fuck, so I’ve come to join. I brought supplies.”

Yoongi’s mouth drops open as the black-haired boy pulls his hand out of his pocket to reveal a fistful of condom packets. “Do you just carry those around in hope, or…?”

“I specifically went upstairs to get them,” Jungkook announces proudly. “So can I join the sex pact now?”

Jin pinches his brow. “There is no sex pact, Jungkookie, and now’s really not a great ti-”

“You can join, Kookie,” Yoongi interrupts, ignoring the disbelieving stare Jin sends him. The older man wanted to be assured that Yoongi was fine? He could do that. “Come sit on my lap.”

Jungkook looks like a kid on Christmas morning as he scrambles over, shoving the condoms back in his pocket. He clambers onto Yoongi’s lap with a touch of clumsiness, but settles in proudly, back against his chest. Automatically, Yoongi wraps his arms around him, low over his hips like a seatbelt.

Jin still seems to disapprove, hand dipping below the table to rub at his leg again. “This isn’t a good idea,” he says with a frown, “things will get messy if we start involving more people.”

Yoongi grins, leaning forward to press chaste kisses against Jungkook’s neck, making him giggle and squirm. Proving he was fine was one thing, but making Jin jealous? Making him feel what Yoongi had felt every time he gushed about Y/n? Yoongi wouldn’t turn an opportunity like that down. “Come on, hyung,” he coos teasingly, one of his hands lazily pressing down on Jungkook’s quickly-stiffening bulge, “our pretty boy just wants to play. If you aren’t interested, I’ll just fuck him myself.”

Jin’s eyes flare, watching Jungkook wriggle in Yoongi’s lap as he begins to suck a trail of hickies over the sensitive flesh. “I’m sure we’ll give him a better time together,” he says in a gravelly voice, and gets up out of his chair, stalking over to the pair. “But first, don’t you want to put on a show?”

Yoongi lifts his head up as Jin’s fingers brush over his cheek, and in a moment he’s being kissed with bruising intensity, all tongue and teeth. Jungkook whines and clutches at Yoongi’s shoulder, wanting in, but Jin’s lips taste like possessiveness and jealousy, and Yoongi thinks they’ve never been so sweet.

[andraaste]

I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction Part 1

Hey, this is the translation of the first chapter of my fanfiction, hope you'll enjoy it !

(Link for Chapter 2 here)

Chapter 1 : I am not your enemy

"I know you only just woke up and you're not ready to hear this yet, but know that today you are seen as the hope of the Eldaryans. You saved us all and you are worshiped as a deity, however, you must know one thing..."

Stranger faces crowded around me, jostling in a dance far too fast in which I couldn't keep up. Each gaze I met stared at me with a mixture of amazement and admiration while paradoxically, a sense of doubt hovered in each of them. Stalls of food, trinkets, and even potions spread out before my eyes in an abundance of information. The bright sunlight forced my eyelids to squint as uneasiness took hold of me. The market place, much larger and more developed than seven years ago, was teeming with life and sounds, each stronger than the next, which accentuated the headache that had assailed me for almost two weeks. Without warning, a shoulder jostled me and I swayed dangerously while grabbing the edge of a booth in an effort to support myself. The person gave me a scared look and quickly fled while muttering a vague apology that I wasn't paying attention to. What the fuck is happening to me ? The weight of emotional fatigue from awakening from the crystal was felt more and more, my body was searingly exhausted each day and I was sleeping well over ten hours each night. However, my condition did not improve, which prompted Eweleïn to keep me under observation as soon as necessary. I vaguely heard a man bitch about the fact that I was blocking the passage, which gave me the strength to let go of my makeshift support to stand up and continue my journey. But where had Jamon gone ? I was supposed to follow him to show me where to find weapons for the Obsidian Guard, which was now the one I worked for, but despite his very tall stature, I couldn't see him in the dense crowd. who surrounded me. Resuming my awkward run, Huang Hua's words circled in my head since I thought I saw, a little earlier, what sounded like my worst nightmare. "... He's here, Andraste. He repented and now works every day to right his past mistakes. His actions are totally unforgivable and no one will ever forget what he did to Eldarya, but his heart is no longer filled with the darkness that decimated him and that is part of why I decided to give him a chance here. " My stomach immediately turned as I thought about those words. He was there. The one who had put my life on hold for seven long years lived here like a repentant, and no one seemed to mind. But how could they have been ?! No matter how hard I twirled the words of the leader of the Sparkling in my head, I couldn't understand the decision. “He deserved it badly, you know. He was not greeted with open arms and even still, his presence remains only tolerated by the inhabitants of the HQ. But he is the most useful part of this guard and without him I don't think we could have got up so quickly. Don't look at me like that, I know what you are thinking, but I can only ask you to trust me. " My head was spinning as quickly as the nausea that was mounting again. "Have I ever shown you that my judgment was wrong ?" " Faced with this flood of nonsense, only my reason had managed to answer him at that time. “No, you are certainly right. " No, his judgment had never been distorted. Absolutely never. And it was eating me up. My fingernails dug into my arms, my breathing suddenly quickened and I felt anger sneak up on me. And as if to echo what was dawning in that moment in me, I lifted my head and froze instantly. It was his hair, almost silvery white, that caught my eye like a magnet. His large size also had a lot to do with him, he was well above all the people around him, and his tanned skin warmed his characteristic icy gaze. With his graceful, almost feline gait, he seemed to move serenely in the midst of a crowd filled with unconsciousness. It was him, I was sure. I will recognize him among a thousand, his cold mask having obviously never left him. Lance was a monster and he stood in front of me. Totally frozen for several seconds, my blood swirled around as I

jumped up without even realizing it straight ahead. The anger, which had already nestled deep in my heart for a long time, suddenly exploded, absolutely devastating. The latter crept in like poison, burning me so much that I literally exploded with rage as I ran towards it. The traitor hadn't noticed me yet and I decided to take advantage of it by rushing straight behind his back, ready to do battle. And for the first time in my life, I wanted to kill. With a desire so deep, so intense, that it dictated my every move and every thought. I probably lost some of my humanity at that point. Who knows, maybe deep down I was just as monstrous as him. Taking advantage of the surprise effect, I raised my fist forward and crushed it with all my strength on his jaw. The latter was thrown to the side and, under the effect of adrenaline, I was ready to perform my gesture again when his eyes, as cold as a lake of ice, spotted my movements. With a sharp gesture, as quick as a fraction of a second, he stopped my intention with a firm, almost painful grip on my forearm. This simple touch made my blood run cold as it burned my skin. Blinded by hatred, I tried to free my arm from its makeshift prison but nothing helped, my executioner did not give in a millimeter. - LET GO OF ME ! I shouted at him. - I am not your enemy, do not force me to hurt you, he begged me then. In response, I stepped aside and threw my second fist in the direction of his face, but much to my pain, Lance was faster than me and stopped my movement for the second time. - Andraste, I'm fully aware of your anger, but let me explain what happened. Totally blinded by anger, I couldn't hear what this killer was trying to tell me. - Let go of me, for God's sake ! I struggled like crazy and despite his strength far superior to mine, the young man was clearly not leading. - Look, you can't do that here. We are in a public square and everyone is looking at us, he tried to make me hear. His voice, both calm and alarmed, penetrated me to the depths of my soul. Stirring my memories, she took me back seven years, remembering every moment spent by her side. Fear, anger, hatred but also another feeling, much less gloomy, seized me then. But I didn't want that last feeling. In spite of myself, he had returned, like a sweet and bitter reminiscence, ruffling my skin where his hands still held me. I would never dare to admit to myself what I had felt for this monster during a fleeting moment. When the latter had kidnapped me, and maybe even before, an attraction had more or less pushed me towards him. Some sort of unhealthy admiration, perhaps. - You know very well that it's more difficult for me not to hurt yourself than you do to me, he said with a slightly superior air. But who did he think he was ?! Anger twisted my temples so much that my sight suddenly blurred. Lance noticed it and, hesitating for a moment, he kept me from collapsing by sliding a hand both firm and hesitant on my waist to hold me back. I pushed him away unceremoniously as a sharp pain gripped my stomach. - Don't touch me, Lance ! The latter raised his red-stained hand, his face troubled. - You're bleeding, what's happening to you ? My eyes froze on his dripping fingers. - I ... I don't know. My hand in turn rested where his had been a moment earlier. I found there a hot and abundant liquid. Some blood ? My sight blurred again and I sank under the alert gaze of my enemy. I felt two arms surround me before I passed out.

(Chapter 2)

[ragingbookdragon]

Should Judgement Come To Pass

Asra x M!Apprentice

Word Count: 2.8K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author’s Note: My spin on Book 20: Judgment, 1. The Red Room. Enjoy! -Thorne

           It was the oppressive emotion that kept his throat tight, heart hammering in his chest as he gazed from his plate to the other members of the Devil’s dinner party. Even if he wasn’t under the compulsion like Asra and them, his movements made him feel like he was. Too focused on trying to fit in, to keep the secret of his freedom hidden, it was eating away at his usually reserved demeanor. His eyes shifted to Asra, just a second is all it took for the other to nod and he inhaled deeply, glancing towards the Devil, an inviting smile growing underneath his mask. And the Devil smiled back, but it was anything but friendly.

           “See, (Y/N). All of this isn’t so bad.” He raised the silver goblet in his hand, and (Y/N) took a moment to glance at his own wine, imagining one of those vampire eels swimming around in it.

           “There’s food and wine, all of your favorite people in the same place. What more could you even ask for?” (Y/N) knew he had to play this by ear, and his answers had to seem like the most selfish he could possess.

           “I’d like…power.” He allowed a mock look of greed to come across him, voice dark and lusting. “If this is how it’s going to be, I want power.” The Devil burst into a roaring laughter, Valdemar and the others following.

           “Power!” The Devil repeated with a low chuckle. “Perhaps you and I are not so different after all, (Y/N).” He gave him a knowing look. “I bet you want to return to the great monster hunter you were before, hmm?”

           (Y/N) took a moment to think it over. “I can’t deny it’s crossed my mind.” His eyes flitted to Nadia and he sent a silent plea that she would play along. “When I was as powerful as I was three years ago, I had princesses tripping over themselves to make me their consorts.”

           Nadia was one smart cookie because she scoffed and spat, “You are just the same as Lucio.”

           He winked and flashed a pearly grin. “I can’t deny that power has its benefits.”

           “All mortals want power, Nadia,” the Devil tutted before turning his attention back onto (Y/N). “You desire to crush your enemies and to befuddle your betters…” his eyes darted to Asra. “To protect the ones you love dearly.”

           A bolt of white-hot anger thundered in (Y/N)’s chest, but he merely smiled through his clenched teeth. “What can I say? I’m a greedy bastard.”

           Some of the attendents laughed, and that was when (Y/N) felt the cool whisper of Asra’s magic was over him and Faust. Averting his gaze, he absentmindedly ran his pointer around the rim of his wine glass.

           “So, Devil?”

           The dark, maroon eye fell on him. “Yes, (Y/N)?”

           “Can I ask you something before the world is shot to hell?”

           The Devil snorted. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. The world isn’t going to end, it’s just going to be…altered.”

           (Y/N) met his stare head on. “Why go through all this trouble? You’re an Arcana. You have control of an entire realm, and anybody stupi—understanding enough of magic to deal with?”

           Tutting once more, the Devil sighed. “(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N). Do you have any idea what any of what you just said means?” He scoffed. “Of course you don’t, do you? You’ve never even stopped to consider it. We Arcana are masters of our own realms, but in the rest of existence, we are confined. Restricted to our unchanging roles.” The Devil offered a sympathetic look. “Surely someone as talented and smart as you can see how awfully tiresome it would become to stay unchanging all the time?”

           (Y/N) opened his mouth to respond when he heard a voice that sent his heart pounding against his chest.

           Help!

           Before he could even do a thing, Asra jolted in his seat, knee banging the underside of the table, fork clattering against the porcelain dish. The Devil was silent, but (Y/N) could tell that in the way his crimson eyes focused on Asra that he was suspicious.

           (Y/N) sucked in a breath, eyes darting wildly around to find some form of distraction, all the while Asra and Faust were conversing. It was too confusing, trying to focus on them while trying to distract the Devil. If he didn’t find something to say, something to do, they were doomed. They were—

           “…no one wants you here, Devil.”

           The voice was quiet but firm, and (Y/N) turned his attention to Muriel who gave him a small nod. It was just the distraction enough because the Devil turned on Muriel, but he met the glare with defiant green eyes.

           Across the table, Julian cleared is throat too, voice carrying over the table. “He’s right you know. I can party with just about anyone, even Lucio, but you have to be the exception.”

           Soon, everyone was following along, and Nadia was the next to get her shot in. “And I do not recall inviting you to my Masquerade. You have been such an ungracious guest.” (Y/N) fought viciously to keep the smile hidden as he looked over his frien—no, his best friends.

           The Devil paused a moment to regard them all, as if he genuinely cared what they were saying to him, though the way his clawed hands started clenching and unclenching told him otherwise.

           “Courage in the face of inevitable fate.” His voice turned downright mocking. “How…admirable.” Smiling, he added, “I hope something of you remains when the new world dawns. Perhaps I’ll have new toys to play with.”

           A flickering next to (Y/N)’s silver chalice caught his eye, something that could’ve been a trick of the light, but he knew what it really was. The red wine rippled, then stilled, and next to him, Asra slumped back in his seat, exhaustion seeping down his body. (Y/N) inconspicuously lowered his hand to Asra’s thigh, trying to pour magic into his lover. Whether it worked or not, he didn’t know, but the way Asra sighed in slight relief made his heart calm. Cool snakeskin ran behind his ankle as Faust wound her way up.

           Done…

           Even she sounded exhausted. His heart picked up again, but he was too afraid to even look in Asra’s direction for fear that a single glance would give them both away.

           The Devil raised his chalice and smiled. “To all of you. Thank you so much for playing the wonderful parts you’ve been given.”

He passed the chalice to Julian, and try as he did to resist, the compulsion was too strong, and he took the goblet. His normally pale complexion seemed to whiten even further after he swallowed the wine. The chalice made its way around the table, and one by one the dinner guests drank from it before it finally reached Asra and (Y/N).

           Raising it, Asra said, “To you, (Y/N).” he took a long sip before passing it over into (Y/N) hands.

           He took a long look at it, the dark crimson stains across the sides of the polished silver made his stomach curl. Before he lost his nerve, he grunted and knocked the remaining wine back, forcing himself to keep the sickly saccharine liquid down.

           Asra’s hand fell to his, worry in his voice. “Are you alright, my love?”

           He didn’t have a chance to respond as the Devil chuckled and shook his head, eyes falling on the two of them. “Love. Tell me Asra, what do you think your love managed to accomplish?” With a clawed hand, he vaguely gestured to the rest of the guests at the table. “Everyone is here. Everyone drank the wine. Even your darling (Y/N).”

           Grinning evilly, he finished with, “All your efforts were for naught. You and your love achieved nothing.”

           And that was the bridge too far. (Y/N) could take the Devil mocking his failures, but not those of Asra’s. His lover had worked for too long, worked far too hard, and suffered enough to be subjected to such abuse.

           The screeching of his chair sounded through the room as he stood to his feet and to his full height, ripping the mask off his face so the Devil could look his straight in the eyes.

           “You’re wrong,” (Y/N) condemned with the most withering glower he could muster.

           “Oh?” the Devil merely looked amused as he steepled his fingers. “Indulge me then, (Y/N). Tell me how wrong I am about this mortal delusion you call love.”

           Everyone fell silent, and with the weight of their gazes on him, (Y/N) inhaled and exhaled before he picked up the empty goblet and turned to Asra.

           “Asra, the first thing I remember in this new existence is the feeling of your arms wrapped protectively around me, the relieved and joyous tears seeping into my shirt.” He reached out, taking his lover’s hand. “You have always and will always be the greatest part of me, the truest friend and partner. The man I love the most.”

           (Y/N) raised the chalice to Julian. “We discovered the truth and redeemed an innocent man…not that he made it easy on us.” Julian’s face flushed a light pink as he laughed and gave a dramatic bow.

           “We have traveled across the realms of magic with nothing but our wits and ability to save us. We saved your parents and unraveled numerous mysteries great and small.” Asra’s eyes shone with crystal clear tears and he squeezed (Y/N)’s hand with all he could.

           “I couldn’t’ve done this, any of this, had you not been by my side the entire time.” Flashing him a smile, “Well, I probably could’ve, but not as stylishly of course.” Asra merely giggled and nodded.

           Sighing indulgently, the Devil glanced at them. “Yes, yes, this all so very touching. Dare I ask what even your point to all this is, (Y/N)?”

           (Y/N) tossed the goblet away, not caring that it bounced along the marble floor with a clang. The Devil’s eyes briefly darted to it, then back to him, an anger drawing into them.

           “Love’s the one thing you don’t understand Devil. It will always matter, even if you can’t comprehend it.” He tugged Asra to his feet and turned his attention to the beautiful mauve eyes he as well as his own. “It’s important to me. Important to us. And that’s all I need to be happy.”

           Raising his free hand, he caressed Asra’s cheek. “I don’t need anything else as long as you’re by my side, beloved.”

           “Is that so? Love has driven many passionate mortals, the same as you, into my open and waiting arms.” He grinned deviously. “Always craving more pleasure, more novelty, more control. Your kind are never sated. You’re greedy—like me.”

           (Y/N) shook his head, but never took his eyes off Asra’s. “The feelings you’re describing aren’t love. That’s pride and arrogance. Greed and loathing.”

           Finally, he looked over at the Devil. “However, I’m not surprised that the likes of you can’t tell the difference. It’s almost pitiful. But it makes me see just how delusional you’ve become in this whirlwind of a masterplan.” Expecting a barb back at him, (Y/N) was unnerved to see how conspicuously silent the Devil became.

           Asra looked as though he was seeing the sunrise for the first time after a life in the darkness as he confessed, “(Y/N), you didn’t have to say all the on my behalf.”

           He grinned at his lover. “Probably not…but it made me feel all manly to defend your honor.” Pressing a quick kiss to his cheekbone, he murmured, “Like a knight in shining armor defending his damsel in distress.” Asra snorted, pressing his face into (Y/N)’s shoulder to muffle his laughter, and it made his heart feel bubbly and light despite the gloom and darkness around them.

           “Well, I do feel safe and defended, so thank you, (Y/N).” Peeking his head up, he gazed into (Y/N)’s eyes. “And remember, whatever comes next and becomes of us, I love you too.”

           His heart swelled in his chest and it was only then that (Y/N) realized that everyone was watching them with grand smiles on their faces. It was enough to stun him and Asra, mainly because they’d forgotten they weren’t alone—Asra more so.

The Devil on the other hand was barely containing his annoyance. “Are you quite finished filibustering, (Y/N)? I’ve an agenda to keep up with.”

           (Y/N) shrugged and deadpanned, “Technically you asked me, asshole.”

           Ignoring the insult, the Devil huffed, “A moment of idle curiosity, nothing more than so.” Not wanting to push the envelope farther, (Y/N) fell silent and let the conversation stand. “Nevertheless, now that your sickenin—heartwarming display is over…”

           With an earsplitting ring, the Devil’s hands clapped together. (Y/N)’s teeth rattled, ears ringing as every nerve ending was set aflame. By the shock on Asra and the other’s faces, they felt it too. As quick as it came over, it was gone, and Julian was the first to break the silence.

           “Uh…was something supposed to happen? Because I don’t think it’s happening.”

           “Patience,” the Devil commanded. “One can’t rush these things.” Clapping his hands again, the same outcome applied. “What…is this? It should work.”

           (Y/N) sighed wistfully, and with humor. “Ah well, performance issues are not uncommon.” Asra choked on his spit as he tried not to laugh. “Running an apothecary, I’ve seen it’s about one out of five. I could recommend—” A deafening screech echoed through the room and they all spun to see Volta screaming at the top of her lungs.

           “Oh! Oh, what is happening to Volta? Volta feels…light? Volta feels so strange!”

           They stared in shock as the other courtiers started squirming uncontrollably in their seats, even Valdemar who was the strongest of them appeared particularly rattled. Something didn’t seem right with them to (Y/N) and before he could speak his concern to Asra, his vision fell into a hazy red, nausea threatening to turn his stomach inside out. What reeled him more was the true visage of the courtiers—constructed shells, thin as frost, and barely containing their real, nightmarish forms. He drew his eyes away only to catch sight of the ghostly chains binding everyone to their chairs. The vision began to fade, and the chains started unraveling, link by link by link.

           When it all cleared, the first thing (Y/N) saw was Asra’s face. “Come on, (Y/N). Deep breaths. You’re here. You’re with me.”

           He breathed a sigh of relief. “Asra, we did it. The plan worked.”

           “What? How do you know? What did you see?” Asra’s questions were rapid-fire.

           Nadia cut off any response, rising from her seat gloriously like a phoenix from the ashes. “Whatever you hoped to accomplish has failed, Devil.” Her voice held a barely contained, seething rage. “If you are quite done with this perverse little charade, get the hell out of my Palace.”

           Everyone began to rise as though they were awakening from a long, hellish dream, standing as they were no longer bound by the ritual. Asra and (Y/N)’s smiles grew by the moment.

           Asra looped his arms around (Y/N)’s waist, hugging him tightly. “We did it! It worked!”

           (Y/N) yanked off his mask and took hold of Asra’s chin, sealing their lips in a searing kiss. As they pulled away, Aisha and Salim leapt from the chair and ran over to hug them.

           “Oh, thank the Gods you’re both alright!” Aisha exclaimed, pressing kisses to both their cheeks.

           “What of you two? Are you hurt?” Asra’s hurt was palpable. “I’m so sorry we didn’t come sooner. We—”

           Salim rested a hand on Asra’s shoulder. “Asra, don’t be sorry. We’re alright. And you two did marvelously.”

           “And we’re so very proud of you two,” Aisha added with a smile.

           “Ahem.” The Devil exaggerated and everything fell silent once more. Asra took his place before his parents, and (Y/N) before him.

           “We drank your wine and ate your food, and nothing has happened. The ritual has failed. It’s over. Let us go.”

           All at once the shadows darkened as he rose from his seat, form distorting until he towered over the guests.

           “Over?” he laughed coldly. “Never.” He reached out a shadowy clawed hand to seize them, blackened fire erupting around the room.

           (Y/N) raised a hand, instantly cooling the fires around Asra and he. “It’s over, Devil. Fate says it is. We say it is.” His eyes narrowed with determination and he fiercely declared, “I say it is.”

           “You’re not going anywhere you foolish mortals,” the Devil countered and (Y/N) willed the magic to his fingers, an ethereal blade forming in his hand.

           He pointed at the Devil, took Asra’s hand in his free one, and dared fearlessly, “Watch us.”

[not-from-the-absence-of-violence]

I exist as I am

it is yet again @jonnitweek time :D 

Day 4 - identity / fluff

Jonnit and their relationship with gender.

Jonnit sat at a table, breakfast among the crew these days was somewhat tense with their new status and the captain's death looming over their shoulders.

Dref didn’t like eating around other people so he had gone and locked himself in his own office to eat, Travis was sitting in front of him, he looked generally annoyed at the world while he ate his breakfast.

Gable arrived a few moments later, having gotten no food for themself as they usually stole from Travis, who always grabbed way too much.

“Hello Jonnit,” they said cheerfully, Jonnit smiled back, then they said “Travis.” who gave them a bleary glare.

They sat down next to him and in practiced familiarity went to grab Travis' mug.

He swatted at their hand like an annoyed cat. “That’s heartroot,” he said pointedly. “Which if you want you are going to have to blend yourself I’m afraid.”

They don’t seem at all surprised by this, just seem annoyed that they will have to get their own drinks later.

Jonnit stares at him, he has heard of heartroot before of course, it’s one of those things that he is aware of but has never actually thought about.

“You drink heartroot?” Jonnit asks in genuine curiosity.

Travis smirks. “Sometimes,” he says, “staying the same for so long would just be dreadfully boring don’t you think?”

Gable shakes their head a little. “I feel like you aren’t explaining this right.”

“Well how would you put it then?”

They seem to pause for a second. “You humans and your gender,” they say, then stare at Jonnit, “I’ve certainly never gotten it.”

And Jonnit thought he did, right up until that point where he wasn’t sure actually. He hadn’t grown up particularly sheltered, there are however things that you just don’t question, corsairs were generally a lot more free, and glamorous, in their expression.

-

“Dref, how does heartroot work?” Jonnit said as he was sitting on a desk in his office as Dref worked methodically to clean some equipment.

“I-It’s not s-something I’m an ex- xpert in b-but,” they say, turning to look at Jonnit, there is a bright slightly nervous energy about the way he kicks his legs, “It’s d-definitely m- magic.”

Jonnit rolled his eyes without malice. “I get that.”

Dref can’t help but smile at him. “I h-have p-ersonally n-never t-taken it.”

“I think i get how it works, i meant more in a,” he said and vaguely waved his arms around, “how do you know you want it, I guess?”

Jonnit seems lost in his thoughts for a moment and Dref wishes he knew better how to verbalize his own feelings, he hasn’t taken heartroot no, this doesn’t mean they don’t understand the anxious curiosity practically radiating from Jonnit.

“N-not everyone who f-feels d-different t-takes heartroot,” they tried. “B-but some p-people feel their b-body doesn’t align w-with who they are.”

Jonnit hummed impatiently. “But how do you know.”

“Experimentation? Often t-there is m-more to ex-xploring g-gender.”

Jonnit seems content with that answer, a small smile on his face as he stares at the wall. “Sure okay.” he flashes a smile at Dref, “Thanks, man.”

“Any t-time.” Dref says and they lapse back into comfortable silence as Jonnit ponders and Dref works.

-

Celebrations are always big on the Uhuru, the sound of music and laughter filling the ship with an almost magical energy.

Jonnit likes parties, the general buzz of fun and movement letting the gentle worry of the life of a corsair fade into the background.

It’s night and Travis is lamenting about it, a coyote on Gable’s lap. Dref comes into the room, they are wearing a floor length skirt and a coat other than his doctor's coat for once.

Gable smiles at him. “Look who pulled out all the stops tonight.”

He blushes and stammers a bit, “T-thank you.”

Jonnit can’t help but stare at it, the fabric looking soft and glittery all the same. “I didn’t know you owned skirts.” he remarks.

“T-they are i-inconvenient for m-most of m-my work,” he says, a bit solemn.

Jonnit nods, a pirate's life was not made for pretty and frilly outfits. Travis grumbles something about being able to wear skirts when she’s human and Gable laughs at him, genly petting her head.

He can’t help but keep staring at Dref’s skirt as they run their fingers through the fabric.

“I p-probably have one f-for y-you,” Dref says suddenly, “if you w-would l-like?”

Jonnit’s eyes go wide and he smiles excitedly, “For real?” he says.

Dref nods.

“Cool! Thank you.” he says, getting up quickly and practically dragging Dref to the door.

Gable and Travis watch them leave as Jonnit bables excitedly, Dref looks at him with a soft smile.

“They grow up so fast.” Travis says mocking at Gable’s incredibly fond look.

“Oh sush,” they say, “you are one to talk.”

-

Jonnit stares at himself in the tall mirror of the captain's quarters, the skirt Dref has given him is a deep blue, with what looks like stars embroidered at the bottom of it. He likes the sensation of it when he spins, the fabric swishing and all the constellations moving with him.

He isn’t sure why he has never worn a skirt before, mostly because it has never been practical maybe, but now he feels warm and happy as he looks in the mirror.

“It s-suits you,” Dref says,

“Yeah!” Jonnit says with glee. “Now let’s go dance.”

He pulls Dref by his arm, who then almost stumbles but quickly follows behind Jonnit, into the mass of dancing skyjacks.

Everyone seems excited to see them, of course they are the heroes of the hour having not so long ago taken down The Civility.

Everyone on the crew is fond of Jonnit, he mingels easily in the crowd and people seem glad to teach him all types of dances he eagerly attempts.

Gable pops in and out, occasionally to Jonnit's delight swinging him around like he weighs nothing. Dref mostly stays at the outskirts, nodding at the pats on the back he gets from the rest of the crew, smiling at Jonnit’s exited demeanor.

"I should wear this more often." He says later, twirling to make the skirt turn with him.

"Y-you can k-keep it," Dref says firmly.

Jonnit looks at him like he has stars in his eyes. "Thank you," he says, and leans in for a hug slowly, so Dref can back out.

Dref melts into the quick hug, holding Jonnit for a second, hoping he gets everything they didn’t get to have.

-

After Buzra Nyth Jonnit still owns the skirt. Dref was right of course, it isn’t very convenient in most situations but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t wear it.

It surprisingly doesn’t feel terrible to wear it, it brings with it only soft memories of Dref, and a nice glow like feeling that Jonnit can’t help but smile at. It’s the comfort Dref would give him, were he still here.

-

There is something about being called “boy” that just doesn’t sit right with Jonnit. He’d imagined it was because of how childish it made him feel, but there is something weirdly specific about the twinge of discomfort that comes with it.

Gable and Travis are listening to him ramble about in, trying to pay attention at this late hour. It is, Jonnit imagines, a bit like a sleepover you would have were they a normal friend group.

Except Travis, who is a snake at the moment, is curled around Gable’s neck, and Gable is nodding along while they idly play with a gun.

“Is girl any better?” Gable tries.

Jonnit grimaces a bit. “It’s not...worse?”

“Let’s just call you child then.” Travis says.

Gable vaguely pushes part of him off their shoulder. “This is important.” they say annoyed. Jonnit can’t help but laugh at them both.

“What about young man?” Gable keeps trying.

“It isn’t bad, doesn’t feel...me?” he says, gesturing vaguely. It was all confusing and not easy to explain.

“Well people don’t need to use gendered anything.” Gable says matter of factly.

“Or everything.” Travis says, and she smiles Jonnit a snakey grin.

As the night goes on Jonnit has a small list written down; he finds he doesn’t mind “son”, but he does prefer “sibling”, he decidedly dislikes “boy” and “man” feels distant, “sir” and “madam” both have a certain status they are excited about achieving someday. It’s almost fun really, repeating small sentences in their brain, imagining scenarios, Travis and Gable both occasionally sleepily adding commentary.

He ends the list with a twice underlined bold. “Captain Kessler.” which leaves him smiling stupidly at the paper.

This is my friend, they are a corsair and their name is Jonnit. He writes down carefully.

“Hey would you guys mind using they pronouns for me occasionally,” they say at the end of the night, feeling a small and unreasonable anxiety in his chest.

Gable smiles excitedly. “Of course!”

Travis lifts her head from where it was buried in Gable's hair. “Welcome to the club, kid.”

Jonnit smiles. “Yeah,” they say, “yeah I guess so.”

-

Jonnit smiles at the scene before him, Margaret had forced them all into what she regarded as a well needed rest after Nordia. So here they were now, cooped up into Dref’s former office, laying on the floor as Margaret did their nails one by one.

It was an activity that required patience, and forced you to sit down and enjoy eachothers company. Occasionally Margaret and Travis took sips from their mugs of heartroot, Travis’ balanced precariously on the edge of a book shelf, Margaret’s safely at her side as she chided Gable for moving too much.

Jonnit clinked their bright freshly polished nails against his own mug, they were a deep blue to match with their skirt and made a soft lovely sound against the ceramic.

Jonnit had, almost shyly, approached Margaret about blending heartroot a while ago, and had been blown away by her level of enthusiasm and knowledge.

So there he was, shakingly holding the tea, which was ever so carefully picked to stop facial hair growth and to make their voice just a little higher. Margaret had gently reminded him that the mix could always be adjusted, people and feelings change after all. It still felt like a big step as he took a small sip, it was sweet and almost floral and warm.

He couldn’t quite contain his giggles, a happy haze falling over them. His three companions turn to him with equal fond looks.

-

Many things happened when Jonnit went back to Akaron, the feelings and slight unresolved tension from when they had left home still hanging around the air and certainly explanations were needed from his sister, who had apparently also left home.

Both Zana and his dad were delighted to see him, embracing them in a group hug so tight Jonnit almost felt he couldn’t breathe.

His nervousness falling away as they entered their childhood home and sat down to have the longest conversation he had had with anything in a while.

There was a lot to digest of course, with both Zana and him retelling their adventures, their destinies, their fears. Jonnit’s gender journey in the end was only one of the many many items in the long list of explanations that night.

Whatever edge of nervousness there was it was worth it for the gentle peace of understanding that washed over all of them having talked.

It was worth the giddiness he got when he overheard Zana talking to a friend of hers.

“Yeah me and my sibling are home for a bit,” she says, “Jonnit? You remember them right?”

It was worth for the hug his father gave them when they left, full of unspeakable emotion.

“I’ll always be here you know,” his father said, blinking back tears, “whatever you do, you always have home to come back to.”

Jonnit was tearing up too “Thanks dad.” he said and added, “You’ll always be welcome on my ship too.”

His dad gave him a wide smile, tears now falling from his eyes as he nudged them towards the Uhuru where Travis and Gable were waiting. “Now go get them, captain Kessler.”

-

“Captain?” his quartermaster said as they slowly entered their quarters, Jonnit nodded at them to speak “Ma’am the crew is awaiting orders. Shall I tell them to get to their battle stations?”

Captain Jonnit Kessler moved away from the window where he was looking at their next target, a red feather ship gilded in gold, one of the last ones in the sky. He couldn’t help but smile, they should be used to this by now but some things never quite stop being a small novelty.

“Yes,” they said, “and tell Gable to come up to my quarters, I would like to see them before the battle.”

The quartermaster nodded, the excitement of upcoming battle clearly in the air. “Yes ma’am.” they said, exaggerating the salute a little.

Jonnit smiled and shook his head. “Well get to it then.” they said, not quite being able to shake the amusement in his voice

“Yes sir!” they say, with a final grin as they leave the room.

And with that Capitain Kessler prepares themself for one of many battles to come, one of the crucial ones that one day make them the best pirate to ever live, the ones that help him one day rule the skies.

[moonlit-jeno]

love sick (m.)

Chapter 4- Jaemin

pairing: nct dream ‘00 line + reader

chapter warnings: smut, masturbation

words: 2.2k

summary:

“Me? What about you? You’re the one sleeping with her, for fuck’s sake.”

“I’m not sleeping with her! We’re just- sharing a bed.”

notes: this chapter is kinda filler but i also needed to fully set up the dynamics so

masterlist | prev | next

You’re laying on the couch when Jaemin walks into the living room and he instantly tries to soften his movements so that he doesn’t wake you. A closer look shows him that you’re awake and staring blankly at the ceiling. He looks closer.

“Y/N?” You jolt and turn towards him with wide eyes, relaxing when you see that it’s just him. “You okay? Jaemin hates how cute you look when you sit up, sleepily stretching your arms over your head and arching your back to stretch your stiff joints. He averts his gaze when your shirt rides up above your belly button, thighs on full display thanks to your tiny, tiny shorts. “Yeah. I was boarding up the windows earlier, but I got tired. Wanted to take a little break.” “Why were you boarding up the windows?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows as he looks from you to the half-covered window. A quick scan of the room reveals that it’s the last one not covered. “The windows are glass and pretty easily shattered. If the stories you’ve told me are true, then I didn’t want to take any chances.” You explain. Jaemin shudders as the image of the man smashing his head into the windshield pops up in his mind.

He nods, scratching the back of his head. “That’s actually really smart. I can’t believe we didn’t think of this earlier.” You smile, playing with the hem of your shirt, and his heart flutters as he realizes that the compliment made you shy.

“Yeah, well. I didn’t really believe you earlier, so.” You trail off, and Jaemin doesn’t push it. He feels relieved because it means that you trust them now, but a part of him wishes you didn’t have to.

It’s silent for a moment before Jaemin clears his throat. “Tell you what. You help me make breakfast, I’ll help you board up the windows. Deal?”

You grin. “Deal.”

Jaemin wouldn’t exactly call you useless in the kitchen. You’re not a professional by any means, but you look cute with an apron on and your nose scrunched up in concentration. He watches you struggle for a moment, laughing quietly to himself, before stepping in. 

“Here, hold it like this.” Jaemin places his hand over yours, rearranging the spatula in your hold. “And you’re just going to flip it like this…”  He grabs the pan to tilt it back as he scoops the utensil underneath the pancakes, flipping it perfectly. 

“Like this?” He lets go but doesn’t step away, enjoying the warmth radiating off of your skin and the scent of your shampoo. You manage to fold the pancake in half, batter splattering everywhere. Some of it lands on your cheek. You pout at him.

“Not quite.” Jaemin can’t hold back his giggle.

You whine in frustration. “It’s hard!”

“It’s the effort that counts.” He comforts you, carefully sliding the spatula out of your grip to save the remains. You do get very good at spooning the batter into the pan, he’ll give you that. 

The two of you stand back to admire your (Jaemin’s) hard work, leaning against the counter and gazing at the mound of pancakes. 

“Good work!” You high five him with both hands, lacing them together for a quick squeeze. Jaemin can’t help the way his heart squeezes as well. 

“Close your eyes.” Jaemin directs you. There’s still batter on your face and he brushes it off with a gentle touch, swiping his thumb against your cheek and above your eyebrow. There’s nothing on your mouth but he uses this as an excuse to run his thumb along your plush bottom lip anyways. “All clean.”

You open your eyes and Jaemin realizes that the space between you two is much smaller than he thought. His thumb is still pressed against your lips but before he can draw it away, you’re parting your lips and letting your tongue flick out, taking the digit into your mouth gently. He swears his heart stops beating and his dick kicks as he watches you suck at the tip of his thumb. It takes all of his willpower to not imagine you in another situation, on your knees with something else in your mouth.

He draws his thumb away but his eyes stay locked on your lips and he realizes how soft they look. With your back pressed up against the counter, all he would have to do is lean down a little bit, maybe lift you up against it… “Oh, the lord heard my prayers! God is real!” Donghyuck’s loud cry snaps Jaemin out of his daze and he turns to glare at the other boy.

“What are you on about now?” You giggle and slip away from him, grabbing plates from the cabinet.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes as if it should be obvious. “My stomach was growling and now there is food. I am obviously God’s favorite angel.” “Angel?” Jeno questions, entering the kitchen and immediately ripping a pancake in half to shove in his mouth. “Is it opposite day?” Donghyuck glowers, about to retort, but Jeno shoves the other half of the pancake into his open mouth. Hyuck makes a demonic screeching noise, followed by a moan of approval. “Those are really good.” “Thanks, you’re an idiot.” Jaemin rolls his eyes, then notices that he was the first one to say that. “Where’s Renjun?”

Jeno waves his hand, his pancake flopping around as he gestures vaguely. “Greenhouse.” You take the pancake out of Jeno’s hand with raised eyebrows, setting it down on a plate before handing it back to him. “I’ll go grab him.”

Jaemin watches you leave before sitting down, ripping into the pancakes. He notices Jeno’s eyes trailing after you as well. He quirks an eyebrow. 

“So what’s up with you and y/n?” Donghyuck asks, head tilted to the side. It takes Jaemin a moment to realize that he’s not talking to Jeno.

“Huh? Me and y/n?” Jeno and Donghyuck both nod. “Yeah man, you’re looking at her with hearts in your eyes.” Jeno confirms, leaning forward in his seat. “You’re totally whipped.” Donghyuck nods. “You were about three seconds from kissing her earlier.”

“Me?” It’s the only word that Jaemin can muster, looking between the two boys. He points at Jeno. “What about you? You’re the one sleeping with her, for fuck’s sake.”

“I’m not sleeping with her!” Jeno defends, grip tightening on his plate. “We’re just- sharing a bed.” 

Jaemin raises his eyebrows as he corrects him. “Cuddling, Jen. You’re cuddling.”

“Fine, we’re cuddling.” Jeno rolls his eyes. “So what? Physical affection is good for you, Jaem. It’s healthy.”

“Do you like her?” The question slips out before Jaemin can stop himself, and he winces at how jealous he sounds. Hyuck watches them with wide eyes, ripping up pieces of pancake and shoving them in his mouth like popcorn. 

Jeno doesn’t answer, swallowing thickly. His mouth open, closes, opens again. “I-” You walk in, Renjun in tow, and Jeno immediately shuts up. The sweet sound of your laugh fills the kitchen as you and Renjun talk, though you falter a bit at the tension in the room. “Everything okay?” “Peachy.” Jaemin says, staring hard at Jeno. Jeno doesn’t respond besides offering you a tight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

Hyuck changes the topic quickly, and the mood shifts back to normal. Renjun talks a lot about how you have such a ‘diverse variety of plants’ in the greenhouse and Hyuck calls him a nerd. Renjun pretends to hit him with his chair. You laugh so hard that tears stream down your face, the sight bringing a smile to Jaemin’s face. He risks a glance at Jeno. The guy won’t meet his eyes.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” You say suddenly, pausing as four pairs of eyes snap to you. “I think we should board up the windows for extra protection. I started doing it earlier, but I got tired.” A soft laugh leaves you. 

“I’ll do it.” Jeno says almost immediately, sitting straight in his seat. Jaemin frowns, hating the weirdness between him and his best friend. They’ve fought before, sure, but over a girl? Never.

Jeno’s eyes shift to Jaemin’s, an almost challenging look in his eyes. Jaemin’s jaw grits but he holds his hands up in defeat. Jeno smirks.

Renjun shoots them a weird look but doesn’t say anything, turning to you instead. “That’s a good idea, but what about the greenhouse? It’s almost entirely glass, I don’t really think it’s practical to board it up.” 

You shake your head. “We should just do the house. It’s where we’re spending the most amount of time and besides, I doubt anything’s going to happen in the greenhouse.” “Okay, that’s reasonable. Also, I think we should all help out.” Renjun says, glancing around the table. “We should take turns, though. Jaemin and y/n first, Jeno, Hyuck, and I second.” Jeno looks ready to protest, frowning at Renjun’s idea. “Why can’t we all just do it together?” 

“It’s going to get too crowded and turn unproductive. Besides, they cooked. We need to clean.” Hyuck looks disgusted at the idea of physical labor. “I’ll be there for emotional support.” He decides, fanning himself with one hand. Renjun glares at him. Hyuck glares back.

“I’m going to go start. Jaem, are you done eating?” Jaemin has a bad feeling in his gut and he glances once at Jeno, feeling his stomach turn at the cold look in his eyes. He nods.

“Yeah, I’m done. Let’s go.” 

The two of you alternate who has to do the hammering and you chatter away about anything and everything that comes to your mind. Jaemin loves how excited you are when you talk, how your face lights up and your hands start to move with your words. It defrosts the bad feeling fogging his mind and he’s laughing and smiling along with you after no time at all. Maybe he almost hits his hand instead of the nail with the hammer because he’s distracted by you. No one needs to know.

He finds himself agreeing with you about everything, nodding along with a smile because your just make everything sound so good. The light streaming in through the windows makes you look almost ethereal, bathing you in golden rays. Jaemin’s sad that they have to board the windows up, but he drinks in as much of you as he can, burning the image of how beautiful you look like this into his brain. You’re saying something about how he would look good with dyed hair now, and Jaemin’s never wanted to dye his hair before, but now he can’t fathom why not.

“Really? What color do you think?” Jaemin runs his hand through his hair and you squint at him, head cocked to the side. “Pink.” You finally decide, nodding with satisfaction.

“Pink?” You nod. “Pink it is, then. Too bad we can’t actually dye it.”

You sigh. “Maybe soon.”

Renjun, Jeno, and Donghyuck come to swap with them after a while, and you groan in relief. “FInally. This is the most exercise I’ve ever done.” You head off to shower while Jaemin waits, lost in his own mind. He likes you, obviously, and it’s obvious that Jeno does too. But he’s not prepared to lose his best friend over you, isn’t sure that he would ever forgive himself if he let that happen. Could he even be happy watching you and Jeno together? He lets out a groan, falling back against the mattress. They didn’t even get into a proper argument, for fucks’ sake.

The opening of the door startles him, but nothing shocks him more than the sight of yo with just a towel wrapped tightly around your body. “Sorry, I forgot to bring clothes in with me. I’m done though, you can go ahead.”

Jaemin swallows thickly, tries to get his mind to start working again. “Okay,” he finally manages. It doesn’t sound too strained.

“I saved you some hot water, by the way. Thank God we still have that, right?” You laugh, and Jaemin forces himself to laugh as well, finally tearing his gaze off of your figure.

“Yeah, thank God.”

He isn’t proud of how hard he gets in the shower, images of you playing in his mind like a loop. And he isn’t proud about how quick he is to give in, wrapping his hand around his cock and jerking himself almost desperately, his free hand planted against the wall for balance. A deep groan leaves him and he turns his head to muffle his sounds into his bicep.

Guilt eats at him but he can’t stop himself from replaying the scene in the kitchen earlier, imagining what would have happened if you hadn’t been interrupted. He thinks of lifting you up on the counter, of getting to feel your lips against his own. Maybe he dips down a little lower, leaves pretty little bruises against your skin before finally getting to taste you, finally getting to draw those pretty sounds out of you. You probably taste delicious, Jaemin thinks, moaning at the thought. He’s sure he would get addicted if given the opportunity.

He thinks of his cock in your mouth, of you looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes as you choke on him, as you let him fist his hand in your hair to guide you along him. But most of all, he thinks about fucking you. Of how you would cry out his name as he pushed into you, slow and deep. How tight you would be, how fucking wet he would get you. And he’s sure you would feel divine around him, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, your nails digging into his back as you beg, plead for him to fuck you just like that, please, don’t stop-

Jaemin bites into his bicep to muffle his moan as he comes, his mind blank of everything except for you. And as he stands there panting, watching his mess slide down the shower drain, he can’t help but feel an incredible heaviness in his gut, sick as he thinks of you and Jeno. He closes his eyes and lets the water pour down against his face, not moving until Donghyuck starts to pound against the door.

[anessthesiaa]

Would you please do fluff alphabet L and M for Clyde, Kylo, and Flip, please! Thank you for writing so much! You’re stiff is amazing!

here is kylo and flip, for L

Hi there! Thank you very much, I am sorry for the delay!

CW/TW: Vaguely NSFW content, mentions of alcohol

Clyde

L- Love Confession

There was no denyin’ it when Clyde was starting to fall more deeply in love with you. He simply couldn’t hide the adoration, how much he craved your kisses, no concealing, with the way he would spend the days and nights lovin’ all up on you. His hands would rub all over you, the softness of his palms on your shoulders and back, his other arm rested firm on you. When you turned around to see him, he would be blushing, his whole face lit up at the sight of you. He would be nervous at first, staring up at you with a pout and puppy-dog eyes. “What is it baby?” You’d ask him, feeling him tremble before answering you. “Darlin’, I just wanted to know-I love you.” His nervousness would fade when your eyes lit up, hands reaching for his face to stroke his beard. “Oh Clyde, I love you too.” 

Marriage 

Clyde wasn’t one to think about marriage all that much. He was faithful and loyal always to you- always made it known that he loved being in your presence, but never quite introduced the idea of marriage, even after years of being with you. Not to say that he never told you that he wanted to be with you forever, the whole idea of a big wedding and all, bridesmaids, groomsmen, the preacher, all that jazz. 

Clyde would instead offer the idea of a big party, all of yours and his friends, plenty to drink, plenty to eat, lots of dancin’. It would be a commitment ceremony, of sorts, the fun of it all reflecting what your ‘marriage’ to him would be like.

With Clyde, things were always fun, lighthearted, not a worry in the world could interrupt what you had with him. And when those anxieties arose, whether it was for you, or him, Clyde would face it together with you, keeping things not so serious, not so dark, showing you the silver lining of it all, through his jokes and kisses. There was never a doubt in your mind when with him that everything would always end up okay. 

Flip

Marriage

Flip was in love with the idea of marriage, his conversations with you about the future involved your relationship with him. From vacations, to children, careers and houses, it was all planned together, always discussed together.

Flip would be so soft about proposing, he knew you wanted it in the privacy of your home, never one to draw attention to yourself, just like him. He would make you a dinner, spread with rainbows of vegetables, sprinkled with your favorite seasonings, your favorite Cabernet sauvignon poured neatly into sparkling crystalline glass, tablecloth adorned with woven lace and floral patterns. He would wait until maybe a drink in, before coming to your side, hand locked with yours, opening the velvet-soft box, the stone a mirror as he asked you. “(Y/N), will you marry me? ” Nothing compared to him slipping the ring on your finger, kissing your knuckles, while tears spilled down your cheeks, nodding and trying to get out as much of a yes as you could. 

The wedding would be cozy and secluded in the forest, trees towering over you both, wind singing as it brushed past you both, Flip doing his best not to show that he was crying when he first saw your dress. His vows were short, but you could hear his voice cracking as he finished. 

“(Y/N), I can’t imagine my life without you. Creating memories with you has brought together everything that was missing and blank, filled every void. You are the most beautiful, kind person I have ever met. I cannot wait to spend forever with you, every moment of every day. You are my whole life, my whole being.” 

When you finally kissed him, Flip would draw you in closer, hand resting on the small of your back, the tears he allowed to fall, finally against your cheeks, your hands soft in his hair. 

Marriage would be everything you had ever dreamed of with Flip, cozy mornings together on the couch, warm breakfasts and coffee together, kisses before you left for work, nights in bed where he made love to you, each time hearing you cry out his name, before collapsing into his arms, safe and secure as always, sleep peaceful when you were with him. 

{{{also i tried 800 times to put a gift here and it didnt fucking work im sorry}}}

Kylo

Marriage

Kylo wasn’t one to be so good with showing emotions, despite the fact he loved you so much. He would do his best to convey, but still could seem so solid and numb, in a lot of ways. He didn’t catch on to what you meant at first, hinting to what you saw in the future, eventually realizing they all included him. With this, he would build up to it, as well, gestures becoming more generous, before he finally gained the courage. He was shy and quiet about the whole proposal, when he was on one knee, eyes adoringly following your, watching for your approval, before gently slipping the ring on. With your yes, he would pull you into a hug, resting his head on your shoulder, still soaking in everything. 

Kylo was lost when it came to the wedding, not knowing what a bridesmaid even was, he would listen to you talk for hours, filling notebooks with ideas, venues, songs, foods, themes. The wedding would be at a secluded winery in the mountains, your dress black, flowing past your feet, Kylo watching in infatuation when he first saw, his lips curled in that beautiful smile.

Marriage with Kylo would include lots of cuddles, in bed, on the couch, every single moment he got with you. Late nights, tipsy off of red wine, his arm on the small of your back, other hand joined with your, twirling around the kitchen with you to sappy love songs, before you both were warm, laughing messes, and would fall asleep piled on each others bodies, too distracted to remember to even pull the blankets on.

[illfoandillfie]

Horror Movie (Right There On My TV)

Pairing: Ben X Fem!Reader X Joe

Summery: You and the boys have a horror movie marathon

Warnings: Ya’ll this fics got it all. We’ve got fluff! We’ve got hurt/comfort! We’ve got a little angst! And of course we’ve got smut (18+)! Oral Sex (mostly m receiving but also a little f receiving), sensory deprivation in the form of blindfolds, fear play, restraints, a little hint of slapping, a bit of sub!reader, a bit of denial, fingering, unprotected sex, a little bit of m/m, i think that covers it

Words:8453

A/N: This is my HalloQueen event entry for @mrbenhardys​​ ! Kyra I have absolutely loved getting to know you and I hope you enjoy this! 🎃💚

Taglist:  @laedymoon​​  @dtfrogertaylor​​   @ezmina98​​  @vee-ndetta​​ @atomic-watermelon​​ @kellypenac​​ @labessieisallama​​ @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr​​ @drowseoftaylor​​  @hannafuckingsucks​​​ 

Your relationship with Ben and Joe was hard to define. A facebook relationship status update would say it’s complicated. Acquaintances would say you and Ben were dating and that Joe was a close friend. The few friends who knew something about your situation would probably describe you as a lucky bitch for managing to snag two hot fuckbuddies. Which, admittedly, you were. It had started the same as most casual relationships you’d seen before, you and ben and a less-than-sober hookup. It happened on a night out celebrating a mutual friend’s birthday and then it had just sort of kept happening. A tipsy pash here, a booty call there. You fell back on each other after unsuccessful nights out and stressful work days. He never made you leave if you were at his place late and, after a week where you stayed over more nights than you spent at home, you’d ended up having a discussion about what was happening between you. Neither of you was in the right place for a proper relationship. You’d only recently got out of something fairly long term and he was very career oriented, still trying to learn how to mix his professional life with his personal, especially now that he was auditioning for roles in bigger productions. So you agreed to keep it casual and fun. Stress relief he sometimes called it, or distraction or a hundred other innuendos and code names. But no matter what name you used it was exactly what you both wanted: a regular good, fun shag.  

The night you met Joe he flirted with you outrageously. Ben had invited you out with a bunch of other friends, a proper piss up to welcome Joe and make up for celebrations Ben had missed while he’d been filming. He was excited for the two of you to meet, sure you’d get along like a house on fire, though he probably hadn’t expected see you grinding against each other on the dancefloor quite so quickly. You caught him looking at you from over the shoulder of whichever friends he was talking to once or twice, feeling suddenly awkward under his gaze and a little like you were in the wrong. Maybe because it had been a while since you’d been with anyone other than Ben and there was the assumption you’d end up in his bed at the end of the night. But you’d reminded yourself that you and Ben weren’t exclusive, just friends who sometimes saw each other naked, and let your attention drift back to Joe. You’d ended up making out with him before the night was done, in a dark corner of the club, hands grabbing at each other, his tongue practically down your throat. That was as far as you got though. He was crashing in Ben’s spare room and you felt just a little too weird about the situation to let it progress any further. At least, until a few days later. You went over to Ben’s with the intention of just hanging out with the two of them, maybe watch a movie or take the dog for a walk. Ben had been so sure you and Joe would get on and you wanted to make a proper effort, have a conversation unhindered by house music and shots and wandering hands. Joe answered the door, explaining that Ben had just left with Frankie and didn’t expect to be back for a couple of hours.  “I’ve just put the kettle on though, do you want a coffee? Tea? Ben’s told me so much about you and I’m dying to get to know the girl who pushed him out of a window.”  “He told you that?” you asked, following Joe through to the kitchen.  “Yup,”  “Well he lied, I never pushed him out of anything. The idiot was drunk and fell out himself. Besides it was the ground floor, wasn’t a proper fall anyway.”  “That’s not how he tells it,”  “No, well, if he told it properly it wouldn’t be half so impressive,” you laughed.  You’d ended up talking for a bit, realising Ben had been right about how much you’d like Joe. The friendly conversation led to picking up where you’d left off a few night’s previous which led to both of you giggling as you scurried into the spare room, shedding clothing as soon as the door was shut behind you.  

Ben arrived home and was startled by you, wearing nothing but Joe’s shirt on your way back from the bathroom. The uncomfortable moment was only made more uncomfortable by Joe almost walking into you both, wearing only his boxers.  “Y/N? What’s taking so long? You said you were going to blow me,” his voice trailed off at the end as his eyes landed on Ben.  “Hey Ben, fancy seeing you here in your own home,”  “You’re both getting on then?” Ben’s voice was cheery but uncomfortably so, like he was trying too hard.   “Mmhmm, guess you were right about us,” you said, not quite meeting Ben’s eye.   “Good, I’m glad,” his gaze were fixed on you, completely ignoring Joe who still stood in the doorway to his room, “Just out of curiosity, how long have you...”  “Today was the first time,” you said, equally as focused on Ben as he was on you, “Came over figuring we’d all hang out and I’d get to know Joe because you kept going on about him. Didn’t really expect anything else to happen.”  “Okay, cool. I mean, it’s fine, you’d make a cute couple,”  “Thats not... it’s not like that. Right Joe?” you looked away from Ben for the first time since he’d appeared, “It’s nothing serious.”  Joe blinked like he’d forgotten he was part of the scene taking place, like he wanted to call out to the director for his next line, “Oh, yeah, no. I mean, I’m only here for a couple of weeks and I’m not really looking for serious right now.”  “Cool. That’s cool. None of my business anyway. Sorry, I’ll,” he gestured vaguely in the direction of the lounge room before disappearing through the doorway.  You chewed on your lower lip, staring at the spot where he’d been.  “Soooo,” Joe drew the word out until he ran out of breath, “can I ask what that was about?”   “Huh? Oh um, yeah. Me and Ben have kind of had a thing going for a while,” you walked past Joe into his room searching the floor for your clothes, it didn't feel right to continue now that you weren't alone.  “Shit, really?”  “Yeah but not like anything specific. Just a casual thing. Other people weren’t off limits or anything so there’s nothing to worry about.”  “Still feel kinda bad. It’s his house after all.”  “Yeah,” you sighed, trying to convince yourself that was the only reason you felt bad.   “What if we didn’t have to though? Feel bad that is.”  You paused, halfway through pulling your underwear back on, “What d’you mean?”  “What if he joined us,” Joe shrugged as he made the suggestion, trying to seem casual.  “Really?”  “Yeah, if you’re cool with it?”  “I’ll go get him then,”  “I’ll wait here then,” 

You crept towards Ben as quietly as possible, almost making him spill his drink over both of you as you flopped onto his lap.  “Shouldn’t you be with Joe?” Ben kept his gaze fixed on the TV screen.  “Wanted to ask you something,”  “What could possibly be so urgent?”  “Do you maybe want to join us?”  “What?”  “Threesome, Ben. You in?”  “Is that a trick question? Of course I’m bloody in,”  You laughed as Ben swooped in to kiss you quickly and then pushed you off his lap, giving your arse a small slap to get you moving back to the bedroom.   “Who’s idea was this?” Ben asked as he followed you back to where Joe was waiting.  “Joe’s but it wasn’t like I needed convincing,”  “Geez Mazzello, didn’t realise you were so hot for me.”  “As if you haven’t been pining over me for months.” 

The three of you fell into the arrangement quietly, without feeling like you had to discuss it overly much. It was just fun, after all. You did have a conversation over dinner about limits and likes but there was an understanding that, whatever your relationship was, it didn’t need to be defined or spelt out. You continued to hook up with Ben and, when the chance arose for you to see Joe you would, sometimes all three of you spending the night together. While Joe was away, home in the US, you kept in constant contact. Group chats between the three of you featuring jokes at each other’s expense, plans for things to do next time Joe was able to make it back to your part of the world and outrageously flirty messages, some of them down right filthy. Plus a private chat where you sent each other photos from your beds and lamented the distance between. Ben spent a few weeks visiting Joe and they made sure you knew everything that happened, your phone constantly vibrating as photo after photo was sent to you. The two of them at a baseball match, a series of shots taken while having dinner, a sneaky picture of an unaware Ben getting out of the shower, all of them captioned with things like bet you wish you were here, and better than what you’re eating, and jealous?  

You and Joe got closer, despite being so far apart, during a few weeks when Ben started seeing someone else. It came as a surprise, Ben not so much as mentioning it to you until the day you texted to see if he wanted to come over to play videogames, have a drink and make out a bit. His reply felt awkward, like he didn’t want to admit he was with another woman, or maybe you were just projecting your own sudden, inexplicable hurt onto his words. You spent the night talking to Joe instead, wishing he was with you to make you forget the unexpected pang that had hit you when you saw Ben’s message. The conversation, which started with a joke about him no longer having to share you with Ben, carried you through three glasses of wine and ended with you sending him a video of you fingering yourself, only needing to wait about thirty seconds before he was calling for more. It was a good distraction for the night and one that continued regularly for the full length of Ben’s new fling. Eventually, sick of only being able to listen to your moans through the phone, Joe booked a flight back to visit. Once again he crashed at Ben’s place, though he barely used the bed. Even nights where the three of you would hang out together had the tendency to end with Joe following you home.  

During his stay you learnt how he took his coffee and which were his favourite snacks, stocking up on all of them. You got used to the smell of his aftershave in your bathroom and on your sheets. And to the sound of his laughter ringing through your rooms. The day you came home from work and found him cooking dinner you decided that meeting him had been one of the best things to happen to you, and the thought was only confirmed later that night when he went down on you. Weekend mornings became excuses to stay in bed, snuggled up together under the covers, dozing between giggly remarks and lazy kisses. Unsurprisingly, Ben was a frequent topic of conversation.   “Maybe we shouldn’t speculate about his bird so much,” you sighed, wriggling further into Joe’s embrace.  “Well if he’d just tell us something about her we wouldn’t have to,”  “You’re right, this is his fault. I bet she’s a bitch.”  “Y/N!” Joe mock scalded, “Our Benny wouldn’t date a bitch. A cow maybe,”  You both laughed, letting the sound fade into silence naturally.  “No, she’s probably terribly lovely.” you said after a pause, “pretty too,”  “I reckon she’s tall. Ben’s got a thing for tall girls,” he nudged you, pulling another smile onto your face.  “I miss him,”  “Great, what am I, chopped liver?”  “Oh shush, you know what I mean. You saw us the other night, it’s different now. He’s more awkward around me.”  “Yeah, I get the feeling you wouldn’t have seen as much of him if I wasn’t here,”  “That’s probably true,”  “It’ll pass. You’ll be back to normal before you know it,”  “Bit hard since our normal involved a lot of sex, but I appreciate the sentiment.”  “Well, if things don’t get better between you, you could always move over my way. I’m sure we’d be able to get you a job over there. And you wouldn’t even have to worry about a place to live or anything since I’ve got a perfectly good one. Could take my guest room. Or half of my room, I’ll clear some draws for you, save you some space in the wardrobe.”  “Joe...” Part of you loved the idea, the thought of Joe liking you enough to want something more serious made you feel warm and gooey. But you sensed he wasn’t letting on to the full extent of his feelings, something unsaid hanging between you, and you didn’t know what to do with it.  “I know, I know. A bit too serious sounding. But you are welcome any time. We can take pictures for Ben, maybe make him jealous enough that he breaks it off with what's-her-name and come back to us.”  “Sounds like a brilliant plan. If they’re still together at the end of the month I’ll book my ticket.”  You both fell into another fit of giggles, easing the momentary tension that had risen in your chest as he found your lips again. 

They weren’t together by the end of the month. It only took a few weeks for the relationship to fizzle out and a few days after that he was calling you again. You tried not to look too happy when he appeared on your doorstep brandishing a bottle of your favourite rosé, a grin breaking out despite your annoyance at his interrupting you and Joe.   “I can come back later,” he said, noticing your dishevelled hair and the robe you’d hastily thrown on.  “It’s just Joe. You can come in if you want,”  He nodded, dumping the bottle on the first table he passed as he followed you to your room.  “Look who I found,”  “Ben! Guess you finally realised how much you missed us,”  “I think you missed me more,” he laughed, things instantly feeling like nothing had changed, “How’s our pretty whore been managing with only one cock to satisfy her?”  “She’s been managing just fine, thanks,” Joe said as he hurled a pillow towards Ben. But Ben caught it, coming close to hit Joe over the head with it before swooping in to kiss him quickly. His smile was warm as he flopped onto the bed, squeezing into the space between you and Joe.  “I did miss you though,” he said softly, pulling you into a deep kiss. You melted into him, your hand falling to his chest, able to feel his heart beating beneath your palm.   “Hey, y’know as much as I enjoy watching you two together, me and Y/N were kind of in the middle of something.”  You laughed against Ben’s lips, pulling away so you could lean over and kiss Joe too. 

So it continued. Too many feelings for friends with benefits to feel like an apt description, but none of you claiming more than that. Any attempts to label your relationship only raised more questions until you gave up trying, but it was something none of you wanted to trade in or give up. Sometimes you worried that Joe, living so far away, felt left out, though you did everything you could to include him. But it became easier when he landed a role in a movie that was filming close to Ben’s place. He moved into Ben’s guest room again, this time for a few months rather than a few days or weeks. You celebrated his arrival by pouncing on him before he was even fully though the door, sinking to your knees and tugging his pants down with the promise that he could have you however he wanted in every room of the house. Ben rolled his eyes, dragging one of Joe’s suitcases over the threshold and complained that you’d never made him that offer.  

The three of you settled into a kind of domestic bliss. Mornings spent drinking coffee before any of you had to rush off to work. Evenings spent walking Frankie, in a pair or all together, taking her to the park. Nights spent on the couch sharing a bottle of white wine as you talked, or drinking chai lattes as you snuggled close to keep warm. Sometimes you’d curl up in an armchair and doze, listening to the boys run lines together, or to Ben messing around with his guitar, the TV on in the background even though no one was watching it. Weekends and days off spent lazing around the house or heading out together. You cooked dinner together or argued about what to takeout to order, stole each other’s clothes, and sometimes all fell asleep in the same bed, whoever was in the middle waking up sweating in the morning from how warm it got. Fast and needy afternoon sex with Ben while Joe was still on set. Slow and lazy morning sex with Joe when he didn’t have to be in until late. Making out with one on the couch turning into both of them grabbing you, pulling you into place so they could have you at the same time. At first you returned to your own home each night but you gave it up as a bad joke before too long, happier to stay in either of their bed’s, even on nights when you were all too tired to so much as think about sex.  

One night, a couple of weeks after Joe moved in, found the three of you huddled up on the couch together watching a scary movie. It had been your idea to have a horror movie marathon. The storm belting down outside set the perfect mood and the idea of cuddling up to your boys was too nice to pass up. Joe had jumped at the suggestion, already listing the movies he thought deserved to be watched before you’d even finished talking. Ben had agreed too, a little slower than Joe but with a joke about how scaring a girl with a horror movie was the number one way to get her into bed. You laughed and let them playfully argue about which of their beds you’d end up in, as you settled into the couch between them.  “It’s gonna be mine, mate,” Ben said, readjusting in his seat so his body was turned towards you and Joe, “No offence but I’ve got the better arms for a comforting cuddle. Also, you don’t technically own a bed here. You’re in my bloody guest room so I think that means I get dibs,”  “Bullshit! If you were a good host you’d let the guest have her.”  “Think I let you have enough as is. That’s my jumper isn’t it?” Ben pointed at the maroon knit Joe had donned as he rushed out the door that morning.  “That’s like comparing apples and oranges,”  “Do I get a say in this?” You asked offhandedly as you scrolled through Netflix.  “Only if you’re agreeing with me,” Ben countered, wrapping his arm around your middle and pulling you tight against his body. The sleeve of his yellow knit sweater scratched softly against the partially exposed skin of your stomach as you giggled.  Joe leaned in towards you, his hand falling to your knee, “Don’t worry honey, we both know you’ll sneak into my bed once he’s asleep.” 

There was a little more bickering from both of them, Ben reminding you that you could hide your face against his chest if you got scared, Joe scoffing that it’d be like hiding your face against a brick wall and you’d be better off leaning into him, even as Joe turned off the lights and you turned the volume up, loud enough to be heard over the storm. They both quieted down as the first movie started, though neither of them removed their hands from you. Occasionally Joe would shift his up your thigh, rubbing your skin softly as though he were soothing you or trying to warm you up, and at one particularly unexpected jump scare, both their grips on you tightened, neither relinquishing their hold until the movie was over. As the credits were rolling Joe grabbed the controller, flipping through the other horror titles until he found what he was looking for.  “Found it!”  “Bird Box?”  “Yeah, I’ve been wanting to watch this for ages,” he said, “just haven’t had the chance yet,”  “Ben, have you seen it?”  “Um, no, I haven’t. But I’ve heard it’s good,” his voice sounded thick and he stopped to clear his throat between statements.  “Alright hush up I’m starting it,”  You glanced over at Ben but he caught you, flashing you a smile as he dropped a kiss to your shoulder and then turned back to the screen. You smiled back, deciding he’d only sounded odd from not using his voice for a couple of hours. Only fifteen minutes or so into the movie Ben got up, tiptoeing towards the front door, making sure it was locked, and then heading into another room as quietly as he could. You glanced at his back, but the screen soon drew your attention again, Joe’s eyes never having left it. Ben returned a few moments later with a large soft blanket, throwing it over the three of you as he settled back into place beside you, his arms looping around you loosely once more. During a particularly intense scene his hold on you tightened again, fingertips digging into your skin a little uncomfortably. You lay your hand over his, idly rubbing your thumb over his skin, and heard him release a shaky breath close to your ear, his grip relaxing. As the movie continued Ben tensed up more and more, pulling his feet up under him as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. A loud clap of thunder erupted outside and you felt Ben gasp, his chest rising with the sharp intake of breath. You, somewhat awkwardly, managed to bring your hand up to run your fingers softly through his hair, feeling him relax again at the comforting touch, though not enough to look at the screen properly or move out of your reach again. 

When the movie ended Joe got up and walked towards the light switch.  “How about I make us all a tea or coffee or something before we start the next one,”  “Think Ben might need something a little stronger,”  The lights flicked on and Joe turned to find Ben huddled up against you. He started laughing.  “Joe! Don’t be mean!”  “Sorry, but you have to admit it’s a little funny. Mr ‘im here with my muscles if you’re scared’ having to hide under a blanket,”  You shot Joe a warning look before focusing back in on Ben, stroking his cheek when he sat up straight again.  “You okay bub?”  “Yeah, sorry, just don’t do great with horror stuff,”  “You should have said, we could have watched something different,”  “No no, I should have gone off and done something else. I’d seen part of that first one already though and knew it wasn’t too bad. A couple of jump scares got me but otherwise it was fine. That second one though, with the blindfolds…” he shuddered.  “Aww, Benny, come ‘ere” you moved to straddle his lap, pulling him into a hug.  You heard Joe scoff but ignored him as your hand slipped over Ben’s shoulder and onto his back to rub soothing circles there.   “Will you stay with me tonight? Don’t think I’ll get much sleep if I’m alone,”  “Of course bub, whatever you need,”  “Thanks,” he gave you a small sheepish smile.  “I didn’t know you don’t like horror,” Joe said suspiciously, flopping into the seat beside you and Ben, arms crossed over his chest.  “Not really something that comes up much, is it?”  “And you’re definitely not bullshitting us to get Y/N into bed?”  “No, not at all.”  “But it is a bit of a bonus,” you laughed, nudging Joe’s shoulder teasingly.  “Good, because otherwise I’d have to be offended that you’d choose her over me. She’s all arms and legs, nothing like as cuddly as me,”  You felt Ben’s hand fall to one of your legs, tracing lightly from your ankle up to your thigh.  “They are very nice legs though.”  “Very nice,” Joe’s hand mirrored Ben’s.   “What are you two doing? I’m trying to be comforting here,”  “Can think of a few ways you could comfort me, love. Both of you. Only fair.” 

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you as Joe turned Ben’s head, the fingers on his chin pulling him into a soft, warm kiss. Ben’s hands slipped towards your arse, holding you securely against him as you raked your fingers through his hair. Your lips replaced Joe’s as he pulled back, shifting onto his knees so he could better reach Ben’s neck, leaving a trail of love bites in his wake. The longer you and Joe lavished attention on Ben, switching between sucking at his pulse point and pressing your lips to his, the needier he got. Small, contented sighs and hums rose up in his throat, contrasted by how hard he was growing under you. His fingers pressed into you as he encouraged you to rock against him, bucking up when either of you made him feel particularly good, until he couldn’t take it anymore.   “Wait,” he rasped, holding you still as Joe sat back on his knees.  “Tell me what you want, bub.”  “Mouth, please,”  Grinning, you slid off his lap, pushing the blanket aside. You tapped his ankle to get him to open his legs wider so you could kneel between them. Ben groaned when you ran your finger along the outline of his still clothed dick, teasing him a little more before you pulled his joggers down and set him free.   “Don’t worry Benny,” you leaned forward and let a long string of saliva drip over Ben’s cock, “gonna make you feel so good you’ll forget all about the movie.”  He swore as you took him in your hand, pumping his entire length once, twice, before closing your lips around him. You lowered your head until you felt him hit the roof of your mouth and then came back up, tongue dragging along his underside. You didn’t quite let him fall from your mouth, waiting until the last moment to sink back down until he was once again hitting the roof of your mouth. Looking up through your lashes you saw both boys staring at you. Ben’s cheeks were flushed, his hand balled up into a fist, clutching the blanket he’d brought earlier. Joe was looking at you intently, lip pulled between his teeth. He had one hand tangled in Ben’s hair, the other lay still against Ben’s stomach as if it’d been about to slip under his jumper when he’d become distracted. Not that you could blame him. 

A loud groan from Ben broke through the air as you came up for a breath.  “Please don’t sto- oh fuck,” he whined as you sunk back down, letting him slip into your throat.  “She is very good at that, isn’t she,” Joe said, blinking himself free of the trance you’d put him under. Ben managed to choke out a noise that sounded like agreement, but he was much too distracted to articulate anything properly.   You pulled up again, stroking him in the absence of your mouth, as you gave your jaw a moment to relax, relishing the way he whined so needily.   “Go on, keep going,” Joe palmed at the front of his own pants, “not very nice to make the poor boy wait,”  “Hmm, funny how I’m doing all the work here,”  “You don’t need my help, princess, got it completely under control,”  “That’s true,” you chuckled, lightly squeezing Ben’s balls and making him gasp, just to prove it.   “Babe, as fun as listening to you and Joe talk is, you’ve started something and I need you to finish it.”  “Sorry bub,” you giggled, dropping a kiss to his thigh and then another to his cock.  Joe leaned his head on Ben’s shoulder, settling in to watch the show and you once again stretched your mouth around Ben, taking him as deep as you were able. You put everything you had into the blowjob, using everything you knew about Ben to drive him towards his release. His pretty moans only rose in volume as you bobbed up and down, swirling your tongue over his tip, gagging as you took him deep. Hollowed cheeks and cupped balls, finger nails lightly running along the spots you knew were most sensitive. You could hear Joe, cooing at Ben, telling him how lovely he sounded moaning your name, how hot it was to watch, encouraging him.  “Gonna cum for us? Gonna show Y/N how much you like her mouth wrapped around your cock? She’s been so good. Earned a reward. C’mon, cum all over her tongue, give her something to swallow.”  It wasn’t the first time you’d heard one of your boys encourage the other to finish in or on you, but it still hit you hard, making you feel more aroused than you already were. You hummed around his cock, trying to convey your own encouragement wordlessly, the vibrations enough to push him over the edge.   Ben swore as he came, rutting into your mouth as you milked every drop from him, Joe praising him and you softly.  

You stood up, stretching with a small moan before reclaiming your place on Ben’s lap, “how was that? Feel better?”  “Mmhmm, much,” he said, lips bitten and eyes soft, fingers dropping to your knee, rubbing at the indent the carpet had made.  “Good,” you leaned forward with the intention of kissing Ben but Joe stopped you, taking you by the chin, his thumb skimming over the corner of your mouth.  “Missed some,” he said, dragging his thumb over your lip. It tasted like Ben when he slipped it onto your tongue.  “Go on, suck,” he said, watching you just long enough to ensure you did as you were told before turning to Ben, “y’know, I don’t think it’s right that she gets away so easy,”  “What d’you mean?  “Don’t you want to punish her a little? Give her a little taste of her own medicine?”  “Again I ask, what do you mean?”  “She really deserves some sort of payback for putting you through all that,”  You grabbed Joe’s arm and tugged his hand away, “If I remember correctly it was you who chose the movie,”  “Shhhhh, princess,” he said, covering your mouth with his other hand, almost laughing, “that’s not important. What’s important is that it was your idea to have a horror movie night in the first place. And I’m ready to watch you squirm.”  “I take it you have an idea then,”  “Yuuuup,” he popped the ‘p’, “I’m thinking blindfolds, I’m thinking restraints, I’m thinking….hmm…maybe some edging, who knows?”  “Babe? You okay with it?”  You wriggled on Ben’s lap, trying to subtly relieve some of the pressure that had only built with each of Joe’s ideas, “uh, yeah, yeah sounds fun,”  “I knew you’d be wet for it,” Joe smirked as he got up to retrieve the supplies. 

“Hey,” Ben said softly as Joe left the room, drawing your attention away from the doorway, “thank you, for before,”  “It was a blowjob Ben, and probably not the last one you’ll get from me, no need to thank me so seriously,”  “No, I meant for before that. You kept me much calmer than I felt during the movie. Just, y’know, letting me lean on you and the way you held my hand and stuff,” Ben’s eyebrows furrowed, “I’m not articulating it well, but you really did help,”  “Well, you’re welcome,” you pushed a strand of hair behind his ear, “I just did what I would have wanted. What you’ve done when you’ve comforted me.”  Ben pulled you into a hug, arms tight around your back as your head fell under his chin.   “I don’t say this very often, Y/N, but I’m really glad we started doing this. And that we’re back to normal.”  “Me too,” you laughed, “best sex I’ve ever had.”  Ben laughed too, “well yeah, there’s that, but everything else too. I..”  You could feel Ben’s heart beating under your hand, it sped up as he considered his next words.  “At the risk of opening a can of worms… I don’t exactly know what we are or what to call this. But, it… it means a lot to me. You and Joe mean a lot to me. And,”  You waited, holding your breath, Ben’s heart hammering against your palm.  “maybe I shouldn’t say this while Joe’s not around but I… I think I –”  “Found a blindfold!” Joe was practically bouncing as he came back into the room though he stopped when he saw you pushing yourself off Ben’s chest to sit up again, “Am I interrupting something?”  One glance at Ben told you he didn’t want to say any more about it just yet, though you thought you could guess where he’d been heading before the interruption.  “You caught us Joe, took so long we got impatient and squeezed in a quickie. Y’know Ben’s a cuddler afterwards.”  “Ha ha, very funny,” he waved a piece of material in your face, “found a bandana in one of Ben’s cupboards. Not sure why he has one but it’s our good fortune he does otherwise I would’ve had to cut up a shirt.”  “I dressed up as a cowboy for a party once,” Ben shrugged, “never got rid of the costume.”  “Good thing because I’m definitely going to need to see you in it. I feel like you’d make a very sexy cowboy, don’t you Joe?”  “Definitely. ‘Specially if he’s wearing the assless chaps I found too,”  “Oh fuck off, I don’t own any assless chaps and you both know it,”  “But now I know what to get you for Christmas,”  “Don’t you dare,”  “Why not?”  “Cause I already got some for him,” Ben jerked his thumb as Joe, a cheeky smile lighting up his face at the joke.  “Alright alright, enough assless chaps. Only one of us has had a chance to get off so far and that needs to change. So, blindfold.” He held the bandana up and moved behind you, looping it over your eyes and tying it toff tightly behind your head.  “Can you see?”  “Nope,”  “Okay good,”  You felt hands wrap around your waist pulling you backwards off Ben’s lap, feet landing on the carpet unsteadily. Before you’d even balanced yourself Joe was speaking in your ear, adrenalin and anticipation already pumping through your veins making your breath come quick.  “You think you can get to Ben’s room without being able to see?”  You were distracted momentarily by the warmth of Ben’s body pressing close to your front, his hands inching the hem of your shirt up.  “Well? Do you?”  “Yes, I think so yes,”  There was a beat as Ben pulled your shirt off over your head, the noise of it rustling in your ears, your shoulders tightening as the chilly air hit you. You put your hands out in front of you, trying to find Ben and the warmth that came with him, but he was gone, moved out of reach once more. All you got was Joe, making sure the placement of the makeshift blindfold hadn’t been disrupted, and then a sudden quiet as the TV was switched off, whichever trailer had been playing in the background cut off mid-sentence.  “Pants too, princess,” Joe said, snapping the waistband of the flannel pyjamas you wore. You hurried to wriggle out of them, the cold nipping at your bare skin. As soon as you were left in just your underwear Joe took your hand and led you away from the couch.  “Okay, we’re going to go to Ben’s room,” he spun you around once, hands firm on your shoulders, “and you’re going to join us,” another spin, “and you’re going to be quick about,” a third spin, “because the longer you take the less chances you’ll have to cum.” He grabbed your shoulders, holding your firmly while you tried to shake the disorienting dizziness. “Take too long, princess, and you’ll end up completely denied until we decide you’ve earned more.” And then his hands left you, the soft pad of his bare feet disappearing somewhere towards the bedroom, any trace of Ben already gone, leaving you completely alone and unable to see.  

You took a deep breath, trying to stop the vague panic that was already welling in your gut. In your mind you tried to conjure the layout of Ben’s house, looking at it from overhead, tracing the rooms from the lounge where you assumed you still were. Study, kitchen, bathroom, bedrooms, theoretically you knew where they all were but you had no idea which direction you were facing, no clue which part of the room you were in. But you couldn’t stand there forever. You’d either freeze or, worse, end up denied an orgasm for who knows how long. You had to start somewhere so you took a tentative step forward, arms held out in front to locate any obstacles you might run into. When nothing blocked your path you took another and another, hoping to find one of the two doorways out of the room. Your ears strained for any sound that might help you, any clue to your location, or theirs. The hum of some electronic left idle, the drip of a tap not turned off tight enough, hushed voices, anything. But the storm, still raging outside, interfered too much. All you could hear was the trees being whipped around by the wind and every so often a clap of thunder. Your steps were slow, careful, deliberate. The last thing you wanted was to kick a chair or a table by accident, or trip over something your outstretched arms didn’t catch. But you knew you were going too slowly. A clock ticked in your head, counting each lost second. You didn’t know how long too long was, five minutes? Ten?  

Your hands hit something hard. Carefully you stretched a foot out too, toes brushing against a skirting board. A wall. Your heart leapt. A wall you could work with, follow until you found a doorway. The only question was left or right. You hesitated for a moment and then picked left, just because. You hoped that was the universe or something putting you on the right path, not a mistake. You held one hand against the wall as you walked, trying to remember what objects were against the walls in Ben’s lounge area. There was the TV of course and a large bookshelf. Maybe something hanging on a wall. Or did he take that down? You couldn’t quite remember. You felt more confident, steps faster now that you had something solid to follow. The wall led you to a doorway. You just had to work out which room you were in to know if you were on the right path. Tentatively, you left the wall, counting the number of steps you took so you could find your way back. Your hands waved through the air in front of you, searching for something to use as a point of reference. They landed on a smooth surface. It was large and cool. You had a suspicion of what it was, trailing your hands along it until the feeling changed. You tapped your nails on the new surface, a metallic sound reverberating around you. The sound made you smile, confirmed what you thought. It was the kitchen bench and you’d found the sink. You felt around to double check, finding first an upturned glass and then the tap, breathing a sigh of relief. You knew where you were and you knew where to go now. Finding Ben’s room shouldn’t be any trouble. You followed the bench until it met the wall and then followed the wall to the doorway. From there it was just a matter of weaving through rooms, trying not to bump into furniture. You didn’t even have to stick to the wall now that you knew which direction you were facing.  

“There she is,” Ben said as you entered a doorway, “clever girl.”  “Cold girl,” you shivered slightly, the chill getting to you more now that you didn’t have fear driving you ever onwards.  “Think we can have you warmed up in no time,” he said, grabbing your hand and pulling you forward.  “Can I take my blindfold off yet?”  “Silly question, princess. Want to keep you on your toes.”  Joe’s voice was closer than you’d expected, making you jump a little. He pressed a kiss to the back of your shoulder as he unhooked your bra. Ben was already sliding your panties down your legs, on his knees in front of you. You gasped when he leaned in to lick you, not expecting the sudden burst of pleasure. It was amplified by Joe, rolling your nipples between his fingers, both of them working in tandem to draw a moan from you.  “Well aren’t you just dripping,” Ben mumbled against you, tongue delving back into your folds, dragging up towards your clit.  “Guess it’s true what they say about fear being an aphrodisiac,” Joe chuckled, the sound sending a tingle down your spine.  “Christ, guys,” you panted, dropping your hands to tangle in Ben’s hair, trying to press him closer.  “Uh uh uh,” Joe tutted in your ear, grabbing your hands by the wrist and pulling them away, Ben wincing a little as you tugged on his hair. He stood back up and you felt yourself be turned around, a sharp slap landing on your backside to push you forward. You hit the bed, closer to falling onto the mattress than climbing in gracefully. But it didn’t matter. As soon as you were down you were pulled into place, Ben climbing in beside you. He still wore pants, though no shirt, your hands running over his chest, feeling his muscles move as he propped himself up on his elbow and leaned in to kiss you. You felt one arm be pulled over your head and heard a click.  “Bastards!” you laughed, “Didn’t have to trick me. Would’ve happily let you cuff me. And why’d you only do one anyway?”  “Well, love, since Joe was so patient watching you be a greedy little cock whore before, it’s only fair that I get to watch him fuck you. And we all know what you’re needy fucking moans do to me, so your hand is free so you can be helpful and wank me.”  You clenched your thighs together, trying to block out the desire coursing through you so you could work out where Joe was. The mystery was solved when he got onto the foot of the bed, prying your legs apart and shuffling between them. You tried to squirm away as he pinched your bum but it only made him and Ben laugh.  “Now, princess,” Joe said, making you twitch as he tapped his fingers against your thigh, “remember you don’t get to cum without our permission.”  “I know,”  “Good. Wouldn’t want to have to punish you, would we?”  “I get the feeling you actually would,”  The tapping turned into a slap, “naughty, might have just extended your denial.”  You groaned, half in response to his threat, half because of the way it felt when he slid two fingers into you, pausing to let you get your bearings before he began to move them.   “So wet, even without Ben getting a proper go at eating you out,”  “You can thank me for it anyway. Been wet since she was on her knees.” Ben took your hand, crossing it over your body towards him. You heard him summon a wad of saliva before he drew his tongue along your palm and then led you to his cock. You’d missed him pulling his pants down, or off, too distracted by everything else that was happening.  

 Your mind whirred with the mix of sensations, trying to focus and to keep abreast of any changes around you. The ticklish fuzzy texture of the cuff around your wrist. Ben’s deep voice near your ear as he called you a good girl between breaths and pleased sighs, the feel of his cock getting harder under your hand and the warmth of having him so close beside you. Joe’s fingers pumping and out of your wet cunt, the stretch, the sound as his speed picked up, his other hand on your thigh, holding you open, slapping you every so often just to make you jolt in shock at the sound and sting of it. You tried to listen for any rustle of clothing or creak of the bed that might warn you what was to come but it was useless, every shift and adjustment taking you by surprise. Your own breath sped up as Joe fingered you, adjusting the angle of his attack to draw whimpers and gasps from you. And then the sudden emptiness as he pulled his hand away. You whined, hoping it’d make him quicker to give you more, but it didn’t work. Instead you listened as he offered his fingers, coated in your arousal, to Ben. Listened as Ben sucked them clean. Felt the wet trail as Joe wiped them across your stomach.  

Your breath hitched when you felt Joe slide his cock along your pussy, your hips rising to meet him each time he nudged your clit. You must have looked desperate, judging from the way Joe chucked. He was sick of waiting but he enjoyed teasing you. Entering you slowly, letting you feel every inch of him. It gave you time to adjust to his size while still making you crave more. And then pulling your legs up over his shoulders, changing the angle ever so slightly, making you feel tighter, fuller.  “You okay princess?”  “Mmhmm, please just move already,”  He didn’t need telling twice, holding your legs steady against him as he set a brutal pace. Once Joe sped up so did Ben. He’d kept your movements over his cock slow and steady, not wanting things to escalate too quickly, but at the sight of you writhing under Joe, moaning and panting he couldn’t help himself. He held your wrist still as he thrust up into your hand, taking control. You were glad to let him, too preoccupied with Joe pounding into you, rubbing circles on your clit. Knowing you were trapped between them, being used without knowing if you’d get to feel your own release, only turned you on more. Another thrust from Joe, particularly well timed to coincide with a very firm touch to your clit had you moaning that you were close.”  “Hold it,” Joe grunted, relentless in his movements.   You nodded, biting your lip, unable to form words that weren’t senseless begging. He didn’t slow down or remove his fingers from you though, and, afraid you wouldn’t be able to hold off unless he removed some of the stimulation he was giving you, you whimpered.  “Please Joe, I c-can’t, I can’t,”  “Can’t what, slut?”  “I need to cum, please, please, please,”  You thought for sure that Joe was going to stop touching you, or else you’d fall over the edge without permission, be punished and left without release for weeks.   Instead you heard Ben tell you to cum, voice strained as he neared his own climax. You moaned loud as you followed his instruction, back arching off the bed and toes curling. Joe’s grip on your legs tightened as he held off his own orgasm long enough to fuck you through yours, pulling out and coating your stomach in his seed. Ben finished over your hand within seconds, gasping your name.  

You were panting when you felt Ben collapse beside you, placing your cum covered hand on your stomach alongside the splatters Joe had left there. Joe stood up and uncuffed you before sagging down on your other side.  “You can take the blindfold off, love,” Ben said softly as he snuggled into your side.   You blinked at the sudden bright light. The first clear thing you saw was Joe smiling at you, leaning in to kiss your temple.   “You okay?”  “Yeah, great, just gotta catch my breath a bit,”  “Ben, you good?”  “Mmhmm. Give me like ten minutes and I’ll be ready to go on,”  “Go on?”  “Didn’t think that was all you’d get, did you?”   “It isn’t?”  “Ben’s convinced he wont get a wink of sleep without fucking himself, and consequently us, into exhaustion.”  “Besides, you got back to the room really fast,” the blonde mumbled against you, “so if anything you earned a lot more. Like, us eating you out for hours a lot.”  You couldn’t help but laugh, as your boys snuggled closer. Perhaps it was the high you were still coming down from, or the giddiness that came from knowing you’d essentially beaten the challenge they set you, or just the warm safety you felt lying between them, but whatever it was you found your heart pounding as you cleared your throat.  “Hey, guys?”  Both responded in wordless noises to show they were listening.  “I love you. Both of you.” Your heart was in your throat, brain automatically trying to spin a way to unsay the words you’d just let slip. Their silence seemed to drag on for a thousand years as you waited breathlessly for their response. Ben moved first, though Joe wasn’t far behind, leaning over to kiss you deeply, saying the words softly back against your lips. Joe pressed a string of kisses along your jaw, kissing you properly once Ben had backed away, smiling as he said it too.  

[dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt]

How are Jesse and vrox? I miss them

:’) They’re doing great Nonnie!! Just for you, here’s the SFW alphabets I wrote for them (belong the cut because they’re a tad long):

VROX:

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Vrox is very physically affectionate. Cuddling, putting his head on his partner’s shoulder, holding their hand, kissing them no matter where they are, wrapping his arms around their waist, playing with their hair, getting them in a headlock, he’s very touchy.

B = Best friend (Who is their best friend? How did the friendship start?)

Vrox doesn’t have any best friends, he has a lot of friends but the way he feels for them is kind of equal all-round. If he had to choose, he’d say Jesse is still his best friend.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Vrox is big on cuddling. If he and a partner or even a friend are sitting or lying down together, he will cuddle them. One of his favourite positions is lying with his head or his feet in his partner’s lap.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Vrox considers himself settled down. His and Jesse’s apartment is his home base that he ranges from, at the end of the day he can always come back and be disgustingly domestic and cute. He thinks cleaning is boring but he genuinely enjoys doing the dishes, because he can blast whatever music he wants and sing to it loudly and nobody is allowed to complain because he’s cleaning up. He’s not bad at all at cooking, he’s just lazy and prefers eating cereal.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He’s not great or very considerate at it. He’d probably just very clearly drift away and ghost them, until they confront him or he finally bites the bullet and breaks up with them. He’s very blunt, even if he tries to say it kindly (or not, depending on why he’s breaking up with someone) and his break-ups usually lead to fights and yelling.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Vrox is a very loyal person, but he thinks legal binding is stupid, a waste of time, and shallow compared to how he feels for his partners. He really, really doesn’t see the point, but he would go through with it if his partner wanted to, and yes he would end up crying.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s never really gentle gentle. He’s either rough or he’s playful or he’s intense. Varying degrees of asshole, from endearing to picking a fight. But that just means that when he is gentle, it means something much more.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He likes hugs, but he prefers giving them. His favourite hug is coming up behind someone, wrapping his arms around their waist and resting his head on the top of theirs or on their shoulder, depending on how tall they are.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Often. Vrox isn’t one to curb his emotions, if he’s feeling a lot of affection, he’ll say it. In a new relationship he says it pretty quickly and casually. Vrox feels anger very intensely, but he feels love just as fiercely.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He’s the most jealous in his trio, but he’s still not that bad. He tends to act it up sometimes to be dramatic. It’s not very deep, just little flashes of “I want them, not you” but nothing bad, and he gets over it quickly.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He’s very passionate, he goes for it without any insecurities. Sometimes he can go a bit too hard a bit too fast, but it’s not too bad.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Vrox is great with little kids, he’s the guy who waves or makes funny faces at babies in stores until they laugh. He doesn’t desperately want kids of his own, though, and teenagers tend to rub him the wrong way – he likes to be the most sullen, angry thing in the area at all times.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Vrox really doesn’t mind early mornings, but that will not stop him from complaining loudly through yawns. He likes having a long lie-in, conversation and cuddle before he gets up. Most of the time he showers early.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Normally there’s some kind of music and bad dancing, maybe chill binging of a show or movie, making dinner in the messiest way possible. Also, sex of some kind, he has a high libido and he just likes being close to those he loves. If not, definitely cuddling or sweet touching.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Vrox really can’t hide his emotions or secrets if he tries. Pretty much what you see is what you get. He will open up willingly more and more as the relationship goes on, though, about his frustrations with himself and how he wishes he didn’t have this emotion management issue.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

I know this may come as a shock, but Vrox is the least patient person on earth. Unless someone really can’t help it, then he’s a bit more considerate… but not by much.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about their partners? Do they remember every little detail they mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He tries, but sometimes info just doesn’t stick in his brain. He will occasionally forget anniversaries, but for some reason he’s better at remembering tiny insignificant details.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in their relationship?)

With Jesse, it was when he first met him, and when they had their first kiss. Nothing had ever calmed him down so quickly in his hound form and he never would have thought he would be worthy of someone like Jesse. He cried after their first kiss and just held him through the rest of the night, treasuring every second. He never stopped.

With Dante, it was when Vrox comforted him after a PTSD episode. Despite his sulking and annoyance at Dante for being so tough on him, he knows Dante only does it to keep him – and those around him – safe and that he just wants to help him. Being able to be there for him in a moment of rare vulnerability really impacted Vrox. It was also a good reminder to him that he wasn’t the only one struggling.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect their partners? How would they like to be protected?)

Vrox is protective… of everyone. If a stranger is harassing another stranger in the subway he will shove between them, if somebody is being really rude to a retail worker he will call them a dickwad. Even if it makes the situation worse, he just can’t let it go. He likes taking the spotlight off the person being attacked: he’d rather the situation escalate at him, rather than them. God help if somebody he actually cares about is being harassed. As for being protected, it makes him feel special, safe and loved.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He usually forgets anniversaries until the last minute when he runs and buys a gift. If you want to see Vrox panic, just ask him “do you remember what today is?” and he’ll shit himself. With dates he’s more casual but he always makes sure his partners have a good time. He likes giving gifts and seeing people’s faces light up, so his loved ones expect a few gifts every few months. If he sees something that even vaguely reminds him of them, he’ll buy it in an instant. 

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Let’s be honest, Vrox can be difficult to love. He has mood swings, days where he’s inexplicably furious, he can be lazy and too blunt. However, he is aware of all of these things and actively working every day to get better. His bad habits include: forgetting to vacuum until the dust bunnies start unionizing, being a few minutes late to everything, and liking mainstream pop music.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s a pretty vain bastard. He knows full well that he’s hot despite all his scars (and, frequently, bruises) and he capitalizes on it. The reason he’s late to most appointments is he’s trying to get his hair to sit exactly right (fighting a losing battle, his hair obeys no man, woman or person.)

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without their partners?)

Yes. He’d still have his friends and family that is the pack, but without Jesse and Dante he might have become a nightmare.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He wears his partners’ clothes when he’s feeling very unstable, to try and hold onto the thought of what matters most to him.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Jesse using up all the hot water with his longass showers annoys him. Dante being such a bossy, demanding asshole annoys him even more. In general he hates people who pity him or act like he’s delicate or like he’s going to blow up at them if they don’t step carefully around him.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

He usually sleeps on his stomach with his pillow in a death grip, or spooning.

JESSE:

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Jesse’s very affectionate with both words and physical touch, but the peak of his affection lies in very companionable, warm silence. He wants his loved ones to know how much he loves them all the time, with many small touches, gestures and words. He’s very encouraging and he likes holding hands – he’s gotten more comfortable doing it in public, too.

B = Best friend (Who is their best friend? How did the friendship start?)

Practically the whole pack is his best friend, everybody adores him, and he has a lot of human friends, too. He gets along great with a hound named Taylor, another named Lisa, Heath, Noah, and he’s friends with June, too. But he still considers Vrox his best friend, because that’s what they were before they started dating and that’s what they still are.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He loves cuddling, he’ll almost never protest it, but he does need his space sometimes, especially if he’s trying to concentrate on something: for example, he really doesn’t like being touched or held while he’s trying to sleep, it distracts him too much.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He feels very happily settled down. The only nagging detail in his 1910’s brain is that he’s not married yet. He’s a very good cook, since his mum and dad taught him well, and he’s very diligent with cleaning. His spaces are messy, but they’re never dirty.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He’d think about it very long and hard, and then have a heartfelt conversation with his partner and pray that it ends cordially because he never wants to hurt somebody he loves or has loved.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He is a very devoted person and was raised with a much stricter commitment policy by his parents and society at the time. When he loves somebody and he can’t imagine life without them, he’ll start to think about marriage – even just for the thought. Tying the knot is the dream.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Jesse is a very sweet person. He’s very considerate and he never wants to hurt anyone – but he’s not above playfully teasing, punching people’s arms or ruffling their hair.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He enjoys hugs a lot, he just needs to be alerted to when somebody’s going to hug him. (If Vrox is going to hug him from behind, he’s gotten in the habit of tapping Jesse lightly on the shoulder before he grabs him.) Despite the fact that he’s pretty lanky, he gives beautiful hugs, you can just tell how much he cares about you through the hug.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Jesse was reserved with those three little words for a long time, but through his years with friends and partners he’s relaxed with it a lot more. He still never wants it to lose its meaning, though, it’s never just a throwaway thing to him.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He felt a lot more insecure at the beginning of his relationship with Vrox, and because of that they opened their relationship very slowly. Now he’s very comfortable in himself and knows he’s irreplaceable, jealousy is mostly a bad memory.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He’s a very safe kisser, he knows what he’s doing and follows his partner to match their mood. He often cups his partner’s face or plays with their hair or strokes patterns on their skin while he kisses them, it’s very cute – also when he’s really having a good time he won’t be able to stop smiling which interferes with the kiss in a very cute way.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He feels very awkward around babies and very young kids because he never knows how to deal with them, but he’s very good with teenagers.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Jesse likes sleep-ins, but he also doesn’t mind getting up early – despite falling asleep late the night before. He takes most of the early shifts for his work, so he eats breakfast, has a shower, then he kisses his boyfriends goodbye and off he goes.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Jesse is a massive night owl and he’ll often stay awake till 2AM or later. He has a lot more energy at night so expect him dancing feverishly in his socks to music in his headphones while he does chores he neglected during the day.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Jesse doesn’t hide the things that happened to him, but he also never tells anyone unless they ask. He’s pretty open about his emotions, though, he knows that keeping secrets in any relationship is bound to end badly so he never lets things sit and rot, he’ll always communicate his feelings.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Jesse is a painfully patient person. He won’t lose his cool with anyone – except bigots. Unreasonable people who are just filled with hate and don’t want to learn anything or respect other people just existing? He will need to be held back.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about their partners? Do they remember every little detail they mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers most things, big and little, but if he’s stressed or busy things will slip a bit.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in their relationship?)

With Vrox, it was the first night he did karaoke with him. The pack’s a bunch of idiots so they hold karaoke nights in the communal area. Jesse was still very much in his shell, but Vrox got him up on stage. Vrox was in a super good mood that night too: he didn’t try to pressure Jesse, he just told him it’d be fun with a big genuine smile and Jesse trusted him. They sang together and hammed it up in the most dramatic way possible, and Jesse was shocked by how much fun he had. It was the moment he realized he didn’t have to have his guard up around everyone, and that he genuinely liked Vrox – despite having some reservations about this abrasive white boy beforehand.

With Dante, it was when Jesse was feeling very, very low again – the lowest he’d felt since he killed himself. Dante noticed and reminded him that he was here for him, and Jesse finally took a big step and opened up. Dante dropped everything to listen and comfort him about it. It was the first time somebody had really been there for him since his parents died. He trusted somebody for the first time in a long time.

(Note: Dante dropped everything for him because he still felt guilty about not being able to be there for him when he first arrived in Hell. It had been a busy, bloody night with a lot of new arrivals, and unfortunately Jesse slipped through the cracks and had to deal with his shock, confusion and despair alone. Dante will never forgive himself for letting that happen to him, even though it wasn’t his fault.)

The first time he kissed them both were also very, very big moments for him. He holds them close to his heart.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect their partners? How would they like to be protected?)

Jesse is very protective. He doesn’t really care what people say or do to him, he’s very used to it, but if somebody goes after anyone else, he’ll be furious. Even though both his boyfriends are bigger and scarier than him and they can take care of themselves, he’ll still try and put himself between them and the aggressor – whether to defend them or try and deescalate the situation. He picks a surprising amount of fights for such a sweet guy.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

What makes a date enjoyable to Jesse isn’t the location, it’s just spending time with his partner. His dates are chill, intimate and fun. He doesn’t often get gifts for his partners, but when he does, he makes sure they’re really special. Anniversaries are important to him – but again, he doesn’t like to make a massive deal of it, he just wants to enjoy his partners’ company.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

See, letter S. He tends to get into heated arguments and not caring when the situation escalates to dangerous levels, even if he could be hurt. He uses up all the hot water in his showers, but that’s more because he has to take proper care of his hair. He can put others’ problems and emotions above his own. There are random bits of dried paint around the apartment because he zones out while he paints, gets up to get something, and forgets that he has wet paint on his hands. (Yes he has gotten paint in Vrox’s hair before and yes Vrox screamed like he was shot, to which Jesse reached out without even looking and put a big blue handprint across Vrox’s face.)

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He keeps himself looking presentable because hygiene and ‘good impressions, not just the first one’ were always drilled into him by his parents. He used to have a lot of dysphoria surrounding his appearance but since he transitioned he’s learning to be confidant and that he looks handsome and hot as fuck, as Vrox and Dante keep reminding him. He also knows that if he flashes his dimple at someone, he’ll always get what he wants because it’s just that cute. He does kind of hate his borderline baby-face though – it makes ordering drinks and getting into clubs hell.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without their partners?)

He wouldn’t be incomplete, but he definitely feels more with his partners. He’d still have a ton of friends and lovers and fuck buddies without them, but he wouldn’t feel this specific love that makes him feel more than anything else.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

His favourite food is Skittles. Vrox doesn’t understand how he can like them better than M&Ms. This petty argument has been going on for years now.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He hates that Vrox has to be caged so often, but that’s more because it makes him sad than anything else. Dante not taking care of himself and then ending up in a PTSD stress mess because he doesn’t chill and look after his own mental health frustrates him, mostly because Jesse has to pick up his pieces and help him be put back together again.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He normally sleeps on his side with his arms wrapped around himself, kind of curled up. He has nightmares often.

[valmerappreciationhours]

Ain’t No Lie (Baby I’m Bi Bi Bi)

Clenny Week Day 1--Fake Dating

Clyde's fake-dating plan needs a boy for it to work. Kenny McCormick seems like the best option. There's no way this could go off course.

(or read on Ao3 here)

how down wud u b 4 pretendng 2 dte me

               Clyde gave the almighty message a nod and folded the ripped notebook paper into a sloppy airplane. He aimed when the teacher’s back was turned, sending the paper careening across the room. Clyde caught Craig’s eye and flashed a toothy grin alongside a big thumbs up. Success! Craig leaned over the gap between their desks and whispered, “You remembered to sign it, right?”

               Best friends as they may be, Craig had always been one to bring down the mood.

               The comment had the desired effect of Clyde straining across his desk to try and see the location of his airplane on the other end of the room, knocking off a flurry of papers in the process. Vaguely, Clyde could hear Craig and Token’s simultaneous sighs, Tweek’s startled yelp, and Jimmy’s chuckling. None of that was what he was looking for, though. That was being picked up off the floor by bandaged fingers in frayed gloves.

               The airplane was examined just long enough to read the name scrawled out in pencil before being unfolded. The reader gave no visible reaction before tucking the sheet inside a beat-up parka and critically glancing around the class. Tired eyes raked over the crowd of faces and-

               Kenny saw Clyde.

               They made eye contact. The teacher droned on. Kenny rose an eyebrow; Clyde nodded as the answer to the unspoken question, grinning just a little sheepishly. Kenny pulled the crumpled paper back out and reread it, then grabbed the nearest pen (which happened to be on Kyle’s desk) and made a few marks. The paper was sent back by airplane, and Clyde tore the paper with the speed in which it was unfolded.

               Y

               Clyde blinked down at the paper. He tapped his pencil to his chin, thinking what to add. What could he say here that would wow the fabled Kenny McCormick? He passed the sheet over to Craig to see as well, whispering, “what would you say are some of my best qualities?”

               Craig glanced back up with a deadpan expression. “He’s asking why you want to pretend date.”

               One could practically see the lightbulb flick on above Clyde’s head. “Oh! That’s way easier to answer!” Before he could turn back to the paper with newfound spark, it was whisked off the desk. Clyde looked up to see the teacher looming with the note, a dark shadow of doom cast over the desk.

               “I must kindly ask you not to pass notes in my class, Mr. Donovan. Last warning.” The paper was promptly tossed out and the lesson returned to, leaving a very distressed jock and a poor kid with a little more interest than he walked into class with.

--

 When the bell rang and students hastily pushed their way out, Clyde was a man with a mission. He and Craig shared a nod and went separate directions, one with the goal to distract an inquisitive friend group, and the other to find a blob of orange in the dense crowd. Clyde fought his way through, sights trained on the orange coat he’d spotted. Almost there—

               “Hi, Clyde.”

               Clyde stared at the boy. That couldn’t be right. “Wait, Kyle, since when do you wear orange?”

               Kyle gave back a funny look. “Since always?”

               “Cut him some slack, Kahl.” One of Eric Cartman’s more prominent skills was surely butting into conversations uninvited. “He’s been playing sports with Stan; you can’t expect him to stay smart.” Cartman cleared his throat and dramatically turned, ignoring Stan’s protest. “What. Do. You. Neeeed?” He blatantly overenunciated, and was happy to do so loudly.

Clyde’s cheeks reddened, but he pressed forward. “Isn’t Kenny usually with you guys?” Cartman was quick to make a wisecrack about Clyde and Kenny, and Stan answered while his friends argued.

“Dude, he’s just in the bathroom. He can’t afford a vape so we know it won’t be too long.”

Not too long, huh. Clyde adjusted his varsity jacket, leaning against the wall in a futile attempt to look cool and chill next to Stan’s infamous gang. The sacrifice would be worth it if he could just get Kenny’s response.

True to Stan’s word, Kenny stepped out after a moment, wiping his hands on dirty, ripped pants. When he looked up and saw Clyde intermingled with his group, his body language lit up. Smooth as anything, he sidestepped his usual crowd and held out a hand to Clyde, who was simply a little confused, but had the spirit and took the hand. Kenny confidently stepped off with Clyde in tow, flashing back a finger-gun and a wink, leaving Stan, Kyle, and Cartman in varying states of shock.

“I totally knew they were gay, you guys! I totally said it!”

The resulting shouts reverberated around the hall, but they were easy enough to tune out. Besides, it just meant the plan was already kicking into gear.

As for the pair, Kenny had yet to put his gloves back on, and Clyde could feel the ridges of every bandage on his hand. The skin was cool to the touch, but surprisingly gentle. If pressed, Clyde would claim that any embarrassment he felt in that moment was simply because Kenny grabbing his hand was out of the blue. Still, he was quick to snap back to the cool-guy demeanor he so desperately wanted to achieve.

“So. Class.” Maybe not as cool as he might’ve been in his imagination.

“Mhm,” Kenny hummed behind his coat. “I was actually thinking we should skip.”

Clyde grinned. “Cool.” His math homework lay unfinished in his folder, so a little postponement would be beneficial on all fronts here. He’d take Kenny over algebra any day. Clyde swung their joined hands aimlessly between them, smile still dancing on his features. “Where were you thinking of going?”

Kenny looked over, eyes twinkling. “Well I don’t take cute boys to the Goth hangout.”

Led by Kenny, the two dashed out a forgotten exit at the end of an abandoned hall. From there, it was a short walk through overgrown weeds and unshoveled snow to a weary-looking shed. Clyde eyed the building warily; the hinges creaked when Kenny pried open the door, and the thing seemed to sway with the wind. Besides, the whole structure was grimy and rotten. Clearly forgotten, it was the perfect place for sneaking away to, at least.

Inside, Kenny had already plopped onto the floor. He waited for Clyde to join in the dirt before starting the conversation with about as much taste as one could expect from the most troublesome gang in school. “Trying to impress the Asian girls or what?”

“Huh?”

Kenny leaned back, casual. “Creek was a big hit; my first guess is that you wanted a piece of that attention. Guy and guy, people eat it up.”

“Well—actually, I hadn’t thought about that…but no! No one believes I’m bi.” Clyde paused, waiting for a reaction—there was always a reaction—but his companion was living up to his reputation of being the quiet type. “Token thinks it’s the jacket, but Jimmy thought it was a joke when I told him I like dudes!” It had been upsetting at the time, but remembering his friend laughing and snorting chocolate milk out of his nose helped. “I thought, if I showed people I could date guys, then they would be lining up after we stage a break-up!” It was a fool-proof plan, if he did say so himself.

Kenny nodded. “Solid. So what brought you to Kenneth McCormick?”

“Aside from being one of the only out guys in school, come on! You’re Kenny McCormick!” Clyde gestured to his friend, voice loud and excited. “Everyone knows you’re basically a relationship god! Besides, it won’t be as much of a big deal, because, uh…” Clyde’s spark fizzled out awkwardly, one hand rubbing his neck.

Kenny’s expression remained unchanged. “Because I get around.”

“Which is like, so cool.” Clyde said quietly, afraid of disturbing the tense atmosphere. The awe, however, was genuine to its core.

Kenny’s right eye crinkled ever so slightly. “Yeah. ‘Cept the dying from syphilis.”

The cold air that filled the shed didn’t seem to matter at all in that moment, nor the dilapidated and disgusting wood they were sat on. What did matter was that the atmosphere between them was warm, just two bros hanging out and skipping class. Clyde watched the small puffs of warm air drift up out of Kenny’s parka and watched the way those blue eyes shone with mischief. This was gonna be such a great idea.

 --

 “Hey, babe!”

               Token, Tweek, and Jimmy watched with wide eyes as Clyde hailed Kenny over to their lunch table, draping an arm around him. Clyde’s round face was lit up with a grin.

               “The m-m-madman actually did it.” Jimmy’s mouth hung open, braces glinting in the light.

               “Oh my god.” Token’s salad lay forgotten in the wake of this much more important news.

               “Gah!” Tweek grabbed onto his boyfriend’s sleeve. “Did you know about this? Has this always been happening? Kenny?”

               Craig continued to poke at his mashed potatoes. His voice maintained its flat nature, but those who knew him well could notice the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Clyde’s my best friend; I knew. They’re kind of perfect for each other.”

               Kenny continued to hover at Clyde’s side, the two of them deep in conversation. Kenny was laughing, Clyde looking insanely proud of himself. It was Token who recovered from the sheer shock first.

               “Uh, why don’t you sit down, Kenny?”

               A pleased noise made its way out of the thick orange parka, and Kenny slid onto the bench next to Clyde. His arms were noticeably empty, but he used that as an opportunity to sling one around Clyde’s shoulders.

               Tweek stared, eyes as large as saucers. “How long?”

               “A whole week,” Clyde proudly announced, spraying half-chewed food across the table.

               “I g-gotta hand it to—to you, Clyde. I didn’t think you could get a b—bo—a bo--, I didn’t think you could s-snag a man.” Jimmy leaned on the table, soaking up the news.

               “Yeah, man,” Token smiled, ever the diplomat, “Congratulations!”

               Tweek tapped his fingers anxiously on his thermos, continuing to stare directly at the new duo. Jimmy leaned farther across the table, stage-whispering to Clyde, “h-how much did you p-p-pay for that one?”

               Kenny leaned onto the table, matching the other, calm. “You couldn’t afford me.”

               That sent the table into a fit of laughs, save for Tweek, who only produced a weak chuckle and narrowed his eyes at Kenny. When the object of scrutiny looked over, Tweek mouthed a small “I don’t trust you,” and twitched. If a member of Stan’s gang thought he could just waltz into their clique and manipulate Clyde’s heart, he was sorely mistaken. Tweek would be cautious. He’d protect his friends.

               Tweek was startled out of his thoughts, yelping when he felt a sudden hand on his arm, but looked over into the concerned face of his boyfriend. “Are you okay?”

               “It’s Kenny,” Tweek whispered, agonized.

               “Clyde’s happy,” Craig responded casually.

               Tweek nervously glanced back to the intruder. Clyde was leaning on Kenny, waving his hands as he told a story. Kenny watched with passive interest, blue eyes alight. The two looked so comfortable next to each other, bright and content. Tweek twitched. “Clyde’s happy,” he had to admit. “But if Kenny turns out to be an evil monster from another dimension, it’s—gah! —it’s not my fault when all our souls get stolen!”

               Across the table, Kenny snorted.

 --

 “Do you want Doritos or barbeque chips?” Clyde called out from his perch on the kitchen counter. His arms were already laden with food, but chips were mandatory to complete the hangout.

               “Barbeque!” Kenny yelled back from the other room. Clyde added the red bag to his collection and climbed down to head back. He rounded the corner into the living room and dumped his snack spoils into a heap on the ground. Kenny’s blue eyes were wide as he took in the size of the pile.

               “Just grab whatever, I don’t know what you like.” Clyde plopped himself down on the carpet and extracted a soda. It hissed as he cracked it open and took a sip. Kenny scooted over, abandoning his notebook, hand hovering over the snacks. He finally grabbed a packaged cupcake and eagerly tore in.

The weather may have been getting colder, but the inside of the Donovan household was plenty warm. Clyde had ditched his varsity jacket for a t-shirt and some old sweats, while Kenny still donned his heavy parka. It was making Clyde sweat just looking at the faux fur trim and heavy fabric. “You wanna lose the coat, dude? My dad’s got lots of heaters.”

Kenny looked up from his food and shook his head. “Nah,” and his eyes crinkled, “you couldn’t handle all the looks I’m packing.”

“Maybe I should get a parka then,” Clyde mused. “It would help from having to fend the ladies off with a stick. This beauty is a curse.”

Kenny raised an eyebrow at the last comment, but didn’t say anything. Clyde was getting used to that; after hanging out with his group who always had something to say, the silence was a bizarre shift. He supposed it balanced out the constant screaming and arguing by the people Kenny hung out with.

Kenny happily moved to grab the bag of chips, and Clyde slid him a soda and juice as well. Kenny opted for the juice box, maneuvering the straw through the zipper of his mouth guard. Clyde stared down the fabric, curiosity ebbing at his thoughts. Maybe Kenny was right; maybe he was unspeakably attractive behind that coat. Kenny caught his eye, and Clyde quickly glanced away.

The snack pile slowly wore down, no match for their combined appetites. Clyde led the conversation between mouthfuls of food, from video games to the latest drama to why Red Racer was actually cool and not a nerd show, and no, Craig did not have him brainwashed. Clyde was happy to blabber on, and the jokes Kenny intercepted with were of the utmost quality. Indeed, Kenneth, that is what she said.

Clyde swallowed his chewed cheese snacks, and made the spur of the moment decision to drag Kenny into the current topic. “How would you rate the guys in our class?”

Kenny wiped his mouth. “Stoley’s a zero. Don’t like that he has the same name as my brother.”

“You have a brother?” The little Karen McCormick he knew about, but another sibling was a surprise. “How come I haven’t seen him?”

Kenny shrugged, leaning back on his hands. “He dropped out. Kev’s working at a car garage now.”

The pieces fit together in Clyde’s head. “Oh! Because your family’s poor!” He felt proud of his innocent realization, but that soon dwindled. Kenny’s tired eyes stared him down, and Clyde was suddenly struck with the sheer number of wrappers that surrounded his friend on the floor. “But cars are cool!” he tried. “I can’t wait to drive!” The wind in his hair, a shiny new vehicle, impressing everyone around; it was a dream.

“I’ve already driven,” Kenny proclaimed, happy to share his accomplishment. “And I didn’t even die once.” Of course, Stan’s gang would’ve gotten into that. Nothing stood between those guys and doing whatever they wanted.

“I hope you didn’t die,” Clyde shot back, smile tugging at his lips as he climbed up onto the couch. He grabbed the remote from where it was wedged between two cushions.

“You’d be surprised.” Kenny laid back on the carpet, arms crossed behind his head and eyes closed.

“It would suck so bad if you died, dude.” The noise of various channels filled the room as Clyde flipped through, but things were weirdly quiet in Kenny’s corner. When Clyde looked over, his companion had a strange look on his face.

“Yeah,” he finally responded, gaining humor in his voice, “you’d have to find some other sorry guy to fake date you.”

“Hey! You suck!”

“I didn’t know we were at that stage of our relationship,” Kenny taunted, waggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up, dude!” Block it out, Donovan, block it out. This is just some temporary stuff, chilling with a homie. Grabbing the attention of some cute guys in the school while casually respecting the cute guy in front of him platonically. Still a good plan. “Wanna pick a movie? My dad gets home in like three hours.”

Kenny gave an enthusiastic thumbs up and leaned against the couch as the film played. Clyde had to keep himself from inviting his friend up to the couch as well. Cuddling during movies is not a bro activity, he reminded himself. Kenny’s parka would be stifling pressed against his skin anyway.

 --

 “No, he’s dating Kenny McCormick.”

               “Yeah, he’s hella bi.”

               Clyde strolled through the halls, head held high, confidence levels way up. Being a topic of hallway conversation made his heart swell and put a little skip in his step. His eyes caught on a poster hanging on the wall, and it only made his grin spread.

               Art Club Wednesdays, the sheet announced. Beneath the colorful lettering was a drawing, bursting with oranges and reds. The shading was bold, and the fabric folds boasted a level of artistic expertise. The limbs may have looked a little wonky, but it got the point across.

               Clyde raised his phone to take a quick picture. He’d say they captured his roguish handsomeness pretty well.

 --

 “You guys are so cute!” Bebe had gushed in the back row of Home Ec. In the seat beside her, Kenny poked a needle and thread through his project, making a noise of agreement. “I think it’s good he’s found someone, I felt so bad for the guy after we broke up.” She pressed another pink sequin to her own swatch of fabric and set to stitching it on.

“I’d say he’s pretty satisfied right now.” Kenny winked at Bebe, who bumped him on the arm, careful not to disrupt their stitching.

“You’re a dog, McCormick.” Bebe’s eyeroll was betrayed by the smile playing at her painted lips.

“Maybe so.” Kenny shrugged, slipping the needle through again. “No complaints so far.”

“Hey,” Bebe prompted, “Has he fallen asleep on you yet?” Her eyes were bright, and the lift of her mouth just a tad mischievous.

Kenny raised an eyebrow and leaned closer. “Oh?”

Bebe adjusted her project on the table. “When we were dating, he would always be so affectionate. It’s like moving a cat.” When she finished her current loop stitch, she fished out her phone and unlocked it. “I think I still have pictures of him drooling everywhere. It’s always important to have blackmail material.”

Kenny bit the end of his thread off with his teeth, and began threading a new one. “But he’s real soft for cuddling,” he provided, “like a built-in pillow.”

“That was top-tier snuggling,” she admitted, sliding her phone over. “Check out these pictures.”

“Holy shit.” Now that was the good stuff. Equal parts adorable and terribly embarrassing. Bebe Stevens was truly an artist.

Caught up in the photos, Kenny’s hand and needle slipped, effectively intercepting his other arm at an angle that tore open a line of skin. The blood gushed out, and he hissed, covering as much of the wound as he could. His glove and fingers quickly stained red. Bebe yelped at the sight, but reacted fast, grabbing both of their projects out of the splash zone. “You’re a real one,” Kenny smiled at her, albeit weakly. He shot off a quick and earnest finger gun before falling out of his stool.

 --

 Bebe was right in the statement that Clyde was affectionate. He was always pressing his knee against Kenny’s at lunch, or swinging their hands together when they walked. Kenny had made an educated guess in saying that Clyde was like a pillow, and he was indubitably pleased to find that it was true.

               Kenny was finding a lot of things about Clyde pretty great, actually.

 --

 “—but Craig doesn’t like coffee at all so I wonder how he kisses Tweek so often, you know?” Clyde prattled on, breath forming puffs in the cool Colorado air. The layer of snow left on the sidewalk crunched as the duo strolled through, hands wound together.

               “Maybe the homo cancels out the coffee,” Kenny theorized, the idea doubly muffled by his hood and the whistling of the wind.

               Clyde tapped his chin. “That does make sense, but I was also thinking that Tweek probably kisses all quick since he gets nervous like that and Craig isn’t affectionate anyway—”

               “How would you kiss me?” Clyde looked over to the glittering blue eyes of his fake boyfriend. The wind was rough, and had blown out a few strands of blond hair from the confines of the parka. Despite the time they’d known each other, Clyde still had trouble distinguishing the other’s mischievous teasing and genuine intrigue. It probably had something to do with the small amount of uncovered skin or the already quiet nature. He doubted Stan or Kyle or Cartman could do any better.

               Clyde opted to answer with the guess that Kenny was messing around, which he thought was pretty likely. He stopped in his tracks, moving the hand that wasn’t holding Kenny’s to the latter’s hood. The crinkle that characterized a typical Kenny grin was quickly replaced with wide eyes. “Ken, dude, babe, I would kiss you into next week. People would talk about it for generations as the best kiss ever conceived. It would be legendary.”

               Kenny gingerly took Clyde’s hand from his hood, holding it in his own. “I think you’re mistaken,” he hummed. “I’m sure the school would agree that I would be the one kissing you into next week.”

               Clyde considered. “It would get a lot of attention…” That was the goal here, after all. If giving Kenny a smooch would help accomplish it, so be it. There were definitely worse people to kiss.

When it came to it, attention was certainly grabbed. Deemed the perfect time by the amount of student traffic between classes, Clyde and Kenny nodded like the genius agents they believed themselves to be. After exchanging quick conversation, they knew it was time to enact.

               “I’ll see you after class,” Kenny cooed.

               “See you later, babe,” Clyde concurred, and reached over to pull down the piece of the coat covering Kenny’s mouth.

               The worn fabric bunched, and Clyde was struck with the face of an angel. Pink and purple bandages hugged the curve of Kenny’s cheek and the point of his chin. Freckles exploded across his thin cheeks, darting across his nose, cut by various scar lines. Dried blood still presented itself on the corner of his lip, which had obviously been busted. Kenny was missing a tooth on the right side, prominent and unspeakably adorable when he grinned. Clyde could have stared forever, but was interrupted by Kenny leaning in and pressing their mouths together.

               And he thought just looking at Kenny was good!

               When the fireworks finished, Kenny’s coat was back up in half a second. Clyde had decided that damned parka would be his new greatest enemy. Sorry, Arby’s cashier on Maple Street, there’s new priorities. “You were right,” Kenny proclaimed with a teasing lilt, smile evident in his voice, “you were doing some serious kissing.”

               When Kenny turned tail and went to class, Clyde stared after. He continued to stand in the hallway after the bell rang, too focused on the phantom brush of heavy fabric on his face and the metallic taste of a bleeding lip in his mouth.

 --

 “When are you going to break up?”

               Clyde looked up from where he was struggling with his essay. “Break up with Kenny?”

               Craig spun around in his desk chair, so Clyde could clearly see him roll his eyes. “Unless you’re dating someone else. Yeah, Kenny.”

               Clyde blinked. “Why would I break up with Kenny?” This conversation was making about as much sense as his homework. Craig always seemed generally supportive, and Clyde thought his escapades with Kenny were going well.

               The two stared at each other for a few awkward moments before Craig finally gave in. “You’re fake dating. You thought it would be a great idea to use him to start raking in the boys.”

               “Oh yeah!” It was all clicking back into place now! “Oh god.” They weren’t actually dating. That forgotten fact came back around like a freight train.

               Craig gave him a long hard look. “How do you forget you’re fake dating someone?”

               Pink tinged Clyde’s cheeks. “It felt very real!” he defended.

               Craig set his pen down, lab report abandoned. “Well, do you think it’s real?” Clyde paused, and Craig continued, voice as even and monotone as ever. “You’ve talked more about Kenny in the past month than Red Racer. It got on my nerves but you looked sooo happy.”

               “He’s a really good kisser,” Clyde added fondly.

               Craig leaned back. “I would say just ignore emotions until they go away,” he sighed, “but Tweek would tell you to talk to him.”

               Clyde grinned cheekily at the mention. “You mean, all this time, Tweek was the master of relationships?”

Craig’s mouth twitched into what might barely count as a smile. “Yeah. He’s way better than you could ever be.”

Clyde fell back onto the carpet, clasping a hand over his chest. “The betrayal! From my own best friend! You are not getting invited to my wedding!”

The words fell on only half-interested ears, as Craig had turned back to his science papers. “Bold of you to believe I would show up anyway.”

“You wound me, Craigory.”

“Then perish.”

 --

 It was the perfect location, in Clyde’s opinion. The Taco Bell on the corner of Gibson Avenue was a shining pillar of all that was right and delicious in the world. The third table by the window had been there for so many special moments and endless menu combinations. There could be no better place.

Clyde figured if Kenny fake-real dumped him, he could just drown his sorrows in nachos and spicy chalupas. Taco Bell would understand.

The two slid into their usual seats, the familiar smell of seasoning and meat easing some of Clyde’s nerves. Truly the best place, and today had to be the day. If Tweek was utilizing relationship knowledge that could help Craig Tucker of all people, Clyde was smart enough to take it to heart. It was just a matter of bringing it up.

“So, how’s dating me going?”

Kenny looked up, bemused. “You’re the man of my dreams, Clyde Donovan. I’m swept off my feet.” He pulled some coins out of his coat and began counting them out on the table.

Clyde flushed. “I mean actually. I wanna talk about dating you.”

“Oh.” Kenny looked up, shifting a penny to a second pile. He looked disheartened, but Clyde just had to push through, and then he could cry into his tacos. No backing out now.

“I wanna date you for real.” The words tumbled out in a rush, destroying any façade of cool.

The seconds ticked by. This was it; the deciding moment. The answer that would determine the rest of their interactions for forever. The two stared at each other, brown eyes against blue.

The tense silence was broken by Kenny leaning far back in his seat, fists in the air, punctuated by a muffled “woo-hoo!” The clatter of the chair and boy hitting the hard floor reverberated through the restaurant. Other customers looked over, undoubtedly irritated by the disruption, but the employees, upon seeing the two familiar faces, didn’t bother to bat an eye.

Clyde leaned over the table, eyebrows bunched, concern cut across his face. He found Kenny sprawled, limbs caught in the topped chair, grinning like a madman. He made no move to get up from the greasy tile, but his eyes glittered. “I was hoping you would.”

A matching wild smile spread across Clyde’s face. “Wanna celebrate with tacos?” He stretched over to better look Kenny in the face.

Kenny got a hold on Clyde’s jacket, closing the space between them. He shrugged. “Can’t afford it. I’ll see what I can get off your face.”

Clyde quickly pulled his boyfriend to his feet, rushing toward the register. “Then what are we waiting for? Finally, my two favorite things combined into one!”

“Me and tacos?”

“You and tacos!”

 --

 A month had passed, and the two were lying on the Donovan’s carpet amidst cola stains and snack wrappers, when a question hit Clyde. A question he hadn’t considered before, but was important enough that he knew it wouldn’t go away until he asks. He looked up from his Animal Crossing town to gaze at his boyfriend.

               “Why did you agree to fake date in the first place, anyway?”

               Kenny grinned, and Clyde knew seeing that missing tooth and freckles would never get old. “I thought it would be fun.”

               The simple phrase made Clyde smile, and he knew he had Cheeto dust caked on his cheek, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. “You were right.”

               “You know what else would be fun?” Kenny set down his PS4, and Clyde could swear that the glow from the screen didn’t match any graphics he knew of, but there were more important things at the moment.

               “Making out?”

               Yeah, he was always gonna love seeing that smile.

[thelastspeecher]

A. Quinn “Badass” McGucket

Hehehe I think I’m being clever with the title.

Here’s some more from that “Angie is a greaser and Stan is a nerd” AU that I’m going to tag as “West Coast Trio”, bc Angie, Stan, and Ford all end up at West Coast Tech in this AU.

Specifically, in this collection of scenes, we see the first meeting of Angie (who goes by her middle name, Quinn, in this AU) and Stan, the first meeting of Angie and Ford, and also the first hints of the good ship Stangie.  Enjoy.

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              “Whattaya gonna do about it, Pines?” sneered Tom.  Stan could feel the bricks of the building digging into his back as he pressed up against it.  Every inch of him was shaking in fear.

              “Look, Tom, I don’t think that we need to get physical about this-” Stan started. Tom leaned in, close enough for Stan to feel his breath.

              “I think we do, charity case.  You and that freak brother of yours don’t belong here.  You know that.”  Stan clenched his hands into fists.  Before he could respond to Tom’s insult about Ford, a female voice spoke.

              “Tommy boy, what are ya doin’?”  Stan and Tom looked over.  A girl Stan had seen around campus a few times was idly leaning against the wall, chewing gum.  She blew a large bubble and popped it.  Tom took a step away from Stan.

              “N-nothing,” Tom stammered.  Stan glanced at Tom in surprise, then turned his attention back to the girl.  Her hair was roughly chopped short and dyed a bright magenta, popping against her dark leather jacket.  She cocked her head curiously.

              “Sure ‘bout that?” she asked.  “‘Cause it looks to me like you were messin’ with this poor feller.  Intimidatin’ him, perhaps?”  Her voice was breezy, but an undertone of threat wove in with her southern accent.  Tom swallowed.

              “Nope.  Not- not at all, Quinn.”

              “See, I don’t think I believe that,” the girl – Quinn – drawled.  She stood straight.  The arm she was holding behind her back fell to her side, revealing that she was holding a large, wooden baseball bat.  Tom blanched and stepped further away from Stan.  “You know I don’t tolerate folks beratin’ other folks.”

              “I wasn’t-”

              “Kid,” Quinn barked.  Stan stood up straight.

              “Y-yes?”

              “Was he botherin’ ya?”

              “…yes,” Stan said.  Quinn glared at Tom.

              “I’m gonna- I’m gonna leave,” Tom stammered.  Quinn’s eyes narrowed.

              “I think that’s fer the best.  You can get a head start that way,” she said in a low voice.  Tom sprinted away.  Quinn strode over to Stan.  She looked him up and down.  “He didn’t hurt ya, did he?” she asked.

              “N-no,” Stan mumbled.  Quinn frowned.

              “Ya sure?  You seem a bit…quiet.”

              “I’m- um-”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck nervously.  Quinn stuck out her hand.

              “Quinn.  Quinn McGucket.”  Stan shook the offered hand.

              “Uh, Stan.  Stan Pines.”

              “Stan…”  Quinn’s eyes widened.  “Oh! You and yer brother work on that comic strip in the school paper, don’t ya?”

              “Y-yeah.”

              “I like it.  It’s funny.” Quinn cocked her head, a small smile curling the corners of her mouth.  “Think you’ll show me how ya make it sometime?”

              “M-maybe.”

              “I’d like that.”  Quinn sighed and looked over in the direction Tom had run off.  “But right now, I’ve got other fish to fry.  See ya ‘round campus!”  She marched away, whistling a tune that sounded vaguely familiar to Stan, but he couldn’t quite put a name to it.  Stan felt a slight flush spread across his features.

              That was…the most badass girl I’ve ever met.

-----

              Ford didn’t turn when the door to his and Stan’s dorm room opened.  He was too engrossed in his biology assignment. He scowled at the worksheet.

              Why is this so difficult?  It’s a simple pairing question.

              “This is where the magic happens,” Stan’s voice said proudly. There was a soft chuckle.

              “The magic, huh?  Ya have a mighty big opinion of yer lil comic strip, don’t ya?” a southern voice asked. Ford’s head shot up.

              A female southern voice.  He spun his chair around to face the door.  Immediately, dread dropped into his gut.  Oh, no.  Standing in the doorway with Stan was a young woman Ford had seen around campus.  From her brightly colored hair to her thick combat boots, every inch of her stuck out like a sore thumb among the other students, who tended to come from upper-class backgrounds.  Most likely, she does that on purpose.

              “Oh!  Quinn, this is my twin brother, Ford,” Stan said, gesturing towards Ford.  Ford inclined his head slightly in a small nod. “He co-creates the comic strip with me. Ford, this is Quinn McGucket.”

              “I know who she is,” Ford said.  Quinn raised a blonde eyebrow.

              “My reputation precedes me, I see.”  She grinned viciously.  “Good.”

              “So, Stan, how did you meet Quinn?” Ford asked.  Stan shoved his hands in his pants pockets and grinned.

              “She saved me from getting my ass kicked and realized that I work on the comic strip.  Turns out she’s a big fan.”

              “Yes, I am,” Quinn said.  She shrugged. “It’s funny.”

              “Yeah, that part’s all me,” Stan said proudly.  Ford quirked a small smile.

              “He’s right.  Stan’s the comedic genius of the two of us,” Ford said.  Quinn chuckled softly.  “What are you majoring in, Quinn?”

              “Biology.”

              “Ah.  A noble field.  Not as noble as some fields of science, but-”

              “Let me guess,” Quinn said.  “Yer a physics major?”

              “How did you-”

              “All the physics majors I’ve met act that way ‘bout biology.”  Quinn turned to Stan.  “So, where do ya get yer ideas?” she asked in a low tone. Satisfied that his role in the conversation was finished, Ford turned back to his homework.  He didn’t realize Quinn had crossed over to his desk until she spoke behind him.

              “You’ve got that wrong,” she said lightly.  Ford’s arm jerked in surprise, leaving a streak across his worksheet. Quinn pointed at the matching problem Ford had been having such a difficult time with.  “That’s not the coccyx.  It should be the pharyngeal arches.”

              “How did you know that?” Ford asked, erasing the streak as well as the incorrect answer.

              “Uh, did ya not hear me say I’m a biology major?”

              “No, I did, I just assumed that you weren’t-” Ford started.

              “Oh.”  Quinn’s voice was completely flat.  Ford looked over at her.  She had stepped away from his desk and was watching him with a disgusted expression. “I see.”

              “I- I just mean- you come from an upper-class background-”

              “No, I don’t,” Quinn snapped.  She crossed her arms.  “My parents run a farm.”

              “Then how did you get into West Coast Tech?” Ford asked.  Quinn’s eyes flashed with fury.

              “On my merit,” she snarled.  “Just like you and yer brother.  What, ‘cause I’m a girl, I can’t get in on my brains?”

              “No, not-”

              “Or is it ‘cause I’m southern?”  Quinn’s voice became harsher as she continued to speak, viciously biting off the end of each syllable.  “Maybe ‘cause I grew up in the country?  ‘Cause of course, no southern hick chick could ever be smart?”

              “No!” Ford said desperately, holding his hands up.  Quinn did a double-take at the sight of his splayed fingers, but returned her fierce gaze to his eyes.  “No, none of those things!  You’re just- with the-”  It was one of the few times in his life Ford found himself at a loss for words.  His explanation died on his tongue as Quinn’s raw anger magnified.  “The hair and the jacket and the boots-”

              “Oh!  It’s ‘cause I’m tough!” Quinn said.  “I get it.” She looked around, caught sight of a stack of books on Ford’s bed, and shoved them onto the floor.  “You should learn how to judge people by gettin’ to know ‘em, not by rumors or appearances,” she spat.  “You seem like the kind of person who has a lot of experience with folks judgin’ ya exactly fer those things.”  With that, she spun around and stormed out of the dorm room, slamming the door shut behind her.  Stan crossed his arms, glaring at Ford.

              “I didn’t mean to-”

              “Yeah, Sixer, that’s pretty obvious.”  Stan rolled his eyes.  “C’mon, man! My first shot at a friend here, and that’s how you treat her?”  Stan shook his head, then exited the room.  Ford pursed his lips.

              Should I follow?  At least to apologize?  I don’t want Stan to socialize with a delinquent like her, but he could use a friend other than me.  He has higher social needs than I do, after all.  With a sigh, Ford got up and walked to the door.  Before he could open it, he picked up on muffled voices.  He pressed his ear to the door.

              “I’m sorry,” Quinn’s voice said.  “That was- that was rude of me, to push someone’s things ‘round when I’m a guest in their livin’ space.  I do apologize fer that.”

              “It’s fine.  Ford was being a dick,” Stan’s voice said.  “He deserved it.”

              “Maybe.  I just- I have to go study fer class.”

              “…Oh.”  Stan sounded disappointed.  “I guess I’ll-”

              “-have to give me the grand tour when Ford’s not home,” Quinn finished for Stan. Ford couldn’t see his twin, but could easily picture the broad grin stretched across Stan’s face.

              “Yeah.  Definitely.”

-----

              Ford turned his head to the side.  Being pressed up against the side of the chemistry building and threatened was rote at this point.  His primary concern was to avoid Bennett’s disgusting breath.  It was futile.

              Did he eat onions marinated in garlic?  It reeks.

              “I told you before, freak,” Bennett breathed.  “I don’t like it when people show me up.  I warned you last time not to open your damn dirty mouth in class, and you didn’t listen.  So.” Bennett grabbed Ford’s shirt, snagging Ford’s skin in his roughness.  Ford’s eyes began to water, both from the pain and the smell of Bennett’s breath.  “You’re gonna pay, freak.”  Ford resisted the urge to point out that Bennett had used the insult mere moment ago. Abruptly, Bennett was pulled off Ford, startled enough to let go of Ford’s shirt.  Bennett hit the ground, landing on his back with a heavy thump.  Ford looked over at his rescuer.

              “Bennett Thompson,” Quinn snarled, standing over Bennett.  “Prep school bully extraordinaire.”  She tossed her bright purple locks.  “Remember how you asked me out last week?”  Quinn smirked at him.  “Yer insistence on harassin’ folks was just one of the reasons I said no.  The other one is yer nasty-ass breath.”  Quinn cocked her head.  “Have ya ever even heard of a toothbrush before?”

              “Quinn, I-” Bennett started.  Quinn’s face hardened.

              “No,” she said flatly.  She slammed a boot-clad foot onto one of Bennett’s hands.  There was a sickening crunch.  Bennett let out a yelp.  Quinn leaned over and whispered something in Bennett’s ear.  Bennett nodded, his face pale as a sheet.  Quinn straightened again.  “Good.”  She slowly lifted her foot off Bennett’s hand.  “Skedaddle.”  Bennett jumped to his feet and rushed away, cradling his hand.  Quinn turned to Ford.  “You all right?” she asked gently.

              “I- you-”  Ford stared at Bennett, quickly disappearing into the distance.  “Quinn, that was vicious.”

              “I don’t pussyfoot around.  But you knew that.”

              “Yes, I suppose I did, I just-”  Ford swallowed.  “You used such force to assist with someone who isn’t even a friend of yours, I-”  He stopped at the sight of Quinn’s heartbroken expression.

              “…We’re not friends?” Quinn whispered.  Ford’s heard plummeted.

              Oh no, I’ve offended her.  Quinn looked away, blinking rapidly, as though she was fighting back tears.  No.  I’ve hurt her feelings.  That’s worse.

              “I didn’t mean-” Ford started.  Quinn let out a harsh laugh.

              “Is that yer catchphrase or somethin’?  I hear it come out of ya all the flippin’ time,” she said.  She was attempting to portray a light tone, but her voice was thick with emotion.  Ford thought back to his first impression of Quinn.

              That she’s insisting on being a lone wolf because she knows she’ll be mostly on her own as is.  Quinn kicked a pebble.  It bounced a short distance away.  She’s decided to lean into it, embrace it.  It’s the same principle behind Stan’s motto when he was hospitalized but still cracking jokes.  You either laugh or you cry.  You find a way to spin it in a positive way, even if it feels like you can’t or shouldn’t.

              “Whatever,” Quinn muttered.  She began to walk away.

              “Wait!” Ford blurted out.  Quinn stopped by the stairs leading into the building.  She turned.

              “Yes?”

              “I- I do apologize.  Sincerely,” Ford said.  Quinn rolled her eyes.

              “Sure.”  She crossed her arms.  “Look, I get it.  You think I’m a delinquent.  I’ve heard ya say as much to Stan.”

              “Yes, well…”  Ford rubbed the back of his neck.  Quinn scoffed.  She began to turn away.  “No, Quinn, I- thank you.”  Quinn stopped.  She stared at him.  “Not just for saving me, but also for saving Stan.  It’s- I- to be frank, we could use the protection.”

              “I ain’t yer personal bodyguard.”

              “No, I know, I just-”  Ford swallowed.

              Let’s try a different tactic.

              “I get the feeling that you have roughly the same amount of experience with friendships that I do.”  Quinn’s expression changed from frustrated to bemused.  “That is, minimal outside of family members.”  Quinn leaned against the stair handrail.

              “Is this yer way of sayin’ that ya suck at communication?” she asked.

              “I- yes.”

              “Hmm.”  Quinn looked away.  “That explains why ya keep puttin’ yer foot in yer mouth.”  She sighed.  “Didn’t know ya were observant enough to catch onto my own…social deficits.”

              “Wh- I’m very observant!” Ford protested.  Quinn shrugged.

              “Sure, with science ‘n data.  But with people?  I’d say yer more oblivious than observant.  Or did ya forget ya managed to insult me within ten minutes of meetin’ me? Or what just happened a few seconds ago, where ya upset me after I saved yer ass from bein’ turned to creamed corn?”

              “Creamed corn?” Ford asked.  Quinn scowled at him.  “Never mind.” Ford looked down at his feet. “You’re still upset that I had made an impression of you even before we met.”

              “Yup.”

              “You can’t honestly blame me for thinking you might be dangerous after hearing about the numerous occasions in which you beat someone up with a baseball bat.”

              “Sure, I can,” Quinn drawled.  She looked off into the distance.  “All those folks deserved a good kneecapping.”

              “I-”  Ford let out a wry laugh.  “Fair point.” He chewed on his lip, thinking. “Why do you do it?”

              “Kneecap folks?  ‘Cause they deserve it.”

              “No, not that.  Well, not that alone.  Your entire…thing.”  Ford walked over to Quinn and leaned against the handrail as well.  “I know how it feels to stick out.  Why would you choose to do it, when you could easily fit in?”

              “You have far too much faith in our classmates,” Quinn said dryly.  “I doubt I could ever fit in with them boys in letterman jackets and boat shoes.”  She was silent for a moment.  “I don’t need to prove myself to others,” she said softly.  “I don’t need to bend to the whims of what society says a lady should be.  I can succeed without doin’ either of those things.”

              “That’s…not an answer.”

              “Yup.”  Quinn grinned crookedly.  “It’s only part of one.”

              “What’s the full answer?”

              “Oh, I ain’t tellin’ ya.”  Quinn met Ford’s eyes.  “It’s somethin’ I’d only tell a friend.”  A challenge sparked in her gaze, daring Ford to say they were friends just to get a full answer.

              “Cruel, but fair,” Ford said, backing down from the unspoken challenge. Quinn raised an eyebrow thoughtfully.

              “Hmm.”  She looked away.

              “I suppose I could always get Stan to ask, and then he would tell me,” Ford remarked.  “Since the two of you are friends.”  Quinn rolled her eyes, but a small smile played around her lips.  “By the way, Stan wants to be more than friends with you.”

              “Oh, I know,” Quinn said.  A faint pink blush began to spread across her cheeks.  She ducked her head, hiding her smile, which was getting stronger.

              “You do?”

              “Yes.  I might not have a lot of experience with friends, but I know my way ‘round body language and social cues.  Unlike some folks.”

              “Ouch.”  Ford watched Quinn’s face continue to flush.  “I take it you feel the same way about him?”

              “It don’t matter if I do or not.”  Quinn stood straight and stepped away from the handrail.  “He can’t handle me.  Not yet.”  She glanced at her wristwatch.  “Biochem starts soon.  We should head inside.  I’ll walk with ya.  Someone’s got to protect ya from bullies.”

              “Maybe I should hire you as my personal bodyguard,” Ford mumbled. Quinn laughed.

              “Nah.  You couldn’t afford me.”

[verkwannie]

A Little Jealousy || Kim Mingyu

Summary: Mingyu x reader College Au where Mingyu is the reader’s knight in shining armor.

Genre: Angst maybe? For me at least. Floof!

Requested?: Yes! I hope you like it and feel free to request more!

   “Y/N!” I heard my name being called as I walked out of my dorm building. Turning my head to the source of the sound I saw my friend, Vernon, half-jogging towards me. It brought a smile to my face and I waved at him as I waited for him to get to me. When he finally did he threw an arm around my shoulder and started walking towards the school, “Ready for class?”

    “That’s one way to say it. I stayed up until 4am working on this speech if I don’t get an A I’m going to cry.” Vernon laughed as I took a deep breath, at least one of us was calm. The idea of giving a speech in front of the class was my worst fear and I’d been having anxiety over it for weeks. Public speaking was already terrifying but to add to it I was a little bigger than a lot of the girls at my school and a lot of people, especially the boys, seemed to like to comment on it. I had thought the kids in college would be more mature but so far they seemed not much different from the kids in my high school.

    “Don’t worry,” Vernon said, pulling me out of my downward spiral, “You’ll get an A plus plus and graduate top of our class and become president or whatever you want to be and you can thank me in the future for being the one to encourage you,” as he finished talking he put a hand over his heart as though he was clutching it and looked to the sky. I laughed a little and shook my head. He was great at lightening the mood and I was grateful that he was able to make me laugh even when I felt like I’d rather crawl through a train of spiderwebs than go to class. 

    As we reached the door to the school building he finally took his arm off of my shoulder and opened the door, letting me walk in ahead of him. We walked to the classroom in silence and took our seats. I counted down the minutes and seconds until class started, unable to focus on anything else. The teacher greeting the class sent a spike of adrenaline to my heart. Everything seemed like a blur as she started calling people to do their presentations. When she finally called on me the rush of anxiety felt physically painful. 

   The walk to the front of the class simultaneously feeling way too fast and unbearably long. I started to overanalyze everything. Was my hair okay? Did I smell? Did my outfit match? Oh no… maybe a crop top was a bad idea. As I reached the front of the class it felt like everyone was staring at my choice of outfit, judging the way my stomach stood out in the high-waisted jeans or the thin strip of skin visible above the waistband. When I’d put it on this morning I’d felt cute and like it would give me confidence during my speech, but now I was feeling like it showed my figure too much. I looked around the class at everyone and felt my heart drop a little further as I locked eyes with Mingyu. He was in a couple of my classes and unfairly attractive. However, he wasn’t just good looks, he had an amazing personality to match and I was powerless to stop myself from falling for him. Seeing him staring at me I felt a thousand times more insecure and I tried my best to pull down the crop top I was wearing in an attempt to cover up the skin there.

   Taking a breath I finally started my speech and with shaky hands read the words on my cards. The next few minutes passed by in a blur and at the end, I felt a wave of relief and pride in having managed not to cry or spontaneously combust. I immediately walked over to my seat, took the biggest breath I could manage, and slowly released it. Finally done with the assignment that had been causing me the most anxiety I felt like I could finally relax. After class was finally over Vernon and I went to the cafeteria, getting some food to celebrate me not fainting during my speech. As we were waiting for our food he suddenly had to go to the bathroom and left me waiting alone. I pretended to be texting someone on my phone to avoid eye contact as I waited. When the food was finally done I grabbed both of our trays and found a seat. Just as I was about to eat someone from my speech class came to my table and sneered at me.

  “One meal isn’t enough for you?” he said and then turned his attention to my outfit gesturing very vaguely at my shirt, “Didn’t anyone ever tell you crop tops aren’t for people with your… body type?” 

   Deciding it’d be better to just ignore him I didn’t respond but I also didn’t eat, unable to stop myself from feeling a bit self-conscious at his words. I just looked down at the table and hoped either Vernon would come back quickly or this guy would go away. I found a third option to solve my problems in the form of a familiar voice yelling at the person making fun of me. 

   “Hey! Why don’t you stop being an ass and keep your unwanted and inaccurate opinions to yourself?” I turned in the direction of the voice and saw Mingyu walking over. My heart skipped a beat seeing him stick up for me. It felt like I should be a lead in a movie and I had to stop myself from getting lost in that ridiculous fantasy. 

   The guy who had been bugging me backed off but not without muttering something snotty under his breath and huffing. Mingyu sat down in the seat across from mine and smiled at me. I forced myself out of my shock to talk, “Thank you, for saying that.”

   “No problem, that guy was a dick. Don’t listen to him by the way, you look great,” as he said this, Vernon finally came back, taking the seat next to me where I had set his tray. 

   “What did I miss?” He asked, digging into his food right away.

   “I’ve gotta go,” Mingyu said, already standing up to go, “I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

   “Oh, uh, bye Mingyu,” I responded, feeling slightly disappointed that he was leaving already.

   A few days later I had a class with Mingyu again and I was oddly excited for a class for the first time since the beginning of the year. As much as I tried to stop myself from raising my hopes I couldn’t help but feel hopeful that maybe something would have somehow changed just because he stood up for me the other day. I put a little extra effort into getting ready, hoping he’d notice the extra effort. When I walked into the classroom he wasn’t there yet and I was slightly disappointed. As the clock ticked closer to class time I wondered if maybe he wasn’t going to show up today. I pulled out my phone to distract myself until class started and when the teacher arrived and started the class I gave up hope that he'd be coming today. 

   Ten minutes after class started I felt someone sit next to me and looked over to see Mingyu. He gave me a small smile, which I returned, and then focused on the teacher. I couldn’t get rid of the smile after he broke eye contact so I tried to hide my mouth behind my hand and did my best to focus on what was being taught. 

   “Hey, Y/N?” I heard as I was packing up after class.

    “Yeah?” I said as I turned to see Mingyu already packed up and watching me.

    “Um, I was wondering… if you wanted to go get some food with me?” He asked and my heart nearly skipped a beat as he bit his lower lip. I could feel the heat in my cheeks and simply nodded in response as I didn’t trust myself not to stutter if I actually spoke. My response made him smile and he waited for me to pack up my stuff. We walked to the cafeteria, making small talk on the way. When we got out food and sat down I was laughing at one of the jokes he made when suddenly Vernon came up to us.

    “Hey! Fancy seeing you here!” He called out and took a seat next to me. 

    “Yes, not many people come to the school cafeteria so it was surely unlikely to see me here,” I responded sarcastically and rolled my eyes at him a little. 

    “I’m glad you get it,” he laughed and stole a bite of my food.

    “Hey! Jerk go get your own food.” I punched him.

    Vernon looked at me and smiled a big fake smile, “But yours tastes just fine.”

    Rolling my eyes at him for the second time I turned my gaze back to Mingyu and saw that he was frowning slightly while staring down at his food. I frowned with him wondering what was wrong. Just as I was about to ask him he excused himself and started walking away. Without knowing what brought about the boldness I told Vernon he could have my food and followed Mingyu out. It took me a bit to catch up with him because of his long legs but when I did I reached for his arm to slow him down.

   “Y/N? What are you doing? Aren’t you going to finish eating?” 

   “I wanted to talk to you, you seemed upset,” I answered, scrunching my eyebrows together and pouting slightly.

   “I’m fine, honestly, just go eat with Vernon,” he said, stressing Vernon's name in a way that made it seem like it was Vernon he was upset with.

   “Are you angry at Vernon?” I asked, tilting my head a little to the side. To my knowledge they didn’t see each other much outside of class so I didn’t know why he’d be angry at Vernon. 

   “I’m not… angry at him. He seems like a good dude, I just... nevermind. It’s stupid anyway.” He turned away and started walking again and I jogged to catch up with him and held onto his arm to stop him.

   “It’s not stupid, please tell me. I wanna know what’s wrong.” 

   “It’s just… embarrassing and I feel stupid even saying it.” 

   “I won’t judge, it can be stupid, that’s fine,” I joked, attempting to lighten the mood. He looked down and muttered something but I couldn’t hear him.

   “What did you say?” I asked, moving a bit closer to hear him.

   He sighed and spoke up a bit, still avoiding eye contact, “I like you and it seems like you and Vernon like each other and I’m jealous.”

   The smile that overtook my face was impossible to stop and I squeezed his arm, trying to make him look at me. It worked and he looked confused at the smile on my face. “I don’t like Vernon, we’re just friends” I assured him, “I like you too, Mingyu. When you stood up for me the other day I felt like a lead in a drama, where the leading male came to my rescue.” 

   He smiled and wrapped me in a hug, “I’ll stand up for you any day, I’ll be your personal knight in shining armor.” 

   “How could I ever repay my handsome knight?” I giggled and looked up at him.

   He hummed as though he was thinking about it and feeling the vibrations in his chest made me smile more. “I think I know something,” he finally said, looking down at me.

   “And what would that be?” In place of a verbal reply he leaned down slowly and I closed my eyes as he placed his lips on mine.

   “I still don’t think that’s enough,” I said, “We’ll have to do this more. Maybe when we’re on dates, for example?” 

   “I think that could be arranged,” he smiled and wrapped his arms around me tighter.